Author: CN Winters

Pairing: Otalia

Rating: PG

Summary: Olivia’s back in the farmhouse but things still don’t feel quite right.

Standard Disclaimer Ahead: Guiding Light is a product of Proctor & Gamble (like Mr. Clean, Duracell and Old Spice), and once appeared on CBS. The characters are the creative property of the show and its producers – I'm just borrowing them for my amusement, and our fellow readers.

Our baseball team won. Our delicious feast Natalia made was eaten. Our friends had gone home. Our kid was crashed on the sofa downstairs...We were a family. I had no doubt.

My boxes were still unpacked, but on the bright side, at least they were labeled.

I sat on the bed after finding my satin pj’s. Natalia was in the bathroom I just vacated and I could hear the sink water running. I tightened my robe self-consciously - I was naked underneath. I felt completely exposed.

Moving in officially meant...moving in.

Part of me was exhilarated at the prospect of her opening that adjoining door and walking to the bed. Another part was terrified.

What if we didn’t work? What if we clicked in every area except this one...this one very important, fundamental area? What if she changed her mind? What if she doesn’t like it? What if ‘I’ don’t like it?

I shot up from the bed and started to pace, trying to escape all the ‘what if’s’ that played in my head. I had to get rid of the nagging thoughts and doubts. I was Olivia Spencer. When I wanted something, someone, I did everything in my power to feel the joy of possession. I didn’t dance around my desires...on that night though....oh, that night was different.

As we cleaned up the dishes in the kitchen, Natalia specifically told me that she was all mine tonight, added that, "We could go to bed and sleep ... or ‘not sleep,’ but either way, it’s your call."

I flirted back and gave her a confident, "Really?"

Then she took my hand and led it up to her breast. Her fingers covered my own and she gave a squeeze. It wasn’t the first time I’d touched her intimately. We’d kissed and necked like teenagers for months - awkward at times, confident at others, but always thrilling to me. On one hand, it was fun - it was a second adolescence without the pimples. But at other times, it was frustrating. If I were a man, I’d have had the worse case of blue balls in the world.

But then she left...

... and we didn’t touch for a long time...

... and then she came back.

So there we stood in her kitchen - correction, our kitchen - with my fingers squeezing her supple breast. What happened next though captivated me the most.

Yeah, I was cocky with my ‘Really?" challenge. But then she leaned in close, until her breath tickled my neck and earlobe as she gave her response.

"Yes."

It was a plea a lover gives when begging for sexual release - a seductive hiss; an affirmation of her affection and desire. Just a single word answer - the kind that leaves your mouth totally dry and your sex sopping wet. I probably would have taken her in the kitchen if everyone we knew in Springfield wasn’t right outside the door.

Remembering that incident did help settle my nerves as I sat on that bed the first night. I decided at that point I needed to worry about doubt of desire on my end...now her, on the other hand...?

I try to shake the feeling off and I looked around the room - pictures of Rafe, and even Emma and me were still there. So there were parts of me still left in the farmhouse, but it just didn’t feel the same.

I’m not sure if it’s because I left her so she could build a life with Frank and figured I’d never be back. I’m not sure if it’s because when I asked to come back I was rejected. Perhaps it’s neither; maybe I was still stung by her leaving. Maybe I thought I’d roll over some morning and she’d be gone again - no voicemail, no note, no nothing.

Whatever it was that gnawed at me, well, it didn’t have a name. She opened the door, wrapped in the robe from our spa trip. Her hair was damp, like mine, and fell over her shoulders. I remember thinking, "She’s gorgeous, I love her... I want her... and judging by that look in her eyes, she wanted me too..."

Still... I couldn’t say it felt like home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

With one month to go before Francesca’s arrival, Natalia stayed at Company and helped Buzz hand out treats, while Philip and I walked around town, going shop to shop, so Emma could trick or treat. Out by the farm there was no one to visit so we all went to town.

He asked me casually how it was going with Natalia and I was honest. It was going really well. Sure, she had mood swings now and then, but chocolate-coated vanilla ice cream bars seemed to keep her satisfied. That’s why I made sure the freezer was packed with at least one full box at all times.

It became sort of a joke.

When she would get too unreasonably I’d just go to the fridge, pull out the treat and hold it out for her. She smiled every time, except once... there was the night when she started to cry instead saying how sorry she was for being a bitch, and how last time she didn’t have anyone to put up with her mood swings and blahblahblah. I just ‘shussed’ her at that point and let her eat her treat while she put her head on my shoulder. Not that I didn’t care about her woe. I did, and I still do, but this wasn’t real woe. It was hormonal induced craziness woe. Period.

As Philip and I walked around something did occur to me. I asked him if the mansion felt like his yet. He smiled and asked me what I meant. It’s that playful look he gets when he knows what’s coming, but he just wants to hear it for himself. So I told him that even after a month it still felt like Natalia’s Farmhouse. Yes, I had my stuff there too, but...

"It doesn’t feel like home."

It wasn’t a question. He understood exactly what I meant. Then he explained that he still would turn corners and expect to see Alan there...and that maybe he still was because sometimes he’d get the faint whiff of cigar smoke although no one smoked at all there. But with each day, it happened less and less.

I asked if he felt it ‘cheapened’ his relationship with Beth that it wasn’t ‘their home’ and he asked if that’s how I felt about Natalia.

Was that the issue? I ran down my checklist. Are we affectionate? Check. Do we communicate? Check. Did we agree on which of our belongings we’d keep in the house and what would go to storage? Check. Did we both make sacrifices to call it our home? Check. Was the sex great? Double Check. I had to say that everything was...great.

Still...I couldn’t say it felt like home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late - later than I usually liked to come to the farmhouse.

I know it was hard for Natalia to balance Francesca and Emma. Neither of us had slept through the night in weeks nor did we think we would. We were both prepared, and even though I’d offered a nanny, just for a few hours for some rest, Natalia refused. She said she’d done it before, she could do it again. I reminded her that although I love her completely there’s a big difference between 35 and 16.

I didn’t have her strength. I admit it. I was napping at the Beacon sometimes - sue me. I needed it though. I really did. It gave me energy to take over in the evening so Natalia could get some rest. Sure, Frank did take Chess on the weekends when he could, but a 24-hour break - hell even a 48-hour break - isn’t enough time to re-energize - not at our age. Besides, although I was glad Francesca would have a relationship with her dad, I felt more like her other parent without Frank being front and center constantly. That was just perfectly dandy with me.

So although Emma was helpful, and loving her role as big sister (thank god), some days it just wasn’t not enough.

I looked through the window as I walked up the dark sidewalk and porch. She was there swaying back and forth as she rubbed Francesca’s back. Emma had Natalia’s shirttail and was tugging it. Natalia smiled, but I could tell even from the porch, it was a weary smile. She was tired. She was beat and again... I was late.

The woman IS a damn saint for putting up with me, but she knew the score. My absence wasn’t because I was out chasing men, or skirts. I wasn’t out drinking with Doris and getting loaded. Okay, that happened once and it was a three-martini lunch to celebrate the baby according to Doris. Natalia never found out, but regardless it never happened again.

Natalia gets the fact I’m trying to build something I can give to the girls after we’re gone. Money can’t buy happiness - I know first-hand. However, money can provide independence, stability and a sense of security that poverty doesn’t, something that my wife is starting to understand. Yes, my wife. I didn’t make it official in the eyes of the law but I had Mel and Doris both draw things up as much as we could to make our ‘union legal’ with each other.

Through all those late nights though, she juggled both kids (one of them figuratively and one of them literally). I smiled as I watched the three of them. I love my lady. I love my daughters. I love my business... even if I have a late night now and then that makes me feel guilty.

Yet even though it’d been months since we came back, and Emma and I were happy here...

Still... I couldn’t say it felt like home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

December 2009

I’m standing in the kitchen, trying to compose myself, as my hands gripping the sink.

"Olivia?"

I don’t turn around. She’ll see my eyes. But I can’t reply either because my voice will crack. I know it.

I hear Natalia move toward me. I can tell I’m breathing hard because my shoulders are rising and falling. I feel Natalia put her arms around my waist, her body flush with mine.

"Is it your heart?" she asks me in a soft scared voice.

Now I’m frightening her. This is stupid. I just darted from the room with what probably looked like a terrified expression.

I turn to face her and I just shake my head at first, still not trusting my voice. I clear my throat and open my mouth. I’m not sure how to say this without hurting her. Maybe I should just...

"I love you," I begin. That’s a good start. Warm her up a bit, right? Get on her good side? "And I need to be honest. Being here, in this house, I..." I’m not sure how to continue. I’m not sure how to tell her that our house hasn’t felt like a home to me, like I really belonged there, especially when she does so much to make it such a warm, loving place.

"It’s suffocating," she says.

I’m momentarily confused. "What?"

"You want out. You didn’t sign on to be a mom again a-and it’s too much. I pushed you and now you want to leave, but you don’t know how since Emma loves it a-and-."

She’s near tears now. Shit!

"No," I say a loudly and then catch myself. If I don’t keep it down, I’ll have Emma worried next. "Sweetheart, no. I love you. I love our Baby Boo and Jellybean. You, Emma and Chess - you girls are my entire world. It’s just..."

"What Olivia?" she says taking my hands in hers.

"Since I’ve come back... the farmhouse hasn’t felt like home to me. It’s a place where the people I love live, but...I’m not sure how to explain it, but it feels like I’ve been living in your house."

"Olivia," Natalia sobs slightly. "It’s your house too," she insists.

"Yeah, my name is on the deed, so legally, it is, but it feels like it’s been a temporary living arrangement; that at any moment it might change."

"Is it something I’ve said or-?"

"No," I cut her off again. This isn’t about her actions or inactions at all. "You’ve gone above and beyond to show you’re in this for the long haul."

She nods softly. "So what’s the problem?"

"That’s the thing. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something just happened in there," I say as I point to the living room.

Natalia looks confused. "I don’t understand. You bolted after Emma said she’s happy to have another real Christmas at home. I’m not sure what the problem is."

"Neither am I," I tell her and snort. This is ridiculous. "I’m not sure what it was about that comment but suddenly it hit me..."

I lower my head and I start to cry silently, the tears no longer able to stay behind my eyes.

"What Sweetheart?" she coaxes me as she wipes my tears away and raises my chin.

I start to grin.

"With Bean stringing popcorn by the tree and Boo looking at her hands like she’s seeing them for the first time...I looked around the room, and yeah..." I say as I reach up and cup her face between my palms. "I can see it now. This is our house; our home; our family. It’s the place we all belong, even me too... and Emma’s right..." I place a light kiss on her forehead.

"About?" she asks.

I smile at her and run my hands down her cheeks.

"Tonight, it feels like home."