Landlocked

by Marilyn Baron

  The man made me laugh, so right away I knew he was someone I wanted to get to know.

  “I live just across the way. I bring fresh eggs to the Rushings every morning.”

  I shifted the basket again because my arm was going numb. I couldn’t stop staring at him. The painter took the basket from my arm and offered to take it inside to the Rushings.

  “I’m new here, and I could really use someone to show me around, point out the best scenes from daily life in a small town, the most unique spots for me to paint.”

  And that’s how it started, our daily excursions around the mountain, our precious picnics in the woods, our secret romance. For the first time in my life, I was in love. I wanted to sing it to the world, shout it out to the mountain, but I didn’t dare breathe a word to my sisters, in fear that my brother or father would find out. Stolen moments in seclusion were all we had, but it was enough, at first. And there were the letters, the precious love letters from Moss, that I read and reread every night, every minute we were apart.

  ~*~

  My love,

  I can hardly wait until daylight, when I can see you again, touch you again. Tell you how I feel. Show you what’s in my heart. My hands are yearning to paint you. I can see you in my sleep. I can feel you near me. Before I met you, my life was dark. I wanted to run away from the world and now you are my world. I’m ready to face anything with you beside me. When my eyes fell upon you, suddenly the fog lifted. Out of the mists, the world shifted into focus in a riot of color. The vision of loveliness that you are lights up my existence. The sky seems bluer, the colors brighter, the mountains higher, the air sweeter. All the corny phrases that lovers spout don’t seem so trite.

  Your devoted admirer, Moss

  Moss

  I made a promise to myself. The next time I see Necey—the next time I can truly breathe—I will tell her the truth. That I am a married man, but that my marriage no longer brings me joy, peace, or contentment. That I could no longer work, that I had lost my way until I came to Confrontation. My wife, who seems no happier in our marriage than I am, has asked me for a divorce. We talked about it before I left. She admitted she finds me strange. She used to be attracted by my talent, but now she is jealous of all the time I spend away from her creating, traveling to distant places to find inspiration. She wonders why I can’t find inspiration at home, with her. I tell her I’m a landscape painter and landscape painters paint landscapes. So, naturally, I have to travel to find scenes I want to paint. She no longer wants to share my bed or my life. She says she has found love with another man, a man whose head isn’t in the clouds, who is always around for her, and she wants to start a new life with him. Whatever love we once shared is squandered with rash words and recrimination. I had to leave, and in leaving I found a love like I have never known before.

  I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her. I’ve heard that love at first sight is like a lightning strike, but I never believed it could happen that way. But when I saw Necey, in all her perfection, I fell under her spell. It wasn’t just her looks, although she looked like she had stepped out of a Botticelli masterpiece, a Venus for the ages. She had a smile that would put Mona Lisa to shame. Her soul spoke to mine. I couldn’t wait to get back to my paints to try to capture both her inner and outer beauty. But I doubted I could do her justice.

  And when I picked up my brushes and put them to canvas, it was as if I were possessed. How to capture that waterfall of hair, the way the light played on it, spinning it to gold. The curve of her perfect cheek, the barest hint of breast, the eyes—Oh, God, the eyes that seemed to look right through me. Her lips were perfection. And I wanted those lips on mine. There were no longer any limits. I was a landscape painter who couldn’t stop painting portraits of the woman he loved. What would the art world make of that? To tell you the truth, I didn’t care.

  ****

  Amelia put the letters down on the coffee table. The heat generated by the words was almost combustible. She wanted to get back to them, but as they grew more intimate, the picture they painted was one of forbidden love, an inevitable dance that could have only one outcome. She felt like an intruder, but she couldn’t turn away. She was compelled to keep reading. The fact that the words were written by Moss Hathaway made her even more anxious to get back to them.

  ****

  Necey,

  At last, we’re alone. The Rushings are on an outing, one I fear they invented for our benefit.

  “We’ll be away most of the day, Moss, so feel free to make yourself at home. Take whatever you need.” I wonder if they know that what I need, the only thing I need, is you, my darling Necey. I think we may be more transparent than we think. How could we not be, when we’re a couple in love? When I walked up to rearrange your drape, my hand accidentally touched your breast, and you exploded into my arms. Your nipples stood erect, protruding from that diaphanous robe, longing for my touch, and I fell on you or you fell on me. I don’t know who made the first move, but I could no longer contain my passion. We were both ready. I lifted you from the floor and carried you into my bedroom. And I let my wildest fantasies play out. I touched those rosy pink tips and licked them and drank from them and touched your body all over. You were so wild for me, my darling, and you exceeded my fantasies of our coming together.

  When I learned of your virginity, I could hardly control my need. I moved ever so slowly at first, but you bucked beneath me and wouldn’t let me linger. You wanted me inside of you, and there was no other place I wanted to be. You were eager to learn, and I was eager to teach you, to make you mine in every way.

  I saw the bruises and I didn’t ask questions, just kissed them and kissed you, my darling, in all your sensitive parts, and you gave yourself to me so sweetly my heart wanted to break. I wanted to keep you safe beside me forever.

  Will I ever know all your secrets? Mrs. Rushing told me your father and brother keep you locked away from the world, away from potential suitors, away from life, in a proprietary, unnatural way. I can see you have suffered, but you gave yourself to me without hesitation, bursting with love, moving under me, filling me, completing me in a way I’ve never been loved before. You taught me more about love that one morning than I could ever teach you in a lifetime. You are mine. I am yours. I would lay down my life for you.

  Yours forever, Moss

  ~*~

  My darling Moss,

  I never knew love could be like this. When you touch me my body sings. I want to be with you every minute of every day. I can’t stand to pose because when I look at you, at your beautiful face and your strong body, I can only think of one thing. I fear I am jealous of your talent. I want to throw away your paints and brushes so you can focus only on me. I want to lay with you, warmth against warmth, your body against mine. I want you inside me. If that makes me a wanton woman, then I am guilty. You are my master. I am your slave. I am your master, you are my slave. There is no me. There is no you. There is now only us. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I never knew what I was meant for until you released me. I will come to you, every morning, every night, every moment, so I can be in your arms, no matter the consequences. I can never get enough of you, my darling. No one can keep me from you, my love. There is a whole wide world out there, and I want you to show it to me. We will run away from this place and I will be yours, always and forever.

  Your Necey

  Necey

  “If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to tell Pa or Bundy, especially not Bundy?”

  Barbara and Brenna locked pinkie fingers. “Pinkie swear,” they announced at the same time, chanting the verse they used to sing growing up when they said the same thing at the same time.

  Barbara: “What goes in the oven?”

  Brenna: “Bread.”

  Barbara: “What goes up the chimney?”

  Brenna: “Smoke.”

  Barbara and Brenna: “May your wish and my wish both come true.”

  “Now you have to tell,” coaxed Barba
ra.

  Necey fairly vibrated with excitement. Barbara and Brenna gathered around their sister on the front porch swing. When she had their rapt attention, she began.

  “I’m in love.”

  “Don’t stop there!” Barbara exclaimed.

  “Tell us everything,” Brenna insisted. “Who is he? And how did you find him?”

  That was the biggest mystery of all. Men, at least men who weren’t related to the Brady family, were a scarce commodity in Confrontation. When a woman was marrying age, a man from the neighboring town was usually found to fit the bill. No one ever left Confrontation. Few were allowed to breach the “inner circle,” the Brady inner circle.

  Necey kneaded her hands together. “It’s the stranger across the road.”

  “The handsome stranger?” Brenna’s eyes grew wide.

  “The painter over at the Rushings?” Barbara asked.

  “His name is Moss. Moss Hathaway.”

  “Moss, like the fur that grows on the Bald Cypress?” Brenna and Barbara both laughed.

  “Not Spanish Moss. Moss is his given name.”

  “We didn’t even know you knew him,” said Brenna. “How did you meet?”

  “I was delivering eggs to the Rushings about three months ago when I saw him outside, painting,” explained Necey. “We started talking, and he asked me to help him find locations he could paint, and one thing led to another, and…”

  “It was love at first sight,” Barbara teased.

  “It was. We’re in love. Really in love.”

  “You’re serious,” Brenna said.

  “Yes, and we’re going to run away together tomorrow morning. I just finished packing. I wanted to say goodbye. I even borrowed Mama’s wedding dress, although she doesn’t know it. We’re going to get married right after his divorce comes through.”

  “His divorce!” The girls spoke at once. “He’s married?”

  “Yes, but he’s working things out with his lawyer. He gave me this ring.” Necey thrust out her left hand to flash the emerald-and-diamond ring in front of her sisters.

  “That ring could blind a person,” Brenna said, clutching her sister’s ring finger.

  Barbara reached out and admired the stone. “It’s beautiful, Necey.”

  “Thank you. I just wanted you to know that his intentions where I’m concerned are serious.”

  “When were you planning to break the news to Bunnell?” Brenna inquired.

  Necey paled. “Never. If I tell Bunnell, he won’t let me leave. You know that.”

  “Darn right,” agreed Brenna. “He’d tie you to a post, and then he’d go after Moss with a shotgun.”

  “That’s why you’ve got to swear not to tell him,” Necey pleaded. “Don’t make me sorry I told you.”

  “Necey, our brother’s got eyes and ears everywhere. He’ll sniff you out, and when he does, he’ll never let you go. He’ll probably beat you, too.”

  “He’ll do more than that to you,” Brenna warned. “He’ll do what he’s been itching to do ever since you started blossoming into a woman.”

  Necey shrank back and declared, “That is never going to happen. He’s my brother!”

  “When our brother gets riled, anything can happen,” Barbara said. “And this time, we won’t be able to stop him. It’s you he wants. It’s you he’s always wanted. And he’s ashamed of it, too, which makes it worse. Which is why he’s always punishing you for something you can’t even help. He’s been fighting it, but for all his talk about good Christian values, he’s lusting after his own sister in his heart. But if he can’t have you, he’ll make sure no one else can.”

  “Daddy always said you were his brightest star, the sister who got all the looks and the brains,” said Brenna. “And Bunnell always said no man was ever good enough for Necey.”

  “But we’re triplets. We look alike.”

  “But like Daddy said, ‘The light went out after they made you.’ And Bunnell’s been mooning over you ever since. Nursing his secret dream of saving you for his own.”

  “I love Bunnell like a brother, but not that way,” said Necey. “And, he’s not really our brother, not by blood. It’s no big secret Bunnell was left in a bundle on the church doorstep by a madwoman, and Mama and Daddy took him in. And he’d like to kill anyone who says he isn’t a true Brady. In fact, he probably has. He’s their little angel, sent by God when they couldn’t have children of their own. Then, after Bunnell came, she couldn’t stop having them.”

  “I still remember that night Daddy kept calling Mama and tried to sweet talk her into coming to bed and she threatened to hit him over the head with the iron skillet if he came near her again,” Barbara recalled. “She always said an iron skillet was the best form of birth control.”

  “Nine kids are enough,” Barbara and Brenna shouted, imitating their mother, before they burst out laughing.

  “You all know that’s wrong, don’t you? I don’t want to live my life in fear. I’m going to leave Confrontation, maybe for good.”

  “We’re never going to see you again?” Suddenly alarmed, Brenna and Barbara embraced Necey.

  “I’m sure I’ll be back. We’re going to travel in Europe and live in Italy while Moss paints.”

  “He make any money on those paintings of his?” Brenna asked.

  “He’s a famous artist. His work is hanging in museums.”

  “Museums? Really?” Barbara acted like she didn’t believe her. A museum was a foreign concept to the women of Confrontation. None of the girls had ever visited one.

  “Yes, and private collections around the world.”

  “What about us?” Barbara asked, her face falling into a pout. “What do we have to look forward to? When Bunnell thinks we’re ripe for mating, he’ll go over to the next town and find us what he calls “two proper men who love the Lord” to breed with. We’ll have no choice in the matter. It won’t matter if they’re as evil as Lucifer or as ugly as sin.”

  “Or fat as a pig,” quipped Brenna. “Love won’t have anything to do with it! And don’t think Bunnell won’t get something out of it. Sometimes I hate that man. ”

  “How are you going to know what to do without Daddy or Bunnell barking orders at you all the time?” Barbara wanted to know.

  “You know that’s not the way it’s supposed to be. Moss taught me that.”

  “What else did he teach you?” the girls giggled, and Necey blushed.

  “Life with Moss is not going to be like that. I’m going to be my own person. Moss would never raise his voice or raise a hand against me.”

  “You always did believe in fairy tales, Necey,” Barbara said. “We only wish the best for the future Mrs. Hathaway.”

  “And I want you girls to stick up for yourselves. Don’t let Bundy control your lives.”

  “What should we do next time Bunnell tells us to fetch him a beer?” Brenna posed. “Should we say, ‘Fetch it yourself, Bundy?’ ”

  This time all three girls burst into gales of laughter at the absurdity of that occurrence.

  “Baby steps,” counseled Necey.

  Barbara glanced at Necey and squinted. “You gonna go to your man dressed like that? Those clothes look like they’re strangling you, honey, they’re so tight. You’ve been putting on some weight, Necey. I’ll loan you one of my dresses that fits—”

  Barbara and Brenna focused on their sister like a laser and their mouths fell open simultaneously. Barbara spoke first.

  “Bernice Brady! That’s not the only secret you’ve been keeping. Bunnell is going to have your hide. He’s really going to punish you this time.”

  “Lord help us all,” Brenna wailed.

  Necey rocketed up from the porch swing and rounded on her sisters.

  “Don’t you dare breathe a word to Bunnell. Moss doesn’t even know yet.”

  ~*~

  Necey,

  Has it only been three months since I first saw you? I feel I have known you forever. When you lie in my arms, I think only of
you. I trace my fingers along your neck, over your beautiful breasts, your stomach, and I see a blossoming under my touch. Necey, could it be, could my dream of having a child be happening? I have grown to know every inch of your body, and I detect a change. A sweet secret that you are not ready to share. Perhaps you are not even aware of it. When you are not with me, I paint feverishly, so that when we are together we can be alone, with no interruptions, flesh to flesh, soul to soul. My paintings are the best I have ever created. And that is because you’re my inspiration, darling. More and more I am driven to produce, to paint like there’s no tomorrow.

  The Rushings seem to be eager sightseers. They manage to find the most remote spots in the county to explore. One day it’s gem mining—panning for rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and gold. The next it’s rafting down the Nantahala. They hardly spend any time in their cabin.

  When your father and brother beat down the door looking for their chick this morning, and we didn’t answer because we were cocooned in our love nest, they were furious.

  And we are deliriously happy. Laughing silently, because we have each other. When we’re together, no problem is insurmountable.

  And no one can hurt us. It is us against the world, my sweet, innocent Necey.

  And I wait for the wonderful news I know you are eager to share, my darling, my only love, Necey. Put me out of my misery and tell me now.

  Your soul mate, Moss

  ~*~

  Moss, darling,

  You are an artist, so you are ever observant, and you know my body because it is emblazoned in your mind like a memory that won’t fade. And so, my love, you have guessed my secret. We have our miracle.

  And I will go away with you. I will pack what little I have and come to you at dawn tomorrow, and we will be together.

  My love, I have never been so happy as I am at this moment. We’ll spend the rest of our lives as a family. Until tomorrow, my love.

  Yours forever, Necey

  ~*~

  Amelia bit her lip. To have a man love you that much was beyond anything she had ever experienced or hoped to experience. That was the last letter in the bundle. She had to call her grandmother to find out what had happened. She needed to know the outcome of that beautiful love story. She needed to know more about Moss Hathaway’s past, Necey’s secret, and the mystery of the missing man and his paintings. The letters dated back thirty years. Alec was thirty years old. Could he possibly be Moss Hathaway’s love child? And, if so, did he know the truth?