FIC: When You Were Mine (12/?)
Title: When You Were Mine (12/?)
Author: fortunata13
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Word Count: 3863
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Most certainly, I do not own these characters.
Summary: Let's see, Cara and Kahlan get to take a walk together, Kahlan receives an unexpected dinner invitation, and our ladies get a bit flirty.
A/N: Gratitude, as always, to the lovely and brilliant statuepup and to the awesome laurilee59 for the pro bono legal advice. If you ever need a lawyer, give laurilee59 a call.
A/N 2: Chapter 13 is going to take a bit of time, as I've just started working on it. I'll try get is done as soon as possible
“Well, we dodged a bullet,” Kahlan said, as they walked to the car. “Keeping the trial in Aydindril is a big win.”
Cara shrugged. “I wasn’t worried.”
“Oh, really?” Kahlan asked with a lopsided smile on her face.
“My lawyer is a badass, she’s smart, and she’s hot. Why would I be worried?”
Kahlan had a big grin on her face, but it wasn’t just Cara’s flattery that put it there. The mere act of walking from the courthouse to the car with Cara in street clothes brought with it a sense of normalcy that made her feel hopeful and strangely safe. For a few minutes they were just two women taking a walk together -- a luxury they hadn’t experienced in far too long.
“Look,” Cara said just as they got in the car, “tulips!” Her eyes were opened wide and the look on her face was pure awe. After a moment, she tipped her head and said, “I never noticed that tulips look just like freedom. They’re not like other flowers; they’re abstract brush strokes, filled with endless potential, so simple yet utterly perfect.”
Kahlan looked at her for a long moment, hardly able to control the urge to buy her a truck full of tulips. “How do you do that? How are you able to elevate something that most people take for granted into something magical?” Cara shrugged in response. “You’re amazing,” Kahlan said, pulling into the parking garage. Cara shrugged off that remark, too.
“Oh, and I told you so,” Cara said, carefully taking off her blazer.
“What did you tell me?” Kahlan tilted her and waited for an answer.
“I told you that you’re as awesome as your mom,” Cara said. She kissed Kahlan on the temple and gave her a brief hug. Kahlan blushed, which earned her a chuckle from Cara.
“So who were those two women you were talking to? I still think they were giving me a weird look.”
Kahlan thought for a moment. “Let’s see,” Kahlan said, “The name Colette Rimbaud should ring a bell. Much like yourself, she’s been in the news quite a bit lately -- albeit for very different reasons. The odds makers are fairly certain she’s going to be the next Prime Minister. The other woman is her wife, Sabine Munro Rimbaud. She’s no slouch either. Her humanitarian work, some say, is likely to earn her a Nobel Peace Prize. Colette was my mother’s intern; she even babysat me once. She knows more about my mother than I do.” She slumped her shoulders and sat on the sofa with her legs hugged to her chest.
Cheering people up wasn’t exactly Cara’s forté; in fact, she was awful at it, but for Kahlan’s sake she was willing to try. “How about them Seahawks?” Cara said.
Kahlan gave her a quizzical look. “What’s a seahawk?”
Thankfully, Kahlan’s phone rang, sparing her the painful experience of having to explain football to Kahlan. “Oh, that’s very kind of you. Yes, of course, I’d love to.”
“What was that about?” Cara asked.
Kahlan’s thumb and index finger went to her chin. “I’m not sure,” she said. “The Rimbauds just invited me to their house for dinner.”
“Well,” Cara said at length, “You’re gorgeous; they're lesbians.” She delivered the remark with a self-satisfied smirk on her face.
“Point taken,” she said, after delivering her best eye roll. “Maybe Colette just wants to reminisce about my mother. They seem to have been very close.”
“Ooh,” Cara said, “maybe she and your mother were --”
“Or maybe you should get your mind out of the gutter and help me decide what to wear tomorrow night,” she said, giving Cara a shove for good measure.
“My Nirvana t-shirt is clean.”
“Yes, I suppose I could go to dinner at the home of the next Prime Minister wearing your Nirvana t-shirt and a pair of your boy shorts. Oh, and while I’m at it, why not wear your red panties -- on my head.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Cara said.
“Here’s a better plan: let’s make dinner. I want to turn in early.”
“Tired?”
“No, but I don’t want to show up at the Rimbaud estate with bags under my eyes.”
***
The Rimbauds lived in a sprawling estate on the outskirts of Aydindril. It was a hilltop mansion with a breathtaking view, but on this clear night, the city lights could not compete with the beauty of the stars shining brightly in the sky. Kahlan felt a pang in her chest, wishing Cara were at her side to take it all in. Just as she drove up the hill, she caught a glimpse of the Stein mansion in the distance. She hadn’t realized that the Rimbauds and Shota were practically neighbors. It made sense, however, considering that they were among the handful of people who could afford to live in Aydindril’s most upscale neighborhood.
She took a deep breath to steel herself before ringing the doorbell. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was about the Rimbauds that made her feel like a schoolgirl about to meet the headmistress. Perhaps it was the connection to her mother, or it may have been that she was in the presence of two formidable women, who by their late forties, had accomplished more than most of their contemporaries ever would.
“Ms. Amnell,” Colette Rimbaud said, greeting her with a broad grin, “come in, please.”
“Only if you’ll call me Kahlan,” she replied, without showing a trace of evidence of the butterflies doing somersaults in her belly.
“Agreed,” the other woman replied, “but I insist you call me Colette.”
With that, they walked into the house which, given the grandeur of the structure itself, was surprisingly unassuming. Kahlan was immediately taken by the copious amounts of artwork that hung on practically every wall. “Oh my,” she said, “These are breathtaking.”
“One of the members of the household is quite the budding artist -- and prolific as well. Two Picasso paintings and a Velazquez have been relegated to a hallway due to lack of wall-space.”
Kahlan tipped her head and said, “Given the size of this place, that’s quite an accomplishment.”
“We’ll give you the grand tour after dinner, if you’d like.”
“Yes, a tour would be wonderful.”
Moments later, Sabine Munro Rimbaud walked in, causing Kahlan to do a double take. She’d briefly glanced at her in the courtroom, and she’d seen pictures of Sabine in magazines, but seeing her at home without a drop of makeup on, wearing jeans and a loose-fitting blouse, Kahlan fully realized that her reputation as one of most beautiful women in the world had not been exaggerated. At six feet tall, she towered over Kahlan, who was used to being both the tallest and the most beautiful woman in the room. Sabine’s crystal-clear gray eyes combined with her elegant movements were practically hypnotic.
“This, Kahlan, is my better half, Sabine. The most beautiful and intelligent woman in the world.”
“Please excuse my wife, she’s prone to making such declarations,” she leaned in and kissed her wife’s temple. “Now let’s have dinner before our guest faints from hunger,” she said to her wife.
Dinner conversation ranged from art to politics, and eventually to Kahlan’s mother. It was Colette who brought up a particular touching anecdote that Kahlan vaguely remembered, but that she did not know had changed the course of history. “You know, Kahlan, my wife and I, along with many Midlanders, owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“Is that so?” Kahlan wrinkled her nose and chuckled a bit.
“This is one of Colette’s favorite stories,” Sabine said, covering Kahlan’s hand with her own for a second.
“Well, now the suspense is killing me,” Kahlan said, wide-eyed and sitting on the edge of her seat.
“One morning -- you would have been five years old at the time -- your mother swooshed into the office, squeezed my shoulder, and asked if I was up for an all-nighter. Within seconds, all her aides and a couple of other interns were standing around her desk, curious as to what required such urgency. ‘My little girl informed me this morning that when she grows up, she wants to marry her best friend, Cara Mason. She’s not one to change her mind, so we have a bill to draft.’
“The entire office was buzzing with excitement. This was legislation that no politician in Aydindril had dared to bring before the Central Council. ‘Good legislation is concise,’ she said, ‘Let’s keep this under ten pages.’ After she said it, she squeezed my hand, and said, ‘I don’t have much time, Colette, I’m counting on you.’ We worked for forty-eight hours straight. But we did it, we wrote an ironclad bill that the Central Council dared not contest. That was the last time she came into the office.” All three of them were overcome with emotions.
Kahlan wiped away a few tears and took a deep breath. “Thank you very much for telling me that story. You have no idea how much I’ll treasure it.” She gave Colette a hug, and thanked her again.
Sabine took a long look at her and said, “I take it that it is not a coincidence that the other little girl in the story has the same name as the defendant in the murder case you’re working on.”
Kahlan gestured with her hands and shrugged. “I can’t discuss the case but I imagine the answer is self-evident.”
“I wish you both all of the best, really.”
Kahlan gave her a sad smile and a nod.
“May I ask how you two met?” Kahlan asked over coffee and dessert.
The question earned her a huge grin from both women. “I was fourteen when I laid eyes on her for the first time -- to call it love at first sight would be an understatement,” Colette said. “My father was the Midlands Ambassador to South Africa back then. I traveled with him often. He wanted me see the world, to understand how blessed we were and why it was our responsibility to give back as much as we could. On this particular trip, we traveled to Addis Ababa.
“We were visiting schools in various villages on the outskirts of the city and meeting with dignitaries. The Midlands had prepared an aid package for famine victims. The juxtaposition of the breathtaking beauty of the terrain and the devastating level of human suffering was dizzying. We walked through the crowds, their hands extended begging for food, malnourished children, mothers weeping for their sick babies. And yet they were heartbreakingly beautiful -- every last one of them. It was as if pure light were shining through their eyes -- their glowing skin rivaling the sun. I’ve never experienced anything like it before or since.
“When I first saw Sabine, I completely froze. She literally took my breath away, so much so that I felt lightheaded, as if I were about to faint. She must have noticed because she rushed to my side and took hold of my arm. All I could do was standing there staring at her with my mouth open; I’m sure she thought I was daft.”
“I thought no such thing. And you almost fainted because it was 120 degrees. You were beautiful and terribly sweet. Do you remember what you said to me?”
Colette rolled her eyes and laughed a little. “Of course I remember. It was something along the lines of, ‘wow, you’re like Elle McPherson and Iman rolled into one.’ To which you replied, ‘come, little girl, let’s get you some water.’
“Of course, I decided right then and there I was going to marry her someday. This all happened in the pre-email era so we became pen-pals,” she said, looking over at Kahlan. “We exchanged hundreds of letters. I kept every one of them,” she said, leaning in and kissing Sabine lightly on the lips.
“I was a scrawny fourteen-year-old with braces on my teeth and she was this six-foot-tall exotic nineteen-year-old beauty queen. When my father and I got home, I ran into my mother’s arms and said, and I quote, ‘Mother, I’m most desperately in love.’ My mother, the ultimate romantic, smiled and both her hands went to the center of her chest. ‘Tell me everything,’ she said, taking me by the hand and running upstairs to my parents’ bedroom. My father, the ultimate pragmatist, shook his head and sighed --years later he cried like a baby when he walked me down the aisle.”
“Ah, yes but when you returned to Ethiopia a second time, you were no longer a swooning little girl. You were a beautiful, confident, and brilliant young woman. I still remember running to the post office multiple times a day in the hopes of finding a letter from my beautiful Colette.”
“It’s been nearly thirty years and I still have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.”
“Oh gosh,” Kahlan said, “you two are going to make me cry. I should probably say good night before I make a complete fool of myself.”
“Nonsense,” Sabine said, “but you do have a long drive ahead of you.”
With that, they said their goodbyes and Kahlan headed home with a sad smile on her face. The Rimbauds were exceedingly pleasant and the stories Colette shared about Abigail Amnell warmed Kahlan’s heart. Her mother’s reputation as a leader and her many achievements were not new to Kahlan, but learning that her mother turned the ramblings of her five-year-old into policy reminded her of what she loved most about her. Abigail Amnell listened to her, really listened her, just as she would have to a colleague or a friend. After she died, no one listened, not her father, not the teachers at her fancy boarding school. It was a lonely life for both her and her sister.
***
“So what’s the story?” Cara asked as soon as Kahlan walked in the door.
“Well, they are lovely people. Colette shared some wonderful stories about my mother that had me on the verge of tears. Oh, and they told me the story of how they met -- so romantic. How on earth does a young girl from Aydindril end up falling in love and eventually marrying an Ethiopian beauty queen and political activist?
“I wish you would have been there. They have the most amazing art collection.”
Cara eyed her suspiciously for a couple of seconds. “So what are you not telling me?”
Kahlan rolled her eyes. “I hate that you know me so well.”
“Learn to live with it,” she said, “now spill it.”
“Fine. Don’t misunderstand, they really are lovely, but all the while I felt as if I was being sized up for something. Sabine has this gentle gaze that makes you feel as if she can read your mind, and Colette is one of those keenly intelligent people who knows what you’re thinking before you even think it.”
Cara chuckled. “So being confronted with your own superpowers made you nervous.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t do that.”
“Yeah, you do,” Cara said, nodding her head repeatedly.
“I don’t know why people think that about me.” Kahlan said in a huff.
“Hm, maybe because it’s true?” That earned her a shove from Kahlan.
“Seriously, I can’t help but feel that this wasn’t some random dinner invitation. They have some sort of agenda but I can’t imagine what it is.”
What Kahlan didn’t tell Cara was how much she wished that would have been their story, that the two of them were married, living in a house full of artwork -- Cara’s artwork -- on every wall. But Darken destroyed all those dreams, and even beyond the grave he was still trying to destroy Cara.
Long after Cara had called it a night, Kahlan sat at her desk, imagining a life that never was. She then meticulously organized the clutter on her desk into neat stacks of paper, sharpened every pencil she owned, cleaned her computer screen, and took a deep breath, sitting back on her chair wishing it were just as easy to bring order into her life. “Everything in its proper place,” she said. “But what’s your place in my life, baby?” With that, she shook her head a couple of times and got into bed.
***
With the hearing behind them, the focus shifted to the reality of the upcoming trial. Richard, Kahlan was certain, would be the first person Mike would call to the stand. Much of this case was about sibling rivalry and ancient grudges. Kahlan was banking on Mike losing his cool when confronted with a well-prepared Richard. Her job was simply to stay out of the way, allowing Richard to be, well, Richard -- the insanely likable guy with the brown puppy eyes and the earnest smile. Richard’s superpower was his ability to connect with people by speaking directly to their hearts. Mike subpoenaed Richard for the sake of trying to humiliate him, and because he wanted to implicate Cara in the accident. It was a mistake that Kahlan believed would alienate jurors and take the focus off the mountain of evidence against Cara.
What Kahlan still didn’t understand was why Mike wanted Denna on the stand. The only possible explanation was that Denna knew something -- maybe something that she didn’t know she knew -- that Cypher viewed as a smoking gun. This late in the game she could not risk being accused of witness tampering so all she could do was hope that Denna would hold her own. Denna, in a way, also had a secret weapon on her side: Shota. If Mike had any sort of political ambitions -- which he did -- getting on Shota’s bad side would cost him dearly. Shota was still one of the most well-connected people in Aydindril, and a political donor without whose support few politicians in Aydindril could possibly win an election. One word from her could very well send Mike back to the lowly public defender’s office. If Kahlan learned anything from her visit to the Stein mansion, it was that Shota and Denna were a team. She had no doubt that they would present a united front. In fact, she was hoping they would make grand entrance into the courtroom that would have heads turning. Cypher would most certainly measure his choice of words if Shota stared him down with those piercing eyes.
The other possibility was that Denna and Cara had more skeletons in the closet. Kahlan decided to broach the subject carefully. She already knew that Cara was willing to go to prison for the sake of keeping one secret; there was no telling how she’d react if Kahlan pressured her to reveal another one.
It was a lazy Sunday morning and Cara was still in bed so Kahlan made the coffee, carefully opened the door to Cara’s room, and with the intention of implementing her secret weapon, she placed both cups on the night table and slipped under the covers; Cara stirred a bit and snuggled closer. Kahlan then hummed softly into Cara’s ear and rubbed circles on her belly. That move, Kahlan knew, practically put Cara into a trance. She soon started to hum along, releasing little sounds of pleasure, with her eyes closed and a content smile.
“Good morning, baby,” she said as Cara’s eyes fluttered open. “I made coffee.”
Just as she predicted, Cara was perfectly relaxed. “Thank you,” she said, and after a long pause, added, “but it’s not going to work.”
Kahlan sat up on the bed with her brow furrowed. “What’ is not going to work?”
“You trying to butter me up with the humming and the belly rubbing. You’ve been pulling that move on me since we were kids.”
Kahlan sighed. “Maybe I’m just being nice. Did that ever occur to you?” she asked, in a huff.
“Yeah, because I haven’t known you my whole life. Now spit it out. What do you want?”
Kahlan frowned. “I liked you better when you were five.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not that easily coerced anymore. I’m a big girl now; other parts of my anatomy take priority these days.”
“Really?” Kahlan said in a low, raspy voice. “Where exactly would you like me to rub?” She lay back down on the bed and pulled Cara closer.
Cara licked her lips and gazed into Kahlan’s eyes for a long moment. “I don’t know. Maybe your narc girlfriend can make some suggestions. Now why don’t you tell me what you want, Kahlan?”
Kahlan shook her head and pulled away from her. “I want lots of things, not the least of which is keeping you out of prison. To that end, it would be helpful to know if I’m in for any surprises -- way to kill the mood, by the way.”
Cara released a derisive chuckle. “Ask me anything.”
“Are you and Denna hiding anything else? There’s a reason why Mike wants her on the stand, Cara. I’d rather hear it from you than being blindsided by Mike.”
“Look, I never killed anyone, if that’s what you’re asking. I lived in the house for almost twenty years, for eight of those years Denna lived there, too. We both did what we had to do to survive. Did she do things I don’t know about? Probably. I already told you, Denna’s a survivor. There’s no telling what Mike has on her, or thinks he has on her.” She thought for a moment, then added. “One thing’s for sure, if she has to bury me to save her own neck, she’ll do it. But I don’t think she’d feed me to the lions for sport.”
“Well, at this point, there’s nothing I can do. Maxine may be able to dig something up, but I can’t go anywhere near Denna. The last thing I need is to be accused of witness tampering.”
“And?” Cara asked, as she got out of bed. She was wearing red panties and a white tank top -- both of which left nothing to the imagination.
It took Kahlan a moment to stop staring. “And what?” she finally asked.
“And you owe me an apology for trying to manipulate me into revealing some nonexistent secret.”
Kahlan smiled and propped herself up on her elbow -- which gave Cara a stellar view of Kahlan’s cleavage. “I hope you can forgive me for being such an awful person. Is there anything at all I can do to make it up to you?”
Cara eyes veered down to Kahlan’s cleavage and stayed there. After several seconds -- and without looking up -- she said, “Waffles.” She turned around and walked into the shower.
“I’m the one who needs a shower,” she said under her breath. “A really cold one.” Realizing she’d completely fallen off the strictly-professional-wagon -- again - she hung her head, walked into the kitchen, and made Cara waffles. When she was done, she grabbed one of her yellow pads and made a list of all the things she appreciated about Sabrina. Her plan was to read it throughout the day.
Author: fortunata13
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Word Count: 3863
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Most certainly, I do not own these characters.
Summary: Let's see, Cara and Kahlan get to take a walk together, Kahlan receives an unexpected dinner invitation, and our ladies get a bit flirty.
A/N: Gratitude, as always, to the lovely and brilliant statuepup and to the awesome laurilee59 for the pro bono legal advice. If you ever need a lawyer, give laurilee59 a call.
A/N 2: Chapter 13 is going to take a bit of time, as I've just started working on it. I'll try get is done as soon as possible
“Well, we dodged a bullet,” Kahlan said, as they walked to the car. “Keeping the trial in Aydindril is a big win.”
Cara shrugged. “I wasn’t worried.”
“Oh, really?” Kahlan asked with a lopsided smile on her face.
“My lawyer is a badass, she’s smart, and she’s hot. Why would I be worried?”
Kahlan had a big grin on her face, but it wasn’t just Cara’s flattery that put it there. The mere act of walking from the courthouse to the car with Cara in street clothes brought with it a sense of normalcy that made her feel hopeful and strangely safe. For a few minutes they were just two women taking a walk together -- a luxury they hadn’t experienced in far too long.
“Look,” Cara said just as they got in the car, “tulips!” Her eyes were opened wide and the look on her face was pure awe. After a moment, she tipped her head and said, “I never noticed that tulips look just like freedom. They’re not like other flowers; they’re abstract brush strokes, filled with endless potential, so simple yet utterly perfect.”
Kahlan looked at her for a long moment, hardly able to control the urge to buy her a truck full of tulips. “How do you do that? How are you able to elevate something that most people take for granted into something magical?” Cara shrugged in response. “You’re amazing,” Kahlan said, pulling into the parking garage. Cara shrugged off that remark, too.
“Oh, and I told you so,” Cara said, carefully taking off her blazer.
“What did you tell me?” Kahlan tilted her and waited for an answer.
“I told you that you’re as awesome as your mom,” Cara said. She kissed Kahlan on the temple and gave her a brief hug. Kahlan blushed, which earned her a chuckle from Cara.
“So who were those two women you were talking to? I still think they were giving me a weird look.”
Kahlan thought for a moment. “Let’s see,” Kahlan said, “The name Colette Rimbaud should ring a bell. Much like yourself, she’s been in the news quite a bit lately -- albeit for very different reasons. The odds makers are fairly certain she’s going to be the next Prime Minister. The other woman is her wife, Sabine Munro Rimbaud. She’s no slouch either. Her humanitarian work, some say, is likely to earn her a Nobel Peace Prize. Colette was my mother’s intern; she even babysat me once. She knows more about my mother than I do.” She slumped her shoulders and sat on the sofa with her legs hugged to her chest.
Cheering people up wasn’t exactly Cara’s forté; in fact, she was awful at it, but for Kahlan’s sake she was willing to try. “How about them Seahawks?” Cara said.
Kahlan gave her a quizzical look. “What’s a seahawk?”
Thankfully, Kahlan’s phone rang, sparing her the painful experience of having to explain football to Kahlan. “Oh, that’s very kind of you. Yes, of course, I’d love to.”
“What was that about?” Cara asked.
Kahlan’s thumb and index finger went to her chin. “I’m not sure,” she said. “The Rimbauds just invited me to their house for dinner.”
“Well,” Cara said at length, “You’re gorgeous; they're lesbians.” She delivered the remark with a self-satisfied smirk on her face.
“Point taken,” she said, after delivering her best eye roll. “Maybe Colette just wants to reminisce about my mother. They seem to have been very close.”
“Ooh,” Cara said, “maybe she and your mother were --”
“Or maybe you should get your mind out of the gutter and help me decide what to wear tomorrow night,” she said, giving Cara a shove for good measure.
“My Nirvana t-shirt is clean.”
“Yes, I suppose I could go to dinner at the home of the next Prime Minister wearing your Nirvana t-shirt and a pair of your boy shorts. Oh, and while I’m at it, why not wear your red panties -- on my head.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Cara said.
“Here’s a better plan: let’s make dinner. I want to turn in early.”
“Tired?”
“No, but I don’t want to show up at the Rimbaud estate with bags under my eyes.”
***
The Rimbauds lived in a sprawling estate on the outskirts of Aydindril. It was a hilltop mansion with a breathtaking view, but on this clear night, the city lights could not compete with the beauty of the stars shining brightly in the sky. Kahlan felt a pang in her chest, wishing Cara were at her side to take it all in. Just as she drove up the hill, she caught a glimpse of the Stein mansion in the distance. She hadn’t realized that the Rimbauds and Shota were practically neighbors. It made sense, however, considering that they were among the handful of people who could afford to live in Aydindril’s most upscale neighborhood.
She took a deep breath to steel herself before ringing the doorbell. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was about the Rimbauds that made her feel like a schoolgirl about to meet the headmistress. Perhaps it was the connection to her mother, or it may have been that she was in the presence of two formidable women, who by their late forties, had accomplished more than most of their contemporaries ever would.
“Ms. Amnell,” Colette Rimbaud said, greeting her with a broad grin, “come in, please.”
“Only if you’ll call me Kahlan,” she replied, without showing a trace of evidence of the butterflies doing somersaults in her belly.
“Agreed,” the other woman replied, “but I insist you call me Colette.”
With that, they walked into the house which, given the grandeur of the structure itself, was surprisingly unassuming. Kahlan was immediately taken by the copious amounts of artwork that hung on practically every wall. “Oh my,” she said, “These are breathtaking.”
“One of the members of the household is quite the budding artist -- and prolific as well. Two Picasso paintings and a Velazquez have been relegated to a hallway due to lack of wall-space.”
Kahlan tipped her head and said, “Given the size of this place, that’s quite an accomplishment.”
“We’ll give you the grand tour after dinner, if you’d like.”
“Yes, a tour would be wonderful.”
Moments later, Sabine Munro Rimbaud walked in, causing Kahlan to do a double take. She’d briefly glanced at her in the courtroom, and she’d seen pictures of Sabine in magazines, but seeing her at home without a drop of makeup on, wearing jeans and a loose-fitting blouse, Kahlan fully realized that her reputation as one of most beautiful women in the world had not been exaggerated. At six feet tall, she towered over Kahlan, who was used to being both the tallest and the most beautiful woman in the room. Sabine’s crystal-clear gray eyes combined with her elegant movements were practically hypnotic.
“This, Kahlan, is my better half, Sabine. The most beautiful and intelligent woman in the world.”
“Please excuse my wife, she’s prone to making such declarations,” she leaned in and kissed her wife’s temple. “Now let’s have dinner before our guest faints from hunger,” she said to her wife.
Dinner conversation ranged from art to politics, and eventually to Kahlan’s mother. It was Colette who brought up a particular touching anecdote that Kahlan vaguely remembered, but that she did not know had changed the course of history. “You know, Kahlan, my wife and I, along with many Midlanders, owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“Is that so?” Kahlan wrinkled her nose and chuckled a bit.
“This is one of Colette’s favorite stories,” Sabine said, covering Kahlan’s hand with her own for a second.
“Well, now the suspense is killing me,” Kahlan said, wide-eyed and sitting on the edge of her seat.
“One morning -- you would have been five years old at the time -- your mother swooshed into the office, squeezed my shoulder, and asked if I was up for an all-nighter. Within seconds, all her aides and a couple of other interns were standing around her desk, curious as to what required such urgency. ‘My little girl informed me this morning that when she grows up, she wants to marry her best friend, Cara Mason. She’s not one to change her mind, so we have a bill to draft.’
“The entire office was buzzing with excitement. This was legislation that no politician in Aydindril had dared to bring before the Central Council. ‘Good legislation is concise,’ she said, ‘Let’s keep this under ten pages.’ After she said it, she squeezed my hand, and said, ‘I don’t have much time, Colette, I’m counting on you.’ We worked for forty-eight hours straight. But we did it, we wrote an ironclad bill that the Central Council dared not contest. That was the last time she came into the office.” All three of them were overcome with emotions.
Kahlan wiped away a few tears and took a deep breath. “Thank you very much for telling me that story. You have no idea how much I’ll treasure it.” She gave Colette a hug, and thanked her again.
Sabine took a long look at her and said, “I take it that it is not a coincidence that the other little girl in the story has the same name as the defendant in the murder case you’re working on.”
Kahlan gestured with her hands and shrugged. “I can’t discuss the case but I imagine the answer is self-evident.”
“I wish you both all of the best, really.”
Kahlan gave her a sad smile and a nod.
“May I ask how you two met?” Kahlan asked over coffee and dessert.
The question earned her a huge grin from both women. “I was fourteen when I laid eyes on her for the first time -- to call it love at first sight would be an understatement,” Colette said. “My father was the Midlands Ambassador to South Africa back then. I traveled with him often. He wanted me see the world, to understand how blessed we were and why it was our responsibility to give back as much as we could. On this particular trip, we traveled to Addis Ababa.
“We were visiting schools in various villages on the outskirts of the city and meeting with dignitaries. The Midlands had prepared an aid package for famine victims. The juxtaposition of the breathtaking beauty of the terrain and the devastating level of human suffering was dizzying. We walked through the crowds, their hands extended begging for food, malnourished children, mothers weeping for their sick babies. And yet they were heartbreakingly beautiful -- every last one of them. It was as if pure light were shining through their eyes -- their glowing skin rivaling the sun. I’ve never experienced anything like it before or since.
“When I first saw Sabine, I completely froze. She literally took my breath away, so much so that I felt lightheaded, as if I were about to faint. She must have noticed because she rushed to my side and took hold of my arm. All I could do was standing there staring at her with my mouth open; I’m sure she thought I was daft.”
“I thought no such thing. And you almost fainted because it was 120 degrees. You were beautiful and terribly sweet. Do you remember what you said to me?”
Colette rolled her eyes and laughed a little. “Of course I remember. It was something along the lines of, ‘wow, you’re like Elle McPherson and Iman rolled into one.’ To which you replied, ‘come, little girl, let’s get you some water.’
“Of course, I decided right then and there I was going to marry her someday. This all happened in the pre-email era so we became pen-pals,” she said, looking over at Kahlan. “We exchanged hundreds of letters. I kept every one of them,” she said, leaning in and kissing Sabine lightly on the lips.
“I was a scrawny fourteen-year-old with braces on my teeth and she was this six-foot-tall exotic nineteen-year-old beauty queen. When my father and I got home, I ran into my mother’s arms and said, and I quote, ‘Mother, I’m most desperately in love.’ My mother, the ultimate romantic, smiled and both her hands went to the center of her chest. ‘Tell me everything,’ she said, taking me by the hand and running upstairs to my parents’ bedroom. My father, the ultimate pragmatist, shook his head and sighed --years later he cried like a baby when he walked me down the aisle.”
“Ah, yes but when you returned to Ethiopia a second time, you were no longer a swooning little girl. You were a beautiful, confident, and brilliant young woman. I still remember running to the post office multiple times a day in the hopes of finding a letter from my beautiful Colette.”
“It’s been nearly thirty years and I still have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.”
“Oh gosh,” Kahlan said, “you two are going to make me cry. I should probably say good night before I make a complete fool of myself.”
“Nonsense,” Sabine said, “but you do have a long drive ahead of you.”
With that, they said their goodbyes and Kahlan headed home with a sad smile on her face. The Rimbauds were exceedingly pleasant and the stories Colette shared about Abigail Amnell warmed Kahlan’s heart. Her mother’s reputation as a leader and her many achievements were not new to Kahlan, but learning that her mother turned the ramblings of her five-year-old into policy reminded her of what she loved most about her. Abigail Amnell listened to her, really listened her, just as she would have to a colleague or a friend. After she died, no one listened, not her father, not the teachers at her fancy boarding school. It was a lonely life for both her and her sister.
***
“So what’s the story?” Cara asked as soon as Kahlan walked in the door.
“Well, they are lovely people. Colette shared some wonderful stories about my mother that had me on the verge of tears. Oh, and they told me the story of how they met -- so romantic. How on earth does a young girl from Aydindril end up falling in love and eventually marrying an Ethiopian beauty queen and political activist?
“I wish you would have been there. They have the most amazing art collection.”
Cara eyed her suspiciously for a couple of seconds. “So what are you not telling me?”
Kahlan rolled her eyes. “I hate that you know me so well.”
“Learn to live with it,” she said, “now spill it.”
“Fine. Don’t misunderstand, they really are lovely, but all the while I felt as if I was being sized up for something. Sabine has this gentle gaze that makes you feel as if she can read your mind, and Colette is one of those keenly intelligent people who knows what you’re thinking before you even think it.”
Cara chuckled. “So being confronted with your own superpowers made you nervous.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t do that.”
“Yeah, you do,” Cara said, nodding her head repeatedly.
“I don’t know why people think that about me.” Kahlan said in a huff.
“Hm, maybe because it’s true?” That earned her a shove from Kahlan.
“Seriously, I can’t help but feel that this wasn’t some random dinner invitation. They have some sort of agenda but I can’t imagine what it is.”
What Kahlan didn’t tell Cara was how much she wished that would have been their story, that the two of them were married, living in a house full of artwork -- Cara’s artwork -- on every wall. But Darken destroyed all those dreams, and even beyond the grave he was still trying to destroy Cara.
Long after Cara had called it a night, Kahlan sat at her desk, imagining a life that never was. She then meticulously organized the clutter on her desk into neat stacks of paper, sharpened every pencil she owned, cleaned her computer screen, and took a deep breath, sitting back on her chair wishing it were just as easy to bring order into her life. “Everything in its proper place,” she said. “But what’s your place in my life, baby?” With that, she shook her head a couple of times and got into bed.
***
With the hearing behind them, the focus shifted to the reality of the upcoming trial. Richard, Kahlan was certain, would be the first person Mike would call to the stand. Much of this case was about sibling rivalry and ancient grudges. Kahlan was banking on Mike losing his cool when confronted with a well-prepared Richard. Her job was simply to stay out of the way, allowing Richard to be, well, Richard -- the insanely likable guy with the brown puppy eyes and the earnest smile. Richard’s superpower was his ability to connect with people by speaking directly to their hearts. Mike subpoenaed Richard for the sake of trying to humiliate him, and because he wanted to implicate Cara in the accident. It was a mistake that Kahlan believed would alienate jurors and take the focus off the mountain of evidence against Cara.
What Kahlan still didn’t understand was why Mike wanted Denna on the stand. The only possible explanation was that Denna knew something -- maybe something that she didn’t know she knew -- that Cypher viewed as a smoking gun. This late in the game she could not risk being accused of witness tampering so all she could do was hope that Denna would hold her own. Denna, in a way, also had a secret weapon on her side: Shota. If Mike had any sort of political ambitions -- which he did -- getting on Shota’s bad side would cost him dearly. Shota was still one of the most well-connected people in Aydindril, and a political donor without whose support few politicians in Aydindril could possibly win an election. One word from her could very well send Mike back to the lowly public defender’s office. If Kahlan learned anything from her visit to the Stein mansion, it was that Shota and Denna were a team. She had no doubt that they would present a united front. In fact, she was hoping they would make grand entrance into the courtroom that would have heads turning. Cypher would most certainly measure his choice of words if Shota stared him down with those piercing eyes.
The other possibility was that Denna and Cara had more skeletons in the closet. Kahlan decided to broach the subject carefully. She already knew that Cara was willing to go to prison for the sake of keeping one secret; there was no telling how she’d react if Kahlan pressured her to reveal another one.
It was a lazy Sunday morning and Cara was still in bed so Kahlan made the coffee, carefully opened the door to Cara’s room, and with the intention of implementing her secret weapon, she placed both cups on the night table and slipped under the covers; Cara stirred a bit and snuggled closer. Kahlan then hummed softly into Cara’s ear and rubbed circles on her belly. That move, Kahlan knew, practically put Cara into a trance. She soon started to hum along, releasing little sounds of pleasure, with her eyes closed and a content smile.
“Good morning, baby,” she said as Cara’s eyes fluttered open. “I made coffee.”
Just as she predicted, Cara was perfectly relaxed. “Thank you,” she said, and after a long pause, added, “but it’s not going to work.”
Kahlan sat up on the bed with her brow furrowed. “What’ is not going to work?”
“You trying to butter me up with the humming and the belly rubbing. You’ve been pulling that move on me since we were kids.”
Kahlan sighed. “Maybe I’m just being nice. Did that ever occur to you?” she asked, in a huff.
“Yeah, because I haven’t known you my whole life. Now spit it out. What do you want?”
Kahlan frowned. “I liked you better when you were five.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not that easily coerced anymore. I’m a big girl now; other parts of my anatomy take priority these days.”
“Really?” Kahlan said in a low, raspy voice. “Where exactly would you like me to rub?” She lay back down on the bed and pulled Cara closer.
Cara licked her lips and gazed into Kahlan’s eyes for a long moment. “I don’t know. Maybe your narc girlfriend can make some suggestions. Now why don’t you tell me what you want, Kahlan?”
Kahlan shook her head and pulled away from her. “I want lots of things, not the least of which is keeping you out of prison. To that end, it would be helpful to know if I’m in for any surprises -- way to kill the mood, by the way.”
Cara released a derisive chuckle. “Ask me anything.”
“Are you and Denna hiding anything else? There’s a reason why Mike wants her on the stand, Cara. I’d rather hear it from you than being blindsided by Mike.”
“Look, I never killed anyone, if that’s what you’re asking. I lived in the house for almost twenty years, for eight of those years Denna lived there, too. We both did what we had to do to survive. Did she do things I don’t know about? Probably. I already told you, Denna’s a survivor. There’s no telling what Mike has on her, or thinks he has on her.” She thought for a moment, then added. “One thing’s for sure, if she has to bury me to save her own neck, she’ll do it. But I don’t think she’d feed me to the lions for sport.”
“Well, at this point, there’s nothing I can do. Maxine may be able to dig something up, but I can’t go anywhere near Denna. The last thing I need is to be accused of witness tampering.”
“And?” Cara asked, as she got out of bed. She was wearing red panties and a white tank top -- both of which left nothing to the imagination.
It took Kahlan a moment to stop staring. “And what?” she finally asked.
“And you owe me an apology for trying to manipulate me into revealing some nonexistent secret.”
Kahlan smiled and propped herself up on her elbow -- which gave Cara a stellar view of Kahlan’s cleavage. “I hope you can forgive me for being such an awful person. Is there anything at all I can do to make it up to you?”
Cara eyes veered down to Kahlan’s cleavage and stayed there. After several seconds -- and without looking up -- she said, “Waffles.” She turned around and walked into the shower.
“I’m the one who needs a shower,” she said under her breath. “A really cold one.” Realizing she’d completely fallen off the strictly-professional-wagon -- again - she hung her head, walked into the kitchen, and made Cara waffles. When she was done, she grabbed one of her yellow pads and made a list of all the things she appreciated about Sabrina. Her plan was to read it throughout the day.