Silenced by the Yams - By Karen Cantwell Page 0,32

you need to call Guy Mertz.”

“No, I need to sleep.”

I gave him Guy’s cell phone number. “Find out what’s so urgent, then you can sleep. We’ll reconnect as soon as I manage a few minutes away from Howard.”

“Will there be reunion sex?”

“That’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Sweet . . . dreams.” He clicked off and a dial tone buzzed in my ear. At the very same moment, I heard my front door open.

I slipped the phone back into my purse and rounded the corner to find an empty foyer. I took the stairs two at a time and entered our bedroom just as Howard was pulling his t-shirt off. For a forty-six year old man, he still had a sexy chest and well-defined abs that made me want to jump all over his bones. I had to remind myself that I was still mad at him for excluding me from his decision to retire. But then again, I hadn’t told him about my mother taking his mother pole dancing, so we’d be even soon enough.

Poo.

“Hey, handsome,” I said. “Nice to have you home again.”

His posture told me he was exhausted, but he offered a faint smile anyway and pulled me in for a slow, deep kiss that started on the lips but moved to that part of my neck that makes my toes curl and other body parts tingle. When his hands slid under my t-shirt I was way beyond tingly and gave way to the fact that not only was I going to be enjoying some really fine reunion sex, I was getting a momentary reprieve from telling him about Mama Marr. Two for the price of one. And we could always talk about his retirement at another time. What was done, was done, right? I smiled and melted in his arms.

As we fell on the bed, he whispered in my ear. “I can’t stay too long.” He kissed my neck some more. “I’m only home for a nap and a change of clothes.” The kisses moved downward. And downward.

“This doesn’t feel like a nap,” I moaned.

He continued kissing.

Then I gasped, because . . . well . . . you’ll just have to use your imagination on that one.

***

I don’t know how long we’d been asleep when Mama Marr lumbered into our room asking for a heating pad. Fortunately, it was still dark, because we were both buck naked.

“Mom!” Howard shouted, throwing a sheet over himself. “What are you doing?”

“My muscles, they are so tight achy. You have a heating pad or water bottle maybe?”

“Please,” Howard pleaded, “can you just leave a minute while we—”

“Why, are you undressed? This is nothing I have never seen before, you know.”

Mortified, I curled up in a ball until Howard was able to convince his mother to go back to her room and close the door behind her.

He fell back and groaned when she’d gone. “What does she need a heating pad for anyway?”

Oh well, so much for not telling him about the pole dancing. When I was done relaying the sordid details of the hospital visit, his reaction was just about what I expected it would be: stony, brooding silence.

“So,” I said finally, needing some discussion, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I’m wondering what the hell your mother was thinking.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” I cleared my throat, “Mama said she was having fun.”

He pointed at me. “Your mother is as bad as you.”

“Hey, what does that mean?”

“The two of you are always getting into some kind of trouble.”

Again, what do you say to someone who speaks more or less the truth? I was desperate for a good comeback. I was pretty sure I had one. “Well, what about you?” I asked.

“What about me?”

“When were you going to tell me that you were retiring?”

His chocolate brown eyes bored into me. Tense silence filled the room. I had him.

“I’m taking a shower. Would you get her the heating pad please?”

Truthfully, I didn’t have it in me to enter an argument with Howard just then. I’d only pulled out the big guns because he insulted my mother. I insulted my mother all of the time, but I’m allowed. He had me in a mood while I dug through the linen closet looking for the heating pad to soothe Mama Marr’s tight muscles.

After settling her in our reclining chair with a cup of chamomile tea and the pad on low heat, I scrambled back