by P D Miller
He’d practically begged to keep touching her the last time when his hands had wandered, but then his passion had cooled. Had he discovered she was different through her clothes Again she turned round and round in front of the mirror.
Her mother had told her some women never like sex, but they got used to it and endured it. She also told her it was something a proper wife must willingly give if she expected to keep her husband. Give? So far Ben hadn’t asked her to do anything. Her mother told her even if it hurt the first few times, she should lie there and pretend it was pleasurable. Not doing so would make him feel inadequate and might make him stray. Besides, her mother told her she’d get used to it. Was sex always so terrible? But Ben didn’t even call it sex.
No Ben called it love and his giving, his wanting to make her feel good. She wanted to make him feel good too. Oh, she wanted to make him feel good. Still naked and finally ignoring the glass wall, she went through her bag, pulled out lacy panties and a near sheer nightgown and put them on. A smile crossed her lips at the feel of the silky gown against her skin. Twirling around in front of the mirror, she saw she was no sexy bombshell, still small breasted and boyish. Poor Ben, he’d picked someone hopeless. Picking up her brush, she dragged it through her hair and braided it into one long plait down the middle of her back. Well it was all she could do. Maybe she should see what was in the kitchen for cooking. If there was something so terribly physically wrong with her, she was going to need to find alternative ways of keeping Ben happy. And tonight she’d force herself to let him take her body. If all the other women could live through it, she could too! And if she did, would he learn she was abnormal and be sorry he married her?
Ben wandered aimlessly along the beach, occasionally stopping to pick up a shell and throw it out to sea. He cursed himself for maybe saying the wrong things. Missy had asked him to explain his scar, and he hadn’t. What right did he have to force her about hers when hers went much deeper, hurt more, cut deeper than his? Ah—but the reason behind it—the rude awakening which hurt—being forced to accept what couldn’t be changed—Missy was suffering it too.
Maybe it had been a mistake to bring her out here. Maybe what she really needed was some outside help, not being alone. He couldn’t understand her terror or the terror of being deaf. He could only equate it with being alone on the island. Maybe he should have waited longer. Maybe he was hurting her more by this trick.
With grim determination, he cut across the island now heading for the airstrip. He’d get the radio and take it back, call Missy’s mother if she wanted, maybe have the pilot come and pick them up if she wanted to leave. He’d promised not to hurt her, but maybe he’d just done it by bringing her out here. Maybe she’d want to go back.
After getting the radio, Ben was so intent on getting back quickly he cut across the dunes rather than follow the shoreline. It was later than he thought, and the sun was slipping lower in the west. After a while it occurred to him he might have overshot the house by walking through the middle of the island, so he headed west to at least get to where he could see the shoreline. For nearly and hour he wandered, not really worried, because all he needed was to find the shore and follow it to eventually find the house. But now he was worried about leaving Missy too long.
A wave of relief hit him when he spotted the water. He noticed then he was also sunburned. Thirst struck him too, and he felt as if his mouth was filled with cotton. He shouldn’t have gone so far. As he got closer to the water, he felt as if he needed to rinse some of the heat from his body so it would help his thirst. Setting the radio on the ground by a coconut tree, he walked to the shoreline and waded in up to his knees. Bending, he threw water over his shoulders and turned to start walking the rest of the way back
He didn’t see the man-o-war swish in and its tentacles wrap around his legs. Burning fire shot up Ben’s legs and caused him to drop. Frantically he reached down and pulled the tentacles away from his legs. Crying out with pain in his hands and legs now, he tried to get farther on shore, stumbled and fell. Again he cried out as fire shot up to his groin. He sat on shore and rubbed sand on his legs and hands, but it was useless toward helping the pain. For several moments he rolled around on the beach until he realized nothing helped. He had to get back to the house. He crawled to the tree to get the radio, but his hands hurt too much to pick it up. Slowly he raised himself to his feet and started limping along the shore to the house.
Missy was surprised to see the sun so low in the western sky, looked up at the kitchen clock and noticed most of the day had gone. Had she spent almost an entire day just looking at herself? And where was Ben? Putting him out of her mind as best she could, she’d fixed dinner. Still no sign of Ben. She started cleaning up her mess.
As soon as she finished, she walked around the house turning on lights. As she did so, she also looked outside hoping to catch sight of Ben, but she didn’t. Finally she went to the living room, pulled a book from the bookshelf and sat on a chair.
When she opened the book, she saw nothing but a blur. Where the hell was Ben? Why had she sent him away? Why hadn’t he come back? Maybe he went swimming and—oh no! Panic struck her. She jumped up from the chair and ran from the house toward the beach. Something must have happened. Looking up the beach, she squinted to make her eyes see farther; then she looked down the beach the other way. Nothing. In desperation she turned toward the house and saw it was well lighted. He couldn’t miss it. Maybe if she looked on the other side of the house. She took three steps and saw a movement in the corner of her eye. Her breath caught and she turned just as Ben fell.
“Ben! Ben, I’m coming!” She started running toward him. As she ran closer, she saw him sitting helplessly on the sand with his hands outstretched. Out of breath, she stopped right in front of him and dropped to her knees. “What happened?”
“Burning—on fire—hands and legs—man-o-war—on fire—”
“Come, I’ll help you.” She got up and tugged at him. “Come, I know what to do.” She pulled him again and Ben finally helped her enough to get to his feet. He was shaky and weak in the knees because of the excruciating pain. Groaning with his weight against her, Missy tried to hold him up knowing it was impossible.
“Hurt—”
“Oh hurry! Come on.” She urged. Slowly she pulled him to the house and into the kitchen where he dropped on a chair.
“Thirsty—hurting—”
“In a minute.” She flung open the cabinet door and knocked two bottles over while she checked through them. “Thank goodness!” She pulled out a bottle, reached in a drawer for two dish towels and soaked them. The immediate whiff Ben got knocked his head back and cleared his sinuses.
“What is it?”
“Ammonia.” She handed him a cloth. “Put it on the hurting places.” She bent down to start soaking his legs.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” He wiped his hands in the towel.
“We used it all the time on the beach.” Carefully she made sure she touched every one of the red streaks running up his legs. He just sat there staring at her. She glanced up at him. “Here, give me your hands.” She rested them on his thighs, wrapped the towel around them, reached for the ammonia and wet the towel again. After a few moments, she wrapped another towel around his ankle and foot and lifted his foot to a nearby chair. Then she jumped up and ran to the bathroom. Ben sat there dazed, unable to move. All he could think about was hurting and being thirsty and wondering where she went.
“Feeling better yet?” She came back into the kitchen.
“Much.” He groaned. “Thirsty.”
“Still hurting?” She went to the sink and filled a glass of water.
“Not as much, not nearly so much.”
She held the glass up to his mouth. “Don’t drink too fast.” She put the glass down.
“More, please.”
“In a little while, too much too fast causes cramps.” She looked over his sunburn and shook her head. “Come Ben, we’ve got to do
something about the rest of you.”
“The rest?”
“Your sunburn.” She pulled him up, ignored the towels dropping onto the carpet and helped him to the bathroom.
“Sauna?” He stopped in the middle of the room.
“Cool water for the burn.” She smiled and showed her dimples. “It’s not hot.” She reached for the snap and zipper on his shorts. Ben stared stunned while she pulled off his shorts and boxers in one smooth motion. Standing up, she grabbed him around the waist, led him to the sauna and helped him climb into swirling cool water.
“Missy I—”
“Wait, I forgot something.” She turned and flew out of the room. Ben shook his head. She’d undressed him? What happened while he was gone? Did she know how she looked in the sheer gown with her hair the way it is? Even with the diminishing pain, he was aroused. His whole body ached to touch her and taste her as she flitted around being the perfect nurse. Slowly sliding down in the cool water until it covered his burning shoulders, he closed his eyes.
“This should take care of things.” Showing him her beautiful dimples, she carried a bottle and a tall glass.
“What is it?” Ben’s eyes went from her dimples to her firm breasts.
“Vinegar for your bath and water to drink.”
“Ah, water.” He smiled.
“First the vinegar.” She opened the lid and poured half the bottle into the sauna.
“Are you sure it works? Or are you trying to pickle me?”
Missy laughed as she put the lid on the bottle and set it on the counter. She held the water glass up to his mouth.
“Just a little at a time, now.”
“Honey, it tastes salty.”
“Mm, just a little salt.”
“You put salt in it? Why?”
“Because body fluids are about five percent salt, and you’re dehydrated.” Her dimples showed again. “We’ve got to build your fluid balance.”
“And the vinegar?”
“The acid helps the sunburn better than anything.”
“It smells terrible too.”
“But only while you’re in it. When you’re dry you won’t smell.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mm, we’ve use vinegar to rinse our hair for years.” She grinned and turned her head toward his face. “Does my hair smell like vinegar?”
Ben sniffed and kissed her hair. When she glanced back at him, his eyes were flooded with love. “No your hair smells wonderful.” His voice was husky. “Where did you learn this?”
“Oh, here and there. Mama taught me a lot of it.” Her dimples appeared again. “Time for another swallow of water.” She held up the cup.
Ben took a grateful drink and reached out for her waist. She didn’t pull away. “Honey, I love you.”
“I know, and I love you.” She kissed his nose and rose. “I’ll just be a minute.” Missy went into the bedroom, yanked off the sheet and went to the linen closet. Satin may feel great, but she couldn’t imagine it being at all good with sunburn because it generated heat. Quickly she replaced the sheet with a percale one. Then she went back to the bathroom. Ben’s eyes were closed.
“Feeling better?”
“Mm, most of the pain is gone.”
“You’re still hurting?”
Ben opened his eyes and glanced upward. “No, I’m fine.” He reached up and touched her cheek.
“But you just said—”
“Another pain—my libido.” Ben watched her mouth the word a couple of times while she searched for the meaning.
“Oh!” Her face colored crimson.
“It’s okay, I just don’t want to get out of here right away.”
“Yes, I understand.” She blushed and turned away to the bedroom. “Call me when you’re ready.” Missy sat on the side of the bed and wrung her hands. She’d loused up. She loused up everything. Even her gown was filthy and wet in spots now. Tears welled behind her eyes. So much for giving and showing him her love.
A little voice inside Ben told him the wrong thing was happening. He swallowed hard and looked toward the bathroom door.
“Honey, will you come here?”
“Yes.” Missy almost instantly appeared in the doorway biting her lip.
“I need another drink, and you put the glass way over there.” He smiled when he saw her uncertainty. She was trying so hard to please him. What could he do to please her back?
Quickly she grabbed the glass, dropped to her knees and held it up to his lips.
“Oh, that’s so good.” He smiled and saw her dimples again. “How long do I have to stay in this smelly stuff?”
“Until you stop hur—burning.”
“Help me get up then.” He reached for her.
She reached out and helped him up. Although his arousal was obvious, she seemed to not notice, turned for a towel and held it up for him. He stood patiently while she carefully patted most of his body and then handed him the towel. He wrapped it around, patted himself dry where she hadn’t touched him and let her lead him to the bedroom. She stood behind him until he lay on the bed on his stomach. Then she reached for a second sheet and covered just his unburned buttocks. Quickly her worried eyes looked over the red marks on his hands and legs. “Are you sure you feel better?” Unconsciously she touched the scar on his thigh.
“I feel fine.” He smiled.
“If I ask you something, will you tell me?”
“Of course. What do you want to know?”
“You didn’t want to tell me before.”
“Anything, I don’t want you wondering about things between us.”
“I have a scar you can’t see.”
“Yes, I know.” He knew what she wanted now just by the touch of her fingers on his thigh and groaned inwardly.
“I don’t want—can’t talk about my scar.”
“I know that too.”
“Can you tell me about the scar on your thigh? I know you don’t want to—” She hesitated. “But can you?”
Pulling the sheet to cover himself, Ben sat up to face her, reached up, pulled her down in front of him on the bed and stroked her cheek. He stared into her worried, frightened eyes. “For you I will talk about it.” He took her other hand and placed it on his scar. “Fourteen or fifteen years ago everything started to fall apart at my house. Mom, well all of us needed Dad, especially then, and he couldn’t handle everything.”
“All of us?”
“Yeah, Mom, Connie and me. We all needed him badly right then.”
“Connie? The girl in your billfold?”
Ben looked surprised. “Yeah, she was fourteen when the picture was taken. It’s the last one taken in fact.”
“Did you love her?”
“Oh yes, she was my life.” He hardly smiled when he answered. “She used always joke about being my other half.” He held Missy’s hand on the scar.
Missy saw the pain in Ben’s eyes, his muscles ripple in his cheek, and she tried to pull away. Asking him to talk about it had been too much. “Forget it, I shouldn’t have—”
“No.” He gripped her hand tighter and slid it over the scar. “You’re part of me now, and you need to know.” He smiled. “Connie was my twin sister.”
“Your sister? A twin?”
“Yeah, and well, it seems while Mom was carrying us, I took all the good and Connie got all the bad.” He rubbed his finger on Missy’s hand while he held it in place. Unconsciously his fingers spelled out random words as he spoke. “So when we were born, I was big and healthy and normal. She was tiny, scrawny and sick—had a bad heart and kidney. Mom spent a lot of time in hospitals and doctors’ offices with her, but eventually she seemed to grow better and do all right. We were very close and did everything together. I even forgot she was sickly sometimes until she was fourteen. Then her health started downhill.
“First it was the kidney surgery, then she developed an infection which caused problems with her heart. My father went to pieces. Mom wasn’t much better. They
sent me off to school, so I wouldn’t be an added worry, but Mom didn’t know how to deal with Connie’s illness alone and allowed her to do anything she wanted. Connie got pretty wild, as if she wanted to live everything right then. She quit school and hung around with the wrong crowd. We were seventeen when I came home for vacation and learned she’d run off with some creep.”
Ben shifted nervously and shuddered. “Well, I went looking for them. One of Connie’s friends told me they’d gone off because she was pregnant. Man, I came unglued. Connie knew she shouldn’t have a baby.” Ben’s eyes filled with unwanted tears. He gripped Missy’s hand tighter and rubbed it against his scar. Missy saw his cheek muscles ripple, his frown deepen in pain and his hesitation. “I guess she told the creep because he took her to some butcher for an abortion. When I found her, she was bleeding all over the place.” The tears in his eyes exploded. “I called an ambulance, and they rushed her to the hospital, but it was too late. She was crying. I pulled her into my arms, and she died. As soon as the funeral was over, I went looking for the bastard.” Ben started shaking. “When I found him, I tore into him and his brother cut me up. So now you know how I got the scar.”
He let go of Missy’s hand, threw his head back and uselessly fought tears. “Someone called the police, and they hauled me in for attempted murder. They finally located my father. His attorney told them what happened to Connie and convinced them I’d been temporarily insane because of grief, so they let me out eventually. But when I went home, nothing was the same. My father ran around more than ever. My mother started having affairs. I started drinking and doing drugs.
“One night I over-dosed and my mother found me unconscious in Connie’s room. After she got me to the hospital, she managed to contact my dad, and he told them to keep me there until I dried out. I think I spent a couple of weeks in the hospital. When I was released, he didn’t even take me home but shoved me on his jet and brought me here. I’ll never forget his saying, ‘Ben, when you’ve got your head on right, call me and you can come home.’ I discovered then his way of dealing with problems was to ignore them or run from them. I spent three months out here wandering the beach, finally agreed to do what he wanted so he’d let me come home, and then the minute I was home I took off for the military and ended up in Iraq.” Ben glanced at Missy’s hand still resting on his thigh. “He never forgave me. I was supposed to go off to college, then go back home and take over his business.” Tentatively he touched her hand which she opened to him. “Missy, I was running when I met you. My father, my mother, none of them ever understood. The only way I could fight it was to do just what they didn’t want me to do, even if it meant taking chances. Can you understand?” His eyes pleaded.