“Tink, if you want to call this… Darryl guy, go ahead; I’m not your boss, Tink, I don’t make the rules, and you don’t need my permission to do anything. I’m glad you told me, but if this is what you want, you should do it. I have to be honest; finding mum’s family won’t make any difference to my life; I have everything I could ever want right here, I have you, the children, Mum and Dad Morrison, Nia and Jamie, everyone who’s important; my life is full and complete, but if you need answers, go and get them, I won’t try and stop you; I don’t have the right to do that, and I won’t stand in your way. I just hope for your sake they’re not like that bloody crazy woman!”
I stared at him open-mouthed; Mum had said he’d do anything for me, but I’d expected a certain amount of negotiation, and maybe at least an attempt to change my mind, not this, not complete capitulation. Mum was right; I wanted this, so he’d handed it to me. I had to say something.
“Mark, baby, are you sure? I mean, we could be opening a huge can of worms…”
He reached across the table and took my hand between his.
“If it does go tits-up, we’ll deal with it; you need answers; this is the best way to get them. Don’t worry, Little Plum, I’ve got your back, I’ve always had your back. When were you planning on doing this?”
There he had me. I was desperate for answers, but also wary of what I might hear, and my eyes flickered at Mum, silently appealing to her. She caught my look, and sat down, holding Markie on her lap.
“Mark, I tell Julie this because these people your family too, cannot change that, she need to know this things. I not know if you want to know too, but I tell her to tell you so you know. I think you need talk about this, this important, this about family, so talk, think, and when you ready, I be there, I help you talk if that what you want; you are my children too, cannot let you be alone now!”
With that, she stood and nuzzled Markie.
“You go to mummy now, co cong chua nho (little Princess), time for bed now, little bunny-rabbit.”
Markie grinned happily and hugged Mummy hard.
“Anh yeu em nana! (I love you, Nana!),” she lisped, making Mummy beam proudly.
“She smart girl, already speak more ‘Ting Viet’ than Jamie, and I have been talking to him all his life! I think she take after Nguye’t!”
She kissed Markie soundly and put her into my arms before kissing me.
“Call me in morning, let me know what you decide, okay?”
Mark dropped her home, my injunction to stay out of Mummy’s fridge probably passing right over his head unnoticed, and I was right; when he came in, he had that full, satisfied look that told me he’d been stuffing his face again, and a litre tub of Mummy’s fabulous Mango ice-cream for me. We ate some while we decided what to do next; I wanted to call this Darryl person in the morning.
Mark wanted to know what the rush was, but really it was just a rhetorical question; he could see this was eating at me, to be so close to getting some answers to questions that had become vitally important to me; who was I, who were we, Mark, the girls, me? Where did we come from, what had happened to cut us off so completely from the rest of our family, and why were they looking for us now? All questions I needed answers to.
Mark could see how much this meant to me, and like the sweet man he is, he suggested we call this Darryl Morgan in the morning from Mummy’s house, with our real family around us to lend support.
That done, my thoughts turned to something that had been fluttering inside me ever since Mummy had revealed what poor Mark was still going through; ever since that conversation, I’d been feeling the need to connect with him, to take him into me again and show him that there was love overflowing in our family, and it was all for him.
Mark picked up on the tenor of my thoughts, as he always does, and so it was that our thoughts turned to more exciting things than family reunions; Mark had the look in his eye, and I was feeling a certain tingle too, so after checking on the children, he gently tugged me into the bedroom (with token resistance from me; after all, a girl has her reputation to think of…) and pulled me down on the bed next to him.
“I love you, Tinkerbell!” he declared, actions following words as his roaming hands found my panties and slid inside, to cup and squeeze my bum as his tongue gently fenced with mine. Mark is an extraordinarily good kisser, gentle, insistent but not forceful, loving, tender, and blisteringly hot, and I could feel myself wanting him more with every passing second.
“Help me…!” I urged as I tried to wriggle out of my clothes. Mark, of course, headed straight for my panties, sliding them off and flinging them dramatically across the room.
Next came my skirt, and finally, my tank top as he pulled it over my head, leaving me naked. His shirt was off, and the bulge in his jeans told me he was ready and willing, so I wasted no time in unbuckling his belt and popping his jeans so he could slide them off, to reveal his tented trunks, with his cock furled up inside there like a snake in a sack. As always, my mouth watered at the sight of him like that, his fit, well-muscled body tanned and healthy looking.
“Are you done staring, Little Plum?” he grinned, and I reached out to tweak his nipple, making him buck and chuckle as I touched one of only two ticklish spots on his body. He pulled me close and covered my face and neck with kisses, each one a little love-dart, piercing me and filling me with love and concern for my Lost Boy. Mummy had said he was still hurting, that he’d never learned how to let his pain go, because he’d never had the chance to learn how, and as he kissed and nuzzled me, that all came back to me.
The memory of the scared little boy crying alone in his room in the dead of the night suddenly reared-up, clear and vivid, coupled with the knowledge of why he’d cried night after night, when he was alone and the house was still, now churning inside me. I clutched hold of him, unable to let him go, suddenly afraid for him.
“Hey, hey, what’s the matter, Tinkerbell?” he murmured, hugging me close as I clung desperately to him. He looked at me, real concern in his eyes, and his thumbs gently brushed away the tears gathering on my eyelashes.
“Don’t cry, Wee Wendy, I’ve got you, I’ll always be there to catch you, count on it!” he murmured, smiling as he kissed the tip of my nose, before once more pressing his lips to mine, kissing me as only he knows how.
We made love slowly, gently, caressing one another as we explored and shared those other parts of lovemaking than just simple gratification; Mark and I were connected at the soul, he was my saving Angel and my one true love. He’d been whipped and cowed, threatened and terrorised, but he’d never broken the faith; he’d kept me safe, but now he needed me to help him unlock that missing part of his heart and make him whole again.
As we made love the tears came, but they were sad and sweet, not bitter and painful; sadness that my poor Mark had been so injured by the one who was supposed to love him the most, that he paid a price for loving me that no-one should ever have asked of him, and the sweetness that came of knowing he was here with me, he was finally mine forever, that he wanted only me, and that he was, at last, safe and happy.