Smolder (St. Martin Family Saga)

by Watson, Gina

  “No, Jenny, let me love you.”

  He traced a loose hair back behind her ear and cupped her face in his palm. His touch remained soft as he trailed the pads of his fingers over her breasts and down her arms. When Jenny tried to grind on him, he said, “Not tonight, baby. Let go and let me show you how much I love you.”

  Tonight he would take care of her, love her unconditionally. Tonight he would give, would begin to fill up the empty places that had been drained from years of giving and giving and giving.

  Jenny gripped and squeezed him hard in her hand, positioning him at her entrance. “But I need it hard and rough.”

  Camp spooned her again while at the same time letting his fingers slide sensually down her thigh, over her hips and down to the front of her sex. He massaged her softly. “You need it like this too.”

  “No, I need to feel the pain.” She bucked her ass hard against his groin.

  He whispered, “No, Jenny, you need to feel loved.”

  He held her close and slid his firmness into her from behind. The hand at the front of her sex massaged her delicately to climax.

  They made love into the night. At some point Camp sat on the edge of the bed and stood Jenny, with her back to him, between his legs. She placed her hands on his thighs and arched her back. He held her throat, tilting her head back to rest on his shoulder. Her chest bowed out. With his fee hand Camp rubbed his shaft through the slick lips of her pussy and pushed in steadily. Jenny was taking it slow now. As much as Camp loved her animalistic behavior in bed, he was in awe at this new Jenny. She rocked slowly back and forth on his cock in a leisurely erotic dance that, coupled with her moaning, had him shattering around her within minutes. When she turned around to lower him to the bed, her eyes smoldered with desire. She was a glowing cinder as she rode him, seeking her release.

  ≈

  The next morning Jenny left Camp in their bed at the estate and drove to a place that held the memories of her past. She stood in front of the remnants of the farmhouse where she grew up. She recalled running in the tall grass, chasing butterflies with a net. She stepped on something hard and looked down to see the now rusty metal pan she had used to feed the stray cats. Her mother had caught her sneaking food out to the cats and told her that if she didn’t stop feeding them, every cat in town would be in their yard. Jenny had hoped for that and kept feeding them.

  She walked around to the backyard. The old swing set mimicked a frown with its saggy plastic seat and broken chains. The rusty old slide had warped. She saw the spot where Andrew had passed countless hours at the tire swing under the pecan tree. Jenny walked over to it, tested the strength of the rope, and climbed into the tire. She sat on the swing and thought about what she had set into motion so many years ago.

  Fate was a powerful force. An inescapable one.

  Jenny remembered when her parents died and the news sank in that she would be the sole guardian of her autistic brother. She was eighteen and had horrible thoughts about how she could be set free. She’d hated her brother back then and wanted to leave so many times. Had wanted to get out and just run. Had wanted to be free of the responsibilities. Free of the bonds. Free of… She squeezed her eyes closed, but the words had already sprung to life. She had wanted to be free of Andrew.

  She sat in the tire swing and rocked until her body was numb.

  ≈

  Camp awoke alone in their bed. Jenny’s side was cold. Wherever she was, she’d been gone for a while. He got up and went in search of her, but when it was clear she was nowhere on the property, he called her cellphone. She didn’t answer. He called the hospital, but she wasn’t there. He drove to her home in Baton Rouge, but that proved a bad choice; she hadn’t been there either. The thought crossed his mind that she was the type to dive into work to escape, so he called both the lounge and the worksite, to no avail. She’d vanished.

  He’d called Clay to see if he could get any information by running background information through the aid of one of his police friends. He didn’t know what else to do.

  He was relieved when Clay texted him her childhood home address; she was listed as the current owner on the tax rolls. The property was twenty miles outside of town in secluded pine woods. When Camp turned onto the road, he saw her car and was instantly relieved. He wondered where she could go—the house couldn’t be safely explored. He got out of the car. The wind carried the smell of old wood char to his nostrils.

  Camp heard a rhythmic squeaking and followed the sound around to the back of the house. There, under a pecan tree, Jenny swung on a tire, her legs pushing just hard enough to keep her moving. He crossed the yard and stood in front of her. When she looked up, he saw her tear-stained face.

  She sat quietly swinging and although he had many questions, he didn’t prod her. He dropped to the ground and leaned against a thick pine, content simply to offer his support. After twenty minutes or so, she started to talk.

  “We used to make smiley-face pancakes on our birthdays. Didn’t matter whose birthday either—Mom, Dad, me, Andrew. We all got pancakes. It was hard when they died. Andrew didn’t understand death, not in the typical sense. I didn’t understand it much myself at eighteen.”

  She sighed, but kept speaking. “He didn’t understand when I told him our parents weren’t coming back. He just kept asking over and over where had they gone and when would they be home. I tried to associate death with tangible things, but I wasn’t very good at it.

  “He’d lost his Snoopy thermos on the first day of kindergarten. The lost thermos was an issue because he was obsessed with Snoopy. When I told him our parents weren’t coming back, just like his Snoopy thermos never did, he went ballistic. He was worried about the pancakes. He said they wouldn’t be here for pancakes on their birthdays. Even though he was just a kid, when he got like that, he could do some damage. He attacked me. Then we went at each other. He pulled my hair and scratched my face. I beat on him any way I could get a punch in. That was how the first few years went.”

  Jenny gazed out across the field and seemed to go even farther away. Camp waited patiently for her to come back.

  “I didn’t want him. I know it’s selfish, but everything had been taken from me in an instant. My future was now his, only his, and so I resented him. I was too young. I didn’t seek help or even accept any help that was offered. The school sent a woman out, and she showed me how to set up schedules and routines.” She laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “I had never been a keeper of any of those things, and I thought no one could force me to do more, so I didn’t employ the strategies. After all, I’d made the ultimate sacrifice. I had no more to give.”

  Camp pushed back against the tree trunk, willing himself not to go to her. He didn’t know what to do, so he didn’t do anything. She blamed herself for so many things, so many events and feelings beyond her power to deal with them, but he knew if he tried to reach out to her, she would shut down.

  “A number of times—shit, all the time—I had these thoughts that it would have been easier if he’d died in the fire too.” Her tears started to fall again. “And of course it would have been easier on me, but who wishes that on her brother? Who wishes for something even worse on someone who has no control over the way his brain processes life? Who thinks such evil thoughts about a helpless little boy who’d lost his parents and who had no one but a spoiled sister to watch out for him?” She dragged a hand across her face, wiping away the tears. And then she fell silent again.

  Camp closed his eyes, wanting to mend her broken heart. Wanting to keep his own from shattering. But it was too late. His heart had been bound to hers when she’d first called him Mr. St. Martin in that polite Southern voice she’d used to put him in his place. He would forever feel her pain and her joy as if they were his own. Feel her despair. Hear her heart beat in sorrow or in happiness.

  They were linked, truly family, in a way that went beyond a mere legal joining. They belonged to one another. And he would do anything to see her heart h
ealed.

  “When I realized he was the only remaining link I had to my parents and, like it or not, he was my only family, it all started to change. I started to change. I went with him to therapy. I employed the strategies they gave me. We became active members of the autism society. It all helped. I had people to talk to and our life got better. I attended college while he was at school, and we fell into a routine.”

  She looked at Camp. “Things didn’t stay on top, though. I met someone at school. I thought I was being given another chance at a happy life. He was nurturing and sincere. He loved Andrew and me. I couldn’t believe it. We were going to be a family. One night he was on his way home from Orange Beach in Alabama. We’d wanted to see each other as soon as possible, so he drove late into the night. He was tired or careless. Maybe he even fell asleep. Whatever the cause, he careened off a bridge and drowned. I had to tell Andrew. He had a meltdown.”

  She turned away again and pumped her legs until she was swinging fast enough to set the rope whining against the tree.

  “My grieving has always been overshadowed by Andrew’s, always had to take second place, but I wasn’t prepared to let him take this away from me. We fought verbally. Physically. Emotionally.” Jenny gasped for breath before saying, “I told him I wished he’d slip into a coma, then I’d finally be happy. He left that night. Ran away. They found him at the defunct railroad crossing. He was prepared to jump to the ground. He kept saying he needed to be in a coma.” Her breath caught. “Camp, I willed him into a coma.”

  Noting the look in her eyes, Camp knew there was nothing he could say that she would listen to. Not tonight. But he was done listening to her beat herself up for being a human in situations that would break the average man or woman. He was done letting her heap blame on herself. He scooped her up, put her in his truck, and started the drive home. She fell asleep next to him. Exhausted.

  When they returned to the estate, Camp called Clay to check Andrew’s status. No change.

  Camp told his brother he’d found Jenny and related that she needed to be taken care of. Clay would stay at the hospital as long as Camp needed him there.

  Camp started a bath. He stripped Jenny from her clothes and lowered her into the water. He heard her soft voice ask, “Camp, why do you want to be with me?”

  “God, Jenny, there are so many reasons. Let me see if I can get you to understand it as I do.”

  He rested his chin on his hands at the side of the tub, praying for the right words, knowing that words straight from the heart were all he had to offer.

  “I want to be enveloped in passion, but passion isn’t easy. It’s manic, it’s obsessive, it’s angry, it’s compulsive. Passion can even make a man suffer and agonize. But in passion is life. If our lives were easy, they wouldn’t be full of passion. Before you, my life was easier, but I hated every day. My life was apathy and indifference.”

  Camp leaned over Jenny in the tub and turned off the water. “You have great passion. You have fight. Hell, when I met you, we were fighting. You stood your ground next to me and fought for what you thought was right. You challenged me. You were responsive to me. When I met Andrew, I saw all of those qualities in him too. I couldn’t wait for us to start our lives together, the three of us. I believe Andrew will fight to get back to us. And when he does, we will be there together, you and me, to welcome him back.”

  She cried a little at his admission or maybe at her brother’s situation—he didn’t know which. But over the last several weeks he’d learned her nuances and rhythms, and he knew she was done asking questions and laying the blame at her own feet. She soaked in the heat of the tub, and he helped her wash. When it was time to dress, she was still upset, so he quietly offered his help there too. When they arrived at the hospital, all of Camp’s family was still there supporting and waiting.

  Cash and Isa came up to them and distributed hugs all around. Isa shared a knowing look with Cash and then pulled Jenny over to a quiet spot in the corner. He offered up a little prayer for Isa and thanked God she was at the hospital. It was clear after only a few minutes that she’d eased Jenny’s lingering anxiety. Jenny was smiling at something Isa said when other members of his family migrated toward the women.

  He knew Jenny was overwhelmed by the love they had for Camp and by proxy, for her and Andrew. But it was a gentle, supportive love. And he recognized when she noted that very thing. She relaxed and allowed the rest of his family to see to her needs, bringing her coffee and food and even pillows.

  At around four in the morning, there was an update. Andrew was coming around. The doctors said he would be moved to a regular room and they would be permitted to see him, but no more than two family members at a time.

  As they walked down the hall to Andrew’s room, Jenny looked nervously around. The nurse told them he was in room 112 and Jenny stopped walking to ask Camp why he thought Andrew had tried to jump Dreamer. He didn’t know why, but told her they would ask him.

  “Do you think… Was it to hurt himself like that time at the railroad tracks?”

  “No, baby. I don’t think he’d do that with Dreamer. Not to hurt himself. Not to hurt her.”

  They walked into Andrew’s room, and Camp gave Andrew the Tennessee walker resin figurine that he’d loved as a boy.

  “There you go, buddy. Now you’ve got a horse in here with you.”

  Andrew said, “Tennessee walker.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Camp?”

  “Yeah, Andrew?”

  “Is Dreamer dead? Is she not coming back like Mom and Dad?”

  Jenny flinched at his question.

  Camp looked down at Andrew, as pale as the sheets he lay against, and smiled. “Andrew, Dreamer is fine. She’s worried about you, is all. Why were you trying to jump her? You know that’s against the rules.”

  “Jumping is against the rules.” Andrew looked down at the figurine in his hand. “Mr. Camp?”

  “Yes, Andrew?” Camp sat on the bed facing Andrew.

  “I was going out for the pancake stuff. I was going to come back.”

  “Pancakes?”

  “It was pancake day. I wanted to make Jenny happy because she’s always mad.”

  Jenny’s body shuddered and tears fell from her eyes. She walked up to her brother in the bed and kissed his cheek. Then she turned to Camp.

  “Today is the anniversary of our parents’ deaths. We’d started having their pancakes on the anniversary of that day.” She hummed softly, stroking Andrew’s arm until his eyes closed and his head tilted to the side.

  Still looking at Andrew, still stroking his arm, she spoke to Camp.

  “Andrew was good with numbers. When that date came around, he would get upset. It was the only thing I could think to do to keep him from having a meltdown. Since we started the tradition, he’s dealt better with that day.

  Camp caressed her arm, much as she stroked Andrew’s.

  Jenny might not know it, but she’d given Andrew a priceless gift, one that no doubt cost her plenty in terms of peace of mind. She would never be allowed to put that day behind her. But her gift had given Andrew something other than death to focus on.

  His woman was generous beyond measure.

  9

  After a week in the hospital, Andrew was released. They brought him home to the estate, and Camp took him to visit Dreamer in the paddock. Dreamer greeted Andrew with a nicker, and then she blew air in his face.

  Jenny watched the exchange between Camp and Andrew from the porch. Mr. St. Martin, Cliff, joined her.

  “Andrew’s a good boy,” he said.

  Jenny smiled at Cliff. “Camp is good with him.”

  “He is. You know there are people in this world who need to have a purpose, a reason to exist.”

  Jenny didn’t understand where he was going with his comment, so she just kept quiet. It had been a while since she’d gotten fatherly advice, but she recognized the approach.

  “Camp is one of those people, always ha
s been. That’s why I was able to groom him for the family business. He organizes his mind and focuses it to achieve an intended outcome. In one case, it was to one day run our contracting company. I can see that same determination and focus now, with you and Andrew. He’s always been a quiet brooder, and he’s obsessive about what’s his. He can get controlling and be consuming. He needs a woman who would appreciate those qualities and not stifle them. When he flourishes, he does great things. I only say this, Jenny, because if you are looking for a future, that future is here. Not only would you gain Camp, but you would also have the St. Martin clan to help you. You wouldn’t have to be alone any longer.” Cliff looked into her soul and asked, “Will you think about it?”

  “Cliff, I love your son. And I agree with every word you just said. But he deserves someone fresh, someone with a clean history. Someone without baggage. It’s because I love him that I should set him free.”

  “Bullshit.” He snapped his fingers. “He needs someone with passion, someone who makes him feel alive. He needs someone who can accommodate a love like his. It’s deep, strong, and too intense for most. But not for you. I’ve seen you with him. You need him just as much as he needs you. You and Andrew came to him with nothing, with no one. Now you have all of this.” He waved his hands across the landscape. “I sense you pulling away. Don’t do it, Jenny. You are part of this now. Part of him. And he is part of you. If you leave, you leave one half of each of you behind.”

  Well shit. How’d he know she was planning on bolting? Would have already, but with Andrew things took extra time. She thought over Cliff’s words. It was all very practical and it made sense. Her body, her mind, her heart all wanted to believe in this life they offered her, but there was a quiet small part of her that wouldn’t.

  ≈

  Camp jogged up to the porch, joining Jenny and his dad. He bent to kiss Jenny on the cheek.

  “Hey, baby.”

  He studied them. They seemed intent. “What’s up?”