The River Valley Series

by Tess Thompson

  She whispered, “No.”

  He smiled and pulled her close. “Alright then, put your arms around my neck.” He lifted her onto the bed and she collapsed onto the pillows, self-conscious of the slight swell of her stomach.

  “Just remember I warned you that I’m no good at this,” she said.

  He propped himself next to her on the bed, casual, like they had all the time in the world. He played with the lace of her bra and she felt her nipples harden and wished for his fingers to reach under the fabric. “When you say no good, what exactly do you mean?”

  “I’m sort of stuck, in a manner of speaking.”

  He kissed the inside of her arm. “Is that code word for orgasm?”

  She smiled, blushing. “I guess.”

  “I guarantee you will not be stuck by the time I’m done with you.” The way he spoke, his voice low in his throat, so self assured and good naturedly powerful, made her body ache for the feel of him. As if he read her mind, he slid her panties down her legs, his mouth drifting along with his fingers as he tugged. He unbuttoned his own shirt and took off his pants, picked up her dress from the floor and draped them, like they were lovers themselves, on the back of a large armchair in the corner. He joined her on the bed, hands on her thighs, mouth hot against the cool skin of her neck. He unhooked the clasp of her bra and her heart beat inside her chest. He took an intake of breath when he slipped the bra from her shoulders, revealing her bare breasts. She moved her arm in front of them, blushing. “They’re not always this big.”

  “I’ll enjoy them while I can then.” He pushed her back on the pillows, kissed her mouth again, this time pulling at her bottom lip with his own, and then moved down to her breasts where his tongue flicked her nipples and something molten ran through her body and she drifted away from anything but the sensation of the electricity between them. He parted from her, breaking the spell for a moment, and opened the drawer next to his bed. “I’ve been tested, but I’ll use a condom until we can have a proper discussion,” he said. She stared at the ceiling, thinking how naive she was to not have thought about that kind of protection, and wondered how many women had been in this bed before her. She felt him crouch beside her and heard the snap of the condom but instead of jumping on her like Dan always had, he lay on his side and ran his fingers up and down her thighs and back to her breasts, commanding responses from somewhere inside her. His mouth made trails up her legs, between her legs, her breasts, until she heard herself whimper, and when she thought she couldn’t stand another moment, he put his fingers between her legs and stroked her until she moaned. He moved on top of her, holding himself above her on his strong arms to avoid crushing the small roundness of her stomach and she raised her hips to meet him. Her mind blanked of coherent thought, except for the feeling that there was a seed at the core of her body, and it sprouted and grew with each of their movements until she was a throbbing, exploding blossom, pink and ripe.

  The only sounds in the room were the low hum of the air conditioner and his ragged breath and her murmurs as they rocked against each other. She felt like an animal, and his movements next to her were like a wild creature too, unrestrained, ardent, and his excitement elevated her own until the climax made her cry out, back arched, legs wrapped around his, hands clutching the skin of his lower back. A split second later, he uttered a short, explosive breath, the side of his face on her neck.

  He rolled to his side, his face relaxed, the corners of his mouth lifted in a half smile. He ran his hand over her thigh. “Like I said, his problem, not yours.”

  She trembled and tears started at the corners of her eyes. He wrinkled his brow and wiped the tears with his thumb. His voice was soft, tender. “Lee, what is it?”

  She shook her head, too shy to say she felt somehow unleashed, free, and most of all, grateful. “I’ve never, not with someone else anyway, had that before.”

  “It’s about time, then, isn’t it?” He kissed the sides of her face. “Lee, I have to know something. Was the baby planned between you?”

  She looked at the ceiling. “No. He didn’t know about it before he died. A baby was never in our mission statement, so to speak.” Her voice was hollow. “We hadn’t slept together in six months and the year before that it was a handful of times. I don’t know if it was that he’d lost the attraction towards me or if it was just symptomatic of his stress over our company. I guess I’ll never know.”

  He swept her hair away from her face. “It wasn’t you, trust me.” He pulled her to him and they made love again until they fell wet and spent onto the pillows. He turned on his other side and slept, his legs curled just slightly, one side of his face nestled in a soft pillow, the comforter covering the bottom half of his body.

  Wide awake, she got out of bed, quiet so as not to wake him, and put on his shirt from the chair, pausing for a moment to breathe in his aftershave from the collar. She tiptoed to the hallway and pulled from her purse a small notebook where she kept her lists and ideas for Riversong. She found a sharpened pencil in the bottom of her purse and tiptoed back to Tommy’s room. She sat cross-legged in the oversized armchair and opened to a blank page. In sleep his face was soft and she imagined what he must have looked like as a child. His dark lashes lay against his high cheekbones. His mouth was slack and his breath moved his chest up and down in a steady rhythm.

  She sketched the curve of his shoulder first, trying to capture the bulge and bristle of the developed muscle group. As she worked she told herself she should analyze why she was in the bedroom of a stranger after just burying her husband and carrying his child inside her. She should think about how she and Tommy were doomed to part and that she might hurt him and herself the longer she stayed. But those thoughts were so distant as to not even be real. Her mind seemed unlike her own, empty of the precise rational thought she’d built her life around. She was only a body. A body that only yesterday was drained of warm blood and soft tissue and was now rushing, pulsating with life. Her skin that had been reduced to dry crepe paper was replaced with the flush of sweet dewy cells. She was weak and thirsty for this love, for the touch of this man’s hand, for this bloom. She would drink from the well as long as she could, as it would have to last her a lifetime.

  She sketched until the dawn brought the first of the day’s light, watching him, trying to capture every nuance of his face and torso on the page. She had four drawings by the time she heard the first morning bird’s song and was suddenly tired and cold. She climbed into bed then, pulling the comforter up to her shoulders and resting her head next to his on the pillow. He stirred and reached out, pulling her to him. His fingers felt along her hip and down her leg like they were reading Braille. She sighed and closed her eyes, putting her hand on the side of his torso. His skin was cold there and she pulled the comforter over him and moved so their bodies were against each other. He whispered in her ear, “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

  “No. It’s just five o’clock now.”

  “Sleep. I’ll keep my hands off you until at least nine.”

  “How did you know I didn’t sleep?”

  “I don’t know. I just did.”

  Chapter 17

  On Sunday, in her backyard, Lee draped a white sheet over a borrowed table from the restaurant. She arranged canning jars filled with flowers and tea lights in the middle of the table. She set four places with plates, silverware, wine glasses, and white table napkins folded like small hats. She smiled to herself, enjoying the simplistic beauty.

  Annie, in Lee’s kitchen, hummed along to the radio amidst the sounds of chopping and clanging pans. Alder kicked his soccer ball outside the gate in an imaginary game, his cries of triumph making their way over the fence.

  She walked to the front yard as Alder dropped his ball and jumped up to a tree branch to hang like a monkey. Lee sat in the rocking chair on her repaired porch and watched a pair of hummingbirds drinking the nectar of the hibiscus Ellen had planted in the hanging planters.

  Two weeks into May
now, the thermometer hanging by the door said seventy-six and the air smelled like promise and fresh grass. She heard a low hum of a truck engine and tires crunching on the gravel road and looked up to see Tommy’s truck bouncing down the driveway. He stopped next to the patch of grass and jumped from his truck to join her on the porch. “What time you leave this morning? I woke up and there was no trace of you.”

  “I had an early meeting with a supplier.”

  “What’s that smell?”

  “Dinner. First meal cooked in there since 1972.”

  He laughed. “That the chef?”

  She nodded and pointed to Alder, who was now chasing his ball in a circle around the yard. “That’s Alder. Her son.”

  He sat on the new steps and stretched his legs. “What’re we eating?”

  “This is a work thing.”

  His face sobered. “You sleep in my bed two nights in a row and I can’t come for dinner?”

  “It’s not Mayberry supper club.”

  He picked up a pebble from the flower bed next to the step and lobbed it across the grass to the gravel road. “Dinner too much of an admission we’re involved?”

  “Don’t make this complicated.”

  “That’s what you do.” He hoisted off the steps and stood. “Mike was at the rec center this afternoon. Why didn’t you tell me you committed to a partnership with him? He’s talking crazy, like you’re going to help us save the town.”

  She shrugged but said, earnestly, “There’s something about Mike. I can’t say no to him.”

  “But you can to me?”

  “What? No. It’s different.”

  “How?”

  “Because I shouldn’t have a boyfriend when my husband’s been dead less than four months.”

  “Is that what it is?” He stared at her, cheeks flushed, eyes sharp, a vein in the middle of his forehead bulging. “Or is it something else?”

  “I need the money. What do you want me to say?” Her hands shook and she felt the sting of tears behind her eyelids.

  He rested his head on a beam and looked towards the driveway. “I hear from Mike that you said you’d stay but you tell me you’re leaving. Which is it?”

  “I, I don’t know.”

  “I should go.”

  “No, please stay.” She moved to where he stood on the steps. She touched a strand of his hair that curled around the neck of his shirt and breathed in his skin’s citrus, salty scent. “I’m still working some things out.” She couldn’t think what else to say and played with the collar of his shirt. “Starting to see why my husband killed himself?”

  He stood stiff, silent, rubbing the scar on his cheek. “You do this joke thing when you want to avoid saying the truth. To answer your question, no, I can’t see one reason why any man could bring himself to leave a life that had you in it.”

  “Is that a lyric from one of your songs?” she said, softly, feeling the tears form at the corners of her eyes.

  He shook his head and smiled. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

  She put her arms around his neck and pressed into him. “I’m sorry, just stay for dinner.”

  He put his face into her hair. “Tell me your secret. I’ll help you.”

  Still pressed into him, she said quietly, “Tommy, you’re right that I have a secret. It’s something from my past. I’m taking care of it but it’s complicated and I can’t share it with you.”

  He pulled back, searching her face. “Why?”

  “Because it would put you in danger.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I need you to promise me you won’t ask me about it again.”

  He peered at her. “I don’t know.”

  “Just promise me.”

  “Fine. For now.”

  She heard footsteps on the gravel driveway. She pulled away from Tommy just as Ellen came around the corner of the house. But she forgot her embarrassment in the instant it took her to stifle a gasp. Ellen’s braid had been replaced by an attractive pixie style cut. She had on new clothes too, a floral-print skirt and lilac-colored blouse.

  Ellen clapped her hands when she saw Tommy. “I’ll be, I didn’t know this was a party.”

  “I kind of invited myself,” said Tommy.

  “It’s just you two. And Alder. Not really a party,” said Lee.

  “Haven’t seen any lights down here in two nights.” Ellen looked from Lee to Tommy and back again. “You been busy?”

  Lee felt her cheeks blaze with heat and saw Tommy stifle a smile. “Ellen, your hair looks nice,” said Lee.

  “The ladies down at the salon talked me into it.” Ellen waved her hand in the air, as if it was the ordinary course of things. “I thought I might ask that nice Verle out on a date.”

  “A date?” said Lee.

  Ellen chuckled. “What? The old biddy can’t have some fun?”

  “But, I mean…” Lee stumbled on the words. “How old is Verle anyway?”

  Tommy laughed. “Old enough to go on a date.”

  Ellen picked lint off the front of her skirt. “How old is he, Tommy?”

  “I think he’s sixty-eight.”

  Ellen clapped her hands together, beaming. “Perfect. I always went for younger guys.”

  Tommy laughed again and then lowered his voice, as if Verle were in the next room. “Now, don’t tell him I told you this but he has a little crush on you.”

  Ellen whipped her head around to stare at Tommy. “Are you sure?”

  Lee sat in the rocking chair and put her head in her hands.

  “As a matter of fact,” Tommy glanced back at Lee, “I think he might be free tonight.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Can we invite him?”

  Lee held up her hand. “We don’t have enough food.” She gave Tommy a pointed look, which he ignored.

  Ellen’s face fell. “Well, that’s just fine. We’ll do it some other time.”

  Lee’s heart softened and she waved her hand in the air. “Fine, invite him. I hope Annie can feed all of us.”

  Tommy went to where she sat in the chair and kneeled, putting his hands on her thighs. “Don’t try to control it, just let it unfold.”

  She smiled, wanting to kiss him, but instead said with a tease and a mock pout in her voice, “You two have to do the dishes.”

  Tommy whooped, kissed her full on the mouth, and then pushed a couple of buttons on his cell phone. “I should’ve brought my guitar.” He shuffled to the other end of the porch and murmured into the phone.

  The pair of hummingbirds hovered near the hibiscus, invisible wings a loud buzz. “I should get a feeder,” said Lee.

  Ellen stared at Tommy but spoke to Lee. “What’s that?”

  Lee smiled to herself and sighed. “Never mind.” She walked to the kitchen where Annie was cutting onions into large chunks on a thin wooden cutting board. “There are two extra guests coming. Is that okay?”

  “There’s plenty of food.” On the counter were peeled and quartered Golden Delicious apples and small white potatoes washed but still in their skins.

  Lee leaned on the counter and looked around the remodeled kitchen. Joshua, the handyman, was good, she had to admit. He’d started with the kitchen and had sanded and painted the cabinets eggshell white, the color Lee had in her condo kitchen. He’d then resurfaced the counters with white tiles that he found on sale at a large discount home repair store. He’d ripped the old linoleum floor out and installed the manufactured wood slabs that would also go in the rest of the house once he was through with the other repairs. The walls he painted a pale yellow and Ellen had made simple white linen curtains for the windows. Ellen lent her the money to replace the old appliances with a black General Electric gas stove and refrigerator. Joshua convinced her to install a dishwasher too, as it would add to the salability of the house. “You’ve got to have a dishwasher or the ladies won’t want to buy,” he had said, with a toss of his ponytail. Standing here now, even though she preferred stainless steel
appliances, overall, she was pleased with the clean, crisp feel of the new kitchen.

  But it wasn’t clean tonight. Dirty pans covered the counters, flour powdered the floor, and grease spots speckled the wall by the stove.

  Annie saw her looking around the kitchen. “Sorry for the mess.” Her plump cheeks were flushed a deep pink and she sounded breathless. She ran her hand down the front of her stained and flour-coated apron. “I’m a sloppy cook. If I keep things in order the food isn’t as good.”

  Lee fluttered her hand and smiled. “It’s fine. I’m not here to interfere with an artist at work.” Lee peered through the glass door of the oven and breathed in the smell of warm chocolate. “Do I smell chocolate?”

  “It’s a flourless chocolate hazelnut cake. It has another thirty minutes to bake.” She looked at her watch. “It’s served cool with a dollop of whipping cream sprinkled with hazelnuts.” Annie was wrapping bacon around a long skinny piece of meat. “Pork tenderloins look like a big ‘ol tongue, don’t you think?” Annie chuckled. “Maybe that’s just me.” She stabbed toothpicks through the fatty bacon, securing it to the fleshy pink tenderloin.

  The timer on the oven began to beep. “That’s the crostinis,” said Annie. She slipped her left hand into a mitt, yanked open the oven door, and pulled out a baking sheet with three lines of toasted golden pieces of thin bread. She dropped the baking sheet on the counter and a few crostinis slid off the pan onto the floor and broke into pieces.

  “My main course tonight is pork tenderloins with apples, dates, and baby potatoes,” said Annie. She took string from the pocket of her apron and tied four pieces around the tenderloin, yanked out the toothpicks and tossed them in the sink. Coarsely cut romaine and chunks of Parmesan were piled on a plate. Next to the lettuce was a bowl with a mixture of purple and green grapes. Annie pointed at the salad with the wooden spoon she held in her hand. Drops of the sauce propelled through the air, landing on the fronts of the cabinets. “Every cook should have a Caesar salad with their own secret tweak.” She wiped a greasy hand on the front of her apron. “We’ll sell a lot of Caesars.” She giggled. “I mean, if you choose me.” She chopped the grapes in halves, one by one, the juice making puddles on the surface of the cutting board. She pulled out a package of soft goat cheese from the refrigerator and mixed it with finely chopped fresh thyme and oregano. Using a butter knife, Annie spread the goat cheese on the bread and placed three grape halves on the top of each one.