Cycle One F: Caution, Wind and All of That…
“Tomorrow is more than another day,
It’s the beginning of what you started yesterday.”
(“Tomorrow is Another Day” " Stephen Stills)
The sun was just up over the eastern horizon when Ducky pulled his Morgan into driveway of Celeste’s home just outside Baltimore. She lived in a neat little brick bungalow with white trim and baskets of flowers hanging from the front porch. Her red PT Cruiser was in the carport and he coasted in behind it, turned off his engine, then sat, waiting, not sure what to do.
Celeste came out the side door of the house, carrying two travel mugs. She looked tired, wore no makeup, a faded blue hoodie sweatshirt, blue and grey plaid flannel pants and old sneakers. He suspected he didn’t look much better in his frayed camel-colored cardigan, open collared green golf shirt and wrinkled tan slacks.
She leaned against his car, looked down at him sitting in the driver’s seat.
“I’ll never get used to English cars. Right hand driver’s seats. Weird.” Celeste’s voice sounded like he felt " a tangle of exhaustion. She handed a mug through the open window.
He took a sip. The coffee was warm and just slightly sweet " the way he liked it. “Demarara sugar?”
She smiled. “Sometimes you just get used to things and you like having them around the house…”
He opened the door, got out and immediately scooped her into an embrace. They stood together wordlessly for a very long time, just holding each other.
Celeste broke the silence. “Is it good to see each other or are we just trying to keep each other upright?”
“Bit of both I suspect.” He took her hand “There’s so much to talk about…Shall we go indoors?” He tugged her hand and she fell into step next to him, her arm slipping around his waist, his around hers. And it was just right. Just so right.
Ducky held the door open as Celeste entered. He followed her through the kitchen and into a bright, airy living room, walls covered with bookshelves crammed helter skelter with books. Warm trim and doors matched the wood in the mission style and arts-and-crafts furniture. Celeste had put her heart and soul into this place. It felt exactly like her.
“So. This is Chez Celeste. Very nice. Very you.”
Two cats came in to greet them.
“May I introduce Tucker and Esme. She’s the grey one and Tucker’s the tabby. They don’t really care that you’re here. They’re more interested in whether or not I’ll feed them.”
“Of course they are.” Esme sauntered up to Ducky and rubbed his ankles. Tucker sat and looked at him for a few moments and walked away.
“Something I said?” Ducky asked.
“No. Just Tucker being Tucker. I love him but he has the attention span of a gnat. Would you like something to eat? I’ve got some fruit and cheese and a relatively fresh baguette.”
“Sounds lovely.”
She went back to the kitchen and Ducky settled down on the very comfortable, slightly frayed and fur "covered sofa. Music was playing on the stereo… one of Crosby, Still and Nash’s more rock tinged songs:
“Boy, don’t stand there /in the shadows/Let her know that you care about/ what she knows…” Stephen Stills rocked out.
Celeste came back in with a full tray and a couple of plates.
“Still the Rocker Chick I hear.” He took the proffered plate and she sat down beside him, setting the food on the coffee table.
“Can’t help it. Daddy hated it, so of course the sibs and I blasted it all the time. It was a wonderful, passive/aggressive bit of teen rebellion. I just got to where I really liked it. Right now the stereo is streaming my i-Pod which is on shuffle. You’re going to hear all kinds of eclectic stuff that is the music of my life. Elton John, Crosby, Stills & Nash, the Beatles, Sting, Bryan Adams, even a little bit of Debussy. A dash of Bach. I think I even downloaded some Philip Glass.”
“Good Lord! Can you skip that over if it comes on?”
“Yes. No opera, though…” She grinned at him, brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes.
Even in disarray she was beautiful.
“So,” said Celeste kicking off her shoes revealing a bright pair of tie-dyed socks as she curled herself onto the sofa. “Talk to me. You say you saw Andrew and Victoria and you weren’t sure it was a dream. I know you talk to the dead, Ducky, but I didn’t expect you to go all ‘Sixth Sense’ on me!”
“Thank you. That sounds exactly like something DiNozzo would say. The dead I talk to NEVER talk back. I have to provide answers and talking to them helps me frame the proper questions in the proper way. This was very different and quite outside the normal realm. The only other person I’ve ever seen in this way was Caitlin Todd. And that was very briefly, so briefly that I considered it almost a bout of wishful thinking "”
“Maybe it was.”
“No. Nor was what I experienced earlier this morning. It was framed in a surreal reality. Andrew and Mother had something they wanted to say to me.”
“Which was?”
“That they are all right. And that we will be all right. Without them. And with each other. At least that’s how Andrew seemed to feel.”
“And your mother didn’t. No surprise there. I don’t think she actually disliked me, but I’m not sure she ever really liked me, either.”
“Mother said quite clearly that she would choose Jordan for me if it were up to her to make the choice.”
Celeste folded her arms. “Which only served to confuse you more.”
“No. It actually began clarifying things. Which is why we’re here now. So I can explain and you can refute if need be.”
He went on to describe the incident in detail, leaving out nothing. “I was quite curious as to whether you could see Andrew or the room we were in. I never got the chance to ask Andrew as he left so suddenly. But he seemed to go in your direction.”
“But you couldn’t actually see me?”
“No.”
Celeste looked thoughtful. “When Arthur nearly killed me I remember seeing Andrew. Andrew said that I had to stay here because there was something I had to do. He didn’t say what. When I saw him this morning and I tried to hug him, he said that I couldn’t " that I had to hug you instead. By doing so, it would be the same as hugging him. And that it would make Daddy stop hurting inside. Then I wouldn’t have to write my tears.” Celeste sighed, her eyes glistening. “He somehow thinks I’m supposed to heal you.” She rubbed her eyes. “He understood so much. I always thought he was an Old Soul that somehow came to us for one last chance at life.” She sighed. “We gave him life as long as he needed it because he came to pass on his gifts. To us!”
Ducky leaned back against the sofa, looking pensive. “He’s not gone. Not as long as we have him with us, in our memories, in our hearts, we haven’t really lost him. I understand now.” He quirked a rueful smile. “This old fool finally gets it.”
“You aren’t old. And you’re certainly no fool. But I’m glad you understand now.” Celeste leaned over, put her arms around Ducky, and they sat in silence for a long time, her head on his shoulder.
“This is how it should be, you know. Us. Again.”
“You’re sure about that, Dr Mallard?”
“Reasonably so, yes.”
“And you’ll tell Jordan?”
“As soon as she’ll hear me out.”
“Oh, Ducky. It’s a lot to think about. I hate being ‘the Other Woman.’ And I wonder if it isn’t just a combination of grief and opportunity that is making us turn to each other now. It could be just wishful thinking "”
Ducky touched her lips with his finger, forcing silence. “Maybe you’re over-thinking, Celeste. You have a tendency to do that.” He drew her closer. “What does your heart say?”
“Of fast/ running rivers/of choice and chance/And time stops here/on the delta/while they dance…” David Crosby’s exquisite tenor voice lifted the achingly beautiful words of “Delta” over them.
She squirmed uncomfortably, looked at the floor, sighed a small sigh. Then resolve took over and she looked him in the eyes, her mouth in a tiny smile. “That…I will love you. For the rest of my life.”
His finger lifted a stray strand of hair away from her eyes. “Very…good…answer.”
Their lips found each other. The kiss started slowly, warmly, then suddenly deepened, caught fire. Lips explored familiar territory as if it were new again " the hollow of a throat, the lobe of an ear. Hands found their way beneath shirts and buttons, belts and zippers, and the rediscoveries were electric with remembrance. As things intensified, Ducky was grateful that over the years Celeste seemed to have remembered every button to push…and he couldn’t believe how much he wanted her to push them.
“I think it’s time to take this to another venue.” Celeste helped him to his feet, led him to the bedroom.
“Part of my brain is saying this is crazy,” Ducky gasped as Celeste pulled his shirt over his head. “The rest of my brain isn’t thinking at all…”
“Now who’s over-thinking?”
He kissed her again, slipped his hand under her shirt, slid it to the small of her back, then lower. Celeste gasped, whirled him around so he was backed up against the bed.
“That’s right, Donnie. Play dirty.”
“I thought that was the objective…”
“Very funny. Though I’m very impressed by your memory after thirty years…”
“You’re unforgettable, Celeste…”
“Well, not everyone gets a second chance at a first time,” Celeste whispered, pushing him down onto the bed, kissing him hard.
He lifted her shirt over her head, unhooked her bra with one hand, tossed both garments into a pile on the floor. “Oh, I think I’m up for it.” He rolled on top of her.
“Well! I’d have to say you are, Doctor Mallard,” she agreed as she helped him shed the rest of his clothes.
The stereo started playing “Nights in White Satin.” by the Moody Blues. “We both know that song is sex set to music.”
“Or music set to sex.” Ducky traced his finger down her throat to her breasts, then slowly, lightly traced lower. Her shudder was one of unbridled pleasure. “Haven’t we done this before? To this particular song?” he asked.
“Oh, yes! The night you proposed to me. Are people usually naked when they’re proposed to, I wonder…?” Her further reminiscences were stopped by a deep kiss and a gentle tickling on a particular spot on the back of her neck causing her to squirm with delight.
“Oh. I found the turn-on button,” Ducky whispered into her ear.
“You know, you haven’t forgotten a flaming thing, Mallard!” she gasped.
“How could I ever forget how to love you, Celeste? I have always loved you.” And everything clicked to reset. They gave in to the pleasure and passion. Rose and fell like waves with music washing over them.
But the reality wrapping them in their moment was the fact that they were truly making love. And that was what had been missing for so long. So very, very long…
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.