Breaking Point - Chapter 39 - Love's Labor Lost
In which our hero gives his beloved a most precious gift
“I’m taking the job. It’s best for both of us.”
Neither the news nor the timing surprised me. Lisa’s future lay in the Golden State, ground zero for America’s cannabis industry. As for dropping the sayonara bomb in dawn’s early light, no surprise there.
Lisa took the British expression “start as you mean to finish” literally. The first words out of her mouth every morning were either an inspirational quote, an affirmation or a simple declaration of love.
“It’s best for both of us” wasn’t in the same universe as Lisa’s normal positive thinking morning routine. But I knew what she meant.
The State Police busted Lisa’s Massachusetts grow house for committing the worst possible crime: failure to pay its workers’ compensation tax. Leaving Lisa at loose ends. The woman needed to work.
As did I. Providence was my home. I could no more give up on it than myself. And I had loose ends, too.
“Finish your business,” Lisa said, reading my mind, propping-up on an elbow. “Come to California. It’s so beautiful out there John. Humboldt County is to die for.”
“Die in you mean. Their murder rate’s higher than Chicago’s.”
“We’ll live close to San Francisco.”
“And wait for the big one.”
“I never have to wait for that,” Lisa teased, wrapping her hand around my baby maker.
“What would I do there?”
“Keep the peace.”
“This is my favorite piece,” I said, caressing her breast.
“Why are you beating your head against the wall?”
“Which head are you talking about?”
“I’m serious John. I’m worried that your luck will run out.”
“It just did.”
“Don’t say that,” Lisa said, lying down besides me.
She lay cuddled-up next to me. I wrapped my arm around her back and pulled her tight.
“I can’t leave Luke,” I said quietly.
“He graduates next year. You hit retirement the year after that. Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
I lay there until Lisa fell back asleep. I moved her hand to my chest, letting my low-level lust dissipate.
My mind wandered through memories of our time together. Flowers pressed in a book; their beauty captured, their life force gone.
Careful not to wake her, I slipped out of bed and retrieved the painting from the closet. I leaned the canvas against the wall and shook her gently.
“Wherever your heart is, there you will find your treasure,” I said, wondering which way she’d take it.
“Is that…?” Lisa asked, jumping from the bed and kneeling in front of the painting, stark naked.
“Will the real Pissarro please stand up,” I said, riffing on one of my father’s expressions.
“This is it,” Lisa said reverentially. “The real thing. Holy shit. How?”
“I stole it.”
“She won’t give it up without a fight.”
“Yeah she will. This is not a good time for her to hit the headlines.”
“For now,” Lisa warned.
“I understand if you want to – ”
“I’ll give it to the Newport Art Museum. A discreet swap.”
“Lisa. It’s worth millions.”
“It was never about the money,” she said, touching the gilded frame. “I just want the name Hoffman on the plaque. Your mother never understood that.”
“This is not the best time to bring her up.”
“Well I sure brought something up,” Lisa said, giggling. “Not that you could hide it.”
The sex was wild. Frantic. Violent. A part of me was punishing Lisa for leaving. Another part of me was desperately trying to make her stay.
Either way, Lisa surrendered to my every whim, encouraging me not to hold back, as I usually did out of tenderness and respect.
When it was over, we lay quietly for a long while. Once again, Lisa fell asleep in my arms. My mind turned to more important matters. Dr. Kilroy.
Rufus shared the police therapist’s homicidal hypnosis with the FBI. To his astonishment, they took him seriously. They were set to search her office and house that afternoon.
By noon, Lisa and I were sitting at the breakfast table, sharing eggs, bacon, toast and pancakes.
“Do you feel betrayed?” Lisa asked, dipping a piece of pancake into maple syrup.
“By Dr. Kilroy?”
“Who else?”
“You want a list?” I asked, adding a drop of heavy cream to her coffee. “I’m more afraid of what she put into my head.”
“Not to mention what she might have done to Luke in rehab.”
“This is fucked-up,” I sighed.
Lisa knew I was thinking about Cristina. She took my hand and stared into my face, her green eyes providing refuge from the storm.
“And now you’re leaving,” I said, fighting back tears.
Lisa walked around the table and pulled me to her breasts, soft and warm underneath her silk bathrobe. She’d never done that before, me being the alpha and all.
I surrendered to her loving embrace. A few warm tears soaked the silk. I thought about the love I was losing. And the daughter I’d never hold…