Sweet Dreamin' Baby

by Mary Kay McComas

  "No, Ellis." Anne put a halting hand on her shoulder. "That one's for you."

  "Me?" She pulled the other half of the box back out from the hiding place and laid it on the floor in front of her, pulling her hands away to hold them nervously in her lap.

  "Open it, Ellis. Buck and I decided you'd get more use out of it if we gave it to you a little early, before the party tonight."

  The box with its shiny paper and big fluffy bow were gift enough. It was too grand to open.

  "Please. Open it, Ellis." Anne came to the floor beside her with no little effort, and as if somehow knowing that the beauty of the box had Ellis spellbound, she slipped the top off with paper and bow intact. "Go ahead, Ellis."

  She pulled back the layers of tissue paper as if she were expecting to find religious relics or something so fine and fragile it would shatter at the touch of light.

  Ten years was a long time, but the thrill of pulling a bright blue dress from a gift box was no less poignant. Her throat felt thick and tight and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Where the ten-year-old Ellis had held up a homemade dress styled and fit for a ten-year-old, a twenty-year-old Ellis pressed a store-brought dress styled simply with buttons down the front and lace around the collar to her adult body. And where the child Ellis had pranced around the house for Effie and the boys to see, the woman Ellis dressed slowly, putting on the slip and pantyhose she'd found in the bottom of box with the low-heel shoes and descended the stairs slowly, wanting only one special someone to see her.

  Bryce was standing in the living room, off to one side, legs braced, feeling anxious, trying to hold a coherent conversation with his buddy, Jim Doles.

  It was the second Christmas party they'd had since Anne had settled into their lives, and he'd enjoyed the last one tremendously. The house was decorated and crowded with their favorite people, food and drink abounded, but still he was pensive. It was Ellis's first party. She wasn't expected to serve the guests or walk in the background making sure everything went smoothly. She was to be a guest, honored and welcome.

  "What if I can't think of anything to say, or if I spill somethin'? Or what if I spill somethin' on somebody else?" She'd groaned in the darkness… "What if someone laughs at me, and I get mad and—"

  "Shh," he'd hushed her, rolling over in the bed to lock her securely in his arms. "Nothin' is gonna go wrong, I promise." He planted a kiss on her temple. "You know most everybody who's comin', and anyone who's met ya loves ya. I've never seen a girl twist so many people 'round her little finger in so short a time."

  "It's 'cuz of you that they ..."

  "No." He was adamant. "It's you they care about, Ellis. Folks might tolerate ya 'cuz you're someone I care about, but they go the extra distance to be your friend 'cuz they like you."

  “Ya think so?"

  He lifted his head and kissed her soundly, with confidence and surety. "I know so." His mouth covered hers once more as he rolled his body atop hers. Fingers that fidgeted anxiously at her chest were disentangled, separated, and drawn up above her head. "The easiest thing I ever did . . . the best thing I ever did, was fall in love with you." He nuzzled her neck, forged a path of delight along the valley between her breasts, drove her wild as he took her left nipple gently between his teeth. She freed her hands to hold him close, arching her back, releasing her thoughts and worries. "The hard part is lettin' go of ya when we're done makin' love and lettin' ya out of my sight when we leave for work in the mornin'." His kisses were increasingly aggressive and possessive; his hands were demanding, and she wallowed in the sensations of being loved and wanted. "It's hard for me not to be jealous of the time ya spend with other people, and it's hard for me to know that I can't give ya the moon and stars, like ya deserve." She pulled his face toward hers and wrapped her legs around his waist. He was the moon and the stars, more than she'd ever dreamed of having. And she needed him.

  He returned her kiss but pulled away, smoothing her hair back from her face, needing to speak the words in his heart. "It's hard not to be proud of ya, Ellis. Hard not to admire your strength. Hard knowin' ya don't need me to have what ya want out of life. . . . But lovin' ya is easy. Easy for me and easy for everybody else."

  "Show me, then," she'd whispered. "Now. Love me now, Bryce, and don't ever stop."

  ~*~

  He sighed, and a familiar longing clutched low in his abdomen. His gaze wandered restlessly over the Christmas merrymakers as he debated going up to her room and coaxing her down to the party ... or maybe throwing a private party of their own.

  His eyes gravitated toward the staircase when a low murmuring rippled through the room.

  Ellis. Somehow he was at the bottom of the stairs watching her take each step, timid and self-conscious, when she should have swooped into the crowd like a queen among commoners. An angel among sinners.

  Her golden crown of hair haloed her face, pulled up at the sides and secured with a white ribbon, cascading down to the middle of her back. And the dress . . . Well, he hadn't seen her in a dress before. It was . . . inspiring. He wanted to remove it. Slowly. Explore the very female, very womanly aspects it suggested. And legs! Well, he'd seen her legs before, but somehow, sheathed in nylon, her feet in feminine shoes instead of boots ... well, hell! The whole picture she presented was pure erotica for him.

  She came face to face with him on the second to last step, and she was frowning.

  "Well?" she asked, her uneasiness making her sound irritated. "Why are ya lookin' at me like that? Don't I look fine? The dress is posh . . . but on me, maybe ..."

  "The dress is fine. And you are very beautiful," he said, dazed, struggling to appear somewhere near normal in his behavior. He stepped back and pretended to reexamine the dress, frowning. "But something's missin'."

  “Ya dolt! Are ya crazy? She's as pretty as a picture," those who gathered behind him muttered, glaring at him.

  "Ya lost your mind, boy?" Looty Miller inquired sternly, elbowing her way to the front of the crowd. "I ain't seen a prettier gal in a year of Sundays. Ellis, pay him no mind, ya hear? Ya look good enough to eat."

  "I'd march her all the way down to the front pew," Wilbur Jordan said.

  "So would I," Bryce said, glowering at the old man who was still boasting that he'd taught Ellis to two-step. He looked back at her, saw the uncertainty in her eyes, and smiled, saying, "But I still think there's somethin' missin'. Somethin' that would make this . . . this vision perfect."

  He snapped his ringers as if hitting on the answer, and taking Ellis by the hand, led her across the room to the Christmas tree. Like magic, he reached into the thick, heavily decorated boughs of the tree and pulled out a small box.

  "This is for you," he said, placing it in the palm of her hand.

  Lordy. Another gift. From Bryce. She swallowed the tears at the back of her throat. Her hands were shaking. "Shouldn't . . . shouldn't I wait till momin? I've already opened . . ."

  He leaned forward to murmur in her ear. "There's another for the mornin'. Open this one now. It's all right. It's allowed."

  She looked up to see him smile his encouragement; tenderness and affection glowing in his eyes. She smiled back and turned her attention to the little package in her hand.

  "Ah," she gasped. "What a pretty little box!"

  "Open it!" several women, including Anne and Looty, called out at once, grinning at one another, all of whom had seen similar boxes before.

  Inside, hanging on a sparkling box-link chain of gold was a small pendant with a heart-shaped cluster of diamonds dangling at its center.

  Thoroughly dazzled, she stared at the necklace until her eyes burned, and for several long moments, she allowed herself to forget who she was, where she came from, and how she had come to be.

  She was shaking her head and searching for the right words to refuse his gift when Bryce bent to her ear once more and whispered, "Wear it for tonight. I wanna see how you look in it. We can fight about it later if you're still of a mind to."

&nb
sp; Their gazes met, hers very serious, his curiously triumphant. She took the necklace from the box and lifted her hair high and away from her neck. He fastened his heart around her neck.

  ~*~

  It was New Year's Eve before she realized that she could no more remove it than she could cut out her own heart.

  “Ya look beautiful in this little necklace," he said, grinning mischievously, toying with it, his fingers brushing sensuously against her skin.

  Ellis experienced a full-scale body blush and brushed his hand away.

  "I wish ya wouldn't talk like that here," she told him, glancing around the crowded Steel Wheel, her senses in turmoil, her lips barely suppressing a smile. "What if somebody hears ya?"

  "Then they'll agree with me. They'll butt right in and say, You're right, Bryce, she does look beautiful in that necklace."

  "Ah, you." She slapped at him playfully and covered the heat in her cheeks with her hands. "Shame on ya for doin' this to me."

  He threw his head back and laughed heartily before he covered her hands with his and kissed her smack on the mouth.

  It was a typical scene of their life of late. Happy. Loving. Playful. Since the wee hours of Christmas morning it had been a favorite game of theirs to make references to the necklace and the way she looked in it . . . wearing nothing else.

  Loving and making love filled the vast voids in her soul, in the spirit that for so long had been beaten down and trudged upon. This was especially true after Bryce explained the precautions he was taking not to give her a baby before she wanted one. It endeared him to her all the more for his selflessness, and it freed many of the fears and inhibitions she had regarding the act of loving. Liberated from any unwanted consequences, she acquired a healthy interest in and appetite for sex, which Bryce was all too happy to satisfy for her.

  And they loved. Sometimes it was slow, steamy, and solemn. Sometimes it was fast, fevered, and fun. Most often it was a combination of both. And always, always, she was content.

  Well ... almost content. As soon as she could get back to Stony Hollow ... As soon as she could find the right moment to tell Bryce . . . Then she would be content. Soon. Soon.

  "Anne and Buck are here," she heard Bryce say, his words fracturing her troubled thoughts. "Come sit with us for a while."

  "And lose my job?"

  "Then try to be somewhere close at midnight. I'll find ya."

  They noticed the light-footed Wilbur Jordan motioning her over to the table where he sat with his wife. She slid off her stool and turned back to him, grinning and teasing him with her eyes. "Well, if you don't find me, Wilbur will."

  She left him sputtering as she sashayed over to the Jordans' table.

  "Look at the two of ya, all decked out and ready to howl," she said, greeting them warmly, wondering if she and Bryce would be as obviously in love as the Jordans in fifty years.' Ya look real pretty tonight, Miss Bernice."

  "Thank you, dear," the old woman replied. "But I'm afraid I've seen a few too many New Years to be pretty anymore."

  "Horse pucky!" Wilbur exclaimed. "Bernie, you're as pretty tonight as the night I met ya, told ya so before we left the house tonight."

  Bernice giggled, and if the lighting had been better, Ellis might have seen her blushing.

  "What can I get ya to drink?" she asked, smiling fondly.

  "Hillbilly!" came a familiar roar from the back of the bar.

  Ellis ignored it, though it vibrated every vertebra in her back with malice. To spare her the ordeal, the other barmaids had taken to waiting on Reuben Evans whenever possible. She kept her attention focused on the Jordans.

  "Bernice wants one of them wine and soda pop flip things she likes to drink, and I’ll take my usual," Wilbur said, his facial features tensing when Reuben Evans called out again.

  "Anythin' to eat?"

  "Not just yet, maybe later," he said, and motioning with his head he added, “You watch your step around that one, hear?"

  She nodded and went to two more tables nearby before returning to the bar. The Steel Wheel was hopping and everyone was busy. Evans called out twice more before she arrived at his table.

  "What can I get ya to drink?" she asked, using the exact words she used on all the customers, but not necessarily the same tone of voice.

  "Ya took your damned sweet time gettin' here," Evans groused. From the smell of him she guessed that he'd started his celebrating early—maybe the day before. He was rumpled and glassy eyed as well, three sure signs of drunkenness that put her senses on red alert.

  "I had other orders to take and I'm here now, so what'll ya have?" She noticed he was sitting alone and felt a slight twinge of pity for the man. His nasty disposition had slowly driven away any friends he'd had. The New Year would find him alone and lonely, and she was sorry for that. It was a state she knew well and wouldn't wish on the lowest vermin.

  "I don't like the way you're talkin' to me, hillbilly."

  "I'm sorry," she said, aware of Bryce's presence in the bar and what he'd do if Evans got out of hand with her. It was best to swallow a little pride and try to keep him calm. "If ya’ll just tell me what it is you're wantin', I'll be happy to fetch it for ya."

  "I'm wantin' you," he said, moving like a lightning bolt to grasp her arm. He pulled her toward him. His breath soured her stomach. "But you're thinkin' you're too high and mighty for me 'cuz ya been sleepin' with LaSalle." The fat was in the fire now, she knew, her skin crawling under his touch. The insults were nothing new, but this was the first time he'd touched her physically. "But ya ain't nothin' special, ya bitch. You're just like all the others, even my Liddy. I'll show ya what a real man can do, make ya feel like ya never felt before, make ya do things ya never thought ya would. You'll be comin' back beggin' for—"

  "Get your filthy hands off her."

  Both Ellis and Evans turned their heads to see Bryce, a tower of rage, looming above them. She'd been expecting him, but still he surprised her.

  “You deaf?" he asked when they remained motionless, one amazed by the transformation of the man she loved into a vicious looking animal, the other well pleased with the result of his endeavors.

  "Nah. I ain't deaf," Evans said, slurring his words even as his eyes glinted with a purpose. "Just surprised ya ain't willin' to share what's yours when ya was so free 'n' easy 'bout sharin' what was mine."

  Ellis was incredulous. Not by the man's words, but by the fact that he would speak at all in the face of the danger Bryce presented. She remained stonelike, bent over the table, watching the venom gathering in Evans's eyes as he prepared to strike, waiting for her opportunity to break away.

  “Ya don't want her, Reuben, ya want me. Let her go."

  "Well now, I don't know. But you bein' the authority and all, maybe ya'd tell me if these here hillbillies are as poor in bed as they are at everthin' else they do?"

  "Let her go, ya son of a bitch," Bryce said through clenched teeth. "If we have to come to blows, we'll take it outside."

  "Afraid she'll see what a feather-legged coward ya are? Ya got your pals out there awaitln' on me? Afraid she'll see the way ya gotta sneak around to get what ya want? The way ya sneaked around with Liddy?"

  "Liddy and I didn't have to sneak around. We stepped out in front of the whole town. Everyone knew ya deserted her and ran out on your kids like the no 'count lowlife ya are."

  Reuben's eyes shifted first to the left and then the right, looking into the faces of the people surrounding them. People who knew who he was and what he'd done. People who valued home and family second only to God. People who believed in just deserts and had been watching this hash simmering for months.

  "Let her go now, Reuben, or I’ll knock ya four ways from Sunday." The threat was made simply.

  But Reuben was a man who had a tendency to overwind his watches, and he was dumber than a barrel of hair. Like a shot-putter, he propelled Ellis away from him, backward into Bryce's arms, using his other hand to draw a long-blade knife from his boot, brandishi
ng it in the air between him and the young lovers.

  A split second later he was face down on the floor and disarmed after Peter Harper, Jim Doles, Buck, and Tug Hogan appeared out of nowhere and jumped him from behind. The fight was over before it began.

  "If ya wanna stir up a dust with your fists, that's one thing," Tug's voice boomed out over the anxious crowd. "But I won't abide no knife-flashin' in my bar. Ya get your sorry ass up off my floor, Reuben Evans, and don't ya come back till ya can hold your corners up square."

  Either too stunned or too drunk to lift his head off the floor, Reuben had to be dragged to the door by his four attackers while the crowd rumbled, reenacting or predicting the probable victor of the fracas that never occurred.

  "You okay? Did he hurt ya?" Bryce asked, turning her to face him so he could see for himself.

  "No," she said, watching the metal doors close after Evans. She looked at Bryce then, glad to see that his temper had gone as quickly as it had arrived. "I'm fine. But it ain't over, is it, Bryce? I . . . he'll be back, won't he?"

  He shook his head once. "He's after me, but the whole town's against him 'cuz of Liddy. . . . 'Cuz of you, too. He ain't a stupid man, Ellis, he's just mad as hell. My guess is that he'll crawl off in a couple a days, and we won't hear of him again." Seeing the doubt in her eyes, he grinned. "He sure ain't comin' back tonight, and we're gonna be startin' a whole new year together in less than an hour. What'd ya do with all your smiles? Stick 'em in your pocket?"

  She slipped him a small one. "That's better." He bussed her lips. "I'll get Buck to take my truck home. That way I can go back with you and you can show me how pretty ya look in the necklace again." He smirked and wagged his brows comically. The least she could do in return for his efforts was to laugh at him.

  Tug Hogan had hired a live band for the night, local boys who played western and bluegrass on occasion, but who also had families they supported working at the textile mill like most everybody else in Webster.

  Father Time marched out at midnight, and Baby New Year was herald in with cheers, noise makers, and a lively round of "Auld Lang Syne." Everybody danced. Everyone.