The Squeak

Amanda stopped on the landing at the top of the stairs and watched him quietly from the shadows.

He stood in the hallway, deep in thought, eyes narrowed and focused on the floorboard outside of Alfred and Nell’s bedroom. Despite the fact that it was indeed a most illogical endeavor, Sarek was determined to calculate the possibility of getting past Alfred Grayson’s room without producing a creak. He had not slept well, having spent yet another night contemplating the numerous variables the equation contained in an attempt to formulate an accurate hypothesis regarding the circumvention of the noisy floorboard. The following morning, having been left alone with his personal obsession while Alfred, Nell and Amanda each engaged in personal business, Sarek had made good use of his free time.

After several hours of research, Sarek knew more about wood flooring than he cared to admit. Regardless of how illogical his preoccupation was, silencing the floorboard was paramount. He began to tally his list of computations.

Listed on the Minnesota Historical Registry, the Grayson farmhouse was circa 1897, a lasting treasure of Earth’s 19^th Century architectural craftsmanship. Footwear—soft soled slippers. Body weight—ninety point seven-one-eight-five kilograms or 200 pounds. Height—one point eight-five-four-two meters or 6’ 1’’. Type of wood—solid white oak. Straight grain, moderate to coarse texture, quarter-sawn producing less board per foot than plain sawing and therefore more expensive. However, quarter-sawn wood twisted and cupped less. It wore more evenly. Perhaps it had been worth the additional expense to the original builders. And, of course, there was the humidity factor. Oak flooring contracted or expanded due to moisture in the air. The contraction and/or expansion of the wood caused the edges of the boards to rub together thus producing the squeak. However, Sarek also knew that improper fastening of the floor or sub-floor could also be the cause of the bothersome sound.

There were several viable solutions to the problem. Simple lubrication was the easiest option. A liberal amount of liquid wax would accomplish the desired result with waxed floors. With non-waxed floors, sifting a small amount of powdered soap stone, talcum powder or powdered graphite between adjacent boards where the noise occurred would accomplish the same result. Another possibility was to drive triangular glazier points between the strips using a putty knife to set them below the surface. If these methods failed, two-inch finishing nails could be driven through pilot holes drilled into the face of the flooring. Nails would need to be placed near the edges of the boards and once set they could be hidden with matching color putty. However, the best solution required extensive work and could be accomplished only with access beneath the floor. It involved placing wood screws from below. Inserted through the sub-floor and into the finished floor, they would pull the flooring strips tight to the sub-floor hence silencing the squeak.

Sarek shifted his entire weight, rising up onto the balls of his feet and then back down again. The floorboard creaked.

Amanda couldn’t stand it any longer. “Sarek, what are you doing?” she asked, laughing.

Turning, he saw her standing on the landing. “Nothing,” he replied most innocently.

“Give it up, darling,” she teased. “It’s quite impossible.” Her sapphire eyes sparkled with mischief and her smile warmed his heart.

Sarek raised an eyebrow. “Ah, my darling,” he replied in mock response. “That is where you err.”

“Oh?” Amanda raised her own eyebrow, matching his best Vulcan stare.

Sarek stood his ground. “Yes,” he said simply. “The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a person’s determination.”

“Really?” Amanda challenged.

“Most certainly.” Pausing, Sarek met her questioning gaze. “I am most determined.”

And with that, Amanda’s delightful laughter enveloped him. Sarek’s mouth curved slightly into an imperceptible smile that only she would recognize.

It was a most pleasant sound her sweet laughter …

****

Desires

“Amanda …” he called softly. The sound of his mesmerizing voice drifted gently through her mind. “Amanda …” It was barely a whisper.

Amanda stirred. “Sarek,” she murmured. Opening her eyes, she saw him in the darkness. “Sarek,” she said, sitting up, surprised. “Darling, I didn’t hear you come in. How did you manage to get past the …”

“Shhh,” he whispered. “How I managed is not important.” Taking her hand, Sarek pulled her from the bed to her feet. A sudden rush of brisk night air ruffled the curtains of the open window. Moonlight flooded the room. Her sapphire eyes sparkled with desire. She was beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever known. “Amanda,” he repeated. His lips touched hers, the depth of his kiss almost drowning her.

Amanda was dizzy with passion. Without hesitation, she ran her hands across his chest, loosening his robe as she did so.

Her boldness excited him. Pulling her closer, he kissed her again, slowly, deeply, his hands traveling up and down her body, exploring the soft curves. She inhaled sharply at his touch. He kissed her again with deeper passion. The pale blue satin gown she wore slipped to the floor. Caressing her body, Sarek felt himself grow hard. Her nakedness was breathtaking. “Amanda,” he whispered again, his voice husky.

She slid the robe from his shoulders. Fluttering to the floor, it mingled with the pool of blue satin at her feet. “Sarek,” she said softly, biting his ear lobe, brushing her lips gently down his neck. She felt his hold tighten. Reaching up, she kissed him, her tongue darting into his mouth, teasing. Desire flamed.

His heart thundered and he could barely breathe. Suddenly he swept her into his arms and placed her gently among the pillows on the bed. Lying down next to her, he stretched his body alongside hers, feeling the silkiness of her cool skin against his. His fingers brushed lightly across her flesh. He kissed her first on the lips, then on the cheeks, then her eyes, making his way down to her breasts. The night breeze wafted through the open window and across the lovers, wrapping around them, bringing with it the scent of lilacs and sweet clover.

She lay in his arms, trembling with anticipation. His hands caressed her smooth skin. Amanda shivered. His kisses became a searing fire that burned its way into her heart.

With a surge of passion, he pulled her close. His tongue probed between her lips, her teeth and she returned his kiss feverishly.

“Oh Sarek,” she whispered. She breathed deeply as if drawing him inside of her. As he explored her body, she felt her own passion grow. The gentle tugging of his mouth on her breasts grew harder as desire ignited into a roaring inferno. Slowly and gently he entered her. Amanda gasped. Deep-throated moans escaped her lips as they moved as one. The pleasure became unbearable, but he would not let her reach an end. Each stroke that plunged into her, each touch of his lips, his tongue, took her higher, until with a shuddering cry, the world exploded into swirling stars. Through the roaring in her ears, she heard his groan of release, felt his body tremble as he thrust himself into her one final time.

Amanda jolted awake, her heart racing. For one electrified instant, she lay perfectly still. Darkness enveloped her. All was quiet except for the sound of crickets drifting in through the open window. Her body seemed aflame, burning with passion. She shivered remembering his touch. Her thoughts swirled. A light perspiration covered her body. “Sarek,” she whispered, calming her ragged breath.

Amanda was alone ...

****

Her soft, muffled cry was something only he could hear. Tenderly, with gentle care, he quietly withdrew from her mind. The betrothal bond they had established the night she accepted his proposal of marriage was secure. Testing it quelled the intense sexual desires he had been experiencing. Alone in his room with the squeaky floorboard still between them, he opened his eyes. It was a most logical solution.

Impossible, indeed, t’hy’la.

Sarek smiled in the darkness …

****

The Piano

Music. Music drifted through the house. Soft, faint, almost imperceptible. The quiet sound pulled him from his meditation. Sarek opened his eyes, deeply moved. Rising, he made his way downstairs.

The room was alive with shadows, enchanted, aglow with soft candlelight. The number of candles burning amazed him. They were lit everywhere, the tiny flames flickering and dancing.

She sat at the piano in the formal living room. It was a magnificent instrument. Sarek had marveled at the exquisite craftsmanship of the mahogany grand piano, wondering whom in the Grayson family played. It was Amanda. Her hidden talent surprised him. As her love of horses and riding ability had been unknown to him until recently, so it seemed was the musical ability she possessed. It appeared there were many things he did not know about her. Quietly Sarek moved closer.

Her fingers danced softly, feather-light across the antique ivory keys. It was a quiet, haunting melody. He was moved by the passion that flowed from her. A melancholy mood seemed to have settled over her as the end of their visit with her parents drew near.

She finished the piece of mesmerizing music. Carefully closing the fallboard over the keys, Amanda took a deep breath and sighed heavily. She was going to miss everything she knew and loved—her father’s laughter, her mother’s warm embrace, her brother Jason, the farmhouse and the horses, a lifetime of friendships, her study and work at Harvard University, fireworks on the Fourth of July, Earth’s blue sky, the scent of lilacs and sweet clover, the sound of crickets and the lonely call of the whippoorwill in the darkness, the voice of the ocean and summer rain, the brilliant colors of autumn, snow… And she’d miss the old grand piano.

“Bravo,” he said softly.

His words pulled her from her silent reverie. Amanda turned. “Sarek, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meditation.”

He could see the sadness in her sapphire eyes, hear it in her quiet voice. “You did not, “ he assured her. “No apology is necessary.” Alone in the big farmhouse with Alfred and Nell having gone out for the evening, Sarek stood close behind her.

Having briefly established light contact with her before through their betrothal bond, he closed his eyes and prepared for the familiar, untrained whirlwind he had come to know and cherish. At times, he found the disorder of her thoughts refreshing. He touched her openly, placing his hands on her shoulders, and reaching out, gently brushed her mind. A confused rush of overwhelming emotion swirled as the melange of her feelings wrapped their powerful tendrils around him. Excitement and anticipation about the beginning of their life together radiated from her. And the depth of her love for him was unfathomable. However, sadness and depression also enveloped him. Great longing and great loss intertwined.

Sighing again, Amanda reached up, sliding her hands over the top of his. Touching him always seemed to comfort and calm her.

Sarek opened his eyes, breaking the link with her. “It is a magnificent piano,” he said. “I did not know you played.”

Squeezing his hands, she released them. Sliding over on the bench, Amanda patted the space beside her. Sarek sat down. “I don’t really,” she said. “It belonged to my grandmother. None of her children were ever interested, including my mother. Nana hoped at least one of her grandchildren would be.”

“And?” he asked.

“Certainly not Jason. Too busy with football, fishing, camping, hiking…and girls.” Amanda laughed. Actually, I was never really interested either, but Nana bribed me.”

“Bribed you?” Sarek’s curiosity was definitely piqued.

“All those girls in love with horses,” she said, remembering fondly. “I was madly in love with horses. And I wanted one more than anything in the world. I begged and pleaded and cajoled my parents to no avail. It was hopeless. Daddy didn’t believe I was old enough to handle the responsibility at eight. But I was headstrong and stubborn.” Sarek raised an eyebrow. Amanda smiled. “Traits of the Breslin women,” she admitted. “Whenever my mother and I were being ‘difficult’ in Daddy’s eyes, we were ‘Breslin women’.” She laughed softly. “However, we quickly transformed into ‘Grayson women’.” She met Sarek’s questioning gaze. “Focused, willful and clever.” Amanda winked. “Anyway, I was determined to prove my father wrong. So, when my grandmother suggested the discipline required to master the piano might convince him that I was disciplined enough to care for my own horse, well, she got her musician and I got…”

“Mr. Dillon?” Sarek asked.

Amanda smiled again. “Yes, my beloved Dillon. I’ll never forget the day the trailer rolled into the yard with Ruth Breslin behind the wheel of the old pick-up truck. When she led the fiery chestnut Quarter Horse with one white sock and a white star on his forehead down that ramp, well, she had chosen the most magnificent horse I could have ever possibly imagined. And he was mine.” Her eyes sparkled with the memory. “Somehow Nana knew we would grow to be a remarkable team.” Leaning into Sarek, she rested her head on his shoulder. “My grandmother was quite an amazing woman.”

“Indeed,” Sarek said. He slid his arm around her, pulling her close. “As are you.”

For the first time in his life, Sarek of Vulcan spoke from his heart, not his head.

****