by L. D. Davis
“And she’s a young, pretty girl that’s walked through this town more times than she can probably count.” Fred looked at me and smiled. “Have a safe walk, Kiddo. Don’t stay out too long.”
“Thanks, Fred.”
I gave Emmet a short look, and he gazed at me with his eyes full of questions. I again wondered if he could feel my emotions like I could feel his.
“I’ll walk with you,” he said, pushing open his door, but his father put his hand on his son’s shoulder.
“Son, it is obvious that she wants to be alone for a little while,” he said quietly.
Emmet looked like he wanted to argue, but he sighed and shut the door, not wishing to cause a scene in front of his dad.
“See ya later, Kiddo,” Fred said and stepped on the gas.
The truck continued down the driveway with Emmet’s head hanging out of the window, watching me.
The tether stretched. It pulled. It twisted. It hurt.
I took a few more steps toward the main road and then halted.
I was doing it again. I was running away from Emmet instead of talking to him. I did it after he first kissed me. I did it when I found about Stella and tried again after I found the condom in his car. I ran again on the boardwalk after I slapped him in the face and once more a couple of days before my departure from New Jersey.
Emmet was the only person I figuratively and physically ran from. The emotions he made me feel were overwhelming, and they were no less overwhelming when I had to face them head on. The discomfort I felt whenever we had a serious discussion was crushing, but as I stood there on the side of the road, I realized that I couldn’t keep running away from him when I was angry or hurt. My mother turned inward instead of dealing with her emotions. My father turned to drugs and distanced himself from us rather than face my mom and me. I didn’t want to be like either one of them in that regard. I knew there would be times in my life when I would have to walk away from a fight or avoid adverse situations, but this wasn’t one of those times.
I turned around and went back to the house. Emmet was outside, sitting on the porch, but my attention was drawn to Samantha and Fred walking hand in hand to the deck by the lake. As I neared the house, my eyes stayed on them for some time. They had been married for thirty-one years, and though it was a fact that Sam drove Fred crazy, they were still very much in love. Fred adored Sam and Sam still looked at Fred as the young, charming marine that she fell in love with when she was apparently only a little younger than me.
I didn’t think Emmy and her siblings really appreciated the love that was between their parents. They had no idea how lucky they were as a whole to witness true love. I wanted that someday. I wanted to marry a guy that I would be with forever and not have any regrets.
I turned away from the happy couple and looked at Emmet. I didn’t know where Emmy was, and I didn’t want to alert her. I silently gestured for Emmet to follow me and walked away.
I didn’t turn around to see if he would follow. I felt his hesitation, but a moment later, I sensed him following me around the house in the opposite direction of the lake. In silence, we walked towards the line of trees at the front of the house. There were several acres of woods there, but years of kids venturing into it have cut out easy to navigate paths, though they weren’t as well used as they used to be. I waited until we were well beyond the sight of anyone that may be looking from the house before reaching out for Emmet’s hand. His fingers closed over mine without hesitation.
We were in the trees and out of sight before I broke the silence.
“Did you sleep with Bethanne?” I asked him as we continued to walk.
“Shit,” was his reply. He stopped walking and stared at me anxiously as he pushed his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered.
I looked down at the ground with a sigh and released his hand. I crossed my arms over my chest as if to protect myself.
“I know this is probably the wrong thing to say,” Emmet said softly. “But you and I weren’t together. I would never cheat on you. I know you’re angry nonetheless.”
“A little bit,” I admitted. “And a little jealous. A little worried.”
“You don’t have anything to be jealous of.”
I looked up into his eyes. “You did sleep with her, didn’t you?”
He looked away from me. “I did.”
“Then don’t tell me I don’t have anything to be jealous of,” I said softly. “She’s been with you like that, and I haven’t.”
“But you said yourself you aren’t ready for that, and I don’t think you’re ready either.”
“I know,” I agreed, looking down at the ground again. “But I’m still jealous. Other girls know you in ways I don’t yet.”
“No,” Emmet said the word firmly and moved closer to me. “Donya, look at me.” He put his fingers under my chin and lifted my head. “Whatever I had with any of those other girls will never be able to touch what I know I will have with you. I didn’t love any of those girls. Okay?”
I nodded, unable to speak as I looked into his green eyes. His thumb gently moved over my lips and then he dropped his hand from my face.
We resumed walking, carrying silence between us for a few minutes.
“Why are you worried?” he finally asked.
“How many girls have you been with?” I asked instead of immediately answering his question.
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
He sighed and glanced down at me. “Not as many as you think.”
“How many?” I insisted.
“Three,” he said hesitantly.
“The rumor is that you’ve been with more.”
“Are you going to believe the rumors, or are you going to believe me?” he asked with irritation.
I was quiet for a moment. Emmy was sure that Emmet had been with more girls, but then how could she know for sure unless she asked him directly or witnessed him in the act?
“Is that all forms of sex?” I asked reluctantly.
“Yes,” he said impatiently. “Why do you want to know?”
“Did you like it?” I asked, again avoiding another question.
“It’s sex. Yes, I liked it,” he snapped. “I don’t want to talk about other girls when I’m with you.”
I was quiet again. I had never felt insecure like girls my age tended to do. Despite my hardships with my parents, I didn’t think any less of myself. I was self-confident without being conceited. I didn’t obsess over my body. I didn’t struggle to fit in anywhere. I didn’t care too much what people thought about me, and I didn’t kiss anyone’s ass. I did well in school, and I was satisfied with my life in spite of my mom and dad, butt with Emmet, I was second guessing myself.
“What if I’m not ready for a long time?” I quietly inquired. “You’re going to be in college with beautiful girls your age that are ready.”
We stopped walking again. Emmet wrapped both of his arms around my waist.
“Donya, is that what you’re worried about? You’re worried that I am going to lose interest in you? That I’m going to become impatient and go somewhere else?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I love you,” he said seriously. “I promise you I will never betray you. I promise you that I will wait for you, patiently, for as long as you need me to wait.” He cupped one side of my face. “I don’t want you to worry. You have me, okay? No one else.”
“Okay,” I said, managing a smile.
I met him halfway, my lips burning to connect with his. We kissed slowly and softly until parts of my body began to tingle. I pulled away from him then. He smiled knowingly at me but didn’t push. He took my hand into his, and we walked back the way we had come. Just before we reached the clearing, he gave me one last quick kiss and then we stepped onto the lawn with several feet of our invisible tether between us.
Chapter Twelve
Lucy’s wedding and reception took place outside on the expansive property
that the big house sat on, right in front of the lake. The yard was transformed, with small lanterns and soft white lights strung overhead for the reception. There were even candles floating in the lake. A dance floor had been erected and there was an endless amount of food. Lucy and her husband Eric must have invited no less than three hundred and fifty people. It was very easy for a teenage girl to slip away with her secret boyfriend during the celebration.
Emmet led me into his bedroom, which was risky, but we had been trying to find some alone time for days. He closed and locked the door and led me to his bed where he put a firm and possessive hand on the back of my neck.
“I hate the way that guy is following you around,” he said of the son of one of the wedding guests.
Taylor was the son of one of the people that worked for the Grayne’s, and he was a couple of years older than me. I met him a few summers back, but it was the first summer that he realized I was an actual girl with boobs—finally—and all of the other primary female parts. He actually was following me around, but he was interesting enough for me not to be annoyed.
“Don’t worry about him,” I said to Emmet. “I’m all yours.”
He kissed me, hard and greedily. I grabbed onto his shirt and allowed him to dominate me with his powerful kiss. He continued to hold me by my neck, but his other hand wandered up and down my bare leg. His fingers brushed under the hem of my skirt with each pass, reaching farther up my leg each time until his hand was completely under my dress on my upper thigh. It was hot on my skin and sent tingly waves across my flesh. He took his hand off of my neck and gently pushed me back on the bed, never taking his mouth off of mine or his hand off of my thigh. He stretched out over me, leaning to one side so not to crush me under his weight.
Emmet’s fingers moved in slow circles over my thigh. When the tips of his fingers brushed over my panty line, I gasped against his lips. He continued the slow circles, moving away from my panties, but only for a short time before making his way back again. Next time his fingers stretched a little farther, but still missed the mark that my body had become desperate for him to hit. He circled outward again but returned quickly. When his fingers finally trailed over my virginal sex, I moaned into his mouth and tugged on his hair.
Boldly, he put his thumb flat against the swollen nub and pressed. I writhed beneath his touch and moaned wildly in his mouth as his thumb began to circle. It felt even better than that morning in his bed. I was so much closer this time than I was then. Only a few more seconds and I would—
Emmet pulled away from me. Entirely. Lips. Hands. Body.
He sat up, breathing heavily and looking at me as if I had somehow just offended him.
“What?” I asked, pushing myself up on my elbows.
He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he carefully pulled my dress back down over my thighs and offered me his hand. Confused, I took it and he pulled me into a sitting position, but he stood up the moment I was up. He took a few steps away from me, running his hands through his hair.
I realized then that Emmet had been on the verge of losing control, and I had been out of control. I knew I wasn’t ready for sex, but my body had been so receptive to his touch. Was it like that for everyone else? I wished that I could have asked Emmy without bringing suspicion upon myself. She had been to third base more times than some baseball players.
I snickered out loud at my joke. Emmet looked at me with one eyebrow raised.
“Nothing,” I said waving it off.
I got to my feet only to realize my knees were too weak to hold me. I started to fall forward, but Emmet was there, with his arm around my waist, holding me up. I held onto his arms and looked up into his face with a stupid smile.
“You literally made me weak in the knees.”
He smiled down at me and placed a soft kiss on my lips.
I regained my footing after a few more seconds.
“There isn’t any rule against us dancing together,” Emmet said with his hand on the doorknob.
I grinned. “No, there isn’t.”
“Miss Stewart, will you honor me with a dance?” he asked eloquently, bowing deep.
“Why, Mr. Grayne, the honor is all mine,” I answered primly with a curtsey.
I kissed him once more, and after we made sure the coast was clear, we left his bedroom together and rejoined the festivities outside.
*~*~*
The original cotton farm on the land where the big house was located, and where we spent our summers, originally belonged to Samantha’s family, but it was mismanaged. By the time Sam got it in her early twenties, it was failing. Fred took it and made it flourish and then bought several more like it in the south. He then became a silent partner in a textile company that later expanded and became a big textile supplier. In addition to that, Fred still had a pretty decent stake in oil and owned several pieces of prime real estate.
He was semi-retired, but it was impossible for him to get away with not working at all. A few days after Lucy’s wedding he announced that he needed to head back up the coast to take care of a few things. He needed to go back to New Jersey and I wanted to go back with him. I still felt bad for leaving my mom behind, and Max had requested an appointment with me in New York.
Emmy wasn’t a big fan of Louisiana, but Mayson had gone down for the wedding and the pair had reconnected with some friends and wanted to stay. In a couple of weeks, they would return and a couple of days after that we would be helping Emmet move into his apartment in Cambridge.
The reality of that was sinking in. In a few short weeks I would be back in school and Emmet would be hours away. We never discussed how we were going to work through that and it was making me a little nervous as we inched closer to the day he would move away. Since I wasn’t even old enough to get into a car and drive to him, we would only be able to see each other on holidays and during the summer.
Realistically speaking, I had no idea how we were going to pull it off. On the other hand, it made hiding our relationship that much easier, at least until I was ready to tell Emmy and old enough to date seriously.
Emmet was also returning to New Jersey, though he would be driving his car back and not flying with Fred and me. He didn’t really give any explanation to his inquisitive mother other than telling her he hadn’t planned on staying too long in the first place. I didn’t ask him to leave Louisiana, but as soon as he heard that I was going back north, he made plans to leave too. It made me rather giddy, because I would be able to spend a little more time with him without too many obstacles.
I still didn’t want to tell Emmy about Emmet. I had poked at the idea with her casually when we were talking about guys and she wasn’t at all receptive.
“I should hook up with Emmet,” I had said jokingly. “You seem to think he’s so easy.”
Emmy made a disgusted face and said, “I love my brother and I love you, but no! Besides, it’s like…incest. Emmet is just as much your brother as mine, and ew. No.”
“You seem to feel very strongly about this,” I said, forcing a smile.
“I do, and Emmet isn’t a bad guy, but you deserve better. You deserve the best.” She made a funny face and added, “I don’t even want to joke about it. It’s gross.”
She changed the subject and I pretended that I wasn’t hurt.
I really shouldn’t have let her opinions bother me, but she was my best friend. It really mattered to me what she thought, and I wanted her support, not for her to oppose me. I didn’t want to deal with the stress that her opposition could possibly bring to my relationship with Emmet. Maybe later she would feel differently, and maybe not. I couldn’t keep our relationship a secret forever, however; so eventually she would either have to accept it or deal with it.
I was rather excited to see my mom. I was hoping that we would be able to spend some time together and get to know each other again—if I ever really knew her. She knew I was coming home, so it was no surprise when I fell through the door with se
veral bags and a large suitcase.
“I’m home,” I said happily as I dropped my stuff by the door.
“Hi,” she said from the kitchen doorway. She was in her waitressing uniform.
“You’re going to work?” I asked, trying to hide my disappointment. “I thought we could have dinner together. I have a few dollars. I can treat us to Nifty Fifties.”
“I couldn’t get any time off,” she said, but didn’t sound at all apologetic.
In my mind I had imagined a pleasant homecoming. I pictured my mom hugging me when I walked through the door and telling me how glad she was to see me, not standing in the doorway looking at me casually as if it hadn’t been weeks since she last saw me. I thought she would have taken the night off and would like the idea of spending some one on one time with her only child. I did not expect her to be so indifferent. I guess I thought that her medications would have improved her cool disposition towards me, but maybe I hadn’t given it enough time to work.
“It’s okay,” I said as if she had apologized. “I’m tired anyway.”
I walked across the small living room and opened my arms for a hug. I ignored the ache I felt in my heart when my mom hesitated before accepting the embrace. It was short and lifeless on her end.
“Did you make my appointment with Max?” I asked her after I stepped away from her.
She shook her head. Speaking carefully, she said, “No. I’m not sure it is something I want you to do.”
Up until that point, I didn’t have any feelings on the subject either way. I was willing to try because the opportunity was there, but if it didn’t pan out, that was okay; however, when my mother attempted to take away my right to choose, I suddenly realized how much I really wanted to try it.
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
“You have this naïve idea that it will be easy.” She shrugged and went into the kitchen.
“I never said that,” I argued as I followed her.
“I don’t think you know how much work it will be to find work and get paid. Who is supposed to traipse around New York with you and wherever else while you try to get a job? You know sometimes you won’t even get paid money? Just clothes? Clothes don’t pay the bills, Donya.”