Utterances

by Jo Michaels

  They slept in one another’s arms until an alarm jolted them out of their slumber.

  His hair was mussed, and his eyes were droopy, but she still thought he was the most beautiful specimen of the male species she’d ever set eyes on. There was no way she could resist running her fingers through the dark locks.

  A mischievous grin bloomed on his face, and he rolled over, planting one hand on either side of her head, pushing his pelvis between her legs.

  Then, he kissed her, hard and firm, one hand sliding behind her head to pull her ever closer. His tongue darted into her mouth, and she thanked the powers that be for inventing mouthwash that killed morning breath as she devoured the kiss, wrapping all her passion and love into every moment. He pulled back and kissed her nose. “Your mom and Waymon left an hour ago. Do you think you’d like to try making love?”

  All words except yes fled her mind. There were no worries in her head about the long-term impact of doing so; all she wanted in the world in that moment was to share her body, completely, with the man she loved. As she looked deeply into his eyes and ran her fingers through his hair again, she whispered, “Yes.”

  He groaned and his eyes hooded as he brought his face closer, but not fast enough for her liking. The hand behind his head moved to pull his lips to hers, their tongues creating fire that bloomed throughout her body. She spread her legs wider, lifting her knees to more firmly seal his body close to hers. As they kissed, they moved together. His pushes becoming more urgent every moment, rubbing her through the thin fabric that separated them.

  Gently, his hand moved down, his fingers made of magic. When he touched her, her breath left on a gasp, and she arched her back, unable to think beyond the pleasure that was threatening to drive her mad.

  His mouth left her lips and traveled down her neck to her chest, his teeth nipping at her through the fabric of her nightgown.

  Never before had she felt such intense emotion, and her eyes welled with tears of ecstasy.

  “You think this is amazing? Just wait,” he whispered.

  When he stood to remove his clothing, she licked her lips. A body that wasn’t too tight but wasn’t too fluffy filled her mind with deviant things. All she wanted was him back in the bed, back on top of her, as close as he could be. Quickly, so she didn’t miss anything, she stripped off her gown and threw it on the floor.

  Going from her toes to her face, slowly, his eyes moved over her bared flesh. When he looked at her, he smiled softly and lowered himself to her once again.

  She heard the crinkling of a wrapper, but she was so engrossed in touching his back and arms and kissing him, she didn’t bother asking what was going on. Heat flared inside her in places she never knew existed before that moment. It was exciting and terrifying all at once.

  Finally, she could feel him pressing against her, and she lifted her hips to invite him in. He pressed his hips forward, and his eyes slid closed. It all moved so slowly, she wasn’t sure if she was still dreaming or if it was reality. Sharp pain zipped up her back, but it was quickly replaced with a feeling she couldn’t name. Pleasure, from deep inside her belly, radiated to the tips of her fingers and toes as she wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him even closer.

  Nothing was done quickly. Tristan was a man possessed. Every detail was given close attention, and he took his time admiring her body, touching her everywhere, and kissing her whenever possible. Their love flowed between their bodies like waves upon the ocean, and she cried out as something started to build that was more pleasurable than she’d ever known possible. As the sensation crested, sobs tore from her throat as tears spilled from her eyes. When it was done, she looked up at Tristan, finding him in a similar state.

  Both of them were panting hard by the time they were spent, and he collapsed next to her on the bed, one hand over his heart, a super-sized grin on his face.

  “Holy crap. Is that what I’ve been missing out on all these years?” she asked between breaths.

  “No, my love. That wasn’t like anything I’ve ever experienced before. That was earth-shattering, ground-breaking, amazingly fantastic.” He turned toward her and put one arm over her belly. “I love you, Simone.”

  Still caught in the beautiful aftermath of their lovemaking, she gazed at him, noting the glow around his body created by the sunlight streaming through the window. “I love you, too, Tristan.”

  An alarm blaring jerked her out of her dream, and she bolted upright, one hand on her heart to calm the fury of the beats. She looked to one side and noted that Tristan was still sleeping, his snores loud enough to wake the dead. As she took in the room, she realized it was still dark outside and wondered why the hell her alarm had gone off. When she reached for the phone, there was no button to press to turn the damned thing off, but then it hit her that there wasn’t an alarm sounding anywhere. Curious, she ducked out of bed and walked around the room. Light was coming from her backpack where the book was secured, and she wondered when she’d stopped taking it to bed with her.

  Her hand shook as she undid the clasp and pulled the old tome out, giving the cover a gentle tug.

  It wouldn’t open, but the pulsing light continued. Again, she tried to lift the cover.

  Nothing.

  Not from pleasure that time, but from apprehension, her heart picked up its pace, thundering against her breastbone.

  She ran from the bedroom to the bathroom, flipping on the light and closing the door in one motion, and then she put the book on the vanity while she gazed in the mirror.

  Each light pulse yanked on her breastbone as though tugging her very soul from her body. Fine lines under her eyes and around her mouth spread, aging her as she watched. One hand touched the mirror, and one moved to caress her face. Everything inside her told her in conflicting voices to throw the book away and hug it to her chest at the same time.

  Since there was no way she could get rid of it, not when it held the power to keep those she loved out of Death’s icy reach, she lifted it and pressed it to her, wrapping both arms around it, surrendering to the feeling of giving her life to save another. Never before had the book alerted her to its needs, but then again, she’d rarely been more than a foot or so away from it. As she hugged the tome to her chest, she pictured Kelly. So small, with such a loving family and a long life ahead of her. She was an adorable, sweet child, who deserved everything good in the world.

  Simone’s body flooded with happiness. Such goodness deserved protecting.

  It wasn’t long before the pulsing lights ebbed, and she lifted her gaze to the mirror once more. Her face had gone through astonishing changes in the previous few minutes, and she cried as she thought about Tristan and what he’d say. Surely that would be the last straw. He’d try to stop her from finishing for sure, but if she could convince him that the book had taken all it needed, he might be on board. All she could do was hope.

  Quietly, she flitted back across the hall to her room and slipped back under the covers, book securely tucked under her pillow, arms wrapped around Tristan from behind. As she waited for sleep to claim her again, she recalled her dream, wishing it had been reality, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it could happen the next morning.

  Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Yvette pounded on the door. “Get up! Time for breakfast, you two!”

  No one responded, so she poked her head in. “Hellooooo? Rise and shine, sunshine!”

  “Mom! For the love of Pete! It’s too early!” Simone shouted back.

  “Waymon and I wanted to say goodbye to you guys before we head out. We thought: what better way to do that than a family-style breakfast! So, get up, and get out here. He’s cooking!”

  “Fine. We’ll be there in a moment. Cool your heels.”

  The door closed with a click, and Tristan chuckled. “Your mom is certainly perky this morning.” He rolled over and faced Simone. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

  “Not well. I’ll tell you about it later. Crazy dreams. Right now, let’s get this o
ver with.” She got up and changed quickly, wondering why he didn’t notice how her face had changed.

  By the time they made it out to the dining room, breakfast, complete with pancakes and bacon, was already on the table.

  “Wow, Waymon. This looks amazing. How long have you been up, anyway?” she asked.

  “About an hour. I didn’t want to steal all the hot water from you ladies, so I hauled my big butt out of bed and through the shower before I could.”

  “Now that tells me you’re used to living with females!”

  Everyone joined in when Waymon blushed furiously. “My daughters were good teachers.”

  “I can see that.” She stuffed a huge chunk of pancake in her mouth and winked at him.

  Once they’d cleaned out all the food, Yvette and Waymon left for their jobs, and Tristan and Simone put on the disguises that would make them Tony and Hannah. She went heavy-handed with the makeup, grateful no one had commented on how she looked at breakfast.

  Tristan ran his fingers through the long, straight, blonde hair and grimaced. “It’s not you, but it is what it is, right?”

  “Me? You look like a seventies stoner!” There was no stopping the laughter that erupted from Simone’s mouth. No way had Mrs. Jones bought Tristan’s curly, high-and-tight getup. “At least they won’t be stalking us, trying to get the book or anything stupid like that.”

  “Right.” He inhaled and exhaled deeply. “You ready?”

  Simone nodded and swallowed, still not sure if she should tell him about her dream—or what the book had done in the middle of the night. Deciding to keep her mouth shut for the moment, she followed him out and locked the door.

  When Tristan and Simone got to the Jones’s house, she practically ran to the front door to knock. Giggles came from the other side—music to her ears.

  Mrs. Jones answered, a huge grin on her face. “Come on in! She’s been waitin’ for y’all. Keeps blabberin’ on about some story she’s excited about.”

  Kelly was sitting in the middle of the living room floor, a huge puzzle spread out around her. Her eyes were bright, and she smiled when she looked up and saw the couple. “Oh my gosh! You’re here!” In a second, she was on her feet, giving them both tackle hugs.

  “How are you today?” Simone crouched down to be at eye level.

  “Great!”

  “Did you have a good night?”

  At that question, the child dropped her head and sucked in her bottom lip.

  Simone lifted an eyebrow at Mrs. Jones.

  “She had a real hard time going to sleep, and she woke up a couple of times and got sick, but it stopped around two this morning.”

  Thinking back, it struck Simone that the illness had abated around the time the book started acting strangely. She only had a moment to wonder if the two were connected before Kelly was bouncing around and squealing again.

  “But I feel better now! Can we go read?” Snagging Simone’s hand, the child tugged her narrator toward the bedroom.

  “I guess that’s my cue, huh?”

  Tristan followed, and they all got comfortable in their chairs and in the bed.

  Just as the cover of the book was opened, Kelly asked, “Can you get up here with me today, Hannah?”

  “What do you mean? Lay with you while I read?”

  “Uh huh. Look. I have pillows and everything!” Her eyes were wide, and her lip was sticking out. She was so cute; it was all Simone could do to refuse the request.

  “Not today. How about we ask your mama if I can tomorrow? There are only a few days of the story left, you know.”

  “You mean you aren’t coming back once it’s over?”

  “We’ll see.” She would’ve said anything right then to stop the tears that seemed on the verge of breaking loose. It killed her to see little kids cry. “Okay?”

  “Okay. I guess.”

  “Let’s get started then.” Words were already black on the page, and she wondered why she hadn’t felt the familiar pull when it started. Shaking it off, she orated for hours, putting all the inflection she could into the words.

  Kelly’s eyes eventually closed, and Simone closed the book and stared at the sleeping child. Her face was pillowed on pressed hands, and her eyelids didn’t twitch. Teddy had been shoved so far down under the blanket its head had disappeared, but the shape was obvious. Simone wondered if the stuffed animal had been a gift when Kelly first got sick, or if it was something beloved from when she was younger. Will she keep it after she’s better, I wonder, or will it be a painful reminder of a difficult time in her life?

  Tristan’s soft touch on Simone’s arm pulled her back, and she grinned at him. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I was just admiring all my hard work,” she responded.

  “She’s too cute. I have a hard time not stealing her away.” He winked, and then he dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’d like to have kids someday, I think.”

  It was something she knew, but they’d never really talked about, and suddenly, she wondered if marrying him was such a great idea. If I can’t give him children, how will he feel? She worried he’d grow to resent her eventually, even if he accepted it at first. Couples spent tens of thousands of dollars trying to conceive, and once they had the baby bug, it seemed a difficult concept to walk away from. Tension in her body rose, and she squeezed his hand.

  “We’ll talk about it, okay?” she asked.

  He agreed, and they walked out of the room, with their fingers still intertwined.

  Mrs. Jones greeted them with tiny plates with pieces of pecan pie on them and gestured toward the table. “Won’t you please join me for some pie?” Her face was so open and happy, they could only share a glance, shrug, and agree. While they ate, they learned about their host—not from asking, but it was typical for country folks to overshare around a piece of pie.

  Mrs. Jones had six brothers and two sisters, and her husband’s family was nearly the same size. Kelly had been born sickly, so the couple had never tried for another child; they didn’t even experience an oops. They were both in their mid-thirties, and both were in their second marriage. Mrs. Jones lost her first husband to an accident at the plant that bankrupted the business, leaving no money for those left behind. She met her husband, Amos, at church, and the two had hit it off right away. A year later, they got married, and nine months after that, Kelly was born.

  Stories of her antics had Tristan and Simone laughing so hard they were crying. It wasn’t until the stories of the cancer that the happy tears turned to sad ones.

  “I want that happy, mischievous little girl that she was back,” Mrs. Jones said, as she blew her nose. “She’s all I’ve got besides my husband.”

  “I understand. It was the same with my mom. Once my dad left, she was all I had, too.”

  Sniffling, the lady lifted her head and put a hand over Simone’s. “How does it work?”

  Tension grew between her shoulder blades. “What?”

  “The story. I know that’s what’s healing my daughter, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out how something like that might do what it does.”

  “I can’t tell you that, Mrs. Jones—”

  “Please, call me Virginia.”

  “Okay, Virginia. I can’t tell you how I’m doing what I’m doing, and I need you not to ask me to. If you do, I won’t come back, and your daughter’s cancer will start growing again.”

  “Okay, okay.” Virginia sat back and folded her hands over her belly. “I wasn’t trying to take anything from you or mess up what you’re doing. My curiosity always gets the best of me.” She narrowed her eyes. “You look a little different today though, and I guess that’s what prompted me to ask.”

  Suddenly self-conscious, Simone tipped her head forward so her hair curtained her face. Tristan hadn’t mentioned anything, and she was rather terrified he’d suddenly pay closer attention once he knew to be looking for something.

  “I apologize.” Virginia patted Simone’s hand. “
I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  “It’s okay.” Simone squeaked the words out. “We really do need to get going though.” She stood, and Tristan did the same. “Thank you for the pie and the coffee. They were delicious.”

  “Alrighty. See y’all tomorrow.” Virginia followed them to the door. “And, Hannah?”

  “Yes ma’am?”

  “Thank you again.”

  With a nod, Simone turned and raced across the pavement to the truck, yanking on the handle as Tristan unlocked the doors. Finally, hers swung open, and she jumped in, trying to steady her shaking hands.

  “You okay?”

  “Please, Tristan, just drive. Get me away from here.”

  He complied, and the farther they got from the Jones’s house, the more the muscles in her neck loosened. By the time they reached the parking lot of the apartment, she was much more relaxed and was able to breathe fully once again.

  “Now can I ask if you’re okay?” he whispered.

  “Yeah. Now I’m good.” Anger at the woman’s boldness hit Simone like a speedboat propeller. “Can you believe her?”

  “I know. I thought you were going to rotate your head around a hundred and eighty degrees and spew pea soup when she mentioned the story.”

  She laughed. “Good visual. Ugh.”

  “You gonna go back tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know. Since tomorrow is Friday, I’m not too worried about a crowd, but if she blabs to her family about anything, Saturday and Sunday will be nightmarish. What if there’s a mob waiting to steal the book from us when we get there?”

  “Don’t you have to finish the reading? Will it work with someone else?”

  “I have no idea.” Her eyes dropped to her hands, folded in her lap. “Let’s go inside and worry about it when there’s something to actually worry about.” A smile tried to form on her lips, but the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right grew with each step she took toward her door. Right before they got there, she turned to Tristan and threw her arms around his neck.