Friday, Sept 19, 1986

 Emily sat in the cafe, sipping on chai tea as her agent, Melissa, berated her for disappearing from the book tour.  Deep inside, Emily could not care less. She was hurting more than a woman should ever endure.

 “Frankly, Melissa, I don’t fucking care. I’m done with Falls. I need time.”

 “Emily, what happened in Miami?”

 “Not. Your. Concern.” 

Melissa recoiled at the vitriol and pain in Emily’s voice. She appeared drawn and haggard.   

“Fine. I’ll cancel the rest of the tour; I’ll cite health reasons.”

Melissa stood. She took the author’s hand.

"Honey, if you won’t talk to me, talk to a doctor or a therapist. A priest. Just talk to someone.” She squeezed Emily’s hand and turned to leave.

 “I found and lost the love of my life.”

 A dozen replies flew through Melissa’s mind. “I’m sorry, Em. I really am.” 

 Emily’s reply was leaden. “Thanks. I’ll call you when I’m sorted.”

 Just before she left the cafe, Melissa called back. “Maybe you should honor him in your next book.”

Wednesday, October 22, 1986

 It had been thirty-three days since Melissa had spoken to Emily at the cafe. At first, phone calls were brief, then non-existent. Melissa sat in her chair, contemplating the view of Carnegie Hall from her office in the Rodin Studios.  The door to her office opened, and her assistant, Claire, stepped in, holding it for a woman in baggy sweats, with stringy hair and no makeup.  Melissa gasped as she recognized Emily. 

 Emily shuffled over. She dropped a ream of paper on Melissa’s desk.

“I’ll be in Sonoma.  Whatever the editor wants, she can do. No tour.” Without another word, Emily shuffled out of the office. 

November 1986

 Emily Calder knelt in her greenhouse, tending a bed of flowers. She had purged her grief since October, had found a therapist, and was working on recovery. She ignored the shadows that fell across the bed she was lying on.

 “I’m not interested,” she said in a loud voice. 

“It’s time you started to be, Missy.” Emily stood and took off her gloves. Her editor, Diane, stood there with a crooked smile.  

“I’d offer a hug, but…” Emily gestured at her dirt-covered overalls. 

“I’ll settle for a drink.” Emily escorted her editor into the house. She laid her satchel on the table and pulled out Emily’s manuscript. Emily opened the fridge and pulled out some tea. She looked questioningly at Diane.  

“Bourbon, please.”

Pouring herself a glass of tea, she moved to the bar in the living room and poured three fingers. Back in the kitchen, she dropped an ice cube into the glass and handed it to Diane.

“You spoiled me, Emily. There are 35 corrections; they appear to be typing errors. I would have finished it in half the time if I hadn’t stopped to cry all the time. It’s simply brilliant, almost as if Charlotte and June were real.”

Diane paused at the odd look on Emily’s face. “Are they real?”

 Emily paused. “Mel didn’t tell you?”

 Diane looked at her friend. “Tell me what?”

 Emily fought to keep despair from emerging. She could not hide the grief.

 “Oh, my God,” Diane whispered. “You are June.  Did it really happen that way?”

 A single tear rolled down Emily’s face.  Diane gathered Emily in her arms as if she were her child. 

 “I was going to have you give it a once-over, thought nothing really changed. If you trust me, we will fast-track it.” She let Emily go and shakily downed the bourbon.  She followed Emily outside, where she started a charcoal grill.

 “Staying for dinner?” Diane nodded slowly. “Then would you mind starting a salad? I need to clean up.”

oOo

Emily reappeared in a casual Duran Duran concert shirt and sky-blue stirrup pants. 

She checked the coals and got a plastic tub from the refrigerator. She tossed some marinated chicken on the grill, washed her hands and the tub, and started some vegetables for a side. Diane watched her with a critical eye.

 “You are going to be a great wife one day.”

  Emily looked over her shoulder and offered a wan smile.  Silence fell as they finished preparing and then ate dinner. 

 “So, you liked it,” Emily asked as she sipped wine.

 “It’s better than Massaqua. Melissa said no tour?” 

Emily shook her head. “Hurts too much. I might do a couple of interviews, I Dunno.”

 “Where are you staying?” Emily asked as she filled the wine glasses, then cleared the table.

“The Mission Inn.” 

“If you can stay till Friday, and not be in my hair, I’ll have a manuscript for you.”

 “WHAT?” Diane looked shocked. 

“Miami was half written. Elena isn’t as far along, but it’s enough to begin a slow roll for ‘88.” 

“Call Melissa. She needs to know I have it.”

oOo

Emily saw Diane off, and then she suddenly didn’t want to be alone. She stopped at Zerbino’s. She was on her third martini when she became aware of a presence next to her.

“Hi, Emily.”

Emily looked at the man and recognized Jordan Johnson, who had graduated with her in high school.

“JJ? I thought you had quit California.” 

The tall, dark-haired man smiled and returned Emily's hug. “No, I’m running my folks’ place in Sonoma.”

He could tell Emily was not in any condition to drive. He convinced her to let him drive her home.  Halfway to Sonoma, Emily blurted, “I really had a crush on you.”  

 Jordan glanced at her. “Me too.” 

 As they pulled up to her house, Jordan asked if he could use her phone to call for a ride.   He followed her in, and she pointed him to the phone.  

 He picked up the receiver and turned when she said, “Jordan.”

Emily stripped off her sweater and stood by the door, wearing only her jeans. Jordan froze, hand over the dial.

 “Jordan,” she repeated. 

 He put the phone back on the cradle and went to her.

 “Stay with me tonight.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. She led him to the bedroom and stripped. He had only gotten his shirt unbuttoned when she finished stripping him as well. She sat on the bed and pulled him to her. She took him in her mouth, sucking him hard. She stroked his cock while she sucked and licked his balls.  She looked up at him as she moved to deepthroat him.

 She pulled off and asked, “How do you want to take me?”

Jordan moved her onto all fours and knelt behind her. He rubbed his cock in between her labia and thrust, sinking seven inches into her willing pussy. He held her hips as he rode her hard and fast.  Emily let her face hit the mattress, reveling in the cock filling her up. 

 “Fuuuck, that’s good,” she moaned.

 “Damn, Emily, you are so fucking tight. I’m not going to last.”

 Emily reached between her legs and rubbed her clit. It didn’t take much, and she felt her pussy contract around him. 

 “Shit, Emily!” he groaned as he began to empty his balls into her.  He pulled out, and she whipped around, taking him in her mouth and cleaning his cock. She kept licking and stroking him. 

 “Stay hard. I need you inside me again.” 

 Emily kept sucking and pumping him until she felt sure he would stay up and lie flat, her hand on her clit. 

 “Take me as hard as you want,” she begged.  JJ entered her again, thrusting as deep as he could. Emily locked her legs around his ass.  

 “That’s it, God, yes! Harder!” She moaned, urging him on. 

 He fingered her clit, and she came a second time. Her hips thrust to meet his. She moaned to Jordan to use her and begged him to fill her up. His hand replaced hers, his thumb on her clit, and she came for a third time, and as her pussy milked him, he shot rope after rope of cum deep into her.  Sated, they drifted to sleep. 

oOo

Emily woke first and noticed Jordan was hard. She rubbed herself, getting herself ready, then straddled him, waking him up as she sank on his manhood. Her hips rolled as she rode him, her hands running through her hair.  This was slow sex, not the frantic passion of the night before.  She tried in the upright position and leaned forward, her lips meeting his, and he began to thrust up and down rapidly. 

 “Oh, fuck, J, that’s it. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me deep.” 

 She felt the burning in her gut, and the heat became a tightness that released with a wave of intense pleasure. Her vaginal canal gripped Jordan again, milking his orgasm. Once more, his semen fired deep inside Emily. 

 Emily immediately began sucking him, keeping him hard. She turned, offering herself. Jordan obliged, taking her from behind. His hand rested on her ass, and Emily moaned as he pushed his thumb into her asshole. Emily shuddered, and when Jordan came again, she orgasmed, her hot cunt milking another load of cum.

 She pointed him to the shower. While he was in there, she started coffee and laid out croissants, jam, and fruit.  She kissed him as he came out and sent him to breakfast while she cleaned up. In the shower, she masturbated. It did not take long to have another orgasm.  In the back of her mind, Emily felt guilty. No. She thought. You left ME. Emerging from the bathroom, she slipped into jeans and a T-shirt. 

 As they breakfasted, Jordan asked what the night meant. 

 “No strings, J. I’m not ready for a boyfriend. I needed intimacy, and you were there.  You can be there, but I am not ready for anything emotional. Let's go get your car.”

oOo

Emily sat on the couch at her therapist's office. 

 “You are different today,” Margaret observed. 

 Emily cocked an eyebrow. “How so?”

 “You are relaxed. If I may, you had sex.”

 Emily laughed, the first laugh she had in months of therapy. “That obvious?”

 “To those who know you. You enjoyed your time with her?”

"Him," Emily corrected. “It was always men before– before Elena. Why wouldn’t I take another man?”  Emily went on to tell Margaret about Jordan, how they had been classmates.

 “Does he know about your loss?” 

 Emily shook her head. “No. It’s no strings attached. I made it clear I’m not ready for—for an emotional relationship.”

 “I’m rather surprised you have decided on a physical one. Pleased, but surprised.” 

January, 1987

 Jordan opened the door, happy to see Emily. She kissed him, but he sensed something was very off. They had been casual lovers, but he knew her body language.

 “What’s wrong, Em?”

 She kissed him again. “It’s hard to say. I’m leaving. I have to go to New York. Might be months.”

 He kissed her hand. “Ok. You know I have to stay here.” 

 She bit her lip, then looked away.  “I’m pregnant. You are going to be a father.”

Jordan rocked back, stunned at the news. 

“You can be as involved or not as you want.  I’m going to have it and raise it on my own.  Of course, he or she will know you. How involved you will be is up to you.” With that, she rose and left him on the couch.

May 15, 1987

 “Welcome back to Sunrise in America.  We are joined by author K.C. Harlow, who wrote the bestselling Massaqua Falls. Today, we are talking about her second smash, Charlotte. Welcome, Katherine.”

 Emily smiled at the camera hovering over the host’s shoulder. “Good morning, Kate. Please, Katherine, is so formal. I’m just K.C.” 

 “K.C. then. We were told months ago there would be little publicity for your new book, yet here you are, telling us about its delivery. And speaking of deliveries, congratulations, it looks like you are ready for another delivery soon.”

 Emily was beaming. Yes, I’m having a girl. And I cannot wait to meet her.  And you are right, I was not going to do much publicity for Charlotte, not because it’s not good, but because it took a toll on me writing it. At the time I handed it over to my agent, just thinking about it put me in an emotional place I did not relish. Fortunately, that is no longer the case. I’m doing interviews here in New York as I continue work on my next novels.”

 “Novels? So more than one?”

 Yes, I double-loaded another novel based on Miami, which is more mainstream, and I think it will be released in November, while I expect the second one to come out in early 1988.

 “More mainstream. So, you are aware of some of the backlash.”

 “Of course. But Charlotte isn’t a lesbian novel. It’s a book about two souls and hard emotions.” Emily gazed at the host, Kate. Pain crossed her face as the baby kicked.  “I think I have a gymnast in the making.”

 Kate came back to the interview. “How different was it to write Charlotte from your first book?”

 Emily took a breath. It’s written from the heart. It’s also dark, but so was Falls. I promise, Sunburn will be a lighter novel. Almost a comedy, in fact.”

 “It sounds like your books will be perfect holiday gifts. Thanks for joining us this morning on Sunrise America.”

When the show went to a commercial, a technician helped get the microphone off Emily. Melissa was beaming off stage. 

 “Brilliant, Emily. Simply brilliant.” 

 Emily did interviews on the other major networks and an evening show on CNN, which proved the hardest, since the format was a full hour and it was in Washington.

 Emily returned to Sonoma and began to write. When she delivered, Jordan was there. Not for the first time, he proposed. 

“J, you know the answer.” She offered the tiny pink bundle to him. “Would you like to hold your daughter?”

 Jordan beamed at the cooing little girl. “How can you be more beautiful than your mother?” He asked his daughter. Emily smiled at them.

 “Because she has your good looks.”

 Six weeks later, Emily walked out of the doctor's office. She delivered the baby to her mom and decided to use the night off to take Jordan to dinner.  At the restaurant, Emily encountered a few fans and spent a couple of minutes signing autographs. They were seated, and the server paused. 

 “You are K.C. Harlow,” Emily affirmed, and the girl continued, giving Jordan a long glance. “But I thought you were a lesbian.” 

 Emily grew irritated. “Not that it is your business, but this is the father of my daughter.” With that, she picked up the menu. 

 “Give us a few minutes, please.” Jordan cautioned the girl. 

 An awkward silence fell across the table until they had ordered the food. 

 “Lesbian?” Jordan inquired.

 Emily stared at him. “Live under a rock?” She shook her head in disbelief. She briefly outlined the book and the controversy.

 “And they think you are a lesbian because of the story,” Jordan confirmed.

 Emily took his hand. Almost every word in the book is true, J. Charlotte is Elena and June is me.”

 “Sorry. I didn’t know you had lost someone like that,” Jordan said, squeezing her hand. “Now I know why your answer is no.”

 Her smile was melancholy. “I don’t think I can love someone as I loved her. It was only a week, but we shared a love for a lifetime.”

 Just then, a short, muscular man appeared at the table. 

 “Miss Harlow? I don’t mean to intrude.” He handed Emily a business card. “Please, have your agent and publisher call me.” With that, he retreated. 

 Emily looked at the card, and her eyes grew wide. Jordan sensed the excitement in her. Wordlessly, she handed him the card.  Joshua Miller, Creative Executive. On the left side of the card, the Warner Brothers WB logo was embossed. Jordan whistled softly.

 “My dear, you are going from well-off to bloody rich.” 

 They thoroughly enjoyed the rest of their meal, and Emily ordered 2 glasses of champagne. Jordan raised an eyebrow. 

 “Just a sip, I know, but I have to celebrate!” 

 Returning home, Emily paused, a sad feeling filling her. 

 “What’s wrong?”

 “I should not have left Elena with Mom.”

 “She’s fine. You are fine. Enjoy the moment.” Emily turned and kissed him. 

 “The doc gave me the green light. Want to try for a sister?”

 Emily turned off the lights. Outside, two sets of eyes watched the lights go out.  A camera with a long lens was placed on the seat, and a car pulled away. A minute later, a second car slowly pulled away, eyes locked on the door to the house.