Becky took a shuttering breath in and out and closed her eyes. Tucker kissed the back of her neck and wrapped her tight in his arms. Within moments, she was asleep.
* * * *
The next morning, Becky woke up slick with sweat, her head pounding, and her heart racing. She glanced with questioning eyes at Tucker’s face, so close to her own, wondering if she was sick. Then she remembered… everything… The funeral, the burial, spitting on Mark’s grave, telling off everyone at the luncheon at her mother’s house, storming out afterwards and getting wasted-drunk for the first time in her life at the Farmhouse Tavern. She put a hand in front of her eyes, as if doing so could somehow block out the memories; instead she had a mental image of Tucker’s face when he’d come in to claim her and bring her home from the bar.
Apparently, she hadn’t been that badly drunk, if she was still able to remember all of that. She almost wished she had been more shit-faced, if it meant she wouldn’t have to remember everything that had happened.
For a few moments, she lay there in awful silence, assessing her condition. She knew she was hung over. The way her head pounded with every little movement she made, even when she just moved her eyes, was proof of that. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel like she was going to be sick again, although, last night she had emptied her stomach enough times that it shouldn’t have been unexpected to find that she had nothing left to give up.
She winced when she glanced at Tucker; he was going to be a force to be reckoned with later on. He’d been angry last night, though he’d kept his temper in check well. He had every right and reason to whip her bottom raw, though; she knew it. And she fully expected him to do so. She accepted it, even.
What she didn’t know was how she was going to manage to look him in the eye.
Okay, she’d acted badly before. She’d done some bad things in her life. The behavior at the funeral and afterwards at her mother’s weren’t even that far out of her range. But how could she have gone and gotten so stinking drunk when all she had ever done her whole life was condemn her brother for being so weak regarding his addictions? How could she let herself resort to the solace of the bottle for comfort?
And how was she going to face her mother, and especially Tucker, again? How could she look Tucker in the face now and not see disappointment there, knowing that he had seen her last night, in that bar, the last place he had probably ever expected to find her?
Slowly, hardly daring to breathe for fear of waking him up, Becky slipped out from under Tucker’s arm and replaced the bedclothes over her space in the bed beside him. She stood back from the bed for a moment, watching him sleep, wondering at what she knew she was about to do and yet still unable to stop herself. Yes, on some deep level she knew she was only prolonging the inevitable confrontation with him, but she still somehow found herself turning from him, gathering her things, and getting ready to leave.
Within a half hour, she was on the road in her mother’s car, a hasty note left behind, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, as she glanced furtively in the rear view mirror, half expecting to see a rapidly gaining pickup barreling down on her back bumper. But no such luck – though whether it would have been good luck or bad, Becky couldn’t have decided right then. The fact that they’d left his truck at the Farmhouse never even entered her mind.
* * * *
When Tucker first woke up in bed alone, he thought that Becky must have gotten up and had to run for the bathroom again. Smiling ruefully, and silently betting himself she’d never drink again, he tumbled out of bed, pulled on a robe and followed Spirit out into the hallway, wondering at the way the Weim whined slightly upon greeting his master.
“Beck?” Tucker called when he didn’t find her in the bathroom upstairs. Frowning, he poked his head quickly into the other two bedrooms on the second floor, also finding nothing. Don’t panic, he told himself. But he still took the staircase two steps at a time anyway, the dog on his heels the entire time.
Damn her, she wasn’t in the living room. Or the kitchen. But there was a note there. Tucker’s heart felt like it fell in a death drop, going from 0 to 60, from his chest to his toes when he saw that single sheet of yellow steno paper sitting on his otherwise bare white kitchen counter.
Okay, still, he reasoned silently with himself. Don’t panic. Maybe she just went home. Home to her mom’s. Not home to New York.
That doesn’t make sense, his inner devil argued. Not when she’s been staying here with you all along.
Shut up. Just… just don’t panic. Not yet…
He snatched up the paper and sagged into a chair at the kitchen table, welcoming the warm nudge of Spirit’s head beside his knee. He read the first line of the note. And then he let himself panic.
Tuck –
Look, don’t get mad, okay? I’m kind of freaking out here, about everything that happened. And I need some time by myself. So I’m going back to New York, now. Today. I have Mom’s car. I will leave it at the train station. I know, it’ll take me forever to get there that way, but I’m in no mood to deal with a plane.
I love you, Tucker. I just need some time.
Becky.
With an eloquent, fitting curse, Tucker crushed the note in one hand and flung it across the room.
Chapter Ten
The phone rang, and Tucker’s heart fell to his feet. Maybe it was Becky…
He raced to the extension in the kitchen and jerked the handset up, answering with a hurried, yet hopeful, “Hello?”
“Oh, Tuck, did you just find out?” Joyce’s voice, not Becky’s, spoke to him from the other side of the line. So similar, yet so different.
“Yeah, Mom, I just woke up, and she was gone. She left me a note.”
“Oh, honey.” He heard the older woman sigh. “She called me from the train. Told me what she’d done and that she’d left my car at the station with the keys locked inside. So, I guess, later, you’ll have to give me a lift out to pick it up. Good thing I always kept a spare set of keys.”
“Sure. Sure, I’ll give you a lift,” he agreed, absently.
“Tuck, I’m so sorry. If it hadn’t been too late, I would have gone down to that train station myself and drug her back here by her hair. Whether I had a car to get there in or not, I would have found a way, if the train hadn’t already left the station before I found out.”
He laughed dryly at the image she painted in his mind. “Nah, Mom, in the long run, that wouldn’t have done any good, anyway. We knew all along she’d be going back to New York sooner or later.”
“Yes, but this is running away to New York, the way she’s doing it.”
“I know. You’re right about that.”
“And you’re apart again.”
“You don’t have to point that out to me.”
“You’re going to follow her, though, right?” Joyce pressed.
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am, just as soon as I can find someone to cover things here.”
“Good. Someone needs to set that girl straight on some things. And, I know you’re the one to do it right. You go after her, Tuck, and you bring my girl back home.”
“That’s got to be her choice, though, Mom. I want her to come home as much as you do, but I can’t force her to. I want it to be the choice she makes on her own, not the one I make for her.”
Joyce considered this. “You’re right. I’m sure you’ll find a way to help her see her way to coming home, anyway. Good luck, Tucker. I think you’re going to need it. She loves you, but she’s embarrassed about everything that’s happened. And she’s mixed up about her feelings about her brother and herself.”
“I know. Thanks, Joyce. I know I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
* * * *
Becky’s cell phone was ringing. Again.
She didn’t even need to look at the caller ID to know who it was.
In the week and a half since she had left Pennsylvania, Tucker had already called her over twenty times. So far, she had been avoidi
ng him by not answering. The first few times he’d gotten her voicemail, he’d angrily crashed the phone down in her ear instead of leaving a message. The next few times, he’d left detailed messages describing the tortures that would befall her bottom, if she didn’t, at least, return his phone calls. A couple of times, he’d even tried showing compassion for what she was going through, saying how he was trying to understand and only wanted to see her and talk to her, so he could be sure she was all right. Then he went right back to: “Woman, what is wrong with you? You get yourself on the phone, and you call me back this minute, or so help me, when I catch up to you, you won’t sit down for a month of Sundays.”
Oh, yes, he was very upset with her.
The surprising thing was that he hadn’t just showed up yet on her front step. She’d been in regular contact with her mother and Amy, and the latter had explained why that was; at least, partly. Johnny had taken a fall from a horse the day after Becky had left, and he’d busted up his leg pretty badly. So, instead of being able to help Tucker out, as Tucker had expected he would when Becky returned to New York, Tucker had been called on to help Johnny and Amy out. Amy said that her brother was bending over backwards trying to find someone to oversee both farms until Johnny was back on his feet.
In the meantime, Becky was getting along in New York just as she had before. Since she’d come back to the city, things hadn’t been the same as they had been before she had left, though. She enjoyed being with her students again, but teaching just wasn’t enough for her anymore. She had to admit that if all her future held for her was a meaningful teaching career, she wasn’t going to be fulfilled. Not totally. She wanted a husband, namely, one Tucker Rhodes. And she wanted babies of her own – several, though an exact number eluded her.
And just the small amount of time she’d spent back at home in Pennsylvania had reminded her how cozy and warm the small town she came from really was. Everyone knew everyone else, and although that meant everyone was in your business, it also generally meant that everyone cared what was going on with you. They wanted to help you when you needed help. They cheered you on in good times, and they supported you in sad. New York seemed cold now. And lonely. She found herself wondering if she would be considering returning to Pennsylvania regardless of her relationship with Tucker, after this recent visit home.
Becky’s request for Amy to call and warn her when Tucker was actually on his way to New York fell on deaf ears. Although Amy still loved her like a sister and understood some of where she was coming from, she’d promised her brother to be on his side of the war when things went down between him and Becky from now on. Plus, she’d openly admitted to Becky that she didn’t think she was treating him fairly. Joyce was in complete agreement with Amy, to the point of begging Becky to come home. She also pointedly refused to be of any help when the time came that Tucker was on his way northward to New York.
In the end, it turned out that Becky didn’t need the advance notice from either Amy or her mother. For on the day that it happened, when her cell phone rang again, and she glanced at the phone and saw Tucker’s name, something inside her made her flip open the cell and press the ‘accept call’ button.
“Hi,” she said quietly, her voice sounding fragile.
Silence greeted her, at first, as if he couldn’t believe that she’d actually answered. Becky could hear Tucker’s breathing, and she contented herself with listening to that for a moment, just closing her eyes and pretending that she was with him now instead of miles away.
“God, Becky, I was beginning to think you weren’t ever going to talk to me again,” he finally said, his words coming in a rush. His voice sounded raw and rough.
“I’m sorry,” she said, immediately. “I… I’m sorry. I couldn’t face you. I… I couldn’t even talk to you. After the way I acted… The things I said... The things I did… The way I always felt about my brother when he acted like that and then for me to go to that bar…”
“Becky, one night at a bar does not make you your brother. And, as for everything else, we will discuss it when I see you, okay?” Becky swallowed. ‘Discuss’ to Tucker meant ‘spank’ to her. “You need to learn to come to me, baby. Cause you’re not getting rid of me. I’m here to stay. I think maybe you could use some counseling to help you with that, and with your feelings about Mark, but we can talk about that later, too.
“Look… I’ve finally got things taken care of here. I’ll be in New York tonight. Now I want you to listen to me. When you get home from school today, you are to get changed into a nightshirt and panties, and you are to go directly to the corner of your living room by the entertainment center. I want you to stand in the corner with your panties dropped down to your feet, and I want you to pull the nightshirt up and tuck the hem into the back of the neckline. I want that shirt pulled up far enough that your bare bottom is on display while you stand in the corner. I want you to stand there, thinking about everything that happened at home, and wait for me to come and ring for you that I’m there. Do you understand?”
Becky swallowed. He’d never made her do something like this before a spanking, or after one, for that matter. He’d told her to stand in the corner when she’d been home, and he was going to spank her after she’d gone riding, but then that spanking had never actually taken place; she’d never even made it as far as standing in the corner that night. “How long do you think you’ll be?” she asked.
“The plane is scheduled to arrive at five. I’m only bringing a carry-on bag, so I won’t waste any time picking up luggage. I figure, with drive time in a taxi, I might be at your place as early as five-thirty; maybe six.”
Considering what time she left school and her own travel time, that would mean about an hour in the corner, depending on how long it really took him. Becky sighed. Oh, boy. She had to remind herself that this was just the beginning, too. It would only get worse when he finally got here, and she had to face the music with him. Then, standing in a corner by herself for an hour probably wouldn’t seem so bad.
“Becky? You there?”
“Y-yeah. I’m here. I’ll be there. Waiting for you.”
She thought she heard him sigh. “Good, I’m glad. I’ve missed you. I don’t really want to start right off with a spanking tonight, Red, but…”
“No,” she cut him off, surprising herself as much as him, “No, I deserve it. I know that.”
There was a pause on his side. Then: “Okay. So, I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”
There was another pause. He could just as easily have said, ‘I love you. Good bye.’ But he didn’t. He waited to see what she might say back.
“I love you too, Tuck.”
There it was, that sound again, like a sigh. She recognized it as a sound of relief. “Okay, see you tonight.”
Becky flipped the cell phone closed and squeezed her eyes shut. Oh boy, was she in for it…
* * * *
The day seemed to both fly by and to drag on forever. Becky dreaded seeing it draw to a close, because that meant going home and getting her butt set on fire by Tucker. But, at the same time, she wanted it to move faster because she wanted to get past the spanking, so she and Tucker could make up.
At least, that was what she hoped might happen after the spanking.
She didn’t really think he would come all this way just to beat her butt, tell her things weren’t going to work out between them after all, and then walk out of her life for good. Tucker certainly wasn’t the kind of guy to dump a girl over the phone, either. But what if he had changed his mind about their relationship?
She tried to call Amy during her lunch break, for a distraction, and hopefully for some reassurances, too, but she wasn’t home. She tried her mom next, and Joyce answered on the second ring.
“Sweetie, I’m right in the middle of something, but I know Tucker’s coming tonight,” her mom said, right off the bat, sounding a little winded. “And I just want to say, don’t you dare screw it up, Rebecca Marie Atlee. You two belong to
gether. You give that boy the chance he deserves, and you let him in. You just let him in.”
Resisting the urge to play dumb about what her mother meant about letting Tucker in, Becky fell silent for a moment. Joyce let her words hang over the phone a moment, for emphasis, Becky assumed. Then she further punctuated them with: “Call me in a few days and let me know how it’s going. Bye, honey.”
And then she hung up. Her own mother! Hung up on her!
Becky took the cell phone away from her ear and looked at it, frowning, like it was a foreign object.
Obviously, everyone she knew was on Tucker’s side in this little saga.
When school finally let out for the day, Becky followed her students out, a contrast in emotions compared to them. They were all bursting with smiles and energy, ready to start a new weekend. She was subdued and nervous, unsure what to expect from her own weekend, other than one very sore behind.
True to her promise, she went straight home to her apartment, came inside, set aside all her things, got changed into a long sleep shirt and panties, and placed herself in the corner Tucker had indicated. She reached behind her and awkwardly pulled up the back of her hemline, tucking it into the neck of the shirt. Lastly, she wiggled her panties down her hips until they pooled around her ankles.
Embarrassing. Even just standing there alone was humiliating.
Although, she supposed, that was the point of the whole exercise.
She glanced over her shoulder at the digital clock display on the DVD player. It was five-fifteen. She had a while to wait…
* * * *
By the time the buzzer rang announcing that she had a visitor, Becky’s legs were tired, and she had long ago leaned her forehead against the spot where the two walls joined. Her mind was frayed with thoughts of the last few events that had happened before she’d run off after the funeral, and she was now, more than ever, afraid to see Tucker again. Afraid of what he thought of her, afraid of looking him in the eye, afraid that he wasn’t going to want her anymore, after seeing her fall weak the way she’d always verbally flayed her brother for doing.
You Can Go Home Again Page 12