Missing Dolores - A Novella

"I hope Mr. Peebles turned the water back on," she said to herself in a low voice. Peebles was the now-elderly handyman who had watched over the property for several decades. Aside from checking the premises regularly, he would turn the gas, water and electricity back on and inspect the plumbing and appliances before Linda and her brood arrived.

Ah, hell. It might as well be community property. I'm just grateful somebody hasn't burned our old place to the ground.

Sarah also passed through the gate, but walked slowly, letting the sun kiss her pale skin as she inhaled the sea's salty, earthy aroma. Having struggled with health problems for a good portion of her life and spending countless lost hours in bed, she had learned patience, developing a habit of lingering, often for long periods of time, to take in her surroundings.

Linda admired this quality in her little sister, as she had always been the opposite. Her hectic professional job, plus taking care of Billy and Sarah for so many years had given her a short attention span. She developed a habit of staying alert and observant, ready to put out any fire, small or large, a trait she considered essential not only for good parenting, but for succeeding in a male-dominated world. Enjoying the moment was a rare occurrence. The beach trip was one of the few times she could step back, think about her lot, plus realize how lucky she was to have her son, her sister, and her old Dad.

I wish I could have talked him into coming, but all he wants to do these days is sit in his easy chair, watch TV and drink beer.

"Just leave the city behind and live here all year round," she had said on many occasions, usually when her stress level was peaking. "Heck, I'll do people's taxes, be a Notary Public and, if that doesn't work, I'll spread my legs and be a prostitute." This was usually an indicator she'd had enough to drink. Then she would laugh, her red-painted lips drawing back to reveal two rows of uneven pearlescent teeth, thinking how absurd the fantasy was.

Win the lottery and stay here forever. Buy the town -- hell, the whole goddamn county - and forbid any of the summer crowd to return. Take my two kids and spend day after day watching waves crash and boats cross the horizon, all going god-knows-where. Get a young manservant with a strong body and a big cock to cater to my needs.

Still, it was a fantasy she returned to time and time again, and it had helped her through many tough challenges. Linda slipped into the driver's seat, pulled the gearshift down, and passed through the gate. Once parked, she shut off the ignition, set the parking brake and opened the back of the station wagon to extract a pair of suitcases, carrying them into the house.

A stale odor met her nostrils as she entered the warm, stuffy abode.

Damn, gotta open the windows and let some of this heat escape.

She heard a toilet flush, then Billy passed her, going into the kitchen.

"I assume the plumbing works." Linda called out.

"Yep!"

Sarah still lurked outside, watching the sea and the horizon, or turning to look at the lonesome house, jutting up awkwardly from the hillock.

"Mom, I think someone's been here." Billy called from the next room.

Linda put down the suitcases near the hallway accessing the rest of the house, sniffing and crinkling her nose. Another odor, this time more foul, assaulted her olfactories. She walked toward her son's voice, joining him.

Linda entered the spare, white kitchen, looking at the dirty sleeping bags and piles of detritus that looked like they had been there for a long time. She also noticed empty beer cans and what appeared to be a square of tinfoil on the kitchen counter, holding a few depleted joints. Linda always left the place spotless and tried to secure it as much as possible before they returned to the city. This time, it was for naught.� � � � � � � � � � � � �

Some people are just trash.

"Yes, honey, I get the feeling this has been a popular place for the wrong crowd." She slipped her arm around Billy's shoulder and squeezed, feeling how firm it was.

Mercy, this kid's developing some muscles.

"Wasn't Mr. Peebles watching over this place for us?" Billy rested his head on his mother's shoulder, his arm going around her waist and returning the squeeze, making his mother's body flush with warmth. She exhaled.

Ah, hugs and touching. I need more of this. Can't seem to get enough.

"Dammit, I thought so." Linda furrowed her brow. "I'll go by his shop tomorrow morning and see what's up."

"Looks like no one's checked on this place since we left last year." Billy eyed the kitchen window, which was raised a couple of inches. � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �

"Well, let's not wring our hands over it, honey. Let's get this place in order." She kissed her son on the top of the head, smelling his hair. Sunshine with a hint of sweat filled her nostrils. Another lingering kiss.

"Aw, Mom." Billy whined. "Stop it!" His voice didn't convince her, but she obliged.

"I can love on you if I want, kiddo, no matter how old you think you are." She patted his firm butt, giving it a squeeze, just to embarrass him more. "Now go check the rest of the house and I'll dig out some housecleaning accoutrements."

With a loud sigh, Billy disappeared down the hallway as Linda called to her sister through the grungy metal screen on the storm door.

"Sarah, I need your help, sweetheart. Please get that box of groceries from the back of the car and come inside."

Little sis lingered for a moment, still in her own world, then obeyed. She fished a large cardboard box from the Mercury's rear deck, then trotted toward the house, her long legs stretching out as she skipped a step going up to the front door.

"Oh, gross!" She retched upon entering the kitchen, glaring at the mess. "What the fuck is this?" She placed the box on the long, rustic kitchen table in the corner and stood beside her older sister.

"We're not the only ones who enjoy the family retreat," Linda squeezed Sarah to her bosom, "and when did you start using language like that?" Pressing the young woman against her body felt good, and Linda again exhaled, smiling. Not only was Sarah growing up, she was firming up as well, just like Billy.

God, where did my kids go? These two are growing up so fast.

"Oh, come on!" Sarah unconsciously rubbed her head against big sister's breasts, getting lost in a sensory moment against those soft D-cups, again making Linda's body pulse with heat. "I'm nineteen, for Christ's sake!"

Linda snorted, giving the young woman's ass a gentle squeeze, languidly kissing and nuzzling the top of Sarah's head like she had her son's.

"Yeah, well, you may be nineteen, but somebody might mistake you for twelve, so you damn well better be careful, kid!"

Sarah huffed, annoyed at the comment, but knew it was true. If only she could look her age and be treated like a grown-up! Inwardly, Linda was confused at how her sister's closeness, her face pressed against her breasts, was getting her worked up.

Damn, Linda. What the hell is wrong with you? You're so needy, now even your sister's touch gets you going? Stop!

Linda shook her troubling thoughts away and focused on the moment. "Okay, then." Big sister returned. "Do the adult thing and help me get this house into shape."

"Sure, sure..."

"You can start with opening all the windows."

"Aye aye, captain!" Sarah saluted, standing upright, knocking her bare heels together.

"Smartass." Big sister slapped her butt, launching her down the hallway.

She pushed open the back door of the kitchen, which led directly outside. Another loud squeal of metal resisting metal. Linda winced from the sound.

Jesus. Remember to get a can of 3-in-1 Oil at Mr. Peebles' place tomorrow.

* * * * * * * *

Linda, like most women who had lived long enough to experience their share of joys and disappointments in life, harbored a few secrets. Something she never told Sarah was that, after her infant sister became healthy enough to live without medical assistance, Linda took over the duty of nursing her in addition to her son. After their mother's untimely death, she cared for both Sarah and Billy. It was a strange feeling in some way, her sister and son being only one year apart in age.

Linda was no slouch at producing milk. Her swollen breasts hurt and fought against her nursing bra so much she started going topless during the day when her father and husband were at work, keeping a soft terrycloth robe handy in case someone knocked at the door unexpectedly. She had no trouble feeding two, so that was what she did, and with great pride. Every few hours, she would take the babies in her arms. It would take little effort before they latched onto her now-sensitive, erect nipples.

"Ahhh..." Linda sighed as they began to feed simultaneously. She would gaze up at the ceiling and speak to her dear, departed mother. "See this, Mom?" She whispered softly. "I can feed both babies at once." She closed her eyes while they drew nourishment from her body. "Aren't you proud of me?"

Having a hungry mouth on each breast gave Linda a sense of fulfillment she had never before imagined. True, caring for two babies, day in and day out, not to mention housekeeping, was challenging for the young mother, but watching them thrive and grow, especially puny little Sarah, made it all worthwhile.

"I think we can afford a housekeeper to come in a few days a week." Her husband said, sitting at his old wooden roll-top desk, shuffling through bills under the light of a green table lamp. "What do you say?"

Linda sighed, nodding. Next thing she knew, Dolores was bustling around the house, taking up the slack, allowing Linda to pay more attention to her babies and have a few moments of peace. The women took to each other quickly, as if they had known each other all of their lives. Dolores not only kept the house spotless, she also assisted Linda in her frequent nursings, holding the infants until the young mother nestled in the big, overstuffed easy chair, then sitting at the edge of the bed, watching intently.

A local staffing agency had recommended Dolores Martinez, a dark-eyed, buxom woman with long, black hair who appeared to be slightly older than Linda. Dolores had emigrated from Mexico and eventually obtained her green card. She had cared for an elderly woman across town up until a few weeks back. Of course, the inevitable happened, leaving Dolores at liberty.

"As much as I loved Mrs. Belmont," Dolores said with a thick Spanish accent, referring to her previous job, "it was time for God to take her. Eighty-three is a good, long life, and she no longer recognized anyone. The poor woman couldn't even move." Dolores reached out to touch and rub Linda's shoulder and neck in a motherly way, gazing at her with a Mona Lisa smile while she nursed. "It hurt me so much when she stopped recognizing me. I cried and cried." � � � � � � � � � � � � � Linda nodded blissfully, eyes fluttering from the electricity sparking in her nipples, spreading throughout her entire body. Dolores continued.

"But I come from a big family, and we all lived together in one big house, so I am no stranger to this. In many ways, old people and infants are much the same. They need constant attention, don't you think?"

"Yes, I suppose so." Linda would never have a chance to watch her mother grow old, but she kept it to herself for the moment.

"Do you like to nurse? I mean..." Dolores placed her hand over her mouth, giggling, as if admitting to something naughty. "I helped my mother, a couple of aunts, and even a niece, when they were breastfeeding. I think some women love it and some hate it." She hesitated, as if embarrassed by her words. "Either they can't wait to wean their babies, or they don't want to stop."

It was obvious to Linda that her new helper had much more experience in some ways than she.

"I don't know, honey." Linda's voice sounded far away, barely disturbing the still air of the room. "I'm so new to this, I don't know what to think, but if I had to guess, for me it would be the latter." The young mother let out a heavy sigh. "This just feels so good, and so satisfying."

Dolores giggled again, eyes wide as she watched the hungry mouths at work. "I think this is a sign you will be a good mother."

Of course, for Linda, the sensation of nursing her babies was in no conceivable way sexual, but sensual. Dolores helped her care for her often-sore nipples, applying Vaseline to them when they were red and cracked. The young woman sighed as slick fingers traced around her puckered areolas and now permanently-erect buds. Linda was so grateful for the addition of an older, more experienced woman, and that her husband thought of getting help. In a very short time, they became intimate friends. In some ways, Dolores became Linda's surrogate mother. For a brief, precious moment, peace reigned over the house.

Then came the car crash. The coroner offered cold comfort to Linda, saying her husband probably didn't see it coming and died instantly. The offending driver, his blood alcohol well beyond the legal limit, was put behind bars, this not having been his first offence.

Every Sunday, at least for a while, Linda visited William's grave at Parklawn Cemetery.

"Honey, how can I live without you?" Kneeling next to the headstone, her hand caressing the cold marble, Linda held a white handkerchief to her face with the other hand. Dolores stood beside her, again caressing her neck and shoulder, a tear streaking down her brown cheek as her new friend quivered and sobbed with grief.

For weeks following the tragedy, Linda struggled with shock and sorrow, virtually paralyzed. Many times she woke in the night and reached out for her man, only to find an empty space. Linda's father remained solid, working even longer hours to compensate for the financial loss, but the quiet, taciturn man had difficulty responding to her emotional needs. Immediately, Dolores made arrangements to stay with her around the clock.

"No, no, Dolores." Sylvia sobbed into her friend's bosom. "We can't afford to have you here all the time. I'm sorry."

"This is not about money, my love," Dolores whispered in the dark stillness of the bedroom. The babies had been fed and were fast asleep. Sylvia felt warm breath caress her cheek as comforting arms surrounded her. "This is about helping you get through the night, however long it takes, if you will allow me."

A grateful Linda pressed her face against Dolores's soft cotton nightgown, breathing deeply, hands grasping her friend's waist. She sensed a thick, hard nipple pressing against her face through the fabric. For a moment, she wondered what Dolores's nipple would feel like in her mouth, then quickly banished the thought.

"My angel." Dolores closed her eyes, exhaling audibly as she rested her head against Linda's. "I have no one else to care for in this country." She chuckled. "You give me something to do."

That was the first chuckle Linda managed since her husband's death.

"I don't want to be nosy, but..." Linda looked up at her friend's face. "You're so beautiful and warm. I can't believe the right man hasn't come along."

Dolores remained silent, looking at the wall. Linda immediately regretted asking the question.

Why did you ask her? Stupid! Stupid!

"I'm so sorry, Dolores. It's none of my business."

"I cannot have children," the older woman said plainly.

"Oh, honey." For a moment, Linda transcended her grief, reaching out to touch Dolores's face.

"And the man I was with in Mexico turned out to be a son-of-a-bitch."

Linda stroked her friend's cheek.

"My darling," she said. Linda had trouble finding the right words. This was the first she'd heard of someone in Dolores's life at any time, past or present. She wanted to hear more, but quelled the impulse to ask again. "Please, you don't have to tell me anything. You know I care about you and your well-being as you do for me."

But Dolores had a story to tell.

"Only after we were married did I discover he was in a drug gang. He was no good. I was young and stupid and he fooled me. He also hurt me, more and more as the days went on, especially after he found out I was barren." Dolores sobbed, a tear streaking down her cheek. Creases and furrows seemed to cover her entire face as she remembered those bad times. "I wasn't sad when the Federales shot him down. I would rather be a widow than a punching bag." She looked down at Linda, as if returning from some far-away place. "Is that wrong? Does that make me a bad person?"

"Oh, no, my love." Linda rose toward the Dolores's gentle breath, almost touching her friend's face. She quelled the impulse to kiss her full, lush lips, but at the moment, it felt so natural. "I can't imagine having someone who's supposed to love you so much doing that."

"Once he discovered I couldn't produce a son, he started seeing other women. I didn't want to catch their disease, so there was no sex after that, even though he tried to beat me into submission."

Linda was still so young and naïve and had never been in an abusive relationship. She only knew the pain of her mother's, then her husband's, deaths. Dolores had a three-inch-long scar underneath her chin. Nothing major, but it was clearly a past injury which Linda noticed shortly after the woman arrived. She now wondered if it was a product of the abuse. It was as if Dolores was reading her mind.

"The wounds healed and my bruises went away, but I made a promise to myself to never give my heart to any man ever again." More tears tracked down Dolores's cheeks.

"Oh, no, Dolores." Linda's voice cracked. Her grief, never far from the surface, had returned. "You surely must know not every man is like that." She, too, found herself sobbing. "My husband is a perfect..." She couldn't finish. By then, both women wept in silence, their bodies pressing against one another's, as they processed sadness and loss, both past and present.

"Please stay with me." Linda finally kissed Dolores on the mouth. The older woman didn't respond, but neither did she pull away.

Dolores took up occupancy in the adjacent bedroom. A connecting door joined the rooms, which came in handy especially as they went about their nocturnal routine. Nursing could be fulfilled, diapers changed and whatnot. Often they played gin rummy and listened to the little radio on the nightstand without disturbing Linda's sleeping father on the other side of the house. Days turned into weeks, which turned into months, but Dolores persevered, slowly pulling her ward back into the world of the living. The two women formed an even closer bond.

* * * * * * * *

"Mom," Billy called from one of the ground floor bedrooms. "Somebody peed on this mattress or something. At least it smells like it."

Linda walked into the bedroom to be greeted with more feral odors.

"Goddammit," she hissed in a low voice, again wondering why the hell Mr. Peebles hadn't checked on the house as he promised last summer and every summer before that. "Well, check the upstairs bedroom, son. See if that's anything you'd sleep on."

Billy bounded up the creaky stairs, disappearing to the abbreviated second floor. Linda could hear him walking around the bedroom, inspecting the closet and looking out each window.

"Well?" She called up through the ceiling, waiting a few beats impatiently.

"Everything looks okay up here," his muffled voice replied.

"Okay, then it's yours. Sarah and I will share the bedroom down here."

"Thanks, Mom."

"And open all the windows while you're up there."

"Okay."

Linda could hear wood scraping against wood as her son forced the old windowpanes to abide. More footsteps and creaking as Billy came back down the stairs.