Chapter 15

We all swam ashore at dawn for tai chi, and James and I sparred while the ladies prepared breakfast. When we finished, they applauded our efforts and flashed their tits from afar. We fished; we did some water-boarding behind our new jet skis, and we explored Lake Powell. Mary and I made love often, and James and Deanna, or James and Grace, or all three of them went below for privacy from time to time, and the three of them slept together at night in the V-berth. James must have got the hang of G-spot tapping I'd told him about, because on two occasions, once with Deanna and the other time with Grace, the ladies' enthusiasm and appreciation were too loud to be missed or ignored.

Late one afternoon, I was taking a nap in the mid-stateroom when voices awakened me. We were at anchor, and Mary was topside with Little Bundle. I thought James, Grace and Deanna were out zipping around the lake on our new jet skis. I was mistaken.

"You're falling in love with him, aren't you?" Deanna said. I assumed that she was speaking to my sister.

"No, I'm not falling in love, Deanna. I am in love," Grace said, verifying my assumption. "For me love happened while you were in Phoenix. I'm sorry, but as my brother says, love defies control. It just happens. For what it's worth, James isn't in love with me, and..."

"About that, you're wrong," Deanna said.

"Huh?"

"I know James. I know him in every way. He hasn't said anything, but he loves you. Would you like to know how I know?"

Grace said nothing. Perhaps she nodded. I couldn't see them. The privacy screen was closed.

"Because he treats you like he treats me, looks at you like he looks at me," Deanna said.

I listened to a few seconds of silence. Finally, Grace spoke. "I'm sorry, Deanna. I didn't plan for this to happen, and the last thing I'd ever do is get between the two of you or to take him away from you. I'll fly back to Scottsdale this afternoon."

"You'll do no such thing. This is your boat. I'll do the leaving if any leaving is necessary. Do you want me to leave?"

"No! I'll back off. I'll..."

"You won't do that either, Grace. Think about what I said. I said James treats you like he treats me, looks at you like he looks at me. I didn't say he'd stopped treating and looking at me with love. He loves us both, Grace. I can live with that. Can you?"

My sister didn't hesitate. "Yes," she said.

"Okay, there's something else we need to talk about."

"What?" Grace asked.

"Us. You and me."

I heard the sound of a kiss, and then a small moan. The moan was my sister's.

"I'm not in love with you," Deanna said. "Not yet, but I want you. Grace, my daydreams, my fantasies, since James and I invited you to join us have been about you."

"You were my first with a woman, Deanna." Grace moaned again. "Yes, right there. Oh, your touch is so sensuous. As I was saying, you were my first with another woman, and I loved it. I'm happy you want me, because I sure do want you."

You can't do this, I told myself. You can't lie here and listen to Deanna and Grace make love. That wouldn't be right.

Making a lot of noise and taking my time, I rolled my feet to the floor and opened the privacy screen. Rubbing my eyes, I said, "Hello, ladies. I thought I heard voices." I strode to the head and washed my face.

They were lying on the V-berth talking when I stepped out of the head. The privacy screen was still open. I waved at them and went topside.

Mary was sitting, holding Little Bundle's hands. The baby was standing, looking mighty proud of herself. I sat heavily on the bench seat, and Little Bundle let go of Mary's hands and took three tentative steps toward me on her own. I pulled her up and tossed her into the air. She squealed with pleasure.

"She's walking," I said to Mary as I cuddled the toddler.

"Yep," Mary said with a grin.

I slid over next to Mary and said, "I have something I need to talk with you about. It has to do with your father's partner." I explained what Clarence Kitt, the private investigator in San Francisco, had uncovered.

"The accounting audit confirmed my suspicions. Your father's partner is a crook, Mary. I want your permission for me to file suit on your behalf to recover what he embezzled plus other damages."

Mary's eyes danced with anger. "I'll do the suing, not you, Brent. Damn him! Damn him to hell!" She jumped up and started to pace the deck, muttering more curses under her breath, some of them in Cantonese.

I laughed. "God, you're beautiful when you're pissed. A tigress!"

My laughter, my words took the edge off her anger. She sat next to me again, and I took her hand in mine. "Before you call a lawyer, consider the possibility that your father's partner... what's his name. I forget."

"Milton fucking Tucker."

I laughed. "Yeah, that's the man. Consider the possibility that Tucker hired those five men who murdered your parents and left you for dead. If he did, if he's that evil, and you file a civil suit against him, he might hire those same men or others to finish the job. I'm not saying he hired those men, Mary. My investigator didn't find an ounce of evidence that connects him to those men, but if your father discovered Tucker's theft, it's reasonable to assume that Tucker saw your father's death as a solution."

She listened to me carefully. Then she turned from me and lowered her face into her hands. She started to cry, but not great heaving sobs. She cried softly. Her unhappiness disturbed Little Bundle, and the little girl slid off my lap and walked to her mother, patting her mother's knee just before she fell hard on her diaper-padded backside. Disappointed with herself for falling and upset because her mother was crying, Little Bundle started to cry, too.

Mary gathered Joy into her arms and held her close. Little Bundle stopped crying immediately, and Mary soon followed her daughter's lead. Mary held Joy in front of her so the girl could stand in her lap. "I'm going to put us in danger, Joy. I have to. I don't have a choice. I must honor my parents, your grandparents. I'm going to sue my father's partner for every dime he has and every dollar he'll ever make, and if he sends those vile men after me again, your mother will shoot them dead."

Mary turned to me. "Will you help me?"

"Sure. I and my trusty cudgel are at your disposal."

Mary grinned. "God, I love you."

Jane Wilson was bisexual with a preference for men, but her longest love affair was with a woman. They were living together when Jane was killed. Jane cheated on the woman, not with another woman, though, always with a man. Different men, too. Jane was like Sherry Crane. She needed an occasional cock fix. She didn't want a relationship with the man, just a little afternoon's delight, as Agnes put it regarding Sherry, so Jane jumped from man to man. Targets of opportunity, if you will.

Dr. Crane said that Jane was a product of the free-love era, and she was, but the era was misnamed. It should have been called the free-sex era. The era, like Jane, didn't resolve the love/sex issue; it exacerbated it, lumped the emotion with the physical act and made them one. The concepts of fidelity and cheating also lump the two together.

Had James and Deanna's open relationship resolved these issues?

Deanna came up from below and sat next to me. I occupied the captain's chair. We were cruising upriver toward Hall's Crossing and Bullfrog Marina to check them out.

"Penny for your thoughts," Deanna said.

I laughed. "Too cheap."

"How about a nickel?"

"Perfect. A penny for each subject: bisexuality in women, love, sex, fidelity and cheating."

"Whew! Weighty subjects. I thought you were on vacation."

"My art tends to capture my mind when not on vacation. Vacation time gives my mind free reign to explore other subjects. I told you about Jane Wilson, the woman I was in my immediate past life."

"The artist?"

"Yes. She was also bisexual with a preference for men, but her longest love affair was with another woman."

"That explains your open mind about a lot of things," Deanna said. "As you probably know, I'm bisexual. What you probably don't know is my preference is for women."

"You're right. I didn't know that."

"Did your sister's bisexuality surprise you?" she asked.

"Yes. I think it surprised her, too."

Deanna shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Really?" I said, a little shocked.

"Really what?" Mary said as she stepped on deck from below.

Deanna filled her in on our conversation.

"Deanna's right, Brent. Grace has always known she's bisexual." With a small laugh, Mary added, "At least since puberty swooped down on her and gave her sexual urges."

I frowned and said to Deanna, "I thought you were Grace's first with a woman."

She chuckled. "Suspicions confirmed. You did hear some of our conversation yesterday. Yes, I was her first with a woman in some ways. You'll need to hear the rest from Grace."

I shook my head. I'd believed I knew everything important to know about my sister. I'd been mistaken. Then Mary blew my mind.

"Ah, Brent," Mary said. "For what it's worth, I'm bisexual, as well."

If I'd been driving a car instead of the boat, I'd have run it off the road.

Deanna laughed gaily and stood up. "Sit here, Mary. I'll leave the two of you to discuss your startling revelation." She went below, and Mary took the seat next to me.

Mary grinned. "Shocked you, huh?"

"Surprised me would be more accurate."

"Does my... ah, revelation upset you?"

"No. Don't forget. I was a bisexual woman in a past life." I turned to her. "From what you said, I take it that you and Grace have discussed your bisexuality and hers. Does Grace turn you on?"

"Oh, my, yes!" She grinned again.

"Do you excite her?"

"I believe I do, yes."

"What about Deanna? Are you attracted to her?"

"Yes. Beautiful women excite me like they do you, Brent. Handsome men also excite me, more than women because I'm like your Jane Wilson. Men are my sexual preference." She leaned and brushed my lips with hers. "You specifically. Like Grace, I discovered my bisexuality during puberty while experimenting with girlfriends. Unlike Grace, I accepted my attraction to other girls and acted on that attraction by enthusiastically doing everything two girls can do with each other." She chuckled. "But for my preference for men, I'd have become a LUG in college."

"LUG?"

"Lesbian until graduation."

"Oh."

"Then five brutal men raped me, beat me and left me for dead. After that terrible experience, until I met you, I'd stopped being attracted to men. I'd look at a handsome man and shake with revulsion." She took my hand in hers and squeezed it. "You saved me, Brent. Your gentle patience and understanding helped me return to the way I was before that awful night." She raised my hand and kissed it. "Thank you for that."

I grinned. "Are you saying, because of me, that you can now look at handsome men and get excited?"

"Yep."

I emitted a fake groan of dismay. "Talk about shooting myself in the foot."

"Hardly, you're the only man I'll have sex with for the rest of my life." She chuckled. "However, like you with beautiful women, I check out handsome men. More importantly, I feel urges again while checking them out, urges that I'd believe were lost to me. You helped make me feel... normal, again. You can't imagine how important feeling normal is to me."

"Sure I can. With the memories of my past lives, I'm abnormal. There have been times when I craved normalcy, and except for a few individuals I feel very close to, I keep my memories secret because I fear, in part, being considered a freak because of them."

"That's silly. You're an alpha male because of them, not a freak."

I raised an eyebrow. "Think about what you just said, Mary. A sixteen-year-old boy should not be considered an alpha male by a twenty-something woman. That's... well, it's freakish."

She laughed. "Maybe."

"Back to your urges. You said Grace excites you, and you excite her. Why didn't you or Grace act on your urges?"

She shook her pretty head. "Urges are one thing; acting on them is another matter. Besides, Grace was still fighting her bisexuality, and I fell in love with you."

"You're lumping love and sex together," I said.

"Yep. I'm not the free thinker that James and Deanna are. Grace, too, I guess. If I love someone, man or woman, they'll have my fidelity."

I said nothing.

"Can you say the same?" Mary asked.

"I don't know is the honest answer," I said without hesitating.

Surprisingly undisturbed by my answer, she nodded. Then she cocked her head and smiled. "Little Bundle is awake." She stood up and went below.

The extrasensory connection between Mary and her daughter never ceased to amaze me. I'd heard nothing, but then with my tinnitus, perhaps my poor hearing failed to pickup the faint sounds of a baby waking up below deck. No, I'd stay with the extrasensory-connection explanation. It was just as valid and more interesting.

We'd dropped anchor in Bullfrog Bay for the night when the sound of a ringing telephone shattered our conversation and appreciation of a star-studded night sky.

"Oh, no," Deanna muttered.

James rose to his feet and went below. I didn't know he'd brought a cell phone with him. That the phone worked on the lake surprised me, too. My cell phone didn't.

"What's the problem?" I asked Deanna.

"That's his satellite phone. His agent is calling him. No one else has the number."

"Agent?" Grace said.

"Yes. Like an actor, James has an agent who arranges protection or retrieval contracts for him. When that phone rings, within a very short time, James leaves to help someone somewhere in the world."

"Retrieval?" Mary said.

"That's what James calls some of the contracts he takes," Deanna said. "He goes in and retrieves someone who has been kidnapped, abducted, or held hostage. That's how I met him. I'm conflicted every time he takes an assignment. If it's a protection contract, he'll most likely be gone for two weeks to two months. One protection gig lasted six months. During a protection contract he keeps someone from harm, sort of like the Secret Service with the President of the United States. If it's a retrieval contract, he usually won't be gone as long, but the odds that he won't return at all go up exponentially because at the end of most retrieval assignments he will face the guns of the abductors."

"Oh! Oh, my!" Grace exclaimed. She hugged herself. "I don't like that."

Deanna chuckled. "Neither do I, but that's what he does, what defines him as a man, and because I've been a captive he retrieved, I appreciate what he does more than most. What's really frustrating to me is the fact that I don't hear from him at all while he's gone. I don't know where he is or when he'll return. Then suddenly, my doorbell rings. I open the door, and he says, 'Hi, baby.'" She paused. "It's frustrating, but I love him, so I throw my arms around him, kiss him silly, and invite him back into my life."

James came up through the hatch. "We'll need to weigh anchor, Brent. You can drop me off at Bullfrog Marina. A helicopter will pick me up there in an hour."

"A retrieval, huh?" Deanna said.

James nodded and smiled. "In and out. I won't be gone long."

Grace gasped. The sudden tears in her eyes sparkled in the starlight.

James ignored her and said, "Brent, Mary, you know what I do for a living. I make no secret about being a protector, but I rarely elaborate as I have with you. There are good reasons for this, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread the word."

"Of course," I said.

"I promise," Mary said.

"Deanna, Grace, would you help me pack?" James said.

The three of them went below, leaving Mary and me alone.

"That's scary," Mary said.

"Yeah. I don't know why, but until this moment, I hadn't realized just how dangerous James's profession is. I knew he retrieved Deanna, killing her four kidnappers in the process, but for some reason, that he faced their guns didn't sink in. And I suspect I'm not the only one who failed to fully understand the peril he confronts in the course of his work. Grace was as shocked as I."

"Me, too."

A little later, James approached me privately and gave me a piece of paper. "If Walter Bell takes any action at all, call that number. State my Chinese name and your name, outline the situation, and appropriate help will arrive within hours. If you don't have an hour or two, call the police. That's the best I can do until I return, Brent."

"I understand, and thanks."

"Deanna doesn't have that number."

"I'll keep the number confidential."

"That would be best. During my absence, will you include Deanna in the sphere of your protection?"

"Certainly."

"Thank you. Because of my work and the way I am, I don't have many friends. Brent, I count you among them."

"Likewise."

Awkwardly, we gave each other a manly hug.

After James's departure, boating and Lake Powell temporarily lost its appeal. We put Sweet Rose in her slip at Wahweap Marina and flew to Scottsdale Saturday afternoon, a day earlier than planned.

I painted and did some anvil work for Agnes. Grace started her third novel. Mary had her first gig as a translator for the courts, and Deanna did whatever she did for the judge. Grace worried about James. Deanna, too, but she was more acclimated to his silent absences. I memorized the phone number he gave me and flushed the piece of paper with the number down the toilet. I also tried, unsuccessfully, to keep track of everyone. They were, after all, under my protection.

On Monday, with Mary on the phone with me, I called Jack Stark, my San Francisco attorney, and briefed him on my findings regarding Milton Tucker's fraudulent activity with the import/export business that Mary's father had owned jointly with Tucker. Then I set up a conference call with Mary and me, Jack Stark, Clarence Kitt, and Bob Kidrick, the accountant Clarence had hired. Clarence and the accountant agreed to meet with Jack and layout in detail what they'd uncovered. Jack told me he'd call after the meeting, but on the surface it sounded like Mary had a good case.