Turner's Rainbow 2 - The Rainbow Promise (36 page)

"Micah, I—I've never—"

He smiled slightly, lovingly. "Don't I know that? Don't worry, baby. I be gentle. I take care of you." He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. His hands smoothed back her hair as he gazed down at her for a moment. Then he kissed her lightly on the lips. He wanted to kiss her much harder; it was difficult to hold back. But he wanted more than that to reassure her that she was safe with him.

She smiled. "I know."

He stepped back and began to undress. He thought Dovie might turn away modestly, but, as usual, she surprised him. She simply stood and watched, and when at last he stood before her naked, she gazed at his large, muscular body with the same sort of hungry awe with which he had viewed her. He was magnificently, undeniably male, and just looking at him she felt breathless and wild. She wanted something that she didn't even know, but she knew that it lay in his power.

Dovie laid her hand upon him, as he had done with her earlier, moving it across the width of bis chest. Delightful new sensations sparked through her. Micah closed his eyes, sighing, at the exquisite pleasure of her touch. He let her innocent explorations continue until he thought he might explode, and then his arms went around her tightly, lifting her up and onto the waiting bed. He leaned over her and kissed her, and the heat shimmering in them exploded. And there, in the hot August afternoon, with the breeze from the window drifting over their fevered bodies, he taught her the ways of love.

❧

Luke glanced over at the black man toiling beside him. Micah's fingers sped through the cotton plants, plucking the cotton from its bolls at a record pace, and all the time he hummed under his breath. It was blazing hot, and sweat was running off both of them, but Micah didn't seem to mind— or even notice.

"You're awfully cheerful this morning."

Micah grinned at him. "For a fact."

There was an aura of sexual satisfaction about the man that was so thick it was almost tangible, and Luke experienced a pang of envy. It seemed a hundred years ago when he had known that kind of peace and energy. He doubted that he'd ever feel it again. But he summoned up a smile because there was a bond between him and the other man, and he didn't want his sourness to tinge Micah's pleasure.

"That's good." Luke straightened from his bent position, flexing stiffened fingers, and pulled the long cotton sack off over his head. He dropped it and walked down the row to the Mason jars of water to take a drink.

Micah joined him. "You know, I done been thinkin'."

"About what?" Luke wiped the sweat from his face with his shirtsleeve and drank another long swallow.

"That forty acres you got on the other side of this place."

"The one in pasture?"

"Yeah. It be good farm land."

"Probably. But it's too much, too far away. I don't have the time to farm it, too."

"You ever think 'bout sharecroppin' the place?"

Luke looked at him, eyes narrowing. "I might. To the right person. Why? You interested?"

"I might be." Suddenly Micah grinned. "I been thinkin' 'bout settlin' down."

"Is that a fact? It wouldn't have anything to do with why you're so goddamned cheerful this morning, would it?" Luke grinned back.

"Yeah. It jus' might."

"Sure. You want to sharecrop that place, it's yours."

Micah's grin broadened. He'd been positive that Luke would not disappoint him. "Thank you."

"Hell, I couldn't ask for a better tenant. Course, we'd have to put up a house for you over there, but there'd be plenty of time for that this winter."

"Yeah."

They started back down the row to their sacks. Luke stretched his back one last time, then looped the long strap of the sack over his head and arm and bent back to work. Micah gazed out across the land as he settled his sack in place. His piece would look like this next summer. Anticipation tightened his chest. For the first time, he wanted to stay somewhere. Wanted to put down roots. Get married.

There was nothing like a sweet woman to make a drifter want to stop moving.

J
ames Banks courted Julia assiduously. She had never experienced anything like it. He called on her formally, bringing flowers and candy and carefully sitting on the front porch in view of all her neighbors. He escorted her and the children to church every Sunday, and Anthea invited them to her house for Sunday dinner. He took her to a church social one Sunday afternoon and to a Chautauqua concert in Greenville another Sunday. His mother came to call on her several times. He even insisted that she attend a party at the Snowdens with him.

Julia was flattered and amazed by the attention James paid her. She loved his visits. He was charming, handsome, and kind. It would take a woman made of sterner stuff than she not to be thrilled by the way he was making it plain to the world that he loved her and wanted to marry her. Every time she saw him, whether at work or socially, she fell a little more in love with him.

But it also made her angry that he was making such a fool of himself over her. People must be talking about him, must be shaking their heads over it and wondering how Dr. Banks could be so foolish as to fall in love with Julia Turner—whom everyone knew had gotten married the first time in a mighty big hurry. She hated for James to lay himself open to gossip this way. It would be even worse if he married her. He couldn't marry her, it was unthinkable. Everyone would talk. Everywhere they went, people would shoot her sly, sidelong glances, eager to see if her stomach gave away their reason for marrying. For the rest of his life people would think badly of James for taking her for a wife.

They'd pity him; they'd wonder why; they'd sigh and shake their heads. P
oor James Banks,
they would say,
he ruined his life when he married her.

Julia couldn't do that to him. She couldn't be the cause of people pitying him and gossiping about him, maybe even turning away from him. James was too good to realize what he would be letting himself in for. He wouldn't realize what he had done until it was too late. But then, once he understood, surely he would begin to resent her. He might fall out of love with her. He might realize that his love was only passion or a stubborn determination to have what had been denied him years before. That would be the most awful thing in the world: to be married to James and him not love her anymore.

Yet how could she not marry him? How could she resist him when he asked her to? How could she hold out against his persistence or prevail against his arguments? Especially when she wanted so much to yield.

She could think of nothing more wonderful than to be James's wife—to take care of him, to love him, to fall asleep in his arms and wake up beside him. to have his name, to bear his children, to know again the bliss of his lovemaking. Julia could not have dreamed a better life than that, which made it doubly hard to tell him no each time he asked her to marry him. And he continued to ask.

Julia had thought that after awhile James would give up, that he would stop insisting that she marry him and simply take the easy relationship she offered him. She wanted James terribly, and she was certain that he wanted her just as much. It was crazy that he would not come to her bed; he could have her, all of her, without the marriage. Sometimes, sitting a discreet distance apart from each other on the front porch, talking, Julia would see a dark flame leap into James's eyes, and then she knew that he was thinking about making love to her.

Once when he looked at her in that way, she asked in a low urgent voice, "Why won't you come inside with me? The children are at Sarah's sister's house. We could—"

James shook his head once, emphatically. "Please, Julie. Don't torture me."

"I don't want to. You're the one who's keeping yourself from what you want!" she retorted.

"But I'm not the one offering me what I want more than anything in the world—if only I'll betray the woman I love to the gossips of this town. You think that doesn't tear me apart? Looking at you and seeing how beautiful you are, knowing how sweet your lips taste, wanting to taste them again. Knowing that if I said the word, I could have you—and also knowing that if we went into your house and didn't come out for an hour or two, everybody in town tomorrow would be naming you a—" He bit back the word. His expression was thunderous. "I won't do it. I won't have everyone gossiping about you."

"They're gossiping already."

"They'd stop if you would marry me."

"Don't be silly. The tongues would wag even more if you married me."

"Damn it, Julia!" James's eyes flashed, and his words were a hiss. "I love you. I want you for my wife, not an occasional bed partner!"

Tears sprang into Julia's eyes, and she looked down at her lap. "It's not right."

"It is right. It's the only thing that's right!" James stood up. "I have to leave now. If I stay, I'm either going to start yelling at you or pick you up and carry you to bed. And don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"You know like what. Like you want me to carry you to bed."

"I do want that."

He gritted his teeth. "What I want right now is to rip off every stitch of your clothes."

A flush sprang to Julia's cheeks. She felt the heat all through her. She couldn't speak.

"I'd like to kiss you senseless. I'd like to take you right here on the porch." His eyes were burning, compelling. He turned away abruptly with a low, animal growl of frustration. "Damn it, Julia! How long will you make me wait? You're going to drive me absolutely insane if you keep this up!"

Julia swallowed. She didn't say anything. She couldn't.

James sighed and swung off the porch. She watched him walk away.

Her hands were trembling. She wanted to cry. How long could she hold out against James's persistence? How long could she deny the man she loved?

❧

Luke and Sarah soon knew the gossip about Julia and Dr. Banks. Isolated though they were on the farm, they heard about it at church one Sunday, then again a couple of weeks later when they were in town. Both times a hard, still look came over Luke's face, and Sarah knew that he was seething inside. He hated the idea of his sister's name being linked with James Banks. He was certain that James was trying to take advantage of Julia again.

The last straw was the third time they were told about James and Julia. Stu and Jenny and their children had come out to the Turner farm for Sunday dinner. They had just finished the meal, and the children had run out to play. The two women rose to clean off the table, and Stu settled back in his chair, pulling out his pipe and pouch of tobacco. Luke poured himself another cup of coffee.

"Well," Stu commented cheerfully as he filled the bowl of his pipe, "looks like Jimmy Banks is getting ready to pop the question, doesn't it?"

Luke froze, his hand clenching around the handle of the coffeepot. Sarah sighed inwardly. Why had Stu had to open his mouth about it?

"What?" Luke's voice was deadly quiet.

"Well, the good doctor's head over heels in love with your sister. The whole town's expecting him to ask her to marry him soon."

"That'll be a cold day in hell."

Stu glanced up, surprised by Luke's words and the flat, cold voice in which he said them. "You don't think so?"

"Dr. James Banks," Luke sneered over the name, "would never marry a Turner."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Jennifer put in. "Mrs. Gibson told me he's taken Julia to church every Sunday for the past six weeks. And Dorothy Blanton said they went to the Chautauqua in Greenville together. It sounds serious to me."

"Doesn't anyone in Willow Springs have anything better to do than talk about my sister?"

Jennifer and Stu both stared at him. "Why, Luke, what's the matter?" Jennifer asked, amazed. "Wouldn't you like for Julia to marry Dr. Banks? He seems like an awfully nice—"

"Damn it!" Luke slammed his hand down on the table, making the crockery clatter. The Harpers' words were like sparks to the dry tinder of his frustrated emotions. "Don't you understand? He's not going to marry Julia. He'd never marry her."

"Well, Luke," Sarah put in hastily before he got into a fight with her relatives, "you have to admit that he seems to have honorable intentions."

"I don't have to admit anything like it," he retorted, jumping to his feet. "He's a scoundrel, and you, at least, should know that."

"I know what you think he is," Sarah answered carefully. "But I'm not sure that—"

"You're saying you don't believe me?" His voice was thin and sharp as a knife.

Jennifer took an involuntary step back, and her husband rose from his chair. But Sarah faced Luke calmly. "You know I would never say that. I believe that you think you know what happened, but it's possible to be wrong about a situation, Luke."

"I'm not wrong about this." Each word was short and hard, like little punches, and there was a look of such cold anger on his face that Jennifer couldn't fathom how her sister could stand there and look him in the eye, so unafraid.

But Sarah wasn't afraid of his anger. She would have welcomed an outburst of temper from Luke; any emotion would be better than the remote politeness he'd shown her the past weeks. She was almost eager for the dark anger to break its bounds, to feel his emotions wash over her.

They stood, staring at each other, vibrating with tension and anticipation. Luke wanted to scream at Sarah, to slam his fist down on the table, to grab her by the arms and demand that she agree with him. He wanted to yank her up tight against his body and kiss her until her opposition melted.

His fingers curled into a fist. That was the thing. He wanted to kiss her, to subdue her with his passion. He wanted her. The flood of his anger was only a hairline away from desire.

"Goddamn it!" He broke away and walked to the side door. "I am going to settle this." He grabbed his hat from the rack beside the door and slammed out.

"What in the world?" Jennifer stared at the screen door, vibrating on its hinges. She swung back to her sister. "Sarah? What's the matter? I'm sorry we said anything. I mean, I thought he'd be pleased."

Sarah shook her head. "Don't worry. It's not anything you said. He's just... upset about something else. This has been coming on for a long time." She sighed and went to the kitchen window. She watched as Luke saddled Jo-Jo in the corral, then mounted and rode out. "I hope he doesn't do anything foolish."

Jennifer looked at Sarah. It was obvious that things weren't right between Sarah and Luke. But it was equally obvious that Sarah wasn't about to tell her what was going on or ask her for advice. Sarah had always been close-mouthed, especially when it came to Luke. She wouldn't say anything that might be construed as criticism of him.

So Jennifer shrugged and dropped the topic. She wasn't going to pry. She carried in the rest of the dishes from the table, and as she and Sarah cleaned them, they began to talk of other things. Neither mentioned the scene again.

Late in the afternoon, Stu and Jennifer gathered their children into their buggy and left for home. Cal and Emily stood with Sarah, waving to the other family until they were out of sight. The three of them started back toward the house. Sarah rested her hand casually on Cal's shoulders, and for an instant he leaned into her.

Then he twisted away. "You ain't my mother," he said sullenly, not looking at her.

Now where had that come from? Sarah wondered. Anytime she thought she was getting close to Cal, he lashed out at her.

"No, I'm not," she agreed, keeping her voice calm. "You know, Cal, I'm not trying to take your mother's place in your life. I couldn't. She will always be your mother. You love her, and I understand that. I wouldn't try to make you give that love to me."

Cal kept his head turned away. Sarah made him feel so mixed up. He knew she wasn't trying to take his mother's place. Who would want to be his mother, anyway? The bad thing was, sometimes he imagined that she was his mother. He wished he'd never seen his mother. He wished Sarah would call him "son," as his father sometimes did. He wished—sometimes he wished it so hard it hurt—that Sarah belonged to him as she belonged to Emily. He knew that couldn't happen. He wasn't her son; she wouldn't even want him to be. Her goodness to him was just part of her nature; she was kind to everyone. He wasn't special to her. It was wrong of him to wish that he was and that his real mother didn't exist. It made him feel guilty.

Sarah's hand went out to touch Cal's bright head, but she hesitated and drew it back. Cal didn't like to be touched. "What I would like is to be your friend, though. Couldn't we be friends?"

"I don't need a friend." Cal snarled and ran away from them down to the barn.

Sarah sighed, looking after him. The boy was as difficult to deal with as his father.