by R. R. Banks
"My ex-wife," Graham specified.
"Not for long, though, right? You told me on the train that you didn't intend on her being your ex-wife for much longer. You said that you wanted to go to see her so that you could convince her to come home with Charlie so that the two of you could be together again."
"No, Holly. That's what I thought that I wanted, but I know now that that would never work."
"Why not?"
"The longer that we are here, the longer that it is taking me to get to them, the more that I am remembering what life with her was really like. I remember who she was and all of the reasons why I couldn't bear to be with her any longer, how our marriage came to an end. There was a time when it made sense to be married to her and when I thought that I would be able to make it work. But those reasons don't apply anymore."
"What about Charlie?" I asked.
"I wouldn't want my son to watch his parents the way that we were when our relationship was crumbling. Even now I worry that he somehow has memories of those last arguments. The truth is I wanted to convince myself that I could reset everything that had happened. I'm so used to being able to control everything in my life, I figured that I would be able to change everything that happened and make something between us that it never existed in the first place."
I noticed that he hadn't mentioned me, and I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. As much as I wanted to know that there was thought and emotion behind that kiss, that I wasn't interpreting something as existing or growing that had never been there before, I didn't know if I could bear the thought that he was making a rash decision, or that when the snow melted and the train returned, or we found some other way to get out of Whiskey Hollow, the reality of what he had done would settle in and he would change his mind again.
"I'm sorry," I said.
I wasn't even sure why I said it. I didn't know what exactly I was apologizing for, but I felt like I needed to.
"I just don't understand, Holly." I heard him get up and come to the side of the bed. The mattress bent down as he sat on the edge. I could feel his body close to mine. "Why did you push me away? It couldn't just have to do with Brandy."
"Graham, I…" I started.
I was curled on my side, and I felt his hand touch my hip.
"I thought that you felt the same things I did," he said.
"I do. At least I think that I do."
"What do you mean you think you do? Does this have something to do with your ex-boyfriend?"
"No" I said, then hesitated. "I don't know."
"What happened between the two of you?"
"Nothing," I scoffed, "that was the problem."
"What do you mean?"
I sat up, facing him. I couldn't see him clearly in the dark. The glow from the alarm clock was just enough to show me the outline of his face and the shape of his body.
"I told you that my relationship with my parents got worse and worse as I got older, and that I left them behind as soon as I graduated."
"Yes."
"It wasn't just my parents that I pulled away from. As I got older I had learned not to trust anyone. I couldn't truly feel close to anybody. I was with Ben for more than five years and there is a part of me that still feels like we barely knew each other. There was a time when I believed that I really loved him, that this was the way that relationships were supposed to be, but I know now that we never really connected. I never trusted him completely. I never opened up to him. But when we broke up he didn't mention any of that. He didn't say that he felt like we were distanced from each other or that he wanted us to be closer. He said that he needed space, that he needed to find himself. He said that he wasn't able to devote himself to a relationship. I knew what that meant. I knew what he wanted and that I was never able to give him. That I was never willing to give him."
"Holly," Graham started. I felt him slide slightly closer to me across the bed. "When you say that you never trusted anyone, do you mean that you never trusted anyone with your mind?"
"Yes" I said.
"Your heart?"
"Yes," I said, my voice getting softer.
Graham slid closer and his fingertips touch the side of my face and moved over to brush across my lips.
"Your body?"
"Yes," I whispered.
"Did he ever touch you, Holly?"
"No."
"Did you ever want him to?"
"No," I admitted.
I felt Graham's hand on the blanket that I had pulled up over my chest. He eased it down so that it settled on my lap.
"Do you want me to touch you?"
I drew in a shuddering breath.
"I don't know."
Graham climbed onto the bed so that he was on his knees beside me and both hands cupped the sides of my face. They felt strong and confident, no hesitation beneath his fingertips. He held my face for a few seconds and then I saw him leaning toward me through the darkness. I tilted my mouth up to accept his kiss, but he paused just before pressing his lips to mine. I felt him brush his mouth over mine, just enough that I was aware of the feeling of our mouths against each other. I let my mouth open and could feel his breath touching the tender inside of my bottom lip. He drew my lip into his mouth only slightly, then kissed me. It wasn't like the first kiss, hungry and explosive. Instead it was grounding, the first touch that told me that he was there, completely and fully, and that he knew exactly what he was doing. There was intention in the kiss, but not urgency. Strength, but not force. He kissed me this way for a few moments and then drew his head back.
"Let me touch you," he murmured. "Let me close to you."
I nodded.
Graham let his hands slide away from my face and down the sides of my neck until they rested on my shoulders. His thumbs stroked along my collarbones, bringing a slight chill to my skin. Leaning forward, he replaced one hand with his lips, kissing his way down toward my chest. I felt my breath deepen, catching in my throat so that I felt almost breathless. Graham's hands slipped just beneath the bottom of my shirt, touching my stomach. I could feel the muscles jump and the curve of his smile against my neck.
"Don't be afraid," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"I'm not afraid," I told him. "I just don't know what to do."
"You don't need to," he said. "It will come to you, and I'll show you."
I felt the pressure of his hands moving up my belly and onto my ribs as I lifted my arms, allowing him to sweep my shirt off over my head. I hadn't worn a bra for bed and the sudden exposure of my bare breasts was almost too much. I lifted my arms to cover them, but saw Graham shake his head.
"Don't cover yourself," he said. "You're beautiful. I want to be able to look at you."
He eased my arms away from my body and I drew in a breath, extremely aware of how the movement lifted my breasts toward him. He noticed as well, and I felt his fingertips touch one of my breasts. They played lightly on the top swell, touching just what had been exposed by the scooped neckline of my shirt. My skin was tingling with his touch and I could feel my nipples tightening, hardening in response. I drew in another breath, trying to regain control of the air moving in and out of my lungs. Graham's hand moved down, and I felt his feathery touch trace along the rim of my nipple, then sweep down to cup my breast fully, holding it in his palm. He kneaded it gently, giving a soft moan of appreciation that sent a thrill through my body to the hot center between my thighs.
Graham's thumb brushed across my nipple and it tightened even more in response to it. He looked at me for a brief moment before ducking his head down to brush his mouth across my breast the way that he had my lips before kissing me. His lips parted, and the heat of his mouth closed over my breast, drawing it in so that he could trace around my nipple with the tip of his tongue. I gasped, my eyes closing as my head fell back. His hand came up and cupped over the other breast, massaging it as he continued to tenderly suck. Moving to my other breast, he repeated the same attention before touching a kiss to the
middle of my chest and trailing down to my belly. The muscles there were twitching and shivering, and I felt my inner thighs do the same. Graham kissed down until he reached my pants and then took them, pulling them away from my hips. I squirmed against the bed, now wearing nothing but my panties, and Graham lifted his face so that he was looking into mine again.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.
"No," I said, shaking my head.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Do you want me to touch you?"
"Yes."
Graham's fingertip traced along the lace edge of my panties from one hip bone to the other and back before dipping beneath the flimsy material to tug them down. He pushed back on his knees and gazed down at me, letting out a long sigh.
"You are incredible," he said.
His voice was low and velvety and in that moment, I felt exquisite. He rested his hand to my belly and then ran it down until it settled just above my center. He used his other hand to guide my thighs apart and I felt the cool air of the room touch my core. I was already hot and wet, and my body was tingling in a way that I had never experienced. I craved something, but I didn't know what. Finally, Graham drew one finger down through my folds and I felt a breathtaking sensation roll through me. I cried out, arching into the touch. He ran his finger all the way down to my opening and then back up, settling onto the sensitive pearl of flesh at my peak and making slow circles. I could feel my body opening, the rush of warmth between my thighs increasing the more that he touched me. His other hand ran down the inside of my thigh.
"I want you to focus on everything that you are feeling," he said. "Enjoy it. Learn what your body likes."
I nodded my consent to his command and relaxed into the mattress, sliding down slightly so that I could rest my head on the pillow. The movement caused my knees to bend, and I felt myself opening even more to his touch. His finger touched my opening and he ran the tip around the edge before dipping it in. He gathered some of my fluids before touching me again, the slick fluid letting his finger glide across me more easily. The sensations were incredible, and I felt like they were building up on top of each other inside of me, gathering and collecting, rushing toward a culmination that I didn't know how to prepare for. Pressure was growing through my belly, hips, and thighs, and I felt myself rolling involuntarily against his hand. The room filled with my gasping cries and suddenly everything within me, all of the sensations, all of the pressure, exploded and I felt my body collapse into a stream of spasms that radiated through every inch of me.
I lay gasping against the pillows and reached up for Graham, I pulled him to me, kissing him deeply, reaching for his trunks. He shook his head and guided my hand away.
"Not tonight," he said. "Your mind is clouded right now. If this is what you want, I need you to have a clear mind and know exactly what's happening."
As my body quieted and cooled, and he settled back onto his bed on the floor, I knew that he was right. This wasn't a decision that I should be taking lightly. I needed to see his face, to taste his kiss, to experience being close to him in the light of day again. Then I could decide if the risk was something I was willing to take.
Chapter Eleven
Graham
"I can't believe we're seriously crashing a wedding," Holly said.
"Don't think of it as crashing it," I said. "I think of it as joining the locals for a holiday season event."
"This is not a holiday season event," she insisted. "This is somebody's wedding."
"Yes, I know. But considering we've been staying at the motel and eating breakfast with the massive extended family of the groom for a few days now, I think that we almost count as guest."
"Rue put you up to this didn't she?"
"I might have mentioned the idea to her and she didn't argue with me," I admitted. "She said that we could just blend in with the rest of the guests and no one would even notice."
"Fantastic. Exactly what every bride wants. Strangers wandering into her wedding at the urging of another of her guests."
"You look beautiful tonight," I said.
Holly looked over at me and gave me a shy smile.
"Really?" she asked.
"Absolutely. That dress is perfect."
"I can't believe Rue convinced the dress shop owner to let me borrow it," she said, looking down at the dark blue velvet gown she wore.
A matching shawl wrapped around her shoulders brought out the color of her eyes and made her skin look even creamier.
"It seems like she might have some pull around here."
"Well, she told me that she grew up in the hollow, then she left and came back."
Her eyes were darting back and forth, and I saw her hands grasping the skirt of her dress as she prepared to jump forward into the stream of family members pouring out of the motel and into waiting wagons. Our plan was to wait until the perfect moment and then infiltrate the group. I figured that by the time anybody noticed that we were there, we'd already be at the wedding and it would be harder for them to make us leave.
"Now," I said, and we leapt forward and casually joined up with a group of chatting relatives.
We walked with them down the pathway that led from the main building of the motel. Most of the wagons had already left and I eyed the remaining ones, mentally calculating how many people fit into each one so that I could make sure that Holly and I ended up in the same one. The guests in front of us piled into the decorated wagons and headed off toward Galloway Farm, where Rue told us that what had been a pumpkin patch and haunted attraction only weeks before had now been transformed into a Christmas destination complete with enchanted light trail and Santa's village. The wedding would be held at the farm with the reception set up in one of the fields. Thinking about it, I wondered if Holly might be overdressed. Even if she was, though, I wouldn't have changed anything. She looked incredible and I wanted to be able to look back at this night and remember her exactly this way.
I was watching as the guests filled the wagons and was starting to worry that we wouldn't fit when I heard a familiar puttering sound approaching. I looked down the access road to see Boom Boom's tractor pulling up. He had strung the wagon with Christmas lights, but by the generator roaring in the corner, I could only assume that he wasn't able to find battery-operated ones that fit his vision. Everyone else climbed into the last of the other wagons and Holly and I waited for Boom Boom to pull up in front of us.
"Good evening," he said. "Rue's been telling me that you might need a clandestine ride to the wedding."
This was clandestine?
"Just on time, as always, Boom Boom," Holly said. She let me help her up into the wagon and I saw her pause. "You look lovely this evening."
I looked around her and saw Cornelius nestled in the hay. He was wearing a new scarf and had a tiny top hat strapped to his head.
"Tell her thank you, Cornelius." Boom Boom looked at Holly. "It was the damndest thing trying to get that hat on him. You'd think that he didn't know how beautiful he was or that he needed to look his best to go to a wedding."
"He's his own man," I said, sitting in the hay and reaching over to pet the turkey.
He warbled at me and I felt that we had officially become friends.
Two hours later Holly and I were walking along a trail through the woods on the farm, surrounded by what felt like millions of lights. They twinkled overhead and in the trees, and occasionally we came to a topiary that had been crafted out of dried vines and wrapped in lights to create illuminated animals tucked into the woods. Holly sighed, and I gave her hand a squeeze where I held it between us.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked.
She glanced over at me, looking slightly surprised as if she didn't realize that I had heard her.
"Christmas," she said. "I was remembering the conversation that you and I had about my Christmas memories from when I was little. I told you that I don't really remember anything good and don't know if I ever believed in S
anta."
"Right."
"Well, I just realized that I do have one good memory. When I was really little, about Charlie's age, I think, there was a doll that I wanted more than anything. She was so beautiful. The toy store in the town where I grew up had her displayed in the front window. I looked at her just about every day starting at the beginning of November. I didn't even mention her to my parents because even then I had realized that there wasn't much point in being hopeful when it came to them. Deep in my heart, though, I had a glimmer of belief in magic. I thought that maybe there was a chance. Other children talked about the amazing things that Santa brought them for Christmas, and I wondered if there was any possibility, even just the glimmer of a chance, that he might be listening to me too. So, I held that doll in my heart and wished that Santa would bring her to me."
"And?"
"And on Christmas morning she was sitting under the tree. It was the most incredible moment. I scooped her up and cradled her to me and I don't think that I put her down for the next two years. I'll never forget her. Her name was Mary Beth. She had this wonderful pink box."
"What happened after two years?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You said that you didn't put her down for two years. What happened after that?"
"Oh," she said, sounding slightly deflated. "We moved again. I got home from school one day and everything was in boxes. When we got to the new house and unpacked, Mary Beth was gone. I never found her."
I released Holly's hand and wrapped my arm around her, pulling her close to me.
"Should we make an appearance at the reception?" I asked.
"I don't think wedding crashers are obligated to make appearances," she said.
I smiled, and we made our way toward the field where an enormous tent rose into the sky and a dance floor had been set up outside. Heaters were positioned around the perimeter, making it warm enough that guests were filling the space and celebrating. The bride and groom were in the center, wrapped in each other's arms and dancing far slower than the music dictated, lost in each other. I guided Holly out onto the floor and twirled her into my arms, catching her close to me and lowering my lips to hers for a kiss.