Against the Wind

by Gwynne Forster

  “Don’t. Please don’t.”

  He started toward her then, and from his scowl, it wouldn’t have surprised her if he shook her. “I’m not asking your permission. Julia and Cal have been like parents to me, and if you think they can’t figure me out in a flat minute, you’re fooling yourself. They’ve had over a quarter century of practice. Make up your mind to accept it. If you were going to be ashamed of having made love with me, you shouldn’t have done it.”

  She pulled the bedspread all the way up to her shoulders. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. And he doesn’t go around bullying women, either.” She’d gotten it out, but if it sounded weak, that was because her heart wasn’t in it. Yet if she didn’t participate in the argument, he wouldn’t have a reason to stay, and she didn’t want him to leave.

  “I told you. I’m a gentleman when it suits me. I won’t have my household turned inside out because you won’t accept the fact that you’re a grown woman entitled to make love with an unattached man without anybody’s permission except his. And another thing: you’re not sweeping me under any carpet. No woman has ever tried it, and if you attempt it, I promise you faithfully that you will regret it.”

  He had reached the bed and was leaning over her, a scowl marring his handsome face. She scrambled quickly to the other side of the bed.

  “Don’t come near me. D—don’t you touch me, Jordan.”

  “Afraid I’ll see through that curtain you’ve thrown up? Afraid I’ll show you that all I have to do is touch you and you’ll melt in my arms? You’re mine, Leslie. Mine! Just like I’m yours. And don’t get any notions to the contrary. I didn’t get where I am by lying down belly up and letting life screw me. So you level with me right now. If you plan to continue this farce, just say so and you’ll be free of me. Permanently!”

  He was making it easy for her. She looked at him and saw that his scowl had become something akin to naked pain. Impulsively, she reached toward him. But she knew that he wouldn’t welcome such a gesture and let her hand fall weakly to the bed.

  “You don’t understand—”

  He cut her off. “Don’t I? I…Look…” He turned as if to leave.

  She had to maintain some contact, to detain him, and she didn’t stop to figure out how best to do it. “Jordan, please listen to me. It’s not your reputation that’s at stake. Or your independence. Or your self-respect that’s—” He jumped across the bed and grabbed her, as furious as she’d ever seen him

  “What do you mean by that? Are you telling me that I’ve compromised you? Are you saying that having me inside your body damaged your self-respect? Is your memory so short that you’ve forgotten how you went wild beneath me? How you lit up like a ball of fire? Is that what happened to your self-respect? Damn you, woman. Damn you! You give me a taste of paradise, and then you curse me for accepting it.”

  He leaned over her, his elbows on either side of her, trapping her. But she didn’t feel trapped. What she felt was the heat from his nearness spreading through her, reminding her of what his body could do to her, how it could make her feel. Bathing her lips with her tongue, she raised desire-glazed eyes to him, vaguely groping for words that would deny his charge. She knew he saw her fire and that he recognized it for what it was—her need to have him locked inside of her.

  “Oh, Leslie, baby, how can you be such a fool?” He bent to her mouth and when he touched her, she met him with lips parted and hungry. Already out of control, she reached for his belt as his hands dragged her pajama top away from her simmering body and claimed her turgid nipples. He raised his hips when she tugged his jeans out of the way. And then she found that already tumescent, sweet instrument of rapture and began caressing him lovingly and sending him to the edge. Her hands were magic on him, intuitively drawing fire with each knowing stroke. He had to stop her. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t last another second. But he didn’t want to stop her. He wanted to let her take him all the way, but that kind of selfishness wasn’t in his makeup. He was a giver. He pulled himself together and gently moved her hand.

  Her shy glance reminded him that she was still a novice in the ways of loving. “Didn’t you like that?”

  “I loved it, sweetheart, but you were bringing me to the point of no return, and I want us to reach that together.” He removed her pajama bottoms, his shoes and the remainder of his clothes, got up and locked the door. She gazed hungrily at him as he walked back to her in that well-lighted room, and let the sheet drop to her naked waist as she raised her arms. He trembled with need, and when she lay back and opened her arms to him, he’d never loved her more. Caught up in the maelstrom of their desire, he stumbled to the bed and took her to him.

  Whether they’d wanted to give tenderness and sweetness along with their passion was no longer an option. They had been starved for each other, their needs for sharing themselves ignored: his rejected, hers denied. Wanting, needing and demanding fulfillment, they went at each other as if only they existed, as if it were to be the last time. Her body shook, out of control, as it lifted itself to him, bobbing and weaving, jerking and swaying. She grabbed his buttocks and forced him to stop holding back on her account. To let himself go. She willed him to release himself to her, demanded all of him. He opened up, and their tumultuous coupling stunned them, a thing out of time—untamed and frenzied like wild waves crashing against an empty sound, boisterous thunder announcing a coming storm. He commanded her surrender, and she gave him everything. He covered her lips with his own and silenced her screams as the voluptuous pumping began. As they took. As they gave. And as they pushed each other over the edge until, at the apex of it, they touched the sun.

  When he squeezed her to him and pressed soft kisses to her face, she knew she no longer belonged to herself, but to him. Then and always.

  They hadn’t spoken. Stunned by the awesome power of his release, he lay above her holding her, wondering if he should simply get up and walk away. Never had he been so completely at the mercy of his feelings. If there had been an immediately impending disaster, no matter how ominous, he wouldn’t have been able to save himself or her. He had been immersed in her, totally besotted. He wasn’t sure he relished losing himself so completely, even in the woman he loved. She had dragged him out of himself, shown him a man he’d never known. She had rocked him, shaken him up, and he would never be whole without her.

  Lying in Jordan’s arms, Leslie, too, was unstrung. She loved him. God knew she did. But when she’d come tumbling down from that swirling cloud that he’d put her on, she had been scared senseless. She wouldn’t take anything for the experience. But he’d had her on a rack, feeding her tantalizing little morsels of ecstasy, while she’d shamelessly begged him for more. She swallowed the accumulating evidence that, so soon after he’d given her all a woman could desire in a lover, she wanted him again. Embarrassed and too shy to ask for what she wanted, she slid out of his arms and went into her bathroom, hoping to get herself under control. She walked back into the room to find Jordan sitting up in the bed. He didn’t wait for her to speak. “What’s wrong, Leslie? Having trouble coping with what just happened?”

  She knew that he was covering his flank, and she didn’t blame him. But she was too weary, too drained to care about face-saving. She shook her head slowly, indicating the muddled state of her thoughts.

  “I feel as if I’ve been poleaxed. And I feel like I’ve just left another world. Jordan, I want to run like the devil, but I don’t want to leave you. And if I don’t leave you, well…” She let her hands drop to her sides in a gesture of frustration.

  Her eyes were on him as he looked to the distance, seemingly seeing what wasn’t there. He spoke softly, like a man who’d been humbled.

  “It was like being in the tail of a tornado. And it was like having the gates of heaven open wide and let me in. I may never recover from it. I certainly won’t forget it. What are we going to do about it? Are you saying that you want out?”

  “No. I don’t think I could handle that. But Jorda
n, I don’t feel right. I work for you and live in your home. I can’t have an affair with you, and unless I move out, I’m not sure how that can be avoided.”

  “I haven’t asked you to have a affair with me, Leslie. I don’t want that with you. And I don’t want you working for me as a cook or housekeeper, either. I want you to trust me enough to stop worrying about your independence. Enough to stay here, write your thesis and commute to the university for consultations and exams. If you insist on working, then be my business manager, my partner. Stop putting up barriers between us.” He looked at her now and saw her hope, her fear, her anxiety. It was risky, but he had to ask it.

  “Why wouldn’t you give me Faron Walker’s name? You knew he was the one stalking you. Why?”

  “I wanted to tell you. But he had called me several times before I came here and threatened me, and then he’d say that if I ever told anyone and he found out about it, he’d kill me.”

  “I wish you’d told me. Never mind. That’s behind us now. He has twenty years to think about it. Come over here, Leslie.” She moved closer and he took her hand in his.

  “Sweetheart, I’m thirty-six years old, and my life still isn’t on track. I’ve got everything that I want and need, except my woman and the children I want with her. Marry me. Be my partner and the mother of my children. Build a life with me, Leslie. If you don’t like this house, we’ll build another one and give this one to Julia. I love you.” He cupped her chin. “Look at me, baby. Will you have me for your husband and the father of your children?”

  She stared at him. “Marry you? I…I want to, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I…don’t know if I can handle the pressure, the animosity from total strangers. I’m honored that you want to marry me, but…I…I have to get used to this.”

  He got up. “All right. I’ll give you a couple of days to get used to it, but Christmas Eve, I want to tell your Uncle Franklin and everybody else that I want to marry you. While you’re thinking, Leslie, ask yourself what’s more important to you, society’s blessings or living with me as my wife.”

  She reached toward him, involuntarily, he thought, but let her hand drop to her side without touching him. “What about children? Have you thought about them?”

  He walked back to her, ready to knock down any barrier that she erected. “I’ll take as many as you’ll give me. I want to be a father. You understand? I want a family.”

  She nodded in an absentminded kind of way, and he looked at her for a long time, giving her an opportunity to react. When she said nothing, he tipped an imaginary hat. “See you at supper.”

  * * *

  Jordan had told her that he didn’t want her to cook or clean, but she couldn’t allow Julia to handle the work alone, especially at Christmastime. She stood at the kitchen sink polishing silver and marveling that, at four-thirty in the afternoon, night had already fallen. A splash of rain hit the windowpane and a gasp escaped Julia, who worked nearby.

  Leslie looked at Julia and didn’t like the slump of her shoulders, not for a woman who prided herself in her figure and carriage. “What is it? Julia, what’s the matter?”

  Julia shook her head and wiped moisture from her cheek with the back of her hand. “Don’t you think it’s unusual that Cal’s been out there since one o’clock in this weather? I can’t call him, ‘cause he forgot his cell phone. He’s not out there in the rain because he wants to be.”

  Leslie draped an arm around Julia’s shoulder. “I thought you were quiet because I’d displeased you in some way.”

  “No. I’ve just been…waiting to hear his footsteps on the porch.”

  “If you think something’s wrong, shouldn’t you tell Jordan?”

  “I didn’t want to upset him, but—”

  “Tell me what?” Jordan asked as he entered the kitchen. Leslie’s answer had barely passed her lips before he’d headed for the hall closet and his coat and hat.

  “I’m going with you,” Julia said, following close behind him.

  When he saw that she wouldn’t be discouraged, he gave in. “In that case, I’ll take the pickup.”

  He helped Julia with her coat, pressed a kiss to Leslie’s cheek, and left holding Julia’s hand. Leslie telephoned Jack at the men’s quarters and alerted him that Jordan might need assistance, put the silver away and got busy preparing supper. Three-quarters of an hour later, the phone rang.

  “This is Jordan. We’re taking Cal to the hospital. His horse cracked his leg and fell, and Cal couldn’t extricate himself. He’s hurt, but I don’t think it’s too serious. Call you when I have more to tell.”

  It was almost midnight when she got Clifford to sleep. He’d eaten very little supper and had cried intermittently throughout the evening. Exhausted, she showered and got ready for bed.

  “Where are you?” she asked when Jordan finally called.

  “At Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. He’s got three broken ribs and a sprained ankle. Go on to bed; we probably won’t get back for another two hours. Stay sweet.”

  * * *

  Leslie walked into the kitchen the next morning and stopped. If she’d been poleaxed, she wouldn’t have been more immobile. She hardly recognized the woman before her. Julia couldn’t have slept one minute the previous night.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Leslie. I make a fuss about always looking good. Being perfect. And I know I look a mess, because I haven’t washed my face since yesterday. But I don’t care. What’s important is my Cal. I like to look good for him, but it’s more than that. If I lost him,” she spoke with difficulty. “I…I wouldn’t want to live. He’s my life. When we found him out there on that soggy ground trying to drag himself back to me, do you think I thought about the mascara dripping into my eyes and down my cheeks? When I saw him half under that horse, I nearly died. Later maybe I’ll fix myself up, but right now he needs me to look after him.”

  She put some alcohol and water in a basin. “If you’ve got a man who loves you like my Cal loves me, you’ve got the whole world. I’ve always known he doesn’t care if my hair is stringy and my face looks as if somebody walked in it. He loves me, and I know it. It’s a blessing from God, and that’s the way I treat it. Don’t be foolish and let it slip through your fingers.”

  Leslie prepared the breakfast, careful to cook the grits exactly as Cal liked them. She took a breakfast tray to him and Julia. It distressed her to see the big man propped up in bed and swathed in bandages.

  “Don’t look so sad,” he told her. “I’m in this bed because my wife wants to look after me. I’ll be out of here Christmas Eve morning. If I’m not, we may have to take Clifford to the hospital.”

  Julia raised an eyebrow as though to gainsay his words. “Humph. That’s not the way I heard it. The doctor said you’re to stay in bed the next two days.”

  He held up a hand. “Okay. Okay. I have no aversion to your tender, loving care. With you to fuss over me and Leslie to feed me, maybe I ought to thank my poor old horse.”

  Leslie left them, pondering the love that she could feel flowing between them, a love that had bound them for over twenty-five years.

  She needed to be away from all of them—Jordan, the Bakers and Clifford. She had to look at herself without blinds. Without ego. Jordan would stand by her, no matter what, but she wanted to be able to fight her own battles. Her chest nearly burst with pride. He loved her and wanted her for his wife. Would she care if somebody else didn’t like the idea?

  When she’d told Berle, her friend had vacillated, skirting the issue with the comment, “Well, if he’s the one that rings your bell…Still, maybe you ought to look around and be sure.”

  She’d replied that, ninety years hence, she would still want Jordan Saber, and Berle had backed off. They would remain friends, but Leslie knew that their conversations wouldn’t include Jordan. She buttoned her coat collar. Colder air was expected from the northeast that evening, and the change was already noticeable. She looked up at the dark cloud
s, tightened her scarf to ward off the damp cold and wondered if she’d soon see the first snow of the season. She peeped into the stable, saw no one. At least she could be alone and warm there. She sat on a bench with her back to the window and tried to imagine how she would have felt had it been Jordan rather than Cal who’d gotten trapped beneath his horse.

  She could imagine Julia’s alarm when she found her husband that way. Julia. Had she at last seen the real Julia? Not the femme fatale who had seemed to focus on outward appearances and to regard men as sources of ego enhancement. The Julia who’d braved cold, windblown sleet to find her man, who’d spent the night nurturing and caring for him with no regard for her soggy hair and mascara-mottled face and disheveled clothing. The woman who had discarded the outward trappings of femininity that she so staunchly touted, who had forgotten herself and her vanity and been there for her man when he needed her. That woman explained the Julia who could rise above her bias to embrace those for whom she cared. That woman who knew the meaning of love. Did Julia love Cal more deeply than she loved Jordan? She didn’t think it possible. Julia’s words had shaken her to the depths of her being, and still they droned in her ears. Don’t be foolish and let it slip through your fingers. If Jordan needed her, and she wasn’t there…

  She’d sat on the wrought-iron bench in the encroaching darkness for more than an hour when the door opened. “What’re you doing sitting in here by yourself?”

  She didn’t want company, not Ossie’s or anyone else’s, for she still hadn’t solved her quandary. “Hi, Ossie. It seemed a good place to sit and deal with…with things.”

  “You must have some heavy-duty thinking to do. Mind if I sit down for a minute.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

  “It gets dark early these days, so you want to be careful about timing your moments of solitude out here in the stable. How’re things with you and Jordan? He seemed pretty preoccupied all day.”