"Forever in My Heart" Pt. 01

Chelsea smiled as he headed toward the gate and Madeline Westerbrook's front door. This was a mistake, he didn't need this. He'd only invited her to show up Brian, Rick, and the others. Hell, with Chelsea on his arm, cousin or not, he didn't need anybody else.

He got to the door and rang the bell. It opened almost instantly. Madeline said, "You came!"

"Invited you didn't I."

Not put off at all she answered, "Is your cousin with you?"

"Out in the truck."

She held out her arm. He took it. They walked back to the truck. He'd stopped at the Jiffy Wash the earlier evening. They'd soaped it up good and cleaned it out inside. He'd done it for Chelsea, not the woman holding his arm.

He couldn't help it. Try as he might he had to give her a side-long glance. He recognized the perfume right away; she had good taste. 'Wow,' was the only expletive he could come up with, she looked terrific.

Walking her around to the passenger's side door he faced his first conundrum. Opening the door he said, "Chelsea maybe you could sit in the back," She looked terrified. He wondered why, "Chelsea this is Madeline. Madeline my cousin Chelsea," Finding cover, he elaborated, "Chelsea honey, Madeline here is a lot taller than you. She'd be all squinched up back there."

Chelsea climbed out and crawled in the back. She felt like her world was crumbling around her. Sure, she'd met most, if not all Colt's 'girls'. Most of them were pretty nice, some stunning, but this one! God she was older, and the perfume, that outfit, her hair, and all those diamonds! She thought, 'If some of Colt's earlier girlfriends were predatory, this one was a Great White Shark. Jesus, if this one wanted him, she'd could get him. He was clueless.'

Madeline let Colton hand her in the truck. She fastened her seatbelt and turned around, reaching her hand over the seat to the woman behind her, "Colt told me a little about you the other day, he said you were pretty, but he was wrong, you're down right beautiful. I love that dress."

She and Chelsea shook hands. Madeline immediately sized her up. One look and she knew; this 'girl' was in love. Cousin or not; she'd marry Colt in a 'New York minute'. 'Interesting,' she thought, 'kind of added a little extra spice to the whole thing; she could take Mr. Sourdough and turn him into a well-baked pie and watch his little flower girl wilt at the same time. It could be fun!'

Colt peaked at his cousin through the rear-view mirror, 'What was wrong with her? Was she about to have an attack? She looked...not good,' "Madeline here says she's from Philadelphia. Where'd you say you went to school?"

Madeline replied, "I didn't. I started at "State" but finished at my undergrad at Delaware Valley, and then went on to law school at Pennsylvania," she changed the subject, "Chelsea, where'd you go to school?"

Chelsea trembled, eyes wide, self-conscious, she answered, "Never, no, I haven't."

Madeline knew she hadn't. Everything about her reeked lower class, ill-prepared, young, maybe eighteen, insecure, public schools, naïve, probably not much upstairs. Definitely Walmart material, real troglodyte, "Really, I would've guessed maybe a sophomore someplace. Any plans?"

Chelsea didn't know what to say, "No I..."

Colton came to her rescue, "Chelsea's just nineteen, he'd added a year, fresh out of high school. She said something about time off. Right Chelsea?"

Chelsea breathed a sigh of relief, her Colt, "Um, yeah, time off, maybe travel, see some things."

"That's a great idea," responded Madeline, "Get out, see the country. Go to Europe."

Colton grinned at Chelsea through the rear-view, "Maybe not right away. Let's do Brian's first."

Chelsea wanted to die. This Madeline woman; she looked so, so sophisticated. Chelsea wished... that Madeline, she looked at Colton like...

Madeline smiled at Colt, "So how about you?"

"Me what?"

"You and college."

"Oh, well," Colton started, "Not much, not..."

Chelsea interrupted, "State College, three years, math, engineering, Dean's List all six semesters..."

Colton was back at her, "Chelsea!"

"It's true!" was her reply.

Madeline interjected, "What happened?"

Colton flicked his vision from Chelsea to Madeline, silently warning Chelsea not to interrupt, "I was on scholarship. Program ran out. No money so..."

Chelsea wouldn't stay quiet, "Tell her," Chelsea didn't give him a chance, "It wasn't money. It was me. Diabetic, other stuff. My mom's an addict; been living off my Social Security since dad... since my dad died. His mom has to work. He stopped because of me."

Colton chastened, "That's not true. Well only a little bit. School and me, we just didn't get along."

Madeline murmured, "Oh," she inwardly chuckled, 'the hero and the cripple...how nice, how sweetly nice.'

Colton raised his voice, "Here we are!" And they were there indeed. Brian, one of his oldest and dearest friends, and his wife Louisa, and Rick and his wife, and God knows who else. Colton pulled up and parked on the grass.

~~V~~

The after Easter party was already up and running! There was beer aplenty, mostly Budweiser but a few cans of Miller's scattered about. The girls had their choices; a cheap white wine or an even cheaper Rose'. The table was spread with homemade salads; Cole slaw, three kinds of potato salad, a macaroni salad and something odd looking one of men's wives brought. Nobody ate it. The meats were the usual; hot dogs and store packaged burgers. These were working people; they came for the conversation, the camaraderie.

Madeline had been to events like this, not that she particularly enjoyed them, but she had been to some. A well brought up woman, trained in the social skills she knew how to mask her distaste. She kept an eye out; watching the interplay. Upon first glance the dominant man in the group was a big strapping fellow named Aaron, tall, muscular, a two fisted drinker he had opinions on everything. But looking closer she could see it was Colt the men deferred to. Yeah, Aaron might have been the standout, but it was Colt with the ideas. Colt was the bright one, the leader.

Chelsea watched Madeline watch the other guests; yeah she watched her as Madeline watched, no studied, Colt. The more Chelsea watched the more she saw, the more anxious she became. She had a white wine. Then she had another, and then another. In the past she'd seen Colt with women. He'd never let himself get too attached. Not that he was ever ungentlemanly; no woman who dated Colt had ever had any but the nicest things to say. She had another wine. Chelsea thought, 'She lived with the man; she'd never heard him brag about a conquest, she'd never heard him diminish or degrade any of the women he'd enjoyed, and he'd enjoyed his share, just never her, but she was eighteen now.

She reached for the wine bottle again.

Angie Dickson, one of the girlfriends looked over, concerned, "You sure you want another one?"

Chelsea filled her solo cup to over half full, "I'm good."

Madeline watched Chelsea, and saw she was drinking too much. She watched Colton with the women with fascination. She could sort of tell he'd probably bedded half the women there. She saw a couple of the men were watching Colton too. They were watching him watch their wives. She chuckled to herself, 'this could have been a cattle ranch; half the men there were wearing horns.' Then it occurred to her; Colton was watching her just like he was watching those other women.

Madeline softly laughed; he didn't know who the real predator was.

~~~V~~~

Maybe it was the party, the excitement of church, the early spring sunshine, the wine she wasn't supposed to drink or the carbs she wasn't eating, but after a short time Chelsea felt the onset of an attack. She needed to go someplace, lie down, find a cool dark place to rest. Colt had brought her medications so if she got too bad she knew he'd be there to handle it. She whispered something to one of girls, and quietly slipped in the house.

It didn't take Colt long to notice someone was missing. He found Louisa, "Where's Chelsea?"

"She felt tired so she went inside."

Madeline had been watching; that fast she was by his side, "What's wrong?"

"It's Chelsea. Wait here." Colt made his way through the gathering toward the back door.

Madeline was right behind. Surprised, Colton the predator had become someone else, he'd become the protective papa grizzly. He got to the door and saw he was followed, "No you..."

Pretending to show concern, something she was good at, Madeline responded, "Maybe I can help."

Colt shrugged, turned and continued inside. He found Chelsea curled up on an old sofa. No surprises; He knew the routine. He hurried to her side, leaned down, and whispered, "Chelsea, you OK?"

She looked up. He knew, turning to Madeline, he murmured, "In my truck there's a brown satchel. Get it please."

Madeline was gone.

He pressed his hand to Chelsea's face, clammy. He checked her pulse, racing. Odd combination. He carefully, gently pulled her to a sitting position, "Come on sweetie. Let's get you up." He kissed her temple. He couldn't remember how many times had he done this; first it was one thing, then another. Ever since she first came. She was what, four? He'd been eight? Nine? Couldn't remember. Ever since she'd come it'd only been him, no one else. You'd of thought a mom, an aunt...didn't matter, just him and her. He hated her at first. Now? No now it was different.

Madeline was at his side with the bag. He muttered, "Get out the crackers. We'll try that first." He took Chelsea's cheeks and squeezed them open.

Madeline asked, "What're you doing?"

He replied, "Who knows? Some doctors say it Addison's. Then it's Neuroglycopenia. Others say who knows what? That, plus the accident...," Gums and mouth seemed OK, he asked Chelsea, "What'd you have to eat?"

Chelsea knew she was in for it, "Nothing...I...a burger, no, a piece of bread, a pickle, a small glass of..."

Disgusted, Colton finished her sentence, "You've been drinking. Wine I'll bet."

"Just a small glass."

Madeline touched his arm.

Ignoring Madeline, at first he, not unkindly, scolded Chelsea, "You stupid girl," looking at Madeline, "There were some lemon slices. Get some," back to Chelsea, "So, nothing to eat, hot day preceded by church, a party, and not to understate meeting a new woman," then in a more sympathetic tone, wiping her cheek, he added, "Dare I say rival?"

Tears started dribbling from the corners of Chelsea's eyes.

He turned cold, "Not going to happen, not ever. We're cousins. You're more like a kid sister, and not a very good one," he softened, "Look dear-heart, we'll always be together, just us, just us two, just not that way," he heard a stirring behind him and knew it was Madeline. He wondered what she heard.

Chelsea was already recovering, but Colton made her chew through two lemons before he let up. He was glum, party over, at least for him and Chelsea. He peered over at Madeline who'd been on the floor beside him, "I've got to take her home. She needs a nap, a real nap, in bed. You can stay if you want. I'm sure Brian or somebody would be glad to take you home later."

Madeline, honestly affronted, leaned back. Giving Colton her best umbrage, "No, I'll leave with you two."

Faintly smiling, a little pleased, an unconscious gesture Madeline noted, he remarked, "All right then," he got up and helped Chelsea to her feet. The three of them, Colton steadying Chelsea with an arm, worked their way back outside. He expressed his regrets. Madeline acknowledged their friendliness to a stranger. The three rode home; Chelsea and Madeline together in the back.

~~V~~

Back home Colton got a wobbly Chelsea in bed. Not finding his or her mother he said, "You stay here. Be quiet. I need to get Madeline home." Placing her cell phone by her bed he added, "You feel bad again don't fool around. Call 911," Normally he would have stayed, watched her, put cool cloths on her forehead, but he left and went back downstairs to a waiting Madeline, "Come on, let me get you home."

Off to the truck they went. He couldn't have known, but as soon as the side door closed, even before he'd started his truck, the nearly recovered Chelsea was out of bed and at her desk turning on her 'desk top'.

Colton got Madeline back to her house. He handed her out and walked as far as her gate. She asked, "Won't you come in for a moment?"

He demurred, "No, I better get back."

Plying him with a despondent smile she pleaded, "Please, just a moment."

He caved, "Oh well, just a moment." So up and into Madeline's house Colton strolled.

Inside Madeline smiled sheepishly, "I'm tired myself. Would you mind staying just a few?"

He nodded.

"I'd like to get out this suit; it's a work thing, and I feel trapped in it. Maybe you could make us each a cup of coffee. I've got a Couric in the kitchen, coffee packets in the top cupboard above the dishwasher," not waiting for an answer she started upstairs.

Colt thought, 'What the hell,' he started toward the kitchen. He couldn't help but notice the house and furnishings. He'd been in places like this before; upscale, rich, luxuriant. Chelsea would like it.

He had both coffees ready and was seated at her kitchen table when Madeline walked in; he was mildly surprised. He expected maybe dungarees and a shirt, not what he saw. Madeline was barefoot, no stockings, only a short white slip, something she might have worn beneath a mini-dress. It left almost nothing to the imagination.

She sat catty-cornered from him, "Sorry, not trying to be anything but comfortable, just need to unwind."

For a moment he couldn't take his eyes off her breasts. When he looked up he saw she was smiling, "Sorry," he said.

"No problem. Guess I'm sorry too. I wanted you to see me, just wasn't sure...look I'll go put something else on."

"No you're good, I mean it's all right," He knew he should leave. He knew she shouldn't have come down dressed like that. He didn't know how he should feel, what he should say. Any other woman and he would've taken the cue. He should've, but he didn't, "Just stay where you are. It's your home. I should be leaving," he got up to go.

She got up too.

He didn't plan for it to happen. He stood up. She stood up. Then they were in each other's arms. Her hands; one on his waist, the other behind his head. Her fingers, his nape, the chills, her kiss, that first kiss. His hands, soft breasts. The soft material of her slip, soft flesh against muscle. Her hot breath on his neck, her crease, the moisture. His pants fell to the floor. Up against the sink his penis penetrated her vagina. He heard her nearly inaudible sighs. He controlled his own. She was that good, or more likely it was his own anticipation. Sure, that's what it was...

~~V~~

He got home later. Chelsea was asleep. His mom wasn't home, her mom wasn't either.

All the way home he kept replaying what had happened. There was no rhyme or reason for it; it just happened. He kept thinking, 'Anne Hathaway; he'd made love to Anne Hathaway. How many men like him could ever say they'd done that? She was almost everything he might have imagined, almost. Warm soft lips, healthy arms and thighs, not hard or muscular but a shapely comfortable body. Her flesh was pink, pink all over, and hot to the touch, hot everywhere. The way her hands, her fingers wandered over his body, over his face, his chest, around his waist, down to his...' She knew the score. Thankfully he'd pulled out just before, but the sight of her abdomen, soft, flushed pink covered with a sheen of sweat and snow white semen splattered on it, her trimmed vagina, her stomach, not exactly flat, but not fat either, just like what he'd imagined.

She hadn't tried to clean up. When they'd finished she'd readjusted her slip and helped him with his trousers. She'd stuffed his penis back in his boxers. She slathered a finger across it and tasted what she'd collected. She'd seen a renewed tumescence, but they hadn't... They'd walked to her front door in silence. They'd kissed there, no other contact, just lips, "Call me," she'd said.

Later he lay in bed with a hard on. He felt stupid, foolish - one and done- that had been him. He could only imagine what she must have thought.

~~V~~

And she had thought about it...and him too. As soon as his truck pulled away, leaning against the door she took the fingers of her left hand, touched them to her stomach, and pulled up some more of his still sticky semen. She put it to her lips. It tasted sweet, she smiled as she thought, 'He was good. This was going to be fun.'

Back in her bedroom she showered and toweled off. Sliding into bed she saw the blinking light. Leaning across the bed she hit the button, three messages.

The first was from her father, "Hello Dumplin? It's Daddy. Your mom and I are at the airport saying goodbye to sissy. We'll be home sometime tomorrow, we'll rest up first, jet lag you know, and then I'll call. When can I see you? I love you and miss you. Bye now. Daddy."

'Gosh,' she thought, 'Daddy. She wished he'd stop it with the dumplin thing. She wasn't fat any more.'

Then there was one from Brad, "Maddie can't we get together? We need to talk. I love you so much. Please," she groaned, just as Brad started crying she went to the third message. It was Mr. Hanlon her boss, "Maddie it's me. Be in my office early, 9:00 a.m. Be at your best."

She chuckled, "Seems that partnership was closer than ever." She lay back naked, Errol in her left hand. Who could say? Another year in Hicksville? Back to Philadelphia with a partnership in her hands? Back to daddy? Her father? No, she'd stay right where she was. Chambersburg wasn't as bad as all that. She lay back comfortably. No, if daddy wanted to see her he knew where she was. Errol hummed softly inside her as she fell off to sleep.

This the end of part one.