Chapter 38

Stoney's turn:

When I was walking out of the building, headed home, I called Jo.

"Hello, sweetness," she said.

"Hi, princess," I returned. "Did Kara come over?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "We're cranking out the music. Come home and join us!"

"I'm on the way. Pedaling as fast as I can."

My wife giggled. "Just drive careful. You know how you are!"

Ten minutes later I was parking. Locked the SUV, walked to the door. I could hear the music as I unlocked it. It stopped with the sound of my key in the lock. By the time I got the door open there was a giggly, smiling redhead on the other side waiting on me.

"Hi, sweetie!" and lots of little kisses.

"Hi, punkin," I said. I saw Kara sitting on the sofa. "Hello, Kara..."

"Hi, Stoney," she said. "I guess I can go home now..." she looked sad, and I really don't think she was trying to generate the look. It's like it was something she really couldn't contain.

"You don't have to, Kara," I said. "You and Jo keep doing what you were doing. I'll eat, then I'll come join you."

Her smile brightened. Jo leaned in for another kiss and surreptitiously whispered "Thank you...".

I moved my laptop bag further into the house. Yeah, I carry it home. And I set it down if I'm getting hugs from Johanna. I headed into the kitchen, slid my plate in the microwave, poured myself a soft drink and set it on the table. I leaned against the door frame watching the two of them making music. GOOD music.

"That's new," I said.

"Little Fugue," Jo said.

Kara was smiling. "First time I ever tried it was today. Is it too bad?"

"No, not at all," I smiled. "Considering it's an organ piece. Seriously? Your first try?"

"We started when she got here," Jo stated. "We're having fun with it. Wanna try?" my wife giggled. "It's G-Minor. You get to stretch."

"Yeah," I said. "No fifth string unless I figure out how to retune." I noticed Kara smiling serenely. I think music really IS her thing. "Okay, I'll try. But this is liable to be rocky."

"You should try," Kara replied softly. "Here, trying is okay."

"You can't laugh," I said. "This might be a stretch."

"Let's go slow," Jo said. "One ... two ... three..."

I've learned a lot playing with Jo. Some of it has to do with music. Before Jo, I never played with an actual virtuoso, or somebody that actually had her years of music education. Really, I did learn. It showed in the way I played, especially when I approached a new piece.

I knew this one. It's a favorite, but I'd only heard it as an organ piece before tonight. Now Jo was watching Kara take the first phrases with her violin. She pointed to the sheet of music where I was supposed to come in, then her flute touched lips and she played along with Kara. I followed along, then let my eyes drive my fingers.

Music was made. Happily. Around nine o'clock we wound down. Kara was putting her violin away. "Thank you so much," she reprised. "This is so good."

"When are we going to meet the rest of your group?" Jo asked.

"We usually do Tuesdays. If you really want to."

"We'll talk," Jo replied.

"Yes," Kara replied. "Thank you for opening your home to me."

"Glad to have you, Kara," I said. I stood in the doorway watching her go to her car. When she was backing out of the parking spot, I closed the door. Turned. There was Jo, in the process of wrapping her arms around me.

"I enjoy having company and I enjoy playing music, but I so much want to wrap myself up with you," she whispered.

What do you say to that? Nothing, sir. You return the kisses and revel in the soft, happy body in your arms, the blue eyes that laugh and love there before you.

The two of us turned all responsible and domestic for a short while, tidying up the kitchen, running the vacuum in the living room. I was coiling up the cord when Jo passed me, glancing coquettishly over her shoulder. "I'm heading for the shower..."

On such incentives are records broken. I stowed the vacuum and hit the bathroom behind her, shedding clothing all along the way. We achieved synchronicity in the shower. It was all very business-like. We helped one another reach the parts that needed to be reached. Oh sure, there's that certain amount of exploring what soapy suds do for a firm, perky breast and hands made very sure that there were no spots on my scrotum or my dick that lacked contact with cleansing water.

The activities at the sink are now pretty well a routine. Jo asked why I shaved at night, way back when we first started living together.

"First, you've felt me at the end of the day. I get stubbly. Would you rather have that rubbing against you, or fresh shaved skin?"

"You almost rubbed the skin off my thighs," she remembered.

"I warned you, but nooooo ... you held my head there..." She had. I didn't fight that very hard. Jo's made for eating. "And better, my face is wet. It shaves easier. Not as irritating."

"Ooooh," she smiled. "Makes sense."

"But I'll grow a beard if you want..."

"No way." Giggle.

I finished shaving, dried my face, took the hairbrush she offered. Worked over hair the color of new copper. Finished by planting a kiss on the crown of her head.

Bedroom. Inventory of my dresser drawer contents. "We can do laundry tomorrow."

"'Kay," she said. "I was planning on it. While it's working, I can go restock on cheese. And stop by the bakery for some of those rolls you like." This came as she was turning back the covers. I noted that they only went down halfway. That meant we were going to talk before tearing the bed apart.

I slid in from my side and met her in the middle. "Hi there, cutie!"

"You again?" she giggled.

"Sadly..."

"Oh, don't be sad," she smirked. "I'm sure you'll find happiness this evening..." She kissed me and then propped up on an elbow. "You love me, don't you, Stoney?"

"Of course." In my head though, wheels started spinning. She knows the answer to that question, so there's a point to which she is heading. "More than my own life, sweetness." Okay, let's see if I can push through the fog. "Why do you ask? You know..."

"I know. I really, really do."

"But..." I teased.

"But nothing. Kara..."

"Is quite the musician," I said. "Really."

"She is. Music is her safe place. I know how that works. I think..."

"What do you think, cutie?"

"Stoppit, you! I'm trying to put thoughts together..."

I kissed her nose. "Okay, I'll be good..."

Giggle. "It is my expectation that you will be much more than just good. But Kara's little world is sort of caving in. I think that's why she was here today."

Jo told me sad stories about Kara.

"You know," I said, "we hung out with that bunch of nuts in Alabama. You heard the stories from Tina and Cindy and Nikki. But their moms had NOTHING. Kara's dad is rolling in it, and you tell me Kara..."

"Just a different facet of the same problem, baby," she said. "He doesn't seem to want to be a parent."

A light bulb went on in my head. "And that bunch in Alabama, they seem to have a way with positive thinking."

"You think I ought to arrange for them to talk to Kara?"

"Pick one. Or two. Or heck, the whole bunch. If there's anyone in her age group that can help, it's probably one of those."

She smiled. "You know, I need to be honest with you."

I know she reads me like a large-print book.

"Oh, get that look off your face, Stoney. I am honest with you. Just that I'd already thought about introducing Kara to the Sisterhood over there. I just wanted to see YOU come up with the same idea."

"And I did, didn't I?" I'm proud of myself. I can see where some people might've been fuzzing up at the idea of their evenings being occupied with a teen outsider instead of hot, wet sex. But honestly, we made it to the hot wet sex plenty often, and part of the intense love I had for this girl was that sex wasn't the only dimension to our union.

Although what happened next certainly was hot and wet.

Did it work? Not the sex. THAT works! No, the next day, ten minutes before I left the office, my phone rang. Outside call. Not Jo. "Oak Tree Engineering. This is Randall Jackson. Can I help you?"

"Stonewall Jackson, what can you tell me about Kara Sevinsky?"

Dan Richards, AKA Dan 1.0, husband of Cindy. "Well, hello there, Dan Richards! How's Cindy?"

"Scaring people to death. You don't want to know..."

"Yeah I do. I like happy stories."

"So what's the deal with Kara?"

"She's seventeen, her dad's a very well to do trial lawyer, and he's too busy with his own life to have a daughter. She's reaching out. Music's her refuge, that's how we ended up with her."

"Ended up?" Dan asked.

"Well, no, not exactly. But she's grasping. Jo's trying to help. I'm backing Jo up. And between the two of us, we determined that Cindy and the gang might be somebody Kara could talk with."

"Why?"

"Sort of the same thing," I said. "Kara's dad doesn't do 'father' at all. Kara said all the parenting was being done by the Guatemalan housekeeper, and she just left to go back to her family."

"My, my, my," Dan said. "There are so many things to say about this."

"You know how that could've turned out, Dan. But so far, it doesn't seem like it has. She's smart, musical prodigy smart. A little withdrawn, unsure, tentative, until she puts that violin to her chin, then there's a transformation."

"That's something I can relate to," he said. "I've seen Cindy in The Zone."