* * * *
The morning sunlight rudely interrupted the peaceful scene, not to mention Becky’s sound sleep, the following day. Groaning, she peeked open first one eye, then the other, just long enough to focus on the alarm clock, then quickly closed them and covered her face with one limp hand.
She hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet, and she already could tell that every muscle in her body was sore.
It had been an active night, to say the least…
As if reading her mind, a deep grunt rumbled out of Tucker’s chest beside her. She peeked at him from behind the spread of fingers in front of her eyes and stifled a giggle. He looked exhausted, too.
“I think I’m too old for this ‘sex all night long’ stuff,” he mumbled grumpily.
Now, she did laugh. Dropping her hand to reach out for him, she said, “Me too, cowboy. But I don’t regret it for a minute.”
He slanted her a searching look. “You don’t?”
Becky sighed. She had to force herself to continue meeting his gaze. “No, Tuck, I don’t. But there are some things we need to talk about. About me and returning to New York.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “We were supposed to discuss that last night, weren’t we?”
She nodded. “Guess we got side tracked.”
“Mmm-hmm.” The way his eyes were roaming over her still-naked form, barely concealed beneath a half-kicked-aside sheet, made it look like he was on his way towards getting side-tracked again.
Becky took his hand and held it by her heart, in both of her own. “Listen, Tucker. I know you want to come back to New York with me when I go, but it’s just so much more trouble than it’s worth. Forget the decision I made for both of us when I left last time. Forget the truth – and if you’re honest with yourself, you have to know I’m right – that you’d hate living in that itty-bitty apartment with me in the big, noisy city. Be realistic and see what a waste of money it would be for you to hire someone to look after the farm for you, or what an inconvenience it would be for Johnny to do it for you. Try to understand that while Mark is no longer in the picture, my mom still needs someone around to help her out, that I need to know someone is here to check up on her…”
“Becky, I do see your point. But it’s not going to change my mind. There’s plenty of money in the bank to go to someone to work this farm while I’m not here. It’s only money. And Johnny and Amy are more than happy to help your mom. If she’s shy about going to them, I know they’ll just show up on her front step to see what needs doing themselves. Besides, it won’t be forever…”
“What if it is, Tucker?” she interrupted, her eyes watching him closely, as they broached this as-yet uncharted subject. “What if I decide that I don’t want to move back home now? What are you going to do if I decide I want to stay in New York?”
He looked befuddled for a moment. It was clear to Becky that he hadn’t thought that could actually be the way things would go.
“I don’t think you will decide that, Red,” he finally said. “But I suppose if you do, then I would find a way to make things work. I would have to return here at times, obviously, to oversee things and check up on whoever I hired to run things in my absence. But the rest of the time I’d be with you.”
“And what would you be doing?” she pressed.
Now he was beginning to look agitated. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what would you do with yourself the whole day, every day, when I was at school? There’s only so much business you’d be able to handle long distance like that. Are you telling me you’d be a house husband?”
He snorted at that suggestion. “No!”
Becky wasn’t laughing, though the idea of Tucker doing housework and grocery shopping full time was funny. “Then what would you do?”
“You know what, Red? It doesn’t matter. I’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it.” He shook his finger meaningfully at her. “You just make sure, little girl, that when the time comes, and you’re going back to the Big Apple, you tell me when the magic date will be. You promised me you would do that, do you remember?”
Becky closed her eyes briefly. “Yes,” she conceded with reluctance.
“Good. Because if you leave me back here in the dust again, you won’t sit for a month.”
“All right, all right. I hear you. I heard you the first time you told me that!”
“Good. Now get your butt over here and give me a proper good morning kiss, woman.”
Though she went into his arms reluctantly at first, by the end of the kiss, Becky had half forgotten what it was they’d just been arguing about. Tucker pulled back from her and cupped her face in one hand, as his other hand roamed lower, finding first one breast and then one buttock. “Good morning,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck.
“Mmmm… ‘morning…”
Tucker’s hand shifted from her backside to her love nest. His fingers burrowed through her curls and found the little button he’d worked so easily the night before. With slow, torturous circles, he began to build the sensual pressure there, and all that Becky could do was hang on for the ride.
“Upsy-daisy,” he said a moment later, as he lay back on the bed and pulled her astride him. Becky arched her back and placed her hands on his chest to support herself. “God, Beck, you’re gorgeous…”
When his hand connected with her bottom, jutted out into the air as if just waiting for his attentions, her breath hitched and Tucker grinned. Their movements grew more frenzied and fevered from there, matching the well-aimed love swats he dealt to her bottom.
Though Becky never would have thought it possible, she was quickly rocketing through her seventh orgasm in a twelve-hour period.
When she looked down in amazement at Tucker, he just grinned and shrugged, as if to say, “What else did you expect?”
* * * *
Two hours later, outside her mother’s house, Becky turned and waved at Tucker’s truck as he reversed out of the driveway. With a deep breath, she stepped up to the front door and paused, not sure if she should knock or just let herself in. In the old days, before she’d left for New York, there wouldn’t have even been any question – she would have simply opened the door, and gone inside. She’d even had her own key, though she hadn’t lived at home for a while by then. But now, things were so different…
She was saved from having to decide what to do when the door swung open and her mother beckoned her inside. “Hi, sweetie. Just come in for a minute; I’m just about ready to go.”
Inside the house, Becky waited in the kitchen while Joyce disappeared upstairs to grab a sweater and her handbag. It was amazing to her how quiet the house was; when her brother had been alive, there was forever the sounds of music blaring or a television on. Now, the inside of the house seemed like a tomb. Though her mother had been constantly nagging Mark to turn the noise off, Becky was sure that now she wished for some of it back.
“Okay, I’m ready.” Her mother stood at the base of the stairs, and despite the obvious efforts she had taken with her appearance, she looked shaky. “You remember the way to Shannahan’s?”
Shannahan’s was the funeral home that Joyce preferred. Becky nodded, her eyes noticing the way Joyce’s hands trembled, as she hefted her sizable pocketbook onto her shoulder.
“Good, then you can drive me.”
They climbed into Joyce’s car, a practical Hyundai that was good on gas and small enough to easily parallel park in town. The silence stretched awkwardly between them, as Becky pulled out of her mother’s driveway in the direction of the funeral home.
“Did you have a good night’s sleep, over at Tucker’s?”
Becky’s mouth twitched in an ironic half-smile. Sleep? Had she gotten any sleep at all last night?
“Um, yeah. I slept okay, I guess.”
When she stole a glance at her mother, she could have sworn she saw her fighting back a grin of her own.
Becky cleared her throat. She didn’t like the direction her mothe
r’s thoughts were obviously taking. “How about you? How are you sleeping, and doing?”
Joyce shrugged. “You know. I’m doing okay, considering. It wasn’t such a shock, the way your brother went, Becky. Not even to me.” She sighed. “There were enough close calls in the past that I always pretty much knew in my heart that Mark wasn’t going to last long enough to die of old age.”
Becky nodded jerkily. She was grateful for the task of driving because it kept her gaze, for the most part, on the road and away from her mother. She had a feeling that if this conversation took place with them completely eye to eye, then one or both of them would have wound up completely breaking down.
“I’m sorry.” Becky said after a few moments of silence had stretched out between them again. She cleared her throat, feeling strangely clogged up with tears. “I’m sorry, Mom - that I wasn’t here when it happened. I wish I had been here, for your sake.”
Joyce nodded, looking down at her lap, where her hands were white-fisted, clasping her purse. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Her voice was hoarse. She reached across the seat and patted her daughter’s knee. “And I am glad you’re here now.”
Becky swallowed. “Me, too.”
* * * *
The director of the funeral home remembered Becky and Joyce from when they had last used the man’s services after Becky’s father had passed away. He was a gentle man with kind eyes, who patiently waited while Joyce went from one shiny coffin to the next, trying to decide on a final bed for her son’s last rest.
When that decision was finally made, Mr. Shannahan sat down with them to explain other options they had for the viewing and funeral, such as music choices, a slide show of photos, etc. Despite the feelings Becky still harbored against her brother, she was glad she could be there to sit beside her mother and support her through those tough decisions.
When they finally left almost two hours later, Joyce leaned heavily on her daughter’s arm, drained.
“Is there anything else you need to do, Mom?” Becky asked, as they got into the car.
Joyce shook her head wearily, her eyes distant. “No, honey. Let’s just go back to the house.”
They had ridden quietly, with the radio softly playing as the only sound, for a few moments before either spoke again. “Would you mind… helping me… or um, just keeping me company… while I look through some old photos?” Joyce asked, her voice wavering and insecure. “For the slide show?”
Becky bit her tongue; she thought the slide show was a waste of her mother’s already squandered funds, a way of making Mark look like the type of son and brother that he hadn’t ever really been. But it was what her mother wanted, she reminded herself. And that was why she nodded her head in agreement. “Sure, I’ll help you.”
When they got back to the house, Becky made a pot of tea while Joyce went to the spare bedroom and pulled out the old photo albums. She brought them out in two stacks, armloads of albums and boxes of unsorted pictures. Becky’s eyebrows rose at how many there were.
They spent the rest of the day going through them.
And the funniest thing happened.
Becky found pictures of herself with her brother, when they were both little, before he got lost in the world of drugs and booze. Pictures where she was smiling an abandoned smile of childhood joy. Pictures where he was giving her piggyback rides or where they were climbing trees together, or running in the fields behind the barn. Christmas photos taken in front of a brightly lit tree with Becky and Mark sitting amid dozens of presents, grinning ear to ear. The pair of them sitting astride their first ponies. Hundreds of pictures of her with an obviously beloved childhood friend, who just so happened to also be her sibling.
Tears burned unexpectedly in Becky’s eyes and she sniffed.
Okay, so maybe she did care a little bit that Mark was gone.
Of course, the stoic part of her brain reasoned, the Mark in these pictures has been gone for a long, long time.
Somehow, that knowledge didn’t help matters. And though she didn’t regret the distance she’d kept between herself and her brother over the last few troubled years – that had been both for her sanity and, she honestly believed, her safety – she did find herself feeling sad that he was really gone for good, now. No more hope existed for him to find his way back to a normal life. There was no way for her to ever regain the easy love and companionship so evident in these old photos.
To her surprise, her mother reached across the table and laid her hand on top of hers. When Becky looked up, Joyce was smiling sadly at her with a knowing look in her gaze. She didn’t say anything out loud, but Becky could tell she knew, somehow, what she was feeling. Her hand lingered on Becky’s for a moment or two, then slowly pulled away.
They continued sorting in silence after that, each woman lost in her own thoughts.
Before they knew it, night was pressing its dark face to the windows. Becky heard Tucker’s truck pull into the drive, and a few moments later, he was at Joyce’s front door. She noticed how he had no compunctions about just letting himself in, the way she had earlier.
“Hey, there,” he said, his tone light and soft. Because she knew him so well, she could tell he was treading lightly, not sure what kind of emotions he was walking into. “How are my girls? I thought I’d have gotten a call from you earlier to come pick you up…”
Becky gave him what she knew was a wavering smile and looked quickly away at his look turning to one of concern. “We just got caught up going through these pictures for the viewing,” she explained.
“I can see that.” He stood behind Becky’s chair, looking over her shoulder with a smile. “Hmph. Jeez, look at you two. I haven’t seen these for ages.”
“Pull up a chair,” Joyce suggested, getting wearily to her feet. “I’ll fix us all some dinner.”
Tucker glanced at Becky’s face. “You look exhausted. You wanna stay or go on home?” When she hedged her answer, he shook his head. “All right, that does it. Com’on, woman, you’re coming with me. You’re dead on your feet.”
Joyce glanced over her shoulder and smiled gently. “Go on, honey.” She came back to the table and enfolded her daughter in her arms. “Thank you.” She bussed her cheek and smiled, holding her face in her hands. “Thank you for helping me today. With everything.”
Becky blinked, only too aware that she’d just received the first hug in almost a year and a half from her mother. “You’re… you’re welcome.”
“Come on, Red,” Tucker encouraged, tucking her hand inside his and tugging her in the direction of the door. “Let’s get you home and in bed.”
Behind him, Joyce grinned.
He glanced back at her and sent her a wink.
“Bye, hon!” Joyce called. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
“You okay, baby?” Tucker asked as they walked to the truck. He’d folded her inside one arm and now glanced down at her with worried eyes. “You looked a little… lost back there.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, leaning her head against him and breathing deeply, inhaling his scent. “It’s just been a long day.”
“Okay.” He pressed a kiss on the crown of her head and turned to open the door to the truck cab. “Let’s go home, then.”
As he handed her up into the seat, Becky thought she’d never before heard a word that sounded better to her… home.
Chapter Eight
“Eat,” Tucker said, and the word was part plea, part order. He glanced down at the plate of nearly untouched leftover Chinese food that sat before Becky. “Come on, Red. You have to eat something.”
“I’m really not hungry.”
“And I’m really not asking here,” he told her. “Now eat up, and fast, if you know what’s good for you and your butt.”
With a heavy, put-upon sigh, Becky picked up her previously discarded fork and grimly tucked back into the food on her plate.
Already finished with his own meal, Tucker sat back and watched her curiously while she
ate. “You want to talk about what’s got you so upset?”
She looked up at him with caution. After a brief hesitation, she shook her head.
Disappointed, Tucker only nodded. While he thought she might feel better, if she could allow herself to open up to him, or to her mother, even, he also thought he understood why she couldn’t. She’d spent so much of the past few years speaking out against her brother that any good feelings she may have rediscovered about him today had to be confusing, even to herself. He supposed he could see why she wasn’t ready to share them with someone else, yet.
“So,” he said, cracking open a fortune cookie, for something to do, while she continued to eat her food by way of playing with it. He thought about reading his fortune out loud to Becky, with the tacked on ending of ‘in bed,’ like they used to when they were early lovers, but knew it wasn’t the right time, and instead, just ate the crunchy morsel. “When’s the funeral going to be?”
She grimaced. “Day after tomorrow, to be followed by a luncheon at Mom’s. She’s having the majority of the food catered, but I promised to come by tomorrow and help her make a few things.”
Tucker nodded. “No problem. If it’s easier for you than having me drop you off, you can always borrow one of the trucks.”
“Thanks. I just might do that.” She sighed, as she set her fork down against a now near-empty plate. “I’m done, Tuck. Honest. No more room.”
He smiled gently and took her plate and utensils, stacking them with his own. “Okay. I concede. At least, you ate something.”
Her gaze was so lost and small that it hurt him to look at her. She looked frightened too, and he wondered, not for the first time, when she was going to turn tail and run back to New York and if she was going to make good on her promise to bring him with her this time or not. He wanted to ask her, but didn’t want to make things bad between them now, when she was already obviously having trouble with so many other things.
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