up. “I was going to. Julia and I had to talk about something.”
“That wasn’t talking! That was kissing!”
Because of who Jack was, we were allowed to see Oliver onto the plane. He was in the front row of first class, looking very small sitting alone in the middle of three empty seats. Jack tipped the flight attendants to ensure that he’d be watched over, and then autographed a stack of luggage tags for them.
“We’ve got to leave now. Have a good flight, and mind the nice attendants.” Jack checked Ollie’s seatbelt and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Ollie threw his arms around Jack’s shoulders, clinging tightly. “You’re aces, Uncle Jack! You too, Julia.”
When Jack stood up, I saw tears in his eyes. I leaned down and gave Oliver a hug. “I’m glad you could come. I’ll miss you.”
“Call me as soon as you get home,” Jack said. “Love ya’.”
The plane’s engines revved. We went down the icy metal steps and into the waiting car.
“I’ve got an idea,” Jack said later that night. “Playing with Ollie put me in mind of it. Let’s play hide and strip. Whenever I find you, you have to take off a piece of clothing.” He grinned. “Draw it out a little.”
“That sounds interesting.” I was amazed he was still in the mood; we’d spent all afternoon in bed. But if he was up for it, I was game.
Jack went around the apartment turning off all the lights. He got a flashlight from a kitchen drawer. “I’m gonna count to ten out here,” he called, lying back on the couch and using his hand to strobe the light on the ceiling.
In the dark, I hurried into the bedroom. The closet wasn’t very original, but I couldn’t think of anywhere else last-minute. Spying the empty hanging wardrobe he used for his concert gear, I stepped inside and zipped it up. He’ll never find me here , I thought, standing perfectly still. I could feel my heart pounding in the pitch-black interior, a faint lingering scent of pot perfuming the lining.
“Aah!” I screamed, doubling over as I was suddenly grabbed at the waist. Jack lifted me up and slung me over his shoulder. Laughing, I tried to kick his butt from inside the bulky garment bag. He dumped me on the bed and slowly unzipped the zipper. “Not too imaginative,” he said as my face appeared. “In fact, as a penalty, you’ll have to take it all off at once.”
Chapter Eight
I Can’t Stand Up for Falling Down
The next morning, a Sunday, Jack was unusually quiet. We ate a late breakfast in bed listening to Albert King belting out “Born Under a Bad Sign,” followed by Blind Lemon Jefferson’s “Matchbox Blues” and “Tight Like That” by Tampa Red. When Jack got in the shower, I stretched my legs across the mattress, luxuriating in the peace and quiet.
The water stopped, and I heard the screech of the medicine cabinet. Jack stood in the doorway, toweling his hair.
“Listen, maybe you could go off these at some point. See what happens.” He held up my birth control pills.
I felt hot and cold all at once. I can’t believe it—he wants to get married! And I’d been thinking I should just enjoy it while it lasts. He really wants to stay together forever!
A tidal wave of emotion brought tears to my eyes. My mind skipped ahead to a vision of Jack in an elegant black tux, his long hair in sensual contrast to the formal attire, waiting for me at the end of the aisle. I’ll be Mrs. Jack Kipling — no, wait—I won’t change my name. We’ll be Julia Nash and Jack Kipling, together for eternity…
Jack was staring at me, waiting for me to say something. “Jack, I’d love to!” A big grin spread across his face, and I realized I’d better clarify. “I mean, eventually. But we’d need to do some planning, right? I mean, to figure out all the details.”
He sat next to me on the bed. “What details? We could start tonight.” He put his hand on my thigh.
Suddenly it hit me: He isn’t talking about
“That wasn’t talking! That was kissing!”
Because of who Jack was, we were allowed to see Oliver onto the plane. He was in the front row of first class, looking very small sitting alone in the middle of three empty seats. Jack tipped the flight attendants to ensure that he’d be watched over, and then autographed a stack of luggage tags for them.
“We’ve got to leave now. Have a good flight, and mind the nice attendants.” Jack checked Ollie’s seatbelt and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Ollie threw his arms around Jack’s shoulders, clinging tightly. “You’re aces, Uncle Jack! You too, Julia.”
When Jack stood up, I saw tears in his eyes. I leaned down and gave Oliver a hug. “I’m glad you could come. I’ll miss you.”
“Call me as soon as you get home,” Jack said. “Love ya’.”
The plane’s engines revved. We went down the icy metal steps and into the waiting car.
“I’ve got an idea,” Jack said later that night. “Playing with Ollie put me in mind of it. Let’s play hide and strip. Whenever I find you, you have to take off a piece of clothing.” He grinned. “Draw it out a little.”
“That sounds interesting.” I was amazed he was still in the mood; we’d spent all afternoon in bed. But if he was up for it, I was game.
Jack went around the apartment turning off all the lights. He got a flashlight from a kitchen drawer. “I’m gonna count to ten out here,” he called, lying back on the couch and using his hand to strobe the light on the ceiling.
In the dark, I hurried into the bedroom. The closet wasn’t very original, but I couldn’t think of anywhere else last-minute. Spying the empty hanging wardrobe he used for his concert gear, I stepped inside and zipped it up. He’ll never find me here , I thought, standing perfectly still. I could feel my heart pounding in the pitch-black interior, a faint lingering scent of pot perfuming the lining.
“Aah!” I screamed, doubling over as I was suddenly grabbed at the waist. Jack lifted me up and slung me over his shoulder. Laughing, I tried to kick his butt from inside the bulky garment bag. He dumped me on the bed and slowly unzipped the zipper. “Not too imaginative,” he said as my face appeared. “In fact, as a penalty, you’ll have to take it all off at once.”
Chapter Eight
I Can’t Stand Up for Falling Down
The next morning, a Sunday, Jack was unusually quiet. We ate a late breakfast in bed listening to Albert King belting out “Born Under a Bad Sign,” followed by Blind Lemon Jefferson’s “Matchbox Blues” and “Tight Like That” by Tampa Red. When Jack got in the shower, I stretched my legs across the mattress, luxuriating in the peace and quiet.
The water stopped, and I heard the screech of the medicine cabinet. Jack stood in the doorway, toweling his hair.
“Listen, maybe you could go off these at some point. See what happens.” He held up my birth control pills.
I felt hot and cold all at once. I can’t believe it—he wants to get married! And I’d been thinking I should just enjoy it while it lasts. He really wants to stay together forever!
A tidal wave of emotion brought tears to my eyes. My mind skipped ahead to a vision of Jack in an elegant black tux, his long hair in sensual contrast to the formal attire, waiting for me at the end of the aisle. I’ll be Mrs. Jack Kipling — no, wait—I won’t change my name. We’ll be Julia Nash and Jack Kipling, together for eternity…
Jack was staring at me, waiting for me to say something. “Jack, I’d love to!” A big grin spread across his face, and I realized I’d better clarify. “I mean, eventually. But we’d need to do some planning, right? I mean, to figure out all the details.”
He sat next to me on the bed. “What details? We could start tonight.” He put his hand on my thigh.
Suddenly it hit me: He isn’t talking about
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