by Pamela Morsi
“True. I heard it at school when I was six years old. I wasn’t even sure where babies came from and Dougie Morton taunted me that my parents had been bad.
“Good grief.”
“I told you about gossip in this town. A favorite pastime for young and old.”
“So what did you do?”
“I punched him in the mouth,” Scott answered. “I got sent home for fighting and my father wanted to know why.”
“Did you tell him?”
Scott nodded. “I think that was when I first realized that my dad could be trusted with the truth. That he was never going to be angry or disappointed with me if I was straight with him.”
“What did he say?”
“Not really too much,” Scott answered. “Maybe about as much as he thought I could comprehend. He said that he and Mom had loved each other since childhood and that they’d always planned to get married, but when they found out that Mom was going to have Leanne, they got married sooner.”
“Factual.”
“Right,” Scott agreed. “I think he was trying not to excuse their behavior and say to me, ‘hey, it’s okay to get your girlfriend pregnant,’ while still conveying to me that the things we do have consequences.”
“Hmm.”
“Unfortunately, I kind of got the wrong end of the lesson,” Scott said. “I thought that it meant that even if things don’t turn out like you’d planned, you could make the best of them and everything would be fine.”
“Doesn’t always work that way.”
“No it doesn’t,” he said. “Even before my ex-wife and I married, I already knew that we had some serious problems. But I felt like...like I’d made a commitment to her and that if I honored that commitment, everything would turn out fine.”
“But it didn’t.”
“No,” he answered. “No, it didn’t.” Then after only an instant of hesitation he changed his mind. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, in fact, everything worked out great. I am happily divorced. She is happily with somebody else. And now I’m single and on this glider with a woman I find incredibly attractive and I still think I might get a kiss for all the backbreaking labor I did for her this afternoon.”
D.J. knew with complete certainty that she should plead exhaustion and walk away from him right there. She didn’t. Instead she lied to herself that she could keep it to little more than a peck on the lips. Touching him didn’t have to turn into the sex-crazed insanity of a van stopped in the middle of the road. Or two strangers on a moonlit beach.
Forty
682.7 Small Forge Work (Blacksmithing)
The only light in the family room emanated from the television screen. Viv absentmindedly stroked the dog on her lap as she watched a sitcom with humor that seemed to her to be more pathetic than funny. The bursts of canned laughter were the only evidence of where the jokes were supposed to be. She sighed heavily.
“Those two don’t deserve to be married,” she told Mr. Dewey. “It’s hard to imagine how such unlikely people would ever get together.”
The dog made no comment. He was content as long as the petting continued.
Viv continued to watch, even as she shook her head and clucked her tongue.
“I’ll never understand why, in all these shows, the men are always so ugly and stupid while the women are always smart and pretty,” she said. “I’ve lived a long time and I’ll tell you, it’s rare to see that kind of pair-up in the natural world.”
Mr. Dewey continued to voice no opinion.
“Maybe they’re thinking that the smart men don’t get their heads turned by pretty women.”
Viv chuckled as she scratched the dog behind the ears and then held his face in her hands. “No, that’s definitely not it.”
Mr. Dewey’s tongue darted out for friendly licks.
“With any luck at all, your pretty mommy is turning the head of my smart son at this very minute. That’s what I’m hoping at least.”
Viv muted the sound on the TV, as if she couldn’t bear the inane dialog another moment.
“Don’t worry,” she told the dog. “If anybody can make D.J. happy, I think it would be my Scott. He has so much to offer the right woman.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, he’s spent most of his life offering it to the wrong ones.”
Mr. Dewey rolled over upon his back, offering the opportunity to scratch his belly.
Viv chuckled. “Yes, I see. You are definitely the type of fellow that goes after what he wants.”
She complied, digging her fingernails deep into the curly black coat. Mr. Dewey’s eyes closed in ecstasy and his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth. Viv couldn’t keep herself from smiling at the simple, expressive little creature that she had grown so fond of. She kept up the rubdown until her arms grew weary. Mr. Dewey had the good manners not to whine for more. Instead he rolled over onto his paws and looked up at her expectantly as if ready for any task she might give him.
Viv had no jobs for the canine to accomplish. There were no sticks to be fetched. No ropes to be tugged upon. No intruders to be barked at. So she let him do for her what he’d grown accustomed to doing. She let him be her listener.
“My Scott has grown up to be a very good man,” she told him. “I’m very proud of him. I think he’ll be good to you, too. He always loved that little dog he had. And if he loves D.J., he has to love her dog, right?” She smiled down into the dog’s big, trusting eyes.
“In some ways, he’s a lot like me,” she told him. “We both have a tendency to take dramatic action when we see something that needs to change. But there is a lot of John in him, as well. He and his father were so close.”
She smiled bleakly. “I know how deeply he feels that loss. I truly hate to wound him again. But if he’s got D.J. to put a smile on his face, he’ll be fine.”
Viv looked at the dog for confirmation, but she didn’t get it.
Absently, she picked up the remote and began flipping through channels. There were news shows, game shows, reality series and rerun movies.
“Nothing interesting on tonight,” she told the dog. “That shouldn’t really be a surprise. I’ve lost interest. That’s typical. It’s what the lovely hospice lady told me about the dying process. People lose interest in the world as they are letting it go.”
The animal’s big dark eyes showed such a level of concern that she actually chuckled at the idea that he might understand her words.
“I haven’t lost interest in you, Mr. Dewey,” she assured him. “At least not so much that I can’t find you one of those treats that you like.”
In her house shoes, she shuffled over to the pantry and sifted through until she found the dog treats. Mr. Dewey was appreciative, scarfing down both treats he was given within two bites, and then continued to follow her around as she wandered aimlessly through the house.
Finally when she took a seat behind the desk in her husband’s office, the dog sat at her feet, looking up anxiously.
“I know you’re not still hungry,” she said to him. “What is it you want from me? Explanation?” Viv sighed heavily. “The way I’m going about it is about avoiding explanations.”
The dog continued to look up at her expectantly.
“Did I ever tell you how John and I met?” she asked. “Well, we didn’t. We never met. We knew each other as far back as I can remember. My world never existed before he was in it.”
The dog settled in on the floor, laying his head upon his front paws, with his eyes still focused in her direction.
“I didn’t love him all that time,” she said. “But he was a friend. He was actually my best friend until I got to school and found out that girls were supposed to pick another girl as best friend.” She shook her head. “What a waste of time that was! But it was probably for the best. If we’d stayed in each other’s pockets all through grade school, we might have been unable to fall in love. We might have felt more like siblings. And that truly would have been a great loss.”
Viv sighed heavily and then gazed down at
the little dog staring up at her.
“I have never been one to brag about my marriage,” she told him. “People don’t want to know that. Folks are eager to hear all about a man’s bad habits or his foibles. They’re happy when you make complaints that he works too hard or doesn’t work hard enough. He either fails to do anything spontaneously romantic or he wastes good money on nonsense like cards and flowers. The world wants to know how dissatisfied everyone is. But the minute you claim to be completely happy, people either get annoyed or they try to convince you that you’re in denial.”
She tutted, shaking her head.
“Well Mr. Dewey, since you can’t understand a word I’m saying anyway, and you’re an extremely patient listener, let me tell you, I had a fantastic marriage. I loved and respected John every day that we were together. He was the one person I could say anything to. And he never failed to be on my side to root for me and celebrate with me. We could laugh together for hours over stuff that other people would have just thought silly. Every minute we were together, we had a good time. And the hours we were apart, I’d try to remember everything that happened, so I could share it with him.”
She lovingly ran her hands along the arms of his desk chair.
“Oh, I’m not saying we didn’t have an argument or two throughout the years,” she said. “Mostly when serious things came up, we agreed on them. We trusted each other’s judgment. And neither of us had much of a temper. But when we did get into a spat, his face would get so red it looked like it might explode. And I’d get mad and grit my teeth at him, like a crazed animal. We’d both end up laughing at how ridiculous we looked.”
She chuckled at the memory. Then slowly the humor faded away.
“Our life belonged to the two of us. I can’t continue it by myself. And the only person I can even talk to, the only one who wouldn’t be bored to tears with the nonsense I need to say, is a little dog.”
She glanced down to Mr. Dewey once more. He sat up, his tiny tail wagging in positive enthusiasm.
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “As soon as I can get those two upstairs on their way to happily-ever-after, I’ll stop talking your floppy ears off.”
Forty-One
700.6 Arts & Recreation
The combines had come right up to the edge of the property before they’d quit for the night. D.J. and Scott hadn’t minded the noise. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d even heard it over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears.
He was determined to make up for his crazy, ass-grab moment in the car. Tonight he would woo D.J. with kisses alone. Kisses only. That was his objective. Kisses if it killed him. And after a relatively circumspect evening beside her in the glider, he might well be ready to die.
He gently broke contact with her mouth, but not before taking a little peck out of the lower lip. She answered with a flick of her tongue against him.
“Damn!” he whispered. “We’re getting really good at this.”
“You’re the expert,” she answered.
In the moonlight he could see that her skirt was hiked up and an expansive length of luscious thigh was visible. His hands itched to caress it, stroke it, taste it. He resisted. Deliberately he had not pulled her onto his lap. He was pretty sure if they had a repeat of the previous day’s groping it would end either with him getting his face slapped or naked in her bed. Maybe both. Likely both.
The heat level between them had waxed and waned all night. It was amazing to him how easily the two of them fit together. It was almost as if she knew all of his favorite sweet spots. And he spent little time wandering in the wilderness for what torched her.
They would kiss passionately for a while and when they got to the brink where they needed to take things further, Scott would call a break for them to catch their breath and watch the combines.
“What are we doing?” she asked him, perhaps on the second or third occasion that they metaphorically went to their corners.
“Uh...well, we’re necking, I think. That’s what our parents’ generation would have called it.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you like it?”
“Uh...yes, and...no.”
Scott laughed. “That hits the nail on the head, doesn’t it,” he said. “I wanted to give us some time. Things have been moving really fast for us the last few days. It seems like a week ago that you didn’t even like me.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, but he stayed her words.
“I don’t want to back off,” he told her. “I really, really am interested in you. But I don’t want to take it to the next level before we’re ready. So... I thought necking might be nice.”
It was.
They calmly, rationally set up the parameters of their exploration. Kissing only. Completely clothed. Not leaving the glider. Both agreeing that the word “stop” would mean exactly that coming from either of them. Then they gave themselves the freedom to give the game a go.
“I want to try every kiss I’ve ever heard of,” he told her. “I want to do every one you’ve ever thought of.”
By concentrating on the mere pleasure of one mouth on another, they discovered the whole gamut of reactions from aching passion to playful silliness.
Scott mostly managed to keep his hands to himself. Although more than once he found himself with a nice handful of plump, firm breast. That was against their rules, of course, but since her fingers kept accidentally straying to his lap, he thought it was, at least, equal.
They tried every style they could conjure up. Basic. Flirty. French. Total mouth. Travelers. Upper lip. Lower lip. Side-to-side. Reverse side-to-side. They even managed an athletically modified Spider-Man. Although the upside-down-on-the-glider was so awkward they were both laughing too much to get serious with it.
Ultimately, as the night wore on, they were lulled into repeated trials of the matchups that worked best for them. Scott loved the taste of her, the feel of her soft lips against his skin. He even liked the bite of her teeth in his flesh. He could have held her in his arms forever. Or he couldn’t bear it another minute.
“Sweet, sweet D.J.,” he said. “You need to go inside, and I need to go downstairs.”
“Do you have to?”
“Yes, yes, I think so.”
“You... you could stay,” she said, so quietly it was almost a breath.
In a moment of mental insanity he imagined himself laying over her naked across a bed and urging out all those sounds of pleasure that he knew were going to be inside her. Then he would ease himself into that tight wetness and bang her until they were both screaming for mercy.
He moaned aloud. “You know that I would like to, D.J.” he said. “You know that I would really, really like to.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“I can’t. Not tonight. It’s too soon. This is too good.”
“It’s not too soon,” she assured him in a voice that was almost a whimper. “I promise. It’s not too soon.”
He wanted to believe her. He wanted it badly. But he didn’t. If they had sex tonight, tomorrow they would be weird together. Neither knew yet if they were having a hot sexy affair, or falling in love for a lifetime. Scott was not willing to shortchange himself on the latter by settling for the former. He’d made that mistake before. But it wasn’t his affair with Eileen that came to mind. It was his one-night stand in South Padre. His whole life might have been different if...
He let the thought lie right there. That was then and that was her. This was now and this was D.J.
“Stay, please stay,” she asked him.
“Nope, I can’t,” he said, easing himself back and taking a deep breath. “But I sure would like a rain check.”
She didn’t answer, but he knew how she must feel. She’d offered herself. Made herself vulnerable and had been rejected. That couldn’t be good. But he hoped, really hoped, that he could make it up to her.
In the glimmer of light and shadows on the deck, he watched her compose herself. She pushed th
e wild, tousled hair into a semblance of order and tucked it behind her ears. She ran her hands across her blouse to make sure everything was in place. And she pulled down her skirt, hiding herself modestly from him once more.
“Sure,” she said, a lot more casually than she probably felt. “A rain check.”
He released his breath. He hadn’t realized that he’d been holding it. He couldn’t linger. The temptation was too great. And he needed to keep it light. It was bad enough to end the evening with both of them wanting more. It would be a shame if they were to part in anger.
Sheer determination brought him to his feet. She stood, as well.
“Okay, bye,” she said and held out her hand as if to shake.
He grasped it in his own. “Let me walk you to your door.”
“It’s five feet away.”
“Sometimes the short walks are the best ones.”
They took the few steps together, hand-in-hand like a couple of dopey sixth graders. He felt a little like a dopey sixth grader. He also felt a lot like a grown man who was deliberately denying the sexual cravings of his own body.
At the doorway she turned to him. “Good night.”
Scott leaned forward to plant a tiny smooch on the peak of her nose.
He watched her brow furrow. “You mean after all that practice, that’s the best you can do for a goodnight kiss?”
Scott grinned, grateful that she, too, was trying to end the evening on a lighter note.
“Right now it is,” he answered, feigning grave concern. “I’ve got to get back downstairs and phone my doctor. I could be having a medical emergency.”
“What?”
“I’m pretty sure this erection you’ve given me has lasted for at least four hours and I haven’t even taken any medication.”
She was stunned for a moment before bursting into laughter.
He stepped away, but continued to hold her hand until the distance between them became too great.
“Good night, D.J. Dream about me, okay? I’m sure going to dream about you.”