Time Tantrums

by Ginger Simpson

  Is this ever going to end? Am I really Mariah, and David is just a figment of my imagination?

  Guilt tugged at her heart.

  Why did I let Frank kiss me? Why did I want him to kiss me?

  She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and waited to see if he knocked. Instead, the door across the hall opened then closed. Taylor took a deep breath, got up and lit the lamp. How she missed flipping a switch. She moved to the window and pushed the curtain aside. Only the sun’s tip was visible, and shadows of the barn stretched across the yard. Through the burlap covering the bunkhouse window across the way, Taylor watched shadows pass.

  Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten in hours. She tiptoed to the door and opened it enough to peer out. Frank’s door remained closed so she sneaked down the stairs and, into the kitchen.

  In the pantry, she smeared butters over a slice of bread and poured herself a glass of milk. She took a drink and shuddered. “It tastes horrible when it’s warm,” she muttered. “How in hell does anyone stand this stuff?”

  She poured it back into the pitcher and popped the last bite of bread into her mouth.

  Taylor stole back up stairs, reaching the top just as Frank opened his door. The firm set of his jaw hinted he was still annoyed. “Oh, you’re awake.” The flat tone of his voice confirmed it.

  Taylor fidgeted beneath his stare. “I got hungry. I went down and had some bread and butter.”

  Barefoot, he walked into the hallway and stood in front of her. His unbuttoned shirt revealed a chest well-muscled and tanned. Her eyes rested on the fur-carpeted area between his nipples, then trailed down the thin line of hair that disappeared beyond his waistband. Taylor’s cheeks burned.

  Stop looking at him like that. He’ll get the wrong idea.

  She feigned a yawn and stretched her arms over her head. “I’m still tired. I think I’ll go back to bed.”

  He stepped into her path. “Wait a minute. We need to talk.”

  “Frank, please. What else is there to say? I can’t explain what’s going on and neither can you. I think I’m crazy.”

  His warm breath pelted her face.

  She tried to go around him, but he grabbed her arm. “You’re not crazy. At least I don’t think so. But I know what you mean. I’m beginning to wonder about my own sanity.” He ran his fingers through his curly, black hair. “Do you have any idea what it’s like for me? I lay in bed across the hall, knowing you’re only a few feet away. My body aches for you, Mariah. I need to hold you.” His beguiling eyes seared her very soul. “Please, just let me hold you. I don’t care what you think your name is.”

  Taylor broke eye contact. Not knowing how to respond, she took a deep breath and willed the right words to come. Her skin burned beneath his fingers and her body grew uncomfortably aware of his closeness. Finally, she looked at him and said, “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to lie and tell you I’m Mariah?”

  Frank let go of her arm and stared at the floor. “No, I don’t want you to lie to me. I just thought...”

  “You thought what?” She knew she shouldn’t ask.

  “I thought if I could hold you in my arms, you might come back to me.”

  Taylor pondered his words—her rationale impaired by needing intimacy. His nearness, his clean male scent, and the stray lock of hair on his forehead all conspired against logic.

  What can it hurt? Maybe something will change. There can’t be anything wrong with just lying in his arms for a while.

  “Okay,” she blurted, before her sense of reason returned. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I think I need to be held.”

  She took his hand, led him into her bedroom and paused to shorten the wick on the lantern.

  Reality crept in. She stood with her back to him, in awkward silence, and stared at the bed. He stood so close. His heat, his inhalations… something snapped inside her.

  What the hell am I doing? Making a big mistake, that’s what.

  The woman inside her argued.

  No, it’s not a mistake. It’s okay. You’re just going to hold each other.

  Frank twirled her around and unfastened two buttons on her dress before she jerked away. “What are you doing?”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to sleep in your dress.”

  Her flesh tingled against the roughness of his hands. She dropped her arms to her sides. “You’re right, I don’t.” Despite her words, her mind made a last-ditch effort.

  Stop, Taylor! Stop it now or...

  He fumbled with the last button. Goose bumps rose on her exposed skin. He tugged the top of her dress down to her waist and inched it past her hips. It fell to the floor and lay in a heap around her feet, leaving her shivering in an old-fashioned chemise. He reached and pulled the quilt back so she could get under the covers.

  Lying on her side, she nervously clutched the quilt to her chest and watched as he removed his shirt. The veins in his well-muscled biceps bulged ever so slightly when he flexed his fingers to unbuckle his pants. Part of her wanted to admire his naked form but guilt made her close her eyes. His buckle clanked against the floor when he dropped his pants. She opened one eye barely enough to see him clad in a knee-length cotton undergarment—not so different from David’s boxer briefs.

  The thought of her husband chilled her. What would he think if he knew? But did he exist? Common sense and intelligence ruled out anything she conjured up in explanation. Right now, she needed passion. She needed to know she was real.

  Frank blew out the light on the table. The bed dipped beneath his weight.

  She shivered, turned over and backed up against him. He draped an arm over her and pulled her close. His skin felt cool next to hers.

  A clear image of David’s face flashed in her mind and she froze. Taylor, what are you thinking? This isn’t right. You should stop!

  But Frank’s breath warmed the back of her neck and his arm tightened around her. “Mariah,” he murmured.

  Taylor was sick and tired of bickering about names. Somehow, at the moment, it didn’t seem important. “Yes,” she answered softly.

  He rolled her over and peered into her eyes. “I need you.”

  Did he see her or his wife lurking in the depths? She wanted to ask, but he snaked an arm beneath her and pulled her into an embrace. After he tucked her hair behind her ear, he warmed her exposed lobe with a breath. “Just let me hold you.”

  Her breath hitched in her throat and her toes curled.

  She forced herself to relax and mold against him. All thoughts of wrongdoing evaporated from her mind. “Yes, please hold me… hold me tight,” she whispered back.

  Frank buried his face in the hollow of her neck. His lips trailed along her collarbone and sent shivers coursing through her. He covered her neck and shoulder with kisses and gently nipped at her flesh.

  She wanted more.

  With a deaf ear turned to her good conscience, she arched her back and offered him access to her bodice. She trembled as his fingers clumsily tugged at the ribbon of her chemise. With it finally untied, he pulled the material off her shoulder and exposed one breast. He gently kneaded her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His breathing grew rapid.

  His teeth captured her hardened nipple and gently tugged. “Oh, yes… yes,” Taylor moaned. His hand moved to free her other breast.

  She wove her fingers through his hair and pulled his head closer. His erection pushed hard against her, and she knew she should stop, but couldn’t. She wrapped a leg around his hip and boldly pushed against his maleness.

  Stop it. It’s going to be too late. Stop it now.

  Suddenly, he rolled her onto her back and rose to his knees above her. She froze in place as he tugged her chemise down around her ankles and finally completely off.

  He paused for a moment. His gaze raked the length of her naked body then locked on her face. “Tell me you don’t want me to stop.” His guttural words were more a plea than a statement.

  “Do
n’t stop,” she heard herself whisper. “Please, don’t stop now.”

  Frank straddled her. She touched his hardened member, ran her hand up and down the length of it. He groaned low in his throat and leaned forward to again suckle her breast. She encouraged his full erection while he explored her innermost part with his fingers. She writhed beneath him, and spread her legs to allow him full access, craving penetration.

  His mouth abandoned her breast and traveled slowly down her body, stopping to lap at her navel with his tongue. When she moaned in ecstasy, he buried his head between her thighs.

  His ministrations drove her to frenzy. She held his head against her crotch, encouraging him to continue his feast. His tongue darted in and out, lapping at her pulsing nub until his sensual expertise sent her over the edge. “Yes, Yes, Yes!”

  Taylor’s hand reached for his manhood and guided it toward the juncture of her thighs. She pressed his member against her pubic hair, now wet from his oral caresses. Whimpering, she arched her back against him and called out his name. “David, oh David…” She stiffened.

  Her faux pas went unnoticed, but her heart filled with remorse. Again, she asked herself why, as she lay limp beneath a man who so dearly loved the woman he believed her to be. Was he right?

  “Mariah, my darling Mariah. Let me love you. Does that feel good? Do you like that?”

  She did. Not only liked but needed to be loved. Regardless of where she belonged, for the moment she was here. She forced thoughts of everything but Frank from her mind. “Yes, oh yes. It feels good... so good, Frank. For tonight, I’ll be your Mariah.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Denver, Colorado—2002

  Mariah had the potatoes and carrots chopped and ready when David returned. He handed her a package wrapped in white paper. She placed it on the counter, opened it and found the most beautiful piece of meat inside. She turned and smiled. “This should cook up very nicely. It’ll take a few hours so I hope you work up an appetite between now and then. I’m going to show you what a good cook can really do.”

  “Oh really?” He raised a brow. “Based on previous experience, I have serious doubts. Up until now you haven’t been at all interested in cooking.”

  “You certainly can’t be talking about me. I’ve always loved to cook and I’m good at it.”

  “I suppose I should be thankful for your newfound culinary interests, but until I sample dinner, I’ll just be thankful we have canned soup in the cupboard.”

  She crossed her arms and scowled. “We won’t be needing that. Just you wait; you’ll sing a different tune when supper is ready.”

  He grinned. “Okay, I’ll go warm up my vocal cords while I watch some TV. Call me when it’s time to eat.”

  Mariah chuckled. “A few days ago, I didn’t even know what a TV was.”

  * * * *

  Mariah gave David’s shoulder a gentle shake. He awoke with a start. “I... I didn’t realize I had dozed off.” He took a deep breath. “What is that tantalizing aroma?”

  “Dinner,” she said smugly and walked back into the kitchen.

  She stood at the counter dishing up the pot roast when arms snaked around her waist and David nuzzled her neck. “Smells wonderful, baby,” he purred.

  Mariah gasped, and quickly turned and pushed him away with her free hand. Holding the carving knife in the other, she glared at him.

  David held both hands up in the air. “Whoa! I’m sorry. It’s a habit. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  She lowered the knife and sighed. “I don’t feel offended. You startled me. I know you believe I’m Taylor, but in my mind, I’m not! You’re not Frank and he’s the only man who can touch me in such a personal way.”

  David nodded. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again—at least until you’re ready.”

  “And, what makes you think I’ll ever be ready?” She glared at him, unable to fathom he still didn’t believe her.

  “Oh, c’mon, Taylor. Eventually, you’re bound to remember who you are. I need to give you time and I’m willing to do that. So don’t worry about me forcing myself on you.”

  Mariah took a deep breath. “Thank you. I truly hope that some of this starts to make sense very soon. But you may well be the one in for a shock.”

  David plucked a piece of meat from the plate and tasted it. He licked his fingers and cast a boyish grin. “Well, I never would have gotten so personal if you hadn’t fixed such a delicious roast.”

  His remark lightened her mood.

  * * * *

  David tossed his napkin on his empty plate, leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “That was delicious.”

  Mariah stood to clear the table. “And you said I couldn’t cook.”

  “Before the accident, believe me, you couldn’t... or wouldn’t. Actually, I’m not sure which.”

  “Like I said, I’ve always liked to cook,” she called over her shoulder as she carried dirty dishes to the sink. “My mother taught me at a very early age. Frank thinks I’m the best cook around.”

  “Frank again! Always Frank!” David’s voice boomed.

  Mariah shuddered at his sudden change of attitude, but his tone of voice mellowed as he walked into the kitchen. “Well, whoever he is, I have to agree with him. You are a great cook.”

  She turned on the water to fill the sink.

  David came over, turned off the tap and picked up the dirty dishes. “Here, let’s put these in the dishwasher.”

  “Dishwasher?” She shrugged her shoulders.

  He lowered the front of the machine, pulled out a rack and placed the dishes, silverware and dirty pot in slots and pushed them all inside. From the door beneath the basin, he removed a box of powder which he poured into a receptacle in the door. He put the machine back together and turned a dial.

  The immediate whirring sound surprised her. “This washes the dishes?”

  Curious as to what went on inside, she bent and put her ear to the dishwasher door. She straightened and asked, “What happens if I open it?”

  David grinned. “Honey, I can’t believe how clueless you’ve become about so many things. Sometimes it’s really annoying and sometimes it’s just downright cute.”

  She ignored his remark. “So, what will happen?”

  “Okay, Miss Curious. It will stop until you close it again.” David wandered into the living room leaving her to ponder yet another miracle.

  “My heaven’s, what will they think of next? Cars, televisions, dishwashers...” She hung the dishtowel on the sink and followed him. A resounding ‘thunk’ drew her attention back to the kitchen. She took a step backwards and glanced from side to side, but saw nothing. “David,” she called out, “I heard a very loud noise in here. It sounded like something falling.”

  He peeked around the bathroom door. “Check the freezer. I’m sure it’s only the icemaker.”

  Mariah drew back, her mouth agape. “Icemaker?” she mumbled. “I don’t even want to know.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Colorado Territory—1872

  Taylor opened her eyes. Recollections of last night flooded her mind. She remained perfectly still and cast a sidelong glance to see if Frank still lay beside her. The bed was empty. She rolled over and pulled the extra pillow to her chest. His heady scent lingered. Evidence thrown about the room proved it hadn’t been a dream. Her chemise hung haphazardly on the water pitcher and, on the floor, her dress still crumpled on the floor where she’d stepped out it.

  She crushed the pillow to her face.

  Taylor, Taylor how could you? Why?

  But she knew why—loneliness. Her breasts still tingled from his caress, and she remembered distinctly his kisses mapping a trail across her body. His lovemaking rivaled David’s in every way, but that didn’t ease her mind. She sighed and rolled to the other side of the bed.

  Get up, Taylor. You have to face him sometime.

  She plucked her chemise from the pitcher and sat on the bed. The memory of his calloused hand
s, so different to David’s soft white palms, jerking the fragile ribbons of her chemise loose haunted her, taunted her. She shook her head to chase away the vivid images, walked to the armoire and tried to decide which of the horrendous dresses to wear today.

  God, I can’t believe these are my choices. Where’s a Macys when you need one?

  * * * *

  In the barn, Frank held three long nails between his teeth and fought to keep the mare’s hoof still. His mind wasn’t on his work—maybe that was the problem. Visions of Mariah, crushed beneath him in their downy feather bed, rolled through his mind. Last night was perfect. Hell, it was better than perfect. Never had she responded with such…such passion.

  He brought the hammer crashing down on his thumb. “Hell’s bells!” He clenched his teeth. “Pay attention or you’ll nail your hand to a hoof.”

  When he finished shoeing the mare, he slapped her on the rump and sent her trotting back into the corral. He washed his hands in the water bucket then wiped them on his pants. Movement caught his attention and he glanced toward the house. Mariah sat on the porch, a coffee cup in her hand. He ambled in her direction, hoping last night had spurred her memory. The experience had certainly stirred something within him. Doubts niggled at him.

  He stepped up and removed his hat. Holding the brim with one hand, he ran the other through his matted hair and cleared his throat. “Good morning, pretty lady. Did you sleep well?”

  Her head jerked around. A blush colored her neck and blossomed onto her cheeks. “Ah…quite well, thank you.” Her neck quivered with a hard swallow. “We need to talk. Care to join me?”

  Frank plopped down in the other rocker and crossed his legs. He placed his hat on the table between them. “Whadda we need to talk about?”

  She took a deep breath. “About last night... it can’t happen again.”