Authors: More Than Memory
Dorothy Garlock (17 page)
“I always regretted that we didn’t get to sleep together like this.”
“I regretted it, too.”
His hand moved up under her sweater and fanned out over her bare back. He turned his face, and she could feel the soft scrape of the whiskers on his chin. Then his mouth was against her cheek. It was more than she could bear. Her mouth blindly, desperately sought the warm comfort of his. Their instinctive, undeniable need for each other was a force suddenly unmitigated by reason. They clung to each other compelled by fear that the naked hunger they sought to appease would be unfulfilled.
Nelda’s arms clutched him to her in agony over thoughts that he might pull away. But the arms that gripped her and the hand that moved to cup her firm bottom and press her against what deemed him man, were an unmistakable indicator that his desire was as strong as hers. Desperate with hunger, they deepened the kiss.
“Oh, Lord, honey—I want more—” The words came out of his throat in a growl of agony. He was trembling and holding her tightly. “I’ve been hard as a stone since you came back. Just knowing you are here—is driving me crazy.”
His mouth fastened to hers again, molding it, sculpting the soft flesh breathing life into it. The fierce possession lasted several minutes.
“Lute, darling . . . you don’t have to be—”
His hand burrowed into the waistband of her slacks under the pajama pants, into her panties to cup her bare buttock.
“I want more than memories.” His ragged voice tore at her heart.
“I want more, too. Lute, please . . .” It was a whispered plea, and she wasn’t sure if he heard it.
He nibbled at her lips with his, stroked them with his tongue, pulled her lower lip into his mouth. Small sounds came from her throat.
“Sweetheart . . . I don’t have protection—”
“It’s . . . all right. Please . . .”
“I wish we didn’t have on all these clothes. I want to feel all of you.” The world had stopped. There was only the holding, touching, tasting of each other. “Help me,” he whispered, and pulled down on the slacks that were keeping him from her.
Her answer was to loosen herself from his arms, and quickly slip out of the clothing. His arms reached for her and crushed her to him. Hungry mouths searched, found each other, and held with fierce possession. Her hands, beneath his shirt couldn’t stop caressing him.
He broke away gasping. His urgent hands found the snap of his jeans, fumbled with the zipper, pushed them down. The next moment they were joined, and he was raining kisses on her face.
“Nelda . . . my . . . sweetheart,” he whispered hoarsely.
A deep longing compelled her to meet his passion equally. She kept her eyes tightly shut, not wanting to come out of the dreamlike state she was in. The driving force of her feeling was taking her beyond herself into a mindless void where there was only Lute’s hard demanding body.
She heard sounds of his smothered groans, as if they came from a long way to reach her ears. Incredibly, their pleasure rose to almost intolerable heights before they merged in a long, unbelievable release. She clung to him as if she were about to slip off the edge of the world.
“So quick—” He brushed the hair back from her face. “I wanted it to last . . . forever.”
She placed her palms against his cheeks, her thumbs caressing his lips.
“I did, too.”
“Remember that first time. I came almost the instant I touched you.”
“You were embarrassed—”
“You were sweet. We didn’t have protection then either.”
“It’s all right,” she said again.
“I didn’t know enough to get rubbers until it was too late.”
“I don’t regret it.”
She could feel his body demanding more, now that the initial frustration had been appeased. His heart was pounding against her chest, and she was surprised that she could feel it through their clothes and the hammering of her own. He was quivering with the effort to love her leisurely, but tenderness was not what she needed. When she felt that she would explode with longing, he was there, moving, driving, as wonderful as before.
Awed into silence by what had happened between them, Lute held her gently to him, cradling her head against his chest. He stroked her bare bottom with his rough palm.
“I didn’t intend this to happen,” he whispered. “I was so hungry for you I couldn’t help myself.”
“It’s what you said . . . that other time. Then you got up and ran out into the water.”
“You remembered that?”
“Oh . . . Lute, I remember so much!” A little whimper escaped her lips.
“You can’t turn back the clock, sweetheart. That was a happy time of our lives, but it ended in pain. I wouldn’t like to relive it.”
The tone of his voice ravaged her, sending a shiver of dread down her spine. She turned her face into the curve of his neck. Lute’s hands continued to stroke her buttock, her thigh, his breathing slowed, his heart beneath the palm she had slipped under his shirt was quieter.
They fell into a warm, languid silence not unlike the peace of that summer day at the beach so long ago. She pushed aside thoughts of morning,
blocking out everything but this moment, this night. He stirred, and his lips touched her forehead.
blocking out everything but this moment, this night. He stirred, and his lips touched her forehead.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, and tilted her head so she could rub her nose against this chin.
“This . . .” The hand that hugged her buttocks pulled her tightly against him.
“Well . . .”
“How long has it been for you?” The words seemed torn out of him. “How long? Don’t tell me that bed-hopping isn’t an accepted thing with the crowd you’ve been with.”
“It is accepted in some circles,” she whispered, trying to staunch her pain. “Please don’t spoil this, Lute. Don’t put it on that level.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Then what did you mean?” Her voice trembled. “I’m surprised you don’t carry something with you like you used to do . . . after it was too late.”
“Stop it, and go to sleep.”
None of this means any more to him than any other diversion for the night. He’s remembering, but not feeling any of the things I’m feeling
. Her eyes were tightly closed, though tears pricked beneath the lids.
. Her eyes were tightly closed, though tears pricked beneath the lids.
Exhaustion finally sent him into a deep sleep and Nelda into that limbo between unconsciousness and awareness. She lay molded to his body, her cheek nestled in the warm hollow of his shoulder. She had not been this happy in a long, long, time. Lute had been a gentle, considerate lover, but in a small corner of her mind lurked the feeling of impending doom.
C
hapter
T
en
hapter
T
en
M
ORNING CAME TOO QUICKLY
.
ORNING CAME TOO QUICKLY
.
Nelda instantly awakened to full awareness. She was cradled in Lute’s arms. She moved her mouth against his neck.
Suddenly he stiffened.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s daylight. I’ve got to go.”
He moved her away from him, swung his legs off the couch, and reached for his boots. He slipped into them, stood and shoved his shirt down into his jeans. His hair was disheveled, his face hard and angry.
“I must have been out of my mind!” he rasped. His eyes were cold, glittering strangely as they looked at her.
The shock of seeing him in this mood was like a dash of cold water after a warm bath.
While putting on his coat, he looked back at her with narrowed eyes and spoke in a sharp, cruel voice.
“I don’t need you in my life, Nelda. You don’t fit into my lifefstyle any more than I’d fit into yours
back in Chicago. I’m a farmer. I’ll always have dirt under my nails.”
back in Chicago. I’m a farmer. I’ll always have dirt under my nails.”
Nelda sat still, the blanket wrapped around her bare limbs, unable for a minute to utter a sound. Shaken, she tried to think of something to say in her defense, but . . . what was she defending?
“I didn’t drag you in here, Lute.” By main force she was able to keep her voice surprisingly calm. Inside she was screaming.
“That’s true.” His harsh laugh was sudden and jarring. “But what do you expect if you put a stallion in a stall with a mare in heat?”
She gasped but took care not to allow him to see that his crudeness cut into her heart like a knife.
“That’s unworthy of you, Lute,” she said sadly.
He glared at her for a minute before he said, “I’m sorry for saying that.” Then he was gone.
When the echoes of the back door slamming died away, Nelda sagged. She was alone, she could let down her guard and cry if she chose. But she didn’t cry.
“You really asked for it, didn’t you, you poor, dumb, stupid fool.” It was weird to be talking to herself this way, to feel as if she didn’t belong to herself, but somehow she needed sound. “Since the second day you were here, it was in the back of your stupid little mind to try and win him back.”
Kelly got off his bed and looked at her with his head cocked to one side.
She wanted to laugh, but laughter wouldn’t come. Depression did. It settled over her like a shroud. She felt utterly lonely, lost, and then frantic. She began to shiver. The look in Lute’s eyes when he walked
away would stay in her mind forever. She wanted to hate him, but all she could hate was her own weakness for him. He had not forced her. She had gone into his arms willingly.
away would stay in her mind forever. She wanted to hate him, but all she could hate was her own weakness for him. He had not forced her. She had gone into his arms willingly.
Kelly stood in the doorway, his tail swishing. He looked at her expectantly. His obvious need to go out moved Nelda to get up off the couch, put on her slacks, slip her feet into her shoes, and open the door.
She stood at the porch door and looked at the ice-storm damage with dulled eyes. Branches were lying all over the yard. When the phone lines were repaired, she’d call Mr. Hutchinson and have him send someone out. She’d take nothing more from Lute.
While drinking coffee she listened to the weather report. The temperature hadn’t dropped as low as had been expected during the night, and today a warming trend was predicted. The sun came out in the middle of the morning and thawing began. By noon water was dripping from the ice-covered wires and tree branches.
Nelda moved automatically, as if she’d had a death in the family. She fed the cookstove with the wood from the porch and removed the blanket from the doorway leading to the hall. She ate the leftover stew just because she knew that it was necessary to eat.
In the middle of the afternoon, as she stood in the sunshine coming though the window, she saw Lute’s truck coming down the lane to the house. She backed away from the window as he passed. While he was in the barn, she went up to her bedroom, not that she expected him to come to the house; but in
case he did, she didn’t want to see him. What was left of her pride would be cut to ribbons if she burst into tears in front of him.
case he did, she didn’t want to see him. What was left of her pride would be cut to ribbons if she burst into tears in front of him.
She heard Kelly barking a welcome, then the back door opened. A minute passed. She imagined he was giving his attention to the dog.
“Nelda.” His voice came up the stairwell and into the cold bedroom. “Nelda, are you all right?”
Nelda swallowed hard, then answer. “I’m fine. I’m changing clothes. Take your radio when you leave. And . . . thanks for lending it to me.”
“Are you coming down?”
“Not for a while.”
There was a silence. Nelda held her breath for fear he’d come up the stairs.
“Then stay up there and freeze your butt!” There was accusation in his voice, and it almost made her lash out at him, but she forcibly restrained herself.
She heard the back door slam and moved to the other bedroom to peek out the window. Lute was going across the yard to his truck. She waited until he had driven out of the farmyard before she went back down to the warm kitchen.
The radio was still there.
• • •
Nelda slept that night on the couch. In the isolated farmhouse she felt as if she were the only person in the world. She pulled Kelly’s bed up next to her, stroked the dog’s head, and talked to him.
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