Elevator
Part 5 - Souvlakia, Dr. Zhivago, and Thou
By Miesque
miesqueslj@my-deja.com

RATING: R for sexual situations. Ahem...I just can't do NC-17. Sorry. :-) Just hope the scene isn't too, uh, "romance novelish".

SETTING: Sometime after the end of S7, God help us.

CATEGORY: A Luka Kovac/Kerry Weaver Story (5/?) Humor/comfort/romance

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Luka and Kerry. If I did, they would currently be married and expecting their first baby. ;) Warner Bros., Amblin Entertainment, NBC and several other guys in $uit$ do own them.

SONG: ‘I’d Have To Be Crazy’ by Willie Nelson (it took me two weeks to find this song!)
SYNOPSIS: Luka and Kerry go on a date, pass on ‘9 1/2 Weeks’, and enjoy a little hanky panky.
NOTE: No lambs were harmed during the writing of this chapter. I did kill a fly, though.

CROATIAN TRANSLATIONS: I used Intertran, which only works for me via Netscape; if there’s something lost in the translation, it’s...uh...well, it’s Intertran’s fault, since I don’t speak Croatian. "Te volim", of course, means "I love you".

SPOILERS: Maybe a hint or two of stuff that happened in S6, and hints of stuff seen in spoilers for S7, about which I am severely in denial. Abby? Abby who? Never heard of her. Is she new?

THANKS TO: My three wonderful friends (and editors) for constant and steady encouragement.



“Have you ever eaten Greek?” Luka asked Kerry as they were lead to their table.

“A Greek?” Kerry looked confused for a moment, then caught on.   “Oh. Yes. But I much prefer a Croatian.” She glanced up at him, admiring the cut of his clothes, and caught that shy look again. My God, Kerry thought. What is it about this guy?

Looking closely, she could tell he didn’t splurge on clothing, but still managed to get quality. Always dark tones, always very neat, but upon examining the material, she had noticed that it was inexpensive but well-cut and beautifully suited to his build. For a moment, she wondered if Luka used a tailor, but decided that that kind of thing would be...what? Unseemly?

“Good,” he nodded. “I was told that you’re a gourmet cook.”

“Who told you that?” she asked as he pulled her chair out for her.

“Carter.”

Once she was settled comfortably, he went around to his side of the table and sat down.   The chair almost immediately gave out and he found himself on the floor, his chin on the tabletop. Interesting position, he thought. He was staring right at the buttons on her blouse, and his mouth twitched slightly at the memory of last night...   “Ow!”

Kerry stared down at Luka, startled. “Luka, are you okay?”

“Fine. Good thing I don’t have an overbite.” He stood up slowly, his knees cracking, and a horrified waiter came over with a new chair.

“I’m very sorry, sir,” the waiter said in a heavy Greek accent. Luka could see a plaintive look in the guy’s eyes-the man was obviously worried about the unhappy sight of lawyers descending upon the restaurant. Several people were staring at Luka, who wished he could hide under the table for a while. Oh, yes, very graceful, Luka thought. Take a woman out on a first date and promptly make a spectacle of yourself. Yeah, the classic humiliating moment for an introvert.

“Don’t worry. I won’t sue. Could we have some water, please?  And maybe a bottle of Advil?”

“Sure.” The waiter beat feet to the kitchen.

“When a chair breaks down under you, maybe it’s time for Weight Watchers,” Luka said glumly.

Kerry laughed. “How much do you weigh?”

“One-eighty, I think.”

She stared at him, alarmed. “That’s terrible! You need to gain wait.”

“I’ll eat a lot of baklava tonight,” Luka said, attempting to deflect her concern.

“I should put you on a diet, Luka. This is ridiculous. You’re underweight!”

Luka deftly avoided that statement. “Carter told me you like to cook.”  He was pressing to avoid the issue of his diet. He didn’t even feel hungry now. At least, not for food. Luka was startled by how strong his sex drive was lately. In the past, hehadn’t been very interested. It wasn’t that he didn’t look. It was just that, for the past nine years, he had avoided the merchandise all together. Right now, however, his thoughts about Kerry were anything but pure. She had done something last night-something that had taken his breath away and made him a little dizzy. Jadwiga had been great in bed, but the nuns don’t teach nice Catholic girls about that...and hadn’t Kerry said something about being a Methodist?

Kerry sighed. She wasn’t getting anywhere with that line of questioning, but then again, she wanted him to know she cared for him. So how do I do that? she wondered.   “Yes, I do,” she answered. “What sorts of foods do you like?”   Kerry wished she had a pad and pencil, so she could jot everything down. She loved to cook, but she especially loved to cook for people she liked. And she liked Luka. More, in fact, than anyone she’d ever known.

He fingered his coffee cup for a moment, mulling. “Well, if it still has eyes, I don’t want it. But I can eat nearly anything...well, I’m allergic to strawberries.”

Kerry smiled. “Oh? Too bad. I had an idea for tonight.”

That piqued Luka’s interest, and he raised one dark eyebrow. “Well, I just can’t eat them, Kerry. I can...you know...do other things with them.”

The waiter had arrived by then, and overheard Luka’s last, rather indiscreet, statement. They both looked up at the young man, and Kerry was surprised to see her lover looking so embarrassed. He wasn’t blushing, but he was chewing nervously on his lower lip. He’s just...charming, she thought. I’d love to know what his parents were like.

“Are you ready to order?” the waiter asked.

“Not yet,” Kerry said. “A few more minutes please.”

“Sure.” The waiter retreated.

“You know, Luka,” she said. “It just amazes me...how do you do it?”

“Do what?” Luka questioned, looking up. He picked up the menu and blinked at the small lettering. For all he knew, he could end up ordering "We accept VISA and Mastercard". Lately, his eyes weren’t doing too well. He usually needed the letters on T sheets and general forms to be the size of Orson Welles.  Not a good sign, but he was still resisting getting glasses. Contacts were even worse. Considering he worked in a hospital, wearing contacts could be dangerous.  A good whack in the eye by a combative patient, the contact slips and the next thing you know you can’t finish your sentences. He was already having enough trouble remembering things-just a few days ago, he had mislocated his keys, only to find them a few minutes later...in his hand. Another sign, he thought sadly, that he was getting old. Might as well accept it, he decided. At least I’m getting old. At least I’m alive. That’s always good.

Luka quickly pushed morbid thoughts from his head. That won’t do, he reminded himself. Damn it, Luka. It’s like you live in an Irish wake. Even your joy comes from mourning.

She laughed, shaking her head. “You really don’t have a clue, do you? Tell me, what were you like as a kid? A teenager, I mean?”

He put the menu down and rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking. His mother had sometimes referred to him as the Demon Seed, but only in moments of extreme duress.  He hadn’t been as bad as his older brother. Viktor had a penchant for starting fires. Luka had only had an urge to...well, break things, just to see if he could put them back together. Usually, however, he couldn’t and that was when the rot would set in.

“I was...well, I was a lot different,” he said at last. “I mean, nothing ever stays the same, right? I wasn’t exactly James Dean or anything-rebel without a cause-but I did some dumb things sometimes. Besides, I was sixteen...uh...twenty-two years ago...” That startled Luka. He remembered being young and amazed at how old everyone else was. Now, he was as old as they were and looking at teenagers with the same mentality. He wasn’t calling them ‘whippersnappers’ yet, and he wasn’t wearing bib overalls and yelling ‘carn-sarnit!’, but there were days when Luka had trouble getting out of bed, his knees hurt so badly.  It was a matter of leverage lately-swing your legs over, pull yourself up by using the chest of drawers. As a child, Luka had climbed trees. Lately, life was much more adventurous. And potentially dangerous to his health. But, he remembered, when you’re seven, you don’t think about getting hurt. You don’t think about the future, really. You just think about avoiding piano lessons and whether or not your English teacher will rap your knuckles with a ruler for shooting spitballs in class.

Besides that, just a few days ago he had overhead Dr. Malucci telling Carter that ‘Not even Dr. Greene is as old as Dr. Kovac. Kovac is a geezer compared to Greene’. Gee, thanks a lot, Dave, Luka had thought at the time. Luka wasn’t vain enough to preen in front of a mirror for long, or to try dying out the grey in his hair (much less have tragic encounters with a bottle of peroxide and a weedwhacker, but that was beside the point), but he didn’t really feel a geezer.   How does one geez, anyway? He didn’t know he was ‘geezing’.  It wasn’t Luka’s fault he limped a bit after a long day, or that his stubble had bits of grey, or that his eyesight was fading out and his memory was getting spotty... You’re droning like a geezer, Kovac, he told himself with a derisive snort.

By the time he was thirty, he had felt like a sixty-year old, barely able to move in the mornings. Of course, depression and grief had had a lot to do with that, but still...what has his father said to him once about old people? ‘They walk so slow because they’re remembering all the stories’. Well, that was true.  Except that sometimes Luka had to struggle to remember the good times. The good old days aren’t over for good, but sometimes it sure seems that way. Well, not lately. Things were brightening in his life, and looking across the table at the small, pretty redhead reading the menu, he had a pretty good idea why.

Luka looked at his plate, then returned his attention to Kerry.

“Like what?” she asked, smiling. She had seen him drift away from her for a moment, and had patiently waited for him to come back.

“If I tell you, you’ll think less of me,” he said with an sweetly innocent look.

“Impossible. Go ahead...did you chase girls a lot?”

“No. Not really. There was always...uh...well, there was always Jadwiga.  We just always kind of...knew, you know? So skirt-chasing wasn’t my style...and I was always kind of...”

“Awkward?” Kerry interjected. She could imagine him at sixteen.  Tall, embarrassed about his sudden growth spurt, dark hair hanging over his eyes, with only the beginnings of what would be spectacular good looks. Probably stammering, shy, and reserved, yet with a sweetness and innocence-along with that bold sexuality-about him that probably made the local girls swoon. Kerry figured that, with his bone structure and those eyes, he may have been an odd-looking child. The classic ‘ugly duckling’. Well, not ugly. It was hard for her to imagine Luka Kovac as unattractive. But he may have looked unusual as a boy.

He nodded. “I dated other girls sometimes, especially after Jadwiga and I had a fight or something, but...” Luka paused. He wasn’t sure he wanted to discuss his wife tonight. Therapy didn’t make the pain lessen much. It dulled it sometimes, and it probably would help even more to talk to Kerry-his lover, and his friend-but he didn’t want to burden her with it now. Not over a meal.  Three things you don’t talk about over a meal-politics, religion and Death. Either subject can start a foodfight. Not that Luka talked much about politics. His faith was important to him, but he knew for a fact that most people found the subject kind of off-setting. And Death...well, he knew his record at County. Luka was the guy with the scythe. It amazed him that kids didn’t run screaming from the room at the very sight of him. In fact, it really did amaze Luka that kids seemed to take a shine to him. He liked kids, generally. But just a few days ago, he’d been standing in line at a supermarket, telling a woman, “I thought that kid climbing on the candy rack was yours, but I guess he’s not.”  Luka had been a parent once, and the rose colored glasses had been broken (and covered with ice cream) a long time ago. Oh, he thought, babies are cute for the first month or so, but then it wears off. Reality sinks in. Along with exhaustion.

The waiter arrived again. Luka looked at the menu again, bewildered. “Uh, I’ll have souvlakia,” he said quickly.

The waiter turned to Kerry, who peered at the menu, putting her glasses on quickly, and picked the first thing she saw. “Chicken with lemon, please. Kotopoulo lemonato.”

“Good choices,” the waiter said. “The lamb was just...”

“No details, please,” Luka raised his hand slightly to interrupt. This wasn’t ‘Silence of the Lambs’ and he didn’t want to hear about how the unfortunate but potentially delicious creature met his untimely end.

“Certainly, sir. Anything else?”

“And some baked spinach with three cheeses...for an appetizer,” Luka added, glancing at Kerry and handing the menu over. The waiter made a little bow and left.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? This is gonna cost me a fortune.”

“Not my fault you’re a lousy poker player,” he grinned.



When they stopped at a red light, Kerry listened to the song playing on the radio (she had selected the station-one that played a wide variety of music), smiling to herself as she listened to the words. It had been a long time since she’d listened to anything by Willie Nelson, but she realized she’d always kind of liked his music (if not his looks or enthusiasm about marijuana).

I’d have to be crazy
To stop all my singin’
And never play music again.
You’d call me fool
If I grabbed up a tophat
And ran out to flag down the wind.

I’d have to be weird
To grow me a beard
Just to see what the rednecks would do.
But I’d have to be crazy,
Plumb out of my mind
To fall out of love with you.

I’ve know I’ve done weird things
Told people I heared things
When silence was all that abounds.
Been days when it pleased me
To be on my knees
Followin’ ants as they crawled across the ground.
Been insane on a train, but I’m still me again
And the place where I hold you is true.
So I know I’m all right,
‘Cause I’d have to be crazy
To fall out of love with you.

You know I don’t intend to
But should there come a day
When I say that I don’t love you
You can lock me away.

I sure would be dingy to live in an envelope
Waiting alone for a stamp
You’d swear I was loco to rub for a genie
While burning my hand on the lamp
And I may not be normal, but nobody is
So I’d like to say before I’m through
I’d have to be crazy,
Plumb out of my mind
To fall out of love with you

I’d have to be crazy,
Plumb out of my mind
To fall out of love with you.


Wow, she thought. Willie’s almost like Elvis (well, not in that sense). You can’t help but think, ‘You know, that was a pretty good one, too’. Not that she’d ever buy ‘The IRS Tapes’, but he was a pretty damned good songwriter. She glanced at Luka, who had been driving with his uninjured hand, holding a newspaper with the other, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“So what movie do you want to see?” Luka asked, squinting down at the newspaper, holding it away from his eyes, muttering under his breath about spectacles and general geezerhood.

Kerry was more anxious to have her first look at his apartment. She was trying to imagine what it was like-large or small? Beautifully decorated or sparse and messy?   Impossible to tell, she concluded. What am I seeing in Luka? He has a big heart, big emotions, big fears, big flaws. He does nothing by half. His apartment might give me some more clues.

“Why is it...” Luka said, his voice sharpened with frustration. “That when I hold a newpaper farther away from my eyes, I can see it better? That makes no sense whatsoever. Eight years of medical school, four years of specialty training, and the required courses in opthomology all failed to explain it.”

“I’m having that problem, too,” Kerry admitted. “That’s why I have these reading glasses. It’s all about getting older, Luka.”

Luka wrinkled his nose. He liked Kerry’s new glasses, but he didn’t like the dangly things attached to the earpieces. “We could rent a movie,” he suggested at last. The only new movie being advertised at the local theater was ‘Remember the Titans’, and frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember.  As a kid, he had played football...er... soccer...against a team of hulking giants called ‘Titans’ and the last thing Luka wanted to recollect was being carried off the field on a stretcher, suffering from a concussion after being kicked in the head - in fact, his memory of the incident was a bit hazy. He had hated soccer ever since - it was almost pathological. Whenever he channel-surfed and came across a match, his stomach would do a flip and he’d get a headache.

“Okay. That sounds good,” Kerry nodded. “Besides, I really want to see where you live.”

Luka nodded, glancing at her for a moment as he drove toward his home. Their dinner together had gone very well. It had been as he’d expected it - sitting there together, talking comfortably and quietly, exchanging more personal information, more light. There was no mistaking this feeling he had-that he was standing on solid ground now, with, perhaps, his head in the clouds. He hoped he wasn’t getting his expectations up too high. He knew he enjoyed being with Kerry. In fact, he knew he was falling for her. And isn’t it interesting, Luka thought, how you can fall in love. ‘Fall in love’. Sounds like walking into a tiger trap. Do you trip and fall in love, or do you just stumble, skin your knee, and...ouch...there you are?

That hadn’t happened with Jadwiga. In that case, love had come and tapped him on the shoulder one afternoon when he was sixteen. He and his friends had been sitting on the beach together, watching the waves beat against the rocks, but mainly watching the girls sitting on a blanket not far away, chattering and pretending not to be looking at them.

Luka remembered reading about ‘primitive’ tribes in Africa (primitive being a rather dumb word-primitive is in the eye of the beholder) use display in order to attract mates. Well, it was the same on craggy little beaches in Croatia. The young men would strut about, clad in their bikini briefs, flexing youthful, untrained muscles, hoping the girls they were interested in would notice them. Luka had gone along with it, being as normal as his friends, but he had always been shy. It scared him when girls stared at him - it still scared him. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he didn’t see much to look at. Even at sixteen, while his friends were practically exploding with testosterone and burgeoning self-confidence, Luka was insecure and uneasy.  A growth spurt had moved his arms and legs out into unfamiliar territory, and his forehead always had a red mark from constantly hitting door lentils of houses that were built in the fifteenth century and thus for people nearly two feet shorter than him.

Luka chuckled to himself suddenly. He remembered his caustic older brother talking about Timothy Leary. Viktor had always been into weird cultural icons, and Dr. Leary was the latest fad at the time. Luka had only listened with half an ear to his brother-which was usually the case, since Viktor rarely said anything worth hearing back then, at just eighteen. “LSD,” Viktor had been saying, “can really enhance your consciousness, make you more aware...”

“And it can always scramble your brain like an egg and make you think the walls are moving and that toasters have souls,” Luka had countered. “And I’ve read some of his crap, Viktor. Leary says that LSD can solve all our problems and bring us together for world peace, but he also says that it would be a great idea to paint our butts orange and burn our houses to the ground.”

Luka was the sensible one back then, with wit so dry it crackled. At twenty-nine, however, his world had spun out of control and only recently was it starting to slow down, to become settled again. Nine years had gone by so fast, and Luka often got breathless when he looked at a calendar and saw ‘2001’.

Viktor had been sulking when Jadwiga walked by. Luka hadn’t seen her all summer, and when she arrived after visiting relatives in Zagreb, she had gone from just Luka’s friend-a girl he affectionately called ‘Yaddi’- to a devastating, sultry beauty. He had gotten up and walked over to her, claiming it was just to say ‘hello’ and welcome her back home after a long absence. But when he looked into her eyes, he felt a twinge in his stomach, like a tuning fork sounding, and his knees had gone weak and he’d forgotten how to talk-he’d just stood there, gawping at her, and Luka Kovac never gawped at anything, not even a Porsche. And it sure wasn’t the nausea and sheer terror he usually felt in the presence of beautiful women. She had been sixteen then, just a few months younger than himself. After just a few moments, he had... what? Slipped? Dropped? Fell? Anyway, he was in love and had spent most of the night lying in bed, listening to his brother snore and thinking about her, trying to figure out why his heart wouldn’t stop pounding and why the blood was rushing in his ears and why other body parts were going berserk. She was no longer ‘Jaddi’. She was Jadwiga. Beautiful, sharp-witted, acid-tongued but gentle and funny Jadwiga, daughter of a lorry driver and a schoolteacher.

They had waited until after Luka graduated from medical school to marry. They were both twenty-three years old then, with the world at their feet. Jadwiga was more light-hearted but she, too, was introverted. Oh, she had a great sense of humor-she laughed a lot, and told great jokes, but she was still a rather quiet person who didn’t jump into a circle of strangers-that would have killed her, just as it would have killed Luka. Luka’s jokes tended to fall flat, from what he could tell. He was still trying to figure out whether Kerry really did think he was funny or it she was just indulging him. His sense of humor was decidedly blacker than the average person’s.  He tended to leave pratfalls and foolishness to Dr. Malucci. Not that Luka would have been too far above cracking jokes-privately...and that made him snicker to himself...talk about bad puns...about Mark’s poison ivy episode last fall...

“Luka?” Kerry said, touching his knee. “You okay?”

“What? Oh...yes. I’m fine. There’s a Blockbuster about two blocks from my place. But I don’t have a card...”

“That’s okay,” she smiled. “That means I get to pick what we see.”

“Oh, God, not a chick flick. I hate chick flicks.”

“ ‘Chick flick’?” Kerry growled, indignant.

“You know, some ten Kleenox-box story starring Meryl Streep and her dying hamster.”

“Oh, very funny, Luka. I suppose you want us to rent ‘Die Hard’?”

“Well, that wouldn’t be so bad. But I know that the badness of a movie is directly proportional to the number of helicopters in it.”

She snickered. “We’ll see what they’ve got, then. Maybe we can agree on something.”



“Dr. Zhivago?!” Luka gasped, staring at the box Kerry was holding up.   “Are you kidding?”

“What’s wrong with Dr. Zhivago?” she asked, offended.

“Boring!”

“Oh, come on. It’s a classic!”

“Hey, here’s a good one. You wanted something Slavic, so how ‘bout ‘The Russians Are Coming! The Russians Are Coming!’” He held the box up for Kerry, who frowned. “It has that guy...what’s his name? Alan Brady?”

Kerry did not wish to be reminded of ‘The Dick Van Dyke Show’, even though her imitation of Laura Petrie had lead to an incredible night. She glowered up at him, straightening her posture, trying to exude authority. It fell flat, though, when Luka gave her a simply gorgeous smile.

“We’ll get a drama and a comedy,” Kerry said, feeling as though she might begin melting soon. “But not that comedy. Something else.”

“ ‘Beavis and Butthead Do America’?” Luka said, peering at another box. Kerry snatched it from him.

“Don’t even think about it!”

He chuckled. “Okay, uh...hmmm...uh...oh! ‘Bride of Chucky’!”

Kerry rolled her eyes, exasperated. “That’s a horror flick, Luka.”

“Well, I thought it was pretty funny. I mean, he was a doll for God’s sake, Kerry. I always thought horror flicks were more stupid than scary. Like those ‘Scream’ movies. You’d think that after a while, they’d figure out that maybe it was a good idea to transfer to another college. And Dracula movies...God, they could close their windows, couldn’t they? And why do women always wear high heels and mini skirts in horror movies? Don’t they realize that at some point during the film, they will be running through a thick forest with heavy undergrowth and exposed tree roots?”

Kerry was only half listening to Luka. Instead, she was looking at the movies in the adult section. The first soft-core porn movie she’d ever seen had been a bit disappointing-and so unrealistic. In real life, while making love, your lipstick gets smeared across your face, your hair is matted to your head, your underwear is hanging off your ankle. Sex is wonderful, but it’s also hysterically funny. No one ever laughs in a porn flick. She and Luka had laughed together last night-a lot. Not at, but with each other.

He paced up and down the aisle, looking like a giant black panther, looking at old comedies. “How about...oh, look, ‘Coming To America’...what the hell are you looking at, Kerry?!”

“Oh...uh...ummm...” She blushed, embarrassed. She hadn’t expected Luka to catch her looking at the box for ‘9 1/2 Weeks’. “Nothing,” she put it back quickly, but Luka read the title, and she could have sworn she saw a sparkle in his eyes. But he turned his serious gaze on her and she waited.

“We’ll get that next time, eh?”

Kerry’s blush deepened, but she fought to regain her composure. “Okay.   That’ll do. ‘Dr. Zhivago’ and ‘Coming to America’.   We’re settled, then?”

“Yes.”

Kerry smiled. She was very eager to see where Luka lived. Besides that, she was already drawing up a shopping list in her mind. From the way this man ate - very little, or unhealthily at that - she had a feeling his refrigerator and pantry would need to be stocked with good, healthy fare. No junk food, no ‘fillers’.  Kerry was determined to see him healthy and happy. Tomorrow, since it’s my day off, maybe I can talk him into going with me to the market.

Everybody needs a goal, she told herself, watching Luka pay for the videos (using her card). A mission in life. And mine, Kerry decided, is to make sure he’s okay.

The girl behind the counter was staring at him, clearly astonished. Luka, however, was his usual courteous self, flashing the poor, unsuspecting creature one of his dazzling smiles before turning back to Kerry.

“You ready?” he asked, reaching out and engulfing her slim white fingers in his hand.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

For once in Kerry Weaver’s life, she saw pure envy directed towards her from another woman. The petty side of Kerry wanted to stick her tongue out and sneer triumphantly at the girl, but she held that back. Luka would have been appalled.



Luka was kind of nervous about showing Kerry the apartment. He had done his best to get it cleaned up properly, but he knew a little about women. Their noses are sensitive to any unusual odor, and they saw things that men often couldn’t see at all. He was sure his apartment didn’t stink, but there was no guarantee Kerry would think that way.

They paused for a moment at the archway that lead down to the brick courtyard, Luka holding Kerry’s hand, watching her face, trying to gauge her thoughts. He was pleased to see her smile.

“Beautiful!”

Kerry looked up at the large vine that was choking the stone archway. She thought about how morning glories tended to have a sense of place. Whoever had planted the vine had just let it go, and now the dark purple, pink and blue flowers were in full, thick bloom.   She was still admiring it when Luka nudged her.

“Are you going to go down?” he said.

She crutched down the steps and into the courtyard. For a moment, she stood in front of the fountain, looking around, amazed. Flowers everywhere, she thought. She drank in the scent of honeysuckle and wisteria, admired a bed of hybrid tea roses, and then noticed Luka’s bungalow. No garden plot at all. The front porch was devoid of even a potted plant. Only a weathered old Adirondack chair sat beside the front door. The paint on the house was peeling a little, or bubbled in places.

Typical man’s home, she thought. She glanced at Luka, who was standing beside her, nervously digging his thumb into his palm, waiting.

“It’s beautiful,” she repeated sincerely. It was. Certainly interesting. Maybe even a little quirky. ‘Distinct’ was a good word for it. Rather like Luka. He was almost ridiculously beautiful, but with an odd sense of humor and an intellect as sharp as her own. Perhaps even sharper. It was no surprise, then, that he’d live in a place like this.

“Well, it’s an improvement over living at a hotel,” Luka shrugged.

He glanced over and saw his next door neighbors coming out of their bungalow-heading out for the evening walk, with their mangy little dog. The Youngs spotted Luka and Kerry standing side by side, and shuffled over, smiling.

“Evenin’, Dr. Kovac.” Mr. Young always pronounced it ‘Ko-vak’, but Luka let that go. The guy was, what, nine hundred years old? It wasn’t like he had that much time left to learn how to pronounce Croatian surnames.

Kerry smiled at the old couple, wondering how Luka would introduce her. ‘Girlfriend’ sure seemed inappropriate, since she was hardly a girl any more.

Luka licked his lips nervously for a moment, then went ahead and took the plunge.   “This is Kerry. She's...uh..." He suddenly laughed.  "We're seeing each other.”

“Your lady friend, eh?” Mr. Young grinned. Good dentures, Luka thought.

“Yes.” He looked at Kerry, hoping he hadn’t sounded foolish to her. But she smiled at him. “My lady friend.”

“Never could resist a redhead,” Mr. Young said. “The missus was a redhead, way back when.”

The old woman giggled, and Luka smiled. He could have sworn he saw Kerry blush.



“Did you know many redheads in Croatia?” Kerry asked as Luka opened the door and turned on the light. She looked inside, and a smile spread across her face.  She fell in love with his place in a matter of seconds.

“No, not until I went to medical school.”

“Male or female?” She was still admiring the room, admiring the high ceilings and the beautifully carved mantelpiece.

Luka paused, confused. “It was a medical school, Kerry...I don’t think it had a sex...”

“No, I mean, the first redhead you ever saw. Male or female?”

“Oh! Uh...male. He was from Austria, if I recall correctly. Spoke German, kept talking about cleanliness but never practiced it much, if I recall...had a penchant for performing scientific experiments on the stuff that grew on the bathroom floor. Liked to paint, which was a little scary, since he was from Austria, but fortunately he was successful at it and not an anti-Semite...just anti anti-deodorant...last I heard, he had a gallery in Vienna.”

Kerry stepped into the living room and looked around. Very Spartan. Not much in the way of decorations. She moved over to the fireplace and studied the odd-shaped stone dove on the mantelpiece.

“What’s this?” she asked, touching it and looking back at him.

“Uh...it’s a Vucedol dove,” Luka explained. “From Croatia.”

“You brought it with you?” she asked, turning to look at him.

Luka stared at his feet for a moment, then settled his gaze on her again. “No.   I...I bought it at a local market. I...uh...I don’t go into that part of town very much. The Croatian community, or whatever they call it.”

“ ‘Little Croatia’?” Kerry asked with a smile.

“Yeah. More or less.”

“What does it represent?”

“Uh...well, our culture, really. It’s a primitive thing some archaeologist found at a site near...near Vukovar,” Luka answered, his voice unsteady. “Are you ready to watch these movies?”

He was deftly avoiding anything regarding the past. Kerry sighed and looked around the room. The details of the place intrigued her. She peered past Luka into the kitchen, and he stepped aside to give her a better view. She crutched into the room, opened the refrigerator, and looked back at him, startled. A jug of orange juice, a gallon of milk, a tomato, and a package of white cheese...how depressing.

“I’m not a big eater,” he felt obligated to explain. “I’m just never really hungry. And you know I’m always busy, Kerry. You’re the one that draws up the schedule.” There was something almost desperate in how he was standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking down.

Kerry chewed on her lip for a moment. She had done her best to decrease Luka’s workload in the past few months-to give him more days off whenever possible. After all, she had been the one who had arranged for that intervention back in February, forcing him into therapy (against his will at the time). She had cut back his hours in order to see that he not only got to each session but that he also get some well-deserved rest.   Yet he continued to come to work more often than not. At least he didn’t look so haggard any more, but he was still too thin for Kerry’s comfort. She had to figure out a way to convince him to eat well and take care of himself. Even tonight, he picked restlessly at his souvlakia (lamb on meat skewers), cutting the meat without enthusiasm, and leaving most of his meal uneaten. His manners were certainly exquisite, though. She had felt like she was dining with a prince.

“Luka...” she said softly. “I wish you’d take better care of yourself.”

“I’m trying, Kerry,” he answered, still looking at the floor. “Now, would you like a grand tour?”

“Sure.”

He lead her up the short flight of stairs and down the hall. “That’s my bedroom,” he said matter-of-factly. Kerry turned on the light and looked inside. The bed was neatly made, but she noticed yet again how bare the walls were.  The room was large, though, and already Kerry was thinking about decorating ideas.  She couldn’t help it. Maybe a small couch, some comfortable chairs, some photographs or prints on the walls...a few dashes of color here and there.

“Nice bed,” she said, turning around and giving him a come-hither look.   That caused him to flinch slightly in surprise.

“We can always watch the movies later,” Luka said after a moment. He tried not to look too eager, but there was no way he was going to pass up any opportunity to be with her again.

“Yes. Later. And we can finish the grand tour later, too. There’s a much more interesting tour I’d like to take right now.”

She took his hand and pulled him into the room. Luka was a little unprepared for her to be so aggressive, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. She pulled him down by his tie and kissed him, then pushed him against the end of the bed. He sat down and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him, undoing the buttons on her blouse and pulling it off, letting it fall to the floor in a puddle of cream-colored silk.   “What do you have in mind, Kerry?” he asked, looking up at her, holding her gaze so boldly that she blushed.

“You’ll see.” There was a wicked sparkle in her eyes, and Luka grinned at her. She undid his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt. His skin was warm to the touch, and Kerry took a moment to run her fingers over the scars on his shoulders. He grew very quiet-making not a sound, his hands still resting on her hips, his forehead resting against her belly.

“You know what you’re getting into, don’t you?” he asked softly.

“Yes.” She touched his chin and lifted his head up, kissing him deeply.   “Tell me...how do you say, ‘I know what I want’ in Croatian?”

Luka licked his lips and whispered, “Ja znati što zelim.”

“How do you say, ‘I’m looking at what I want?’”

“Ja sam obličje što zelim.” He looked up at her again. “And I am.”

She touched his hair, wondering if she should ask him the most important-and scary-question of all. She wanted to learn how to say it in his language, so that’d he know for sure. Mainly, she wanted to show him. Kerry was determined that Luka have no doubt in his mind about it.

Kerry pushed him onto his back and stretched out on top of him, kissing him again, exploring every crevice of his mouth, then made her way down to his chest, listening for his sharp intake of breath when she took his right nipple into her mouth.

“Kerry...”

“Shhh.”

Luka put his head back and closed his eyes, praying he would be able to control himself. Her mouth... God, her mouth was driving him crazy. She had let him stay pretty much in charge last night-she had allowed him to be the aggressor, and it had been very enjoyable. Tonight, he felt that perhaps this was the final test: how much did he trust her?

With my life, he thought.

Kerry was removing the rest of his clothes, and when she was through, she helped him move onto the bed until he was stretched out comfortably. For a moment, she paused, looking at him, amazed again at his almost terrifying beauty. Then she bent down and kissed him, breathing him in, reveling in how he was touching her.

He wanted to help her undress, but instead decided it would be much better to watch her. God, she was beautiful. He had noticed that last night, and had been astonished at how blind he’d been in the past; why hadn’t he noticed the gorgeous, sexy woman shining in her before? How stupid can you be, Kovac? he asked himself. You wasted so much time on the wrong women when this one was right there under your nose.

She was so small and fragile-looking, but there was no doubt in Luka’s mind that she was very strong. Strong enough to deal with him. Strong enough to stand by him, soothe away his nightmares, comfort him, tolerate his quirks and faults. He could only pray she was strong enough to love him. Because he was certain now that he loved her with his whole heart.

Luka stopped thinking about that-and much of anything else-though, when Kerry kissed him again, climbing back into the bed and kneeling for a moment beside him. His hands cupped her breasts, and she moaned as his thumbs rubbed gently across her nipples. When he took one into his mouth and began sucking-ever so gently-Kerry thought for a moment that she might faint. He moved to the other breast, his tongue flicking lightly, whispering words she didn’t understand but that excited her.

She moved over him again, her slim little body nestled against his, and he caressed her back, running his hands slowly down to her bottom, squeezing gently, moving her hips against his own, letting her know how much he wanted her. She sighed softly against his chest, where she was teasing his left nipple. Luka groaned and closed his eyes, fighting to maintain his self-control. She was already making her way down, and he took a deep breath, struggling to keep from losing his mind. He hadn’t experienced this in so long-he wanted to delay the pleasure as long as possible, so that it would be even more gratifying to finally be inside her again. He smiled slightly at the memory of last night-how wonderful it had felt; how tiny and delicate she was, and yet how perfectly they had fit each other. Last night, he had been worried he might crush her, but now he was aware of her strength. In fact, he had been the breathless one...

Kerry loved the salt taste of his skin, and took her time exploring him, glancing up at him sometimes, noting that he was clutching the blankets, his eyes closed. Such long, beautiful eyelashes, she thought before returning to the business at hand. When she finally reached her goal, he cried out, and she paused for a moment, waiting. He had always been a man of great restraint, and she was pleased that he was controlling himself so well.

“What are you thinking about, Luka?” she asked him softly, having tormented him long enough. She was still taking her time, but her own need was taking over and she wasn’t going to wait much longer.

“You,” he whispered back. When she finally ended the torture, he did lose any semblance of restraint. He cried out, feeling her warmth again, and sat up, pulling her into his arms. Kerry wondered if her leg would hurt from this slight change in position, but it didn’t. Instead, she wrapped her limbs around him, squeezing him tight, urging him to find his own release. She gasped when he reached between their bodies and touched her. Her eyes widened with surprise and delight, and they came together, both crying out. She kissed him in order to keep from screaming and waking up all of Chicago, then collapsed against him, shuddering, her body trembling. He fell back against the pillow, pulling her into a powerful bear hug. Kerry exhaled and rested her cheek against his chest, listening to his pounding heart and his heavy breathing.

When Luka finally able to catch hold of a thought, the first thing he realized was that maybe he had hurt her. He had lost control of himself...

“That was wonderful,” Kerry whispered, kissing him and running her fingers through his hair.

“Your leg...it’s all right?”

“Just fine.” She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, surprised to see worry there. Kerry was determined to soothe that away as quickly as possible. “Perfect.”

He licked his lips, and Kerry marveled again at how this man could be so passionate, so insatiable, in bed and yet still be so shy and sweet. It was a paradox that Kerry couldn’t figure out. She doubted she ever would. Maybe there were things about Luka that weren’t meant to be figured out. The mystery was definitely part of what made him so irresistible.

“Let’s rest a few minutes. Maybe you should take a little nap...”

“Nap?” Luka grinned. “I don’t need a nap, Kerry.”

“Well, then what do you need?” she asked him, tracing her fingertip over a scar on his collarbone.

“Hmmm...well, you did mention strawberries tonight. As it happens, I bought some just a few days ago. They’re in the lettuce crisper in the ‘fridge.”

“And some whipped cream?” she asked, laughing. “Maybe we should have rented ‘9 1/2 Weeks’ after all.”

“Naughty girl!”

“Ah, but you like me naughty, don’t you, Luka?” she asked cheekily.

“I do indeed, beba.”

Kerry didn’t have any trouble guessing what that meant. She kissed him again, rubbing her fingers against the stubble on his jaw. He had been clean-shaven when he picked her up from work, and already he was a bit scruffy looking. The man’s testosterone levels must be sky-high, she thought.

She was still thinking about insisting he take a nap when she yawned and stretched like a sleepy kitten. She was tired. Her shift at County had been pretty short, but draining nonetheless. Now, after having made love to Luka, she felt deliciously fatigued, her entire body still warm. That sweet scent was still hanging in the air, and she breathed it in slowly, relaxing her body and becoming more and more comfortable. Making love to him was wonderful, but falling asleep in his arms, listening to his heart, was just as good.

“Maybe you’re the one that needs a nap,” Luka whispered into her hair.

“Mmmm...” She yawned again, stretching and wrapping her arms around his neck again. Luka turned on his side, pulling her closer, stroking her soft skin, and in moments, Kerry was sound asleep.



He was lying on his side, watching her, gently stroking her hair. She looked so sweet and fragile now, as delicate as fine porcelain. And just as priceless to him.

There was a slight chill in the air, so Luka had got up and found a warm blanket to cover them. He had no intention of letting Kerry catch a cold. When he came back to the bedroom, she was reaching her hand out, trying to find him, looking vaguely distressed. When he climbed back in, pulling the blanket over them, she sighed happily and snuggled against him. He wasn’t all together sure, but he thought he heard her murmur his name.

It had only been a little while since she’d fallen asleep, but he was already wanting her again. Luka wasn’t too keen on making love to a sleeping woman, though, so he lay still, trying to keep his cool whenever she moved against him. Every time she wriggled her hips or breathed against his skin, he had to fight the urge to roll her onto her back and just have his way with her again. He was confident enough in himself-and in her-to know she’d enjoy herself, but she needed her sleep.

I’m one to talk, Luka thought. I don’t sleep enough, either. We’re both workaholics, and we’ve both confused our careers with our lives. A really bad idea, when you think about it. I’d rather have my career almost like the background scenery of my existence. A means of making a living, of having enough money and security to support a wife and children again. But not so much that it takes too much time away from them. From her. I don’t want to sleep alone any more. I don’t want to sleep without Kerry. I don’t want to come home to an empty house again. I’m willing to take the leap again, even if it means having to cope with all kinds of scented soaps in the bathroom and micromanagerial cooks in the kitchen. We could have the first red-headed kids in the history of the Kovac family.

He looked at Kerry, who was smiling in her sleep, obviously having a pleasant dream, and touched her face. “Te volim,” he said softly, kissing her forehead. He gave her a gentle hug, then relaxed. In a few moments, he was asleep, too.



Kerry woke up alone, and sat up, startled.

“Luka?” she called, her heart in her throat. She couldn’t help feeling frightened for a moment, but when he appeared in the doorway, she breathed out slowly.

“Yeah?”

He was wearing a pair of clean hospital scrubs-a rarity. Green really did a lot for his coloring, and she sat there for a moment, openly admiring him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said with a smile. “In fact, everything’s just right. Let me have your shirt,” she said, gesturing toward his clothes on the floor. Luka tossed her the dark blue shirt and she pulled it on. It engulfed her, but it was comfortable, and it smelled of his light cologne. She put her glasses on and caught him grinning at her.

“You’re looking pleased with yourself, Kerry,” he said. “Seduction is definitely one of your many, many talents.”

“I am. And you’re right. I’m a terrific little vamp, aren’t I?”

He grinned at her, and she giggled.

“I take it you took a nice nap, too?”

“A couple of hours,” he nodded. “You look good in my clothes.”

“I like that you wear one-hundred percent cotton,” she nodded. “It doesn’t get all itchy.” She noticed that the sheets were also pure cotton. Kerry couldn’t abide polyester. It made her skin break out to even touch it.

“I learned by trial and error,” he explained. “My kids couldn’t take anything rough against their skin.”

“Baby skin,” Kerry agreed. “It is very delicate.”

“So is yours,” he smiled, kissing her on the forehead. “Let’s go watch these movies. It’s eleven o’clock, but we’re both off tomorrow...”

Kerry watched him leave, and remembered his statement about his kids. That was really the first time he’d said anything about them to her since last January. Suddenly, Kerry wanted to know about them. She wanted to understand. And now was as good a time as any to ask.



TO BE CONTINUED...

--
Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.
~P.J. O'Rourke, "Parlaiment of Whores"
You can't have everything. Where would you put it?
~Stephen Wright

Eclipse, all nags compared to thee
Excite contempt and laughter
There never was a horse, I do believe
So much run after.
~18th century English doggerel