Weeks, months, he’d dreamt of her, and now, at last, her body, all of her, was in his arms, nothing between them but his drawers, and he kicked those off and away as quickly as he could. Her breasts brushed against his chest as he kept his weight from her small frame. When he gave up her mouth to taste the rest of her, he felt her belly meeting his chest with each intake of her great, whimpering gasps.
He moved down, trailing his lips and tongue from her mouth to her jaw, following that graceful sweep to her ear, nibbling lightly there before tucking his face against her throat and breathing deep of her scent. A soft kiss of sweet flowers brushed his nose.
All the years he’d wanted nothing like this, felt no urge even for his own hand, and now it was all he could do not to mount her like an animal. But he didn’t want that. He wanted to adore her, print her body into his so he’d never forget it, so he’d remember always this feeling of being reborn, being brought back to life, given the world.
Ada had told him once that that was her job: to carry the world up the mountain. She’d done exactly so for him—not this world where her house was, this alien place he didn’t understand, that didn’t understand him, but a world of feeling, of emotion and sensation, of will and drive, of love and desire and need. Of want. How good it felt to want again. To desire. To care. To live.
His hands roamed over her body, and his mouth followed. So soft, so sweet, so warm, so alive. In his hands, she writhed and moaned, and her hands skimmed through his hair, over his shoulders, his arms, his back, pausing in their travels to dig into the muscle wherever they were each time she moaned most keenly. Her legs flexed and shifted, twining with his, folding up along his hips, then extending again like a caress over his thighs, his calves.
Too long, he’d gone without this. Too keen was his need. His body strained for her, ached and throbbed for her. “Ada,” he finally groaned when he thought he’d lose himself on the sheet, “Ada, I need ...”
“Yes! Yes, please,” she cried in a frenzied murmur. Her legs came up and caught around his waist, and Jonah settled himself fully over her, propped on his hands, looking down at her. The dim light was enough for him to see love and trust, perfect and unconditional, in her clear eyes.
He reached between them to take hold of himself, and pressed at her entrance. She was hot and slick with want, and Jonah felt seared to his soul. He thrust, slowly, steadily, until he’d filled her. She clutched him everywhere, fit him like a sheath designed for him.
And then they both went utterly still. Jonah thought he’d break apart if he moved even an inch. Ada was beneath him, eyes wide, not breathing.
“It hurts?” he asked, forcing the words past a throat grown rigid with his holding back.
She shook her head, but in a brisk way that belied its own act. “No. Just ... it’s been nearly three years.” Her shy chuckle moved through her body and tested his control.
“I can stop.” For Ada, he thought he could manage it.
“No! Don’t.” Her hands slipped down his back and clutched his backside. “Stay. But go slowly?”
It had been near three years for her, but more than seven for him. It might as well have been his first time. Could he go slowly, when every shift in sensation was like a jolt from one of her electric wires? For her, he would. Whether he could or not, he would.
He waited another few breaths, building up all his will, and then began to move, as slowly as he could, easing out an inch or two, waiting there while he bent to kiss her, taking his time, until he needed a breath, then easing back those same scant inches while he breathed through his own desperate need. He found a rhythm like that, slow and easy, getting to know all of her body while he filled it, and in that rhythm he found his control. Eventually, as her body grew familiar with his, he felt strong enough to shift them both so he could reach a breast and draw its pink point into his mouth, still doing everything slowly, extending his flexes and thrusts a little bit more each time, until Ada’s moans were continuous, rolling in keening waves, yet quiet, barely more than whispers full of need.
Then she began to rock beneath him, taking part in the tempo of their bodies, and everything changed for both of them. Then there was no more time to take. Jonah folded her in his arms, tucked his head at her shoulder, and they rocked together, faster and faster, driving each other closer and closer. The curtains billowed as a noisy breeze moved over them, rustling the leaves and grasses outside, but their own breaths were just as loud, and perfectly in time with each other.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Ada whisper-cried at his ear and went stiff, her fingernails digging into his backside. Jonah thrust deep, again and again, and then held there as her clutching spasms pushed him over as well. The release tore him apart, filled him with the world, and sewed him back together again. He bit down on the pillow lest he roar like a bear.
They held like that until their breathing found the rhythm natural to each of them. Jonah lifted his head. For a moment, he felt a flicker of shame, but it guttered out and went cold almost before he noticed it.
He opened his eyes and found Ada looking at him. She was smiling—a big, open smile, bright enough to illuminate the room. Her first real smile since he’d come down the mountain.
“I love you for the man you are, Jonah Walker. The man you are is everything.”
Chapter Twenty-One
With a soft squeeze of Ada’s thigh, Jonah eased his hips back and pulled out of her. The sensation of his body leaving hers made Ada’s back arch and her core flutter. She unwound her legs from his waist and let them fall where they would. Her every limb was limp and hot.
Shifting to her side, he grunted sharply and set a hand on his belly.
She sent her hand to the same place, felt his stitches, and remembered reality. “You’re hurt! You weren’t healed enough!” She should have known better; he’d been shot less than a week earlier, and he’d been in a wild fight only hours ago.
“Hush, darlin’.” He covered her hand with his and stopped her fluttering. “I’m alright. Just a twinge.”
It was too dark in the room to see his expression clearly enough to know if he was telling the truth. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I don’t want you to be.” His hand cupped her cheek, and he gazed down at her. The moonlight made his dark eyes gleam. “You just made me happy, Ada. Happier than I’ve been in a long time. Happier than I ever thought I’d be again. So please don’t be sorry.”
“I’m happy, too. I can’t believe I can say it. I buried my daddy today, and life is all turned inside out, but right now, with you, I’m happy.”
He kissed her, brushing his lips lightly over hers, and then, with another grunt he tried to restrain, Jonah turned to his back, pulling her with him and settling her under his arm.
She nestled into that snug hold and set her hand on his belly. There was a line of hair down the center, crossing his belly button and ending at the thicker growth around his softening shaft. She wanted to touch him, to feel that heft that had filled her so wonderfully, but now, in this quiet afterglow, she felt shy. Her earlier boldness had faded. Never before had she initiated lovemaking, and in hindsight, she was a bit shocked at herself.
Not regretful, or ashamed. How could she be, when he’d been so glad to have her and shown her such breathtaking pleasure.
It was her mother who’d prompted her to leave her parents’ bed and come to him. Not directly, she might well be scandalized were she to learn why Ada had gotten up in the middle of the night. But her mother’s words had rung in Ada’s head while she lay in the dark, echoing over and over, until they’d driven her to Jonah.
Momma wanted to leave Barker’s Creek. She didn’t want this house she’d lived in for decades. She didn’t want this world where she’d made her life. She was lonely and afraid, and she wanted her real home.
The mountain.
Ada hadn’t yet mentioned Jonah’s proposal. She’d intended to do so as they prepared for bed, after she read to her from Sense and Sensib
ility. But as her mother settled against her pillows, in her bed she’d had since her marriage and the bedroom she’d had near as long, she’d said, I’m tired and lonely, Ada. I want to go home.
At first, Ada had thought her mother was wishing for death, and she’d reacted strongly, her broken heart breaking more at the thought of her mother’s sorrow, and all the things they’d both lost, were still losing.
But she’d meant the mountain. She wanted to live out her years where she’d been born. Away from the constant pressures of this world. Away from wandering strangers with their hands out, and the dangers she now knew so well they might harbor.
With those sad words, she’d cleared the way forward for them both. Ada told her of Jonah’s proposal, and the content of her mother’s tears had changed, from loss and sorrow, to gratitude and hope.
After she’d drifted off to a calm sleep, Ada had lain in her father’s place on the bed and stared up at the shadowy ceiling. What she wanted for herself more than anything was Jonah and the children. But she didn’t want to lose all that she’d worked for, all she’d accomplished. The idea that she could ride her route from Cable’s Holler, working her way down and back up, rather than the other way around, had never occurred to her. But it made easy sense.
If, that was, she still had that job. She’d gone another two weeks without riding, and she’d sent word to Mrs. Pitts to let her know what had happened to her father, and her doubts about how she’d keep working. Mrs. Pitts had sent word back that she’d keep her post open as long as she could, so long as Ada kept her informed as often as she could.
But Ada had sent June Avery to talk to Mrs. Pitts about work not long before her father’s death. With June waiting to work, how long could Mrs. Pitts really hold the post for Ada?
Then again, until Jonah’s proposal, and his insight, Ada had been sure she’d need to give up the job entirely to take care of her mother.
Her thoughts had spun and spun, until she’d known, at least, her answer for Jonah.
Lying with him now, in the cozy warmth of his spent body, listening to his heart slow toward sleep, Ada’s head still spun.
What to do about the farmstead? The bank note was so sizeable it was hardly worth trying to sell the place to pay it off; with so many people in equally dire straits, there couldn’t be much of a market for their humble patch. Her father had taken that loan a few years back, after the second poor yield in a row, before he’d understood that poor yields were a trend, not an anomaly. He’d replaced the rotting porch and the sagging roof, and bought a new kind of seed, hoping a fresh crop would enliven the soil. The third year had been the worst yet.
They could walk away from the farm. If her mother didn’t want to stay, they could just walk away and let the bank take it. Go up with Jonah and the children and build a life there. Where wandering men didn’t come. And where people they loved lived.
But could they live like that? No electricity, no plumbed hot water? Cooking on an old iron woodstove? Ada hadn’t felt deprived during her weeks of recovery, but that had been spring, into summer, with long days and comfortable nights.
She thought she could. She knew how to do it. It hadn’t been that terribly long since this house had had an outhouse and a cold-water pump at the kitchen sink. The outhouse still stood, converted now to a little toolshed.
How ironic to think that moving up to the top of the mountain, a place so remote there was barely a trail to it, let alone a road, was her best chance for keeping her job.
How surprising that she might get to keep her job and take care of her mother, give her want she wanted, and have what she herself wanted, too, by moving away from the world.
This was a rainbow. After a devastation, God’s promise that good would return.
“Jonah,” she whispered, and rubbed her hand over his belly.
“Hmm?” He’d nearly been asleep.
“I have to go. I can’t be here with you when Momma and the children wake up.”
He turned to his side and faced her, sliding his hand into her hair. “I want to know this ain’t no dream.”
“Only a dream come true.” She kissed him, opening her mouth and pushing her tongue between his lips. When they pulled back, he sighed.
“I love you, Ada.”
“I love you.” With another quick kiss to his chin, she slid from the bed, scrabbled around on the floor for her nightgown, and pulled it on. “Get some sleep. We have plans to make.”
The first plan was to make sure she had a job.
The very next day, Ada dressed for town and hitched Henrietta to the wagon. Jonah was sore from the day, and the night, before, but he entrusted her with Elijah and Bluebird, both of whom were beside themselves at the prospect of seeing a real town. They wore their clothes from the day before, the best clothes they had, and Ada packed a lunch basket for all three of them, with some carrots for Henrietta as well.
Ada, in return, entrusted her mother to Jonah’s care, and knew with brilliant, blessed certainty that she was in the best of hands.
As they rolled down the road, Ada noticed neighbors watch them ride by. To those who raised their hands, she offered a raised hand in return. Those who only gawked, she lifted her chin and ignored.
The children sat on either side of her, their heads swiveling to and fro, taking in the sights, the rolling hills, the grazing animals, the farms and homes growing nearer to each other the longer they rode.
They’d gotten a later start than she would have on her own—after a family breakfast, and once the children managed to mosey their easily-distracted selves toward the wagon—so Ada pulled over at a pretty spot she knew, on an open field, and set up a picnic under a tree. They didn’t tarry long; Ada wanted to keep her clothes nice, and she needed to be in town early enough to get her business done, but they had a nice lunch, and she let the children run a bit before she called them close.
It was nearing two o’clock when they passed the Callwood welcome sign. As they rode into the town proper, with its cars and trucks, and people walking in every direction, Bluebird scooted right up to Ada’s side and clutched her little fists in Ada’s dress. She was afraid of all the commotion and bustle. Elijah, on the other hand, leaned forward, so far that Ada finally reached over and hooked her fingers into his waistband to pull him back to the bench. That boy was like to take flight.
Ada led Henrietta to Second Street and stopped before the Pack Horse Library. It was always quiet on this street. Most of the shops were vacant, and the library itself wasn’t much of a draw.
“Alright, children, I want you to come inside with me, but I need you to please be your very best selves. This is my place of work.”
“You mean where the books live?” Bluebird asked.
“Exactly.”
Elijah hopped down to the sidewalk. Then, charming Ada utterly, he turned and offered his hand to her. He was only nine and not tall enough yet to be of real assistance, but Ada went out of her way to take his hand as she stepped down from the wagon. She turned and lifted Bluebird down next.
Taking both their hands, she led them into the Pack Horse Library.
Mrs. Pitts’s desk was empty, and the library was quiet. Both children looked around, their jaws unhinged.
“I ain’t never knowed there was so many books!” Elijah exclaimed in a reverential whisper.
“This is only a tiny portion of all the books in the world, Elijah. You could read a book a day for your whole life and never read the same book twice.”
“Can we get some to bring home?” Bluebird asked.
This library was more of a collection facility, to hold the books for the pack horse librarians. Ada didn’t actually know if there was any kind of circulation directly from here. “I’ll ask Mrs. Pitts.”
As if hailed by the mention of her name, Mrs. Pitts came forth from the stacks. “Ada! So good to see you. I was sorry to learn about your father.”
She didn’t seem to notice the children, and Ada wasn’t sure if th
at meant she’d rather pretend they weren’t there. For now, she let them stand at her sides, and hoped they remained quiet.
“Thank you, ma’am. And thank you for understanding. I know this summer I’ve not held up to my responsibilities—”
With a cluck of her tongue and a shake of her head, Mrs. Pitts cut off her apology. “Ada. This program is a public service. Not only to the people we bring the joy of reading and community to, but to the people we employ as well. Besides, the people you work with have built strong bonds with you. You could not so easily be replaced.”
“But Miss Avery ... did she come to see you?”
“Indeed she did. I offered her Mrs. Castle’s post. But she wasn’t yet in a hurry for a post. She’s happy teaching, and not planning to get married until next spring. I’ve told her I’ll keep her in mind.”
“Mrs. Castle isn’t with us?”
“Oh, of course you wouldn’t have heard yet. No. The bank foreclosed on her family’s property, and her son-in-law ran off and left her girl with two little ones. Her wages with us weren’t enough to keep everyone going, sadly. They’ve all packed up to look for work out west.”
Ada had been so wrapped up in her own troubles, she’d forgotten that people were suffering everywhere right now. Despite everything, Ada felt blessed. She had lost a lot, but not everything—and she’d gained a great deal.
“I’m so sorry to hear it. I wish I could have said goodbye.”
Mrs. Pitts agreed with a sigh. “As for your friend Miss Avery, there is a position open, but she would prefer to wait a bit. I haven’t had any other worthy applicants yet for Mrs. Castle’s route, so I certainly am in no rush to lose you, Ada. As I said, you are not easily replaced, and I mean that in both personal and practical terms.”
“Oh. Well, I’m happy to hear it. I’ll be so glad to get back to work.”
“But you had mentioned in your letter that you weren’t sure you could continue. That’s resolved?”
“Yes ma’am. Well and truly, as long as it’s alright for me to switch my route around a little. I’ll be getting married and moving up the mountain, taking my mother with me.”
Carry the World Page 26