Two Weeks In Miami

CHAPTER FIVE



March 27, 1995 (Monday)

JULIE'S FIFTH DAY IN MIAMI

LATE COMING HOME FROM THE SYMPHONY



Julie wanted to make breakfast for Horatio this morning, but all he desired was his usual toast and coffee. He would grab something to eat at noon, but dinner was his main meal. That was what he was accustomed to.



"Hey, listen," he teased her. "If you need something to do today, you could clean the apartment, a little sweeping, mop the patio, hose down the bathroom." His eyebrows went up to his forehead.



"Listen carefully to me, Horatio Caine," she countered, reaching for an empty coffee cup and handing it to him. "I shall say this only once." Her eyes were dancing, and her finger pointed toward him. "I am not your maid, or your mother."



To which he replied, "No need to hire a maid. You're already here, and you're available." He waggled his eyebrows at her again. "And the fringe benefits aren't bad, either."



"Fringe benefits!?" She launched herself into his arms with laughter.



After very affectionate goodbyes, he departed for the police station, and she went back to bed for awhile.



Later, she spent the day riding the bus around Miami, taking pictures, found a tack store, and bought a bridle for her mare, Rain, and a Western Horseman magazine. She ate lunch at Burger King, and went to the zoo until it closed, taking plenty of pictures there. Maybe she would find a buyer for some of her photographs, she thought.



At 6:00 PM, she went to the symphony performance. She had looked forward to hearing the Miami Symphony Orchestra for weeks, and she was not disappointed. The concert ended at 9:00, and she walked until she found herself at a late-night restaurant/bar. She stayed for the music, until the place closed. She didn't get back to the apartment until almost 2:00 AM. Buses had quit running this late at night, so she walked all the way back to Horatio's place, and thought nothing of it.



Meantime, Horatio came home from work, intending to spend some time with her before they went to bed. He waited, made his own supper, watched television, read some pages in a book, and went to bed at about 9:30. He assumed she'd be home at around 10:00 or so. He drifted off to sleep. At around midnight, he woke, reached his hand out for her, and she was not there. Head up suddenly, he tensed. The place was completely dark. A search through the apartment showed that she was still gone. He looked out the kitchen window to the ledge. Not there. He went to the sliding door, she was not on the patio, either. She had been gone for over six hours. He was seriously worried.



He knew he would have to be up early to go to work, and he needed his sleep, so he lay back down in bed, and slept fitfully on his back, his arm over his forehead.



At 2:00 AM, Julie unlocked the door with the extra key he had given her, and let herself inside. Horatio heard the noise, and he was out of bed in a flash. Down the hallway, he saw a light from the kitchen.



"Where in the hell have you been?"



Julie was getting herself a drink of water, and when he spoke, she jumped, then turned to face him. "I--I told you. I was going to the symphony orchestra concert. But I did not come straight home." She was amazed that he seemed to have suddenly materialized out of the darkness.



"It's two o'clock in the morning." He looked stern, and somewhat irritated, but he had a pleading quality to his voice. He stood with one elbow braced against the wall. He was naked except for his light blue boxer shorts.



"And you should be sleeping. Don't you have to work in the morning? This morning?" She sipped from her glass, before emptying it down the sink. She sat the glass on the counter.



"How can I sleep when my girlfriend is out at night, and it's late, and I don't know where she is? You could have called, if you were gonnu be late." He was not just slightly peeved, she could tell.



"I am capable of looking out for myself," she said firmly. That familiar frown appeared above her eye.



"I don't doubt it, but when you didn't come back, what was I supposed to think?" His disapproving eyes met her astonished gaze. "You're letting this become a habit with you."



Julie took a moment to suppress the angry retort that was on her lips. She bit her tongue to hold herself in check. She tried to tease him a little, to lighten his seriousness. "Horatio, you are standing there, somewhat annoyed with me, half-naked with your blue boxer shorts, and with a knowledge of forensic pathology--"



"I am a homicide detective." He blinked his eyes, a little thrown off by the sudden change of subject.



"You look like we have been married for thirty years," she remarked, as she let her eyes sweep over him.



That failed to get a smile from him. He looked momentarily surprised, but his mind snapped back on track. "Piper, I care about you. I really do." He sighed deeply. The bottom line was, he had been worried about her, and he reacted as only a cop could.



"Do you mean, because of the sex?"



"No--not entirely." He stepped forward. "Uh--I have a hard time--sometimes--expressing my feelings."



"I am sorry, Horatio. It was not my intention to cause you to worry." Contritely, she looked down at the floor. "I guess I should have called you."



"I agree."



"After the concert was over, I went to a late-night restaurant for some hot tea. There was an Indian playing music there, with a flute. An Eastern Indian, not a Native American Indian. And I started listening to him, and I forgot about the time." She continued. "It has been a very musical evening for me."



"Well--uh--you could have called and let me know. If we're going to be together for the next week and a half, we need to communicate. Understand?" His face softened a little.



He reiterated. "Keep that line of communication open. What I need, Piper, is for you to talk to me. It can be dangerous out there. I--I--just--need to know you're safe. Please do that for me. Okay?"



"Horatio, I care about you as well. It was very selfish of me to not let you know." She held her hand out to him in supplication. "I am sorry. I will not do it again." She hugged him warmly, rubbing his chest with her head.



How could he refuse to return the hug? He noticed once again how thick and long her eyelashes were. It was all but impossible for him to stay annoyed with her.



"Will we go to bed now?" She talked into his chest.



He looked down at her. "Yeah."



"Will you hold me?" She started down the hall toward the bedroom, yawning.



"You know I will."



"I want to be near you." She turned her head halfway around, and continued walking toward the bed.



"Did you enjoy the symphony?" He followed, after turning out the kitchen light.



"I did, Horatio," she answered, stifling another yawn. "I will tell you about it later."



She began to undress, and he watched her, and he undid the clasp at the back of her bra, gently lifted it off, and dropped it on the floor.



His breath caught in his throat as it always did, at the sight of her.



He stood observing her for a moment, until he could stand it no longer. His lips sought hers, and clung to them with a desperate longing.



She felt his strong emotion. "What's the matter?"



"You're just--so--beautiful--"



She was aware of his body's physical response to her. "You need to sleep, my love," she crooned to him, softly, raking her fingers through his red hair, and kissing him on his bowed head. "If you keep doing this, I will not get much sleep, either."



A few more kisses to her breasts, and he raised his head.



He led her to the bed, and slid in beside her.



"Will you do me a favor, and take your socks off?"



"I will, Horatio." She did so, and threw them down on the floor, next to her bra. She did not put her nightgown on.



"Goodnight, mavourneen," she reached for him, and nestled close to him.



"Goodnight, sweetheart." He wrapped himself around her.



After a few minutes, he suddenly thought of something else. He raised up, and shook her awake. "I need to ask you something."



"What?" She opened a sleepy eye.



"Buses stopped running at 9:30. How did you get home? Did you call a cab?"



"No," she muttered. "I did not have enough money for a cab. I left the rest of my money in my suitcase, and it was back here, at the apartment."



"So, how'd you get home?" He was persistent.



"I walked. And ran. All the way."



He shuddered to think of her walking home through the streets of Miami, in the middle of the night. "You should have called. I would have come and picked you up."



"I did not want to wake you. I knew you would be sleeping." Then she drifted back into oblivion.



He wiped his hand through his hair in frustration. He wanted to shake her, yell at her, pound her, anything to shake some sense into that naive country girl brain of hers. But all he could do was hold her tighter, and kiss her, and thank God that nothing had happened to her.



"Oh, Jesus--" was his last thought before he drifted back into sleep.



END OF CHAPTER FIVE