Wildly Inappropriate

by Eden Connor

"Thought about that already. The camp's sorta primitive for a woman, but I been meaning to spend a night or two up there. Somehow, the summer just slipped by and I never got around to it. Now's as good a time as any. Full moon tonight," Eric spoke up. "You guys are welcome to stay right here, Dan. Throw Cynda in the hot tub. She needs to relax. She's strung tight as a fiddle."

  Daniel never turned his head to look at his family. "That's a fine idea, Eric. Thank you. I appreciate the show of support from every one of you, but I need to be alone with Cynda right now. So if you guys don't mind, lock the door behind you."

  "School starts tomorrow. We need to get Jonah in bed anyway. Good night." Cynda was vaguely aware of Colton pulling the headphones off the teenager and pointing him toward the door. She sort of knew when Eric disappeared down the hall off the far side of the kitchen and then returned with a backpack. He followed the others out the front door, but in the time it took them all to file out of the cabin, Daniel never looked anywhere but at her face.

  "I didn't want to say this while they were all here, but if anyone's to blame for King trying to hurt you, it's me," Daniel stated.

  "You? It had nothing to do with you. I went by there this afternoon, and he wasn't in his shop, but—"

  "Shh. Listen to me, sugar. Last Sunday I offered Miss Coralinne a reverse mortgage. That means I'd buy her house and give her the money now, but she could've lived there until she died. She'd have been able to pay off that bastard, and yet wouldn't have owed any payments. I started to tell you so many times, but your grams wanted me and her to tell you together, so you'd understand why she wouldn't be able to leave you her house like she planned. I admit I was worried you'd feel I was taking advantage. That's not the only way I was selfish. I kept stalling, because I couldn't stop thinking that once you knew King was going to be paid, you'd have no reason to stay with me." His voice became jagged. "I should've gone there and told him myself, but instead, I asked Reese to put pressure on him to reduce the interest. I was a fool. Money… it comes and it goes, but a woman like you—"

  "Reverse mortgage? I thought you were making Grams pay for the lawyer you hired. I hoped you did, because then I could ask for a new contract." Cynda slid out of her seat, kneeling in front of him. She cradled his face with one hand, pushing the hair off his forehead with the other, to better study the bright gleam in his eyes. "Daniel, I don't know if you're selfish, but if you are, it's the most peculiar kind of selfish I've ever seen. Whenever you're taking advantage of all those rules you make in your favor, you're turning me inside out and when that happens, I'm not black, or poor, or one bad mood on the part of some racist asshole away from being unemployed. In your garden, I'm Eve, and when you take me shoe shopping, I'm Cinderella. On top of your mountain, I feel like Mother Earth. In your house, I'm a lady. You dress me like one and you insist others treat me like one. The idea a man like you could want a woman like me is—"

  He kissed her, his tongue surging past her lips with force, shutting off the nervous flow of her words. His arms went around her and for the first time since she'd stepped into King's repair shop, she felt as though she could breathe even though he held her to his chest so tightly it hurt. Soon, however, it became clear from the hardness pressed against her tummy he was ready to take her.

  He left her in the cozy great room of the cabin. A brief forage around Eric's cabin yielded a length of nylon ski rope, lube, and condoms. When he reappeared, he simply said, "Cynda, take off the dress."

  She stripped eagerly. He beckoned her into the kitchen, lifting her onto the small drop-leaf table. She felt her folds begin to swell, yet she still studied his intent expression. He ordered her to raise her knees. She placed her heels on the table's edge and he pushed them against the cheeks of her ass, then wrapped the nylon cord around her leg, mid-thigh, fastening her ankles tightly to her upper leg. She thought some of the tension in his face lessened when he had her spread with no way to close herself to him. The blade on his pocket knife flashed, reflecting the light from the pair of wrought iron sconces mounted on the wall between the kitchen and the den area as he sawed off a length of the rope. She offered her wrists, pressed together, and he first tied them together with a knot and then, with a softening of the tension around his eyes, added a bow.

  Emotions roiled inside her at his gesture. Remember the bow, not the bullet, he seemed to be silently saying, helping her override her memory of King.

  He didn't talk, other than to order her to lie back. Raising her head, he swept her braids from beneath her neck, making them spill down the far side of the small table. He traced her slit with his finger then pushed inside her. His lips twisted with satisfaction to find her slick and ready. She tightened around his calloused finger, but he withdrew, ignoring her small sound of protest. She could sense his urgency by the way he unbuckled his belt, but she didn't anticipate the way he slid it beneath her head, pressing the leather strip against the back of her neck. He fed the end through the buckle and slowly tightened the strap around her throat. His gaze seemed to be measuring her trust, much as it had that first day in his kitchen. She hadn't felt she had much choice that day, but this night, it was different. Though her pulse rate kicked up like a summer storm, she smiled. When the cool brass rested against the hollow of her throat, he laid the loose end of the belt across her chest, between her breasts. The leather was warm from his body, soothing her fears.

  He lubed his fingers, and when he pressed them firmly against her puckered opening, she sensed his urgency from the rapid way he plunged inside her, scissoring his fingers to stretch her.

  Condom, then lube; donned and dispersed with equal efficiency. He pressed the head of his cock against the tender spot and pushed in with a hard thrust of his hips. He let her breathe through his initial invasion, pausing with just the broad head inside her tight passage. When she felt ready for more, she knew what to say.

  "Yes, Daniel." Her voice was barely a whisper, throttled by the emotions surging inside her. He reached for the end of the narrow leather strip, coiling it around his palm. He pulled her body onto his cock with the belt. The moment she accepted his entire length and his thighs pressed against the curves of her ass was the moment when he finally smiled. Driving the thumb of his free hand into her pussy, fingers digging into the soft skin above her mound, he then moved his hands to fuck her, not his hips. The beads in her hair swung from her motion, striking the folded table leaf and marking his rhythm like rain on a roof.

  "I love you." She could only whisper, but she knew he'd heard because he bent over her, tugging on the belt to raise her head until their lips almost touched.

  "That word. Love. It's not big enough," he rasped.

  * * * *

  Eric's bed was king-sized. Too big, Dan decided, preferring the queen size tester bed at the farm. Cynda's head rested on his shoulder. He pressed her to his chest with an arm around her waist, enjoying the softness of her inner thigh flung over his and replaying the moment when she'd declared her love. Relaxed and drowsing after a long soak in the redwood hot tub that sat just a few steps outside the bedroom door on the back deck that ran the width of the cabin, he was startled fully awake by the hard drumming on the front door.

  "Eric must have left something," he groaned. "Or changed his mind about staying at the camp. Be right back." He pressed hip lips to her forehead. "Go back to sleep, sugar. Eric and I might talk for a bit. You need to rest."

  She burrowed like a kitten into the pile of Eric's pillows, making him wonder how Daisy and the pup were getting along after being moved back into the shed. He'd get E to drive him down to the farmhouse, he decided as he walked hurriedly down the short hall. He could get his truck and check on the dogs.

  He had to pass the kitchen window to get to his jeans. The full moon showed the sheriff's car parked behind his truck.

  With a sinking heart, Dan slipped into his clothes. Retrieving his cell phone from his jeans, he hurriedly punched out a text message for Eric.

  "You know where Dan
De Marco might be?" the young officer asked when he yanked open the door. He and Dan recognized each other about the same time.

  "Officer Cantrell," Dan said evenly.

  "Need you to come with me, Mr. De Marco."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The small room was painted gray. Dan wished it had a window, but he saw the bare trees outside in his mind. His clothing felt tight and uncomfortable although Cynda had bought the suit for him just days ago. He wished fiercely she was standing by his side, but he had to walk out there alone.

  "Ready?" the strange man asked.

  "Ready."

  Dan walked numbly forward. Jonah's fresh-trimmed hair hung past his starched white collar. This was hard on the kid. His summer tan had faded, and he shifted uncomfortably, reminding Dan of Eric at that age.

  The Methodist church Cammie had favored had no empty seats, save those at the front reserved for his family. Dan nodded to dismiss the funeral director escorting them, standing in the aisle while the rest of the De Marcos filed into the pew.

  Peach-colored roses blanketed the top of the polished wood coffin holding Cammie's bones. As the organist took her seat and began to play, Dan looked around.

  Faces, all known to him, filled the small church, but one well-liked member wouldn't be present. John Carpenter had shocked this small community to its core with his confession. People were talking about his membership in the Klan, too, and he prayed that the publicity surrounding John's act of hatred would wake a few people up.

  He vividly remembered the ride back to the sheriff's department the night his life had changed. Expecting to be charged with Kingsley Dazza's murder, Dan had been stunned instead to be shown a tape of the spontaneous confession John had come in to offer. Lila had been right about Daniel's long-time friend and neighbor. He was not at all what he'd appeared. Dan wondered whether he'd only seen what he wanted to see in John all those years, same as he'd missed the many racist remarks and actions on the part of others that he was so attuned to now.

  "I kept a close eye on the Masons. Tim weren't no good. I figured he stripped more parts off cars than he fixed, and so I pretended to like him, so I could watch 'em. Didn't care for how close Camille De Marco got to them niggers, neither. One day I was about to knock on their back door and I heard Cammie on the phone. She was makin' an appointment to have an abortion. I knew if that'd been Rafe's baby, she'd never have done that. Whole damn county knew he wanted six young 'uns and they only had four. Thought she mighta been fuckin' around with Tim or one of them migrants she was always too damn nice to and got herself knocked up. When she come back across my land, I was waitin' for her at the bridge over the ravine. We had some words, and I smacked her for her sassy tongue when she told me to go burn in hell. I just meant to remind her not to talk like that to a man, I swear it. But she stumbled and hit her head on one of them big rocks. She got up after she fell, but then the blood started runnin' from her nose and she fell down again. Just stopped breathin' after that."

  Dan shied away from the rest of the memory, the part that answered the mystery of why there had been no grave to find when they searched. John had locked her body in one of his many his freezers and waited five years to bury Cammie out by the ravine.

  It had been the Klansman's misfortune that Kingsley Dazza had a body to bury that same night and had chosen the same piece of land by the ravine. They'd dumped them into the same grave, knowing one man's evil deed couldn't be found out without incriminating the other.

  There was a twisted kind of irony in there somewhere. John had been forced to not only trust King, but the loan shark had also pressured the old farmer into looking after Georgia once Tim died.

  Dan felt someone touch his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw Georgia right behind him, seated beside Miss Coralinne. He felt the familiar stab of regret that it'd been her nephew he'd shot, even though she'd sworn she knew he'd had little choice when he'd found King about to rape Cynda. He returned the squeeze, honored that she'd come to see her best friend into the ground, in spite of the way some old friends had begun to snub her when one of the two bodies exhumed down by the ravine had been linked to her nephew, not to mention all the publicity about his attempted rape of Cynda and his loan sharking business. Many people had come forward when the story hit the news, to tell their experiences with King's "business." More murders than Cammie's had been cleared from the police files, and the man who had worked for King was back in jail awaiting trial on multiple charges, thanks to the families of some of those victims coming forward.

  When the police searched the rundown TV repair shop and seized everything, Reese had handled the necessary paperwork to get Miss Coralinne's deed returned to her. That had taken nearly as long as getting Cammie's remains back from the state crime lab, eight weeks until Grams had possession of her deed again, and nine weeks until Dan had been able to arrange Cammie's funeral. He still didn't know why the case had gotten priority at the state crime lab. Perhaps it was because the local solicitor was eager to prosecute a hate crime in an election year.

  He was surrounded by friends and family but felt disconnected. He'd spent nearly all his life missing Cammie and wondering where she was, yet knowing her remains were right in front of him didn't give him the closure he'd thought.

  Unruly thoughts kept him from hearing much of what the minister said. How had Rafe let things go so wrong between them, if he'd loved Cammie so much? Dan didn't doubt his father had loved his mother. He'd poured through Cammie's diaries every night for the last nine weeks, reading every word. Cammie had loved Rafe. Had loved the forceful way he took her, loved giving Rafe control over most facets of her life in an age when a desire for independence had become the norm for women. Reading some parts had made Dan uncomfortable—your parents weren't supposed to have sex, dammit—but he'd persevered, needing to know how his mother could've decided to betray Rafe so deeply.

  He hadn't known about all the miscarriages Cammie had suffered.

  Glancing down the pew, he looked at Lila, seated on the other side of Jonah. Colton's hand rested on her tummy and the sight gave Dan a pang of bittersweet regret, mixed with concern. Lila should never have kept this baby, Dan feared. She was having a lot of health issues from her pregnancy and Dan worried about what Colton and Jonah might do if something happened to her.

  At the end of the pew, Eric yanked at his tie. His jokes had become less frequent over the last weeks and it seemed to Dan that knowing Cammie hadn't deserted them allowed his middle brother stop playing the clown to hide his hurt. He hoped Lila was right. "When Eric finds a woman that believes in him in spite of the fact he doesn't believe in himself, he won't know what hit him but he'll be too smart to let that woman go," she'd said just last night.

  The minister talked on, and Dan wondered whether the young preacher had had a hard time coming up with something to say about a woman he'd never met. Tuning in to the words, he figured out yet again the value of a woman. No doubt, one of the women who now buttressed his family had spent time with the man, because his short sermon did a good job of describing the loving mother Dan remembered.

  Finally, the organist lifted her hands. The tap-tap-tap sound that preceded the swelling notes brought a smile to his face.

  He glanced over again, steeling himself against the bite of envy he felt every time he looked at the small mound of Lila's tummy. Colton hadn't moved his hand from over his baby throughout the service. Dan wondered whether his eyes were as green as they felt. Colton, unaware Dan was watching, or perhaps uncaring, mouthed "I love you" to Lila, and she leaned over to kiss his cheek.

  Then Cynda's rich alto rose above the music, smoothing out all the rough feelings warring inside him.

  Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,

  that saved a wretch like me.

  I once was lost, but now am found,

  was blind but now I see.

  Dan wasn't ashamed of the tears running down his cheeks. He'd waited over twenty-eight years to cry at his mother's
funeral and he cried like a nine-year-old. Cynda finished the song and descended the steps, sliding into the space he'd saved for her. Her arms went around him, and from the pew behind, he felt Miss Coralinne and Georgia patting his shoulders.

  At long last, the growing De Marco family stood shivering in the late November chill at the cemetery, watching Cammie lowered into her rightful place by her husband's side. Cynda sang another hymn then moved back into the circle of his arm.

  They lingered after they'd thanked all the mourners for coming, in spite of the cold. Dan watched while the cemetery crew replaced the double headstone Rafe had ordered before his death. The decades-old, yet freshly chiseled date on Cammie's side of the marker looked incongruous on the weathered stone, but Dan felt a sense of peace when the granite monument settled into the red dirt and his parents were reunited at last.

  "Let's go back to our house," Lila suggested. "I bought steaks so we can grill out, because if I see another piece of fried chicken I think I might grow a feather."

  "We'll take Grams home and meet you there," Dan agreed.

  Thanks mostly to the women that had come into his life this year, the intimate family dinner was marked by the things that had seen him through his recent hard times: excellent food, teasing banter, and laughter. After a simple meal of grilled steaks, fresh green salad, and potatoes, the women cleaned up while Eric and Jonah lounged on Colton's comfortable couch. Dan sat beside Colton on one of the barstools, enjoying watching Cynda while the women moved around in the kitchen. Lila's cheeks flushed a deep red and she bolted for the door to the patio. While she was gone, Cynda told the group a funny story about Daisy's pup and his encounter with a roll of paper towels that had fallen off the counter.

  "So, Dan, I've been meaning to ask, what did you finally name that pup?" Lila looked all wide-eyed and innocent, catching the end of the story when she stepped back into the family room from the patio. Dan had never known hot flashes accompanied pregnancy, but now her cheeks were less ruddy than they had been before she'd dashed outside, in spite of the fact she wore no coat and the temperature had plummeted since morning