The Traveling Woman

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  The guys teased me, saying that I’d be making them stand in the corner. I was tempted.

  With Spring in the air, our hope felt fresh. The other carnies gradually drifted away, some visiting friends and families before the new season began, others just needing to keep moving.

  It was quieter at the cabin now, and their departure gave us more privacy which was something I valued. Because Kes’s bed was in our living room/kitchen/meeting place, we’d had very little alone time and I missed it.

  I treasured the moment when everyone had gone to their RVs, trailers or tents. Carefully, I crawled into bed with him, soothed to feel his smooth skin against mine.

  His arms wrapped around my shoulders and his fingers trailed down my back as he nuzzled my neck. When his hands came to a rest on my waist, he sighed heavily.

  “I can’t wait to get out of this fucking bed.”

  “I know. Just one more week.”

  “Do you think . . . ?”

  I shook my head quickly, my hair brushing across his chest.

  “Honestly, Kes, I try not to.”

  He was silent for a moment.

  “I keep having a dream that I’m running. I’m fucking terrified, but not of what’s behind me. I’m running through a field, like the one in Fairmont that had corn stubble all around, and I can hear it rasping against my jeans. And then I look down . . . and I don’t have any legs. They’re just gone.”

  My hand closed convulsively over his chest, as if I was trying to grip his heart. I knew he’d been having bad dreams, but he’d always just brushed them off before.

  “But when I wake up, I feel like I could stand—my legs still work. And then I think about that piece of bone sticking into my spinal cord and wonder if it’s going to seal the deal.” His hands began moving along my back again. “If I end up in a wheelchair . . .”

  “Please don’t say any more,” I begged. “I don’t want to think about ‘what if’! I can’t stand it!”

  Kes nodded, but he looked like he was holding onto a much bigger gesture.

  His hands began moving again, stroking up and down my body.

  “I want to make love to you,” he whispered. “I want to feel you, baby.”

  “Kes, we can’t! It’s too dangerous. In a week, we’ll know . . . one more week.”

  “I need you now,” he growled, his voice raw.

  My God, I wanted to say yes. My body craved his, mourned the absence, and thirsted to feel him moving inside me.

  I pulled away from him and sat up.

  “No.”

  He rubbed the heels of his hands across his face and when he looked at me, his eyes flashed with anger and hurt.

  Abruptly, he slid his hands down my body and gripped my hip, pulling me toward him.

  “Let me touch you,” he ground out. “I’ve gotta feel you, baby. I’ve gotta taste you. We can do that.”

  “But you can’t risk . . .”

  He interrupted. “I can’t fuck you, I know. But I can get you off. I can touch you, taste you.”

  “You’ll get turned on,” I said flatly. “You want to spend half the night hard?”

  A small grin curved his lips upward.

  “It would be worth it. Anyway, I’m already hard just thinking about it.”

  I never could resist him.

  His eyes were black with desire as moonlight cast shadows across the white sheets. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and shimmied out of my panties.

  “Last chance to change your mind,” I whispered as Kes licked his lips.

  He reached up to stroke and knead my breasts, but I had to lean forward, bracing my hands on either side of his head so his warm, wet mouth could reach more of me.

  Desire slithered across my skin as his tongue darted between my breasts then wound around my nipples, tasting, tantalizing, nipping, biting. Those soft, sensuous lips; that dirty mouth whispering words I longed to hear.

  “The things I want to do to you, baby. I keep seeing them in my head. Sometimes when I’m lying here, I can almost feel it . . . I can almost feel myself fucking you. You’re so hot and wet around me, coming on my hand, on my dick, your tight little ass squeezing around me.”

  I shivered. He’d never said anything like that to me before, and his words took me to a place I wasn’t sure I wanted to go. But my whole life, where Kes led, I’d always followed.

  “Come on my face, Aimee. Ride my tongue, baby. I need you. Fuck, I need you.”

  He pulled my hips up roughly, until I was squatting over his face. Then his tongue pushed inside, his lips sucking, his teeth biting as my thighs trembled.

  A groan of want and desire rumbled up from his chest and the vibration had me writhing above him. So long, it had been so long since I’d felt him like this.

  My arms trembled and I broke out in sweat as I came hard, crumbling around him, ruined.

  Emotion held in too long burst out of me, and tears fueled by fear and more by hope streamed from my eyes.

  Shakily, I slid down the bed until I could rest against his shoulder, those stupid, useless tears, leaving salty tracks on his skin.

  He stroked my hair and even as he tasted me on his lips, I tasted the lies we told each other.

  “It’ll be okay,” he said.

  “I know.”

  All the talk now was of the Spring circuit. Several of the bigger bookings for Hawkins’ Daredevils had cancelled since Kes was the star attraction and he wasn’t able to perform. The atmosphere could get a little tense at times when Tucker and Zef started going at it. Zach did his best to calm things down, but we were all aware that it was going to be a lean year. And we still had no idea how mobile Kes was going to be.

  He was due back at the hospital for another MRI, over two-and-a-half months into his forced bed rest. We were hopeful, but living without certainty was wearing for all of us.

  With the guys and Kes busy planning, I became closer to Luke.

  He was quieter these days, and seemed a little lost. I often found him outside by himself playing his guitar. I wondered if things weren’t going well between him and Zach.

  I didn’t want to come off like a den mother, but I wondered if he needed a friend.

  I left the guys bickering in the kitchen, and took out two coffees and a plate of cookies that I’d made. Bo followed me—or maybe he followed the plate of cookies, I wasn’t sure.

  Luke was sitting on a chair in front of Zach’s RV, strumming a tune I didn’t recognize.

  “Hey, I thought you might like one of my triple chocolate chip specials before those greedy guts eat them all. Or before Bo makes a pig of himself.”

  Bo bared his teeth in a huge smile, before snatching a cookie and running off shrieking happily.

  Luke smiled, laid his guitar down on the scrubby grass, and took the cup of coffee and a cookie.

  “Thanks.”

  We sipped our drinks in silence, listening to raised voices and then laughter coming from the kitchen.

  “So, you’ll be going on the road again soon?”

  Luke looked down. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Are you having second thoughts?”

  He side-eyed me before replying. “Maybe. Yeah.”

  I was silent for a moment.

  “It’s been a stressful couple of months. It won’t always be like this. Zach will be different when he’s on the road again and Kes is . . . better.”

  Luke sighed.

  “I’ll never come first with him—it’ll always be Kestrel. You don’t know what that’s like!”

  I gave him a thin smile.

  “You think I don’t know? Kes loves the carnival life. He loves living freely. Going where he wants, doing what he loves. He loves the crowd and entertaining. He tried to be with me, in my world, but he couldn’t do it. It made him miserable. So I had to choose: my nice, safe life . . . or Kes. In some ways I’ll always come second to the carnival, Luke.”

  He stared at me, considering what I’d said.

  “It’
s how Kes has grown up. I couldn’t ask him to be something he’s not. Zach really cares about you.”

  Luke nodded slowly.

  “Yeah, he does. But he’s in love with Kestrel.”

  I had no answer for that.

  We stared out toward the ocean, both wondering what the future would bring.

  The ambulance trundled down the dirt road and our small welcoming committee stood at the front waiting.

  The paramedics climbed out, looking around warily.

  “Hi,” I said, walking toward them.

  “Shit! They weren’t kidding!” the shorter one whispered as he stared, his eyes wide and wondering.

  “Oh, excuse me, ma’am,” said the other. “Our colleagues told us that y’all had circus animals here. We thought they were joking. But, um, I guess not,” and he pointed at me.

  I had to laugh—I’d completely forgotten that Bo was clinging to my neck, as usual.

  “It’s okay,” I deadpanned. “We keep the lions around the back.”

  They smiled weakly, uncertain whether or not I was joking. Behind me, I heard Kes laughing.

  I handed Bo to Ollo, and watched while Kes was carefully loaded into the ambulance. He hated this part. Being handled by strangers could make him grouchy.

  I was traveling with Kes in the ambulance to the hospital where the MRI was taking place, and Zach was driving. We weren’t sure how long we’d be staying in Sacramento; we weren’t sure about anything.

  But because it was a five hour journey, Dr. Wrobel had insisted that Kes stay at least one night in hospital after his scan. Kes wasn’t happy about that, but I wasn’t going to argue with doctor’s orders. I told Kes he’d have to suck it up, and Zach and I had reserved a room at a motel for the night.

  Once Kes was situated, I hoped that he might sleep during the drive to Sacramento, but he was too keyed up. I was trying to stay calm, hoping, believing, praying for good news.

  The signs were positive, but I wanted to know once and for all. The long weeks of waiting had been hard to bear.

  Kes held out his hand and I leaned over so I could wind my fingers through his.

  He studied my hand: my life line, my love line.

  “Whatever happens,” he said slowly, “if I end up in a wheelchair . . .”

  “You won’t, Kes.”

  He smiled and stroked his long fingers over my wrist as the pulse jumped unsteadily.

  “If I do, I want you to know . . . I don’t regret any of it.”

  I stared at him in astonishment.

  “Well, lying in a fucking bed sucks,” he admitted with a small smile, “but I see you Aimee Andersen—I see who you are. These last 10 weeks I’ve watched you and listened to you and learned from you—and you’re so fucking amazing. You’re so strong and you’re so fucking good, and I am one lucky bastard to have you in my life. From the first day I met you, when you were this little ball of excitement, there hasn’t been a day when I haven’t thought of you. Even when I thought I’d never see you again, I never stopped thinking about you. So if I end up in a wheelchair, I want you to know that I’ll still be the luckiest man alive.”

  I had no words, but when tears spilled down my cheeks, Kes tightened his fingers around my hand and pressed it to his lips.

  When we reached the hospital, Kes was whisked away to be prepped for the scan. Zach was already waiting for me outside the radiology department, but a familiar blonde head caught my attention.

  “Hey, Aimee!”

  She looked nervous, her hands twisting together anxiously.

  “Hi, TC. I didn’t know you were going to be here today.”

  “Uh, well, Dad thought . . . we didn’t know . . . he wanted to be here, but he thought maybe Kes wouldn’t, um, you know . . . ?”

  Her rambling ground to a halt. I felt bad that she looked so anxious, guilty even. It wasn’t her fault that her father was a lousy cheat.

  She smiled quickly at Zach, then questioningly back at me.

  “Oh, I forgot you two hadn’t met. TC, this is Zach, Kes’s friend and manager; Zach, this is Tera Chastain Hawkins—Kes’s sister.”

  Zach’s eyes widened briefly in surprise, but then he shook her hand.

  TC blushed as Zach let go, and I hoped like hell she wasn’t going to have a crush on him; that was a complication none of us needed.

  We waited outside as Kes’s MRI took place. I knew that Dr. Wrobel had arrived, but we hadn’t seen him yet.

  After an hour, Kes was wheeled out and put into a room. He was tired and hungry and clearly on edge, but as soon as he saw us, he forced a smile.

  “Hey, baby,” he said quietly. “They tell you anything yet?”

  “Not yet. TC’s here.”

  She came and stood next to him awkwardly, before leaning down and kissing his cheek quickly.

  “I wanted to come up to Arcata to see you,” she burbled, the words tumbling out. “But I didn’t know if I should, so . . .” She laughed uncomfortably.

  Kes glanced at me before he answered her.

  “Look, TC, it’s fucking weird, but you’re still my sister. You’ll always be welcome.”

  She sniffed a couple of times and gave him a weak smile.

  “Really? I wasn’t sure if you were just being nice to me before.”

  Kes laughed. “I’m never just nice. Aimee will tell you that.”

  I raised my eyebrows as TC gave me a worried look.

  “He can be an asshole,” I agreed as Zach laughed, “but if Kes says you’re welcome, then he means it.”

  We were interrupted when Dr. Wrobel walked into the room. His face was neutral, and fear crept like frost across my skin. I reached for Kes’s hand and he gripped mine tightly.

  “Well, Mr. Hawkins, this is looking very positive,” the doctor said. “The bone fragments have coalesced nicely, and we have viable cohesion of the vertebra.”

  We all looked at each other and Dr. Wrobel gave an embarrassed cough.

  “There has, of course, been some contracture of the soft tissue, which will result in weakness and . . .”

  “Fuck’s sake, doc!” Kes yelled, making us all jump.

  Dr. Wrobel’s lips twitched. “I think we should try to sit you up,” he said.

  My stomach lurched and I had to grab onto Zach.

  Kes blinked a couple of times, but didn’t speak.

  Dr. Wrobel moved to the end of Kes’s bed and pressed the button that would raise Kes into a sitting position.

  My nails dug into Zach’s arm, but no one spoke as the bed’s mechanism whirred softly.

  Ten seconds later, Kes was sitting upright for the first time in almost three months.

  He was frowning.

  “How do you feel?” Dr. Wrobel asked gently.

  “Dizzy,” Kes said. “And it fucking hurts.” Then he looked up at me and smiled his beautiful smile.

  I stumbled forward and threw my arms around his neck, neither crying nor breathing, because my body didn’t know how to respond.

  “Breathe, baby,” Kes said softly, his breath whispering across my neck.

  I gulped in air, hiccupping with excitement and tangled emotions.

  “This will feel very peculiar, Mr. Hawkins,” said Dr. Wrobel. “Your internal organs have rearranged themselves over the last three months. It will take a while for them to realign. Your Physical Therapist has given me a very positive report of the progress you’ve made during over the last three months, so . . . perhaps you would like to try and stand.”

  Kes swallowed, and I could see a bead of sweat break out at his hairline.

  “Okay,” he croaked.

  Dr. Wrobel eased me away from Kes, and held out his hands to him.

  Kes winced as he twisted his legs to the side, then gripped onto Dr. Wrobel’s forearms.

  He took a deep breath as I held mine.

  I could barely look, yet my eyes were riveted on Kes. Every hope, every dream pinned to that moment.

  His muscles trembled as his bare feet tou
ched the cool tiles of the hospital floor. He muttered something I couldn’t hear, his forehead creased in concentration.

  And then . . . he simply stood up.

  I gasped, and Zach gripped me harder. TC clapped her hands together.

  The tightness left Kes’s face, although I could see that his knuckles were white from holding onto Dr. Wrobel. His legs shook and his eyes watered.

  “Kes! Say something!”

  He turned his head toward me slowly, his eyes shining, glinting with tears.

  “Fuck me, that floor’s cold!”

  Zach burst out laughing and soon we were crying hysterically. Kes grinned at all of us, a beacon of hope burning through him.

  “Well done, Kestrel,” said Dr. Wrobel. “Well done.”

  And I swore he had tears in his eyes, too.

  We stayed three nights in Sacramento. That first evening, I spent hours on the phone telling everyone the good news.

  Kes had to have an intensive evaluation and physical therapy program planned for him. Although he’d kept himself as fit as possible, there was muscle wastage in key areas of his spine and he was at risk of osteoporosis from lack of usage. If he fell or hit himself, he could suffer another fracture. It would be months before he could be considered recovered.

  Recovered.

  That was the word they used. It made me cry. Although, to be fair, everything was making me cry. Three months of repressed emotions had me in full meltdown. Kes rolled his eyes, but I knew he understood.

  TC passed on a message of best wishes from their father, but Kes greeted the news stonily. Con and Hilde came to visit, Con handsome in his uniform, Hilde cool and beautiful. I could tell that TC was a little intimidated by both of them, even though they were kind to her.

  But the day that we were looking forward to the most was the day Kes came home for good.

  He swore like a drunken sailor when Dr. Wrobel insisted that he travel by ambulance lying down. It was the sensible thing to do, because sitting for any length of time was more painful than standing or lying down. But when had the words ‘sensible’ and ‘Kes’ ever been used in the same sentence?

  I cleared everyone out of his room as he lowered himself into his wheelchair, too stubborn to admit that he was exhausted and that it hurt to stand anymore.