Hope Falls: Almost Merry (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Frances Elliot

  As the powerful spasms lessened, she heard him cry out and felt his fingers dig into the flesh of her buttocks. He gave a low, prolonged groan, trembling against her. Emily opened her eyes, looked again into empty space and was swept with a sudden sharp wave of something she didn’t understand – something like fear, or loneliness. But before she could even identify the feeling, Joe leaned over to stretch out along her back.

  The warmth, the weight of his body reassured her; she felt safe again. His arms curled protectively around her and he began to whisper near her ear, but again she couldn’t quite comprehend the words. Then his arms tightened around her and he stood, pulling her with him. Turning her around, he held her close and stroked her hair.

  Emily clasped her arms briefly around his waist and then stepped back to look into his eyes. Something between them had changed, grown, shifted shape, and she could see that he felt it, too. She put her hand on the side of his face and spoke without thinking. “We are much more than I thought…are you…are you all right with that?” she said softly.

  He nodded, his cheek smooth against her palm, his soft brown eyes filled with surprise. He pulled her close again, kissing her passionately, his hands roaming across her body. “I cannot get enough of you,” he murmured. “Will you come tomorrow?”

  Knowing she had only seconds before she lost control, Emily pulled away and combed her fingers through her hair. “I just remembered what I was going to tell you I needed,” she said.

  Before she could continue, he smiled and said, “Didn’t you just…”

  She rolled her eyes. “Your phone number, hotshot. Would you care to tell me your phone number?”

  He leaned over, guided her foot back into her panties, pulled them up and settled them carefully, tenderly, around her. “I don’t think so,” he said, stroking her bottom. “You’ll just start calling at all hours, begging me to fuck you, breaking my concentration, interrupting my important work. Where’s your skirt?”

  Emily was blushing, but she laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You must be thinking of a different girl.” She thought about that for a moment and narrowed her eyes at him. “I suppose that’s a big problem for you, girls calling all the time, begging you to fuck them?”

  “Phone rings off the hook, day and night. Come here, get your coat on and get out of here before I take off your clothes again.”

  At the doorway, he kissed her chastely and said, “I have no idea what my phone number is. Ask your mom. Or go down to the hardware store and pick up a flyer, like everybody else.”

  She was halfway down the walk when he called after her. “At lunchtime – will you come over for lunch?”

  “Maybe,” she called back, and got into the car.

  On the way home, she looked at the dashboard clock and was surprised by the time – she’d been away less than an hour. Knowing she was about to face the family again, she resolutely kept her attention on the road and the wholesome, twinkly lights around her. Tonight, alone in bed, she could think that episode over and try to understand the way she felt. She’d already know this was more than a fling, but exactly what it was becoming was…she didn’t know.

  After the meat locker chill of Joe’s house, her own home felt incredibly cozy and welcoming. Not much was going on – her father was in his favorite chair with another pastry, making half-hearted conversation with Aaron, who was back on the floor by the dollhouse. Emily wandered out to the kitchen and found her mom drinking coffee with Dottie and Charlotte, all of them with empty dessert plates in front of them.

  Her mom asked what had taken so long, and Emily said they’d driven around little. “I didn’t want to miss the Moore’s house – you know they always take everything down the day after Christmas.”

  “How did it look this year? Wacky as ever?”

  Of course Emily had no idea, so she shrugged and said, “You know the Moores.” Good grief, what if they hadn’t done anything at all this year? Tomorrow, she was going to have to talk to Joe about telling everyone they were…um, involved. “Involved” – that sounded okay, she thought.

  “Want another profiterole?” Charlotte asked. “There’s a few left out there.”

  To Emily’s surprise, she didn’t. I am completely sated, she thought, feeling a bit smug. They’d been chatting about wedding plans; it was to be sometime in the spring, though no date had been set. Debbie came in to add her two cents – she wanted a big production with all the bells and whistles. Aha, thought Emily. It wasn’t marriage Debbie was so keen on; it was weddings. Finally, an explanation for all the fiancés.

  By nine o’clock, the guests had departed and Emily sat in the living room, staring into the hearth, watching the flames. Her mom and sister were talking quietly and her father was dozing in his chair. Aaron had already gone to bed. Despite everything that had happened during the hectic day, Emily was delightfully relaxed. Her mind, she thought, should be racing, but there was an easy, comfortable rhythm to life at home that always calmed her. She wished she could carry that feeling away with her when she left.

  Right now, returning to the breakneck pace of her life in Boston seemed impossible – she was having a little trouble remembering that the ambitious, always busy, not-interested-in-a-relationship woman who lived back East was the same one who sat curled in this chair by the fire.

  And it was strange, but she had an odd confidence that things with Joe would work out the way they were supposed to – whatever way that was. She ought to be worried, hesitant, obsessing over the impossibility of the situation – instead she felt like Scarlett O’Hara. She’d think about that tomorrow.

  Her dad roused himself, saying he ought to take the dog out before bed. Emily volunteered, got her coat, opened the front door and waited for George, who never needed any prompting. Out in the drive, she watched the dog race excitedly around the snowy yard, then looked up for a while at the beautiful night sky. For the first time in her life, she found herself wondering why she’d been in such a big hurry to leave home.

  The door opened behind her and Abby stuck her head out. “Em, we’re all going up. Mom says to unplug the tree before you go to bed, okay?”

  “Okay, tell her not to worry.”

  Her arms hugging her body against the cold, Abby stepped out onto the porch and looked up. “Wow,” she said. “You forget what this looks like when you live in a city, don’t you?”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” Emily replied.

  Abby shivered. “Well, Merry Christmas, sis. It’s good to see you, ‘night.”

  “Same to you, Merry Christmas, Abby. See you tomorrow.”

  The door closed again and Emily looked back to the stars. George, too old to romp for very long, came to sit quietly at her side. She put her hand on his head and stood for a long time, thinking.

  Chapter Four -December 26

  Afternoon

  Terrific, thought Joe, eyeing the spread on his kitchen table. I’ve made the perfect lunch if a bunch of field hands or longshoremen happens to drop by. For a girl, maybe not so great. He wondered if he’d ever be able to think coherently where Emily was concerned – she seemed to cloud his mind somehow. He’d gone to the store for wine and bread and cheese, stuff like that, but then had second thoughts. Too corny, not his style, and besides, he had this weird urge to cook for her.

  So for reasons that now eluded him, he’d bought a cut-up chicken, brought it home, and fried it, for crying out loud. He could already imagine her puzzled expression as she worked out the right thing to say. Too late now, though, and maybe they’d just laugh about it together.

  There was a quick knock at the front door and Joe heard Emily let herself in, calling his name. As he walked down the hall to meet her, he thought how seldom he saw her from a distance. She was pulling off her gloves, unbuttoning her coat, untying a muffler. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

  She looked up at him, smiled, and after a moment said, “You ever send away for those x-ray glasses t
hey used to advertise in the back of comic books?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Well, if you’ve still got them, you should put them on, save yourself a little time.”

  “I beg your pardon. Was I, as they say, undressing you with my eyes?”

  “More than undressing me,” she said, and laughed.

  He walked over to take her coat and hang it in the otherwise empty hall closet. “May I offer you something to eat?” he asked, very formally.

  “Oh, by all means,” she said, and then, as he walked towards the kitchen, added, “Really? You got something for lunch?”

  “Sure,” he said, a bit confused.

  “Well, ain’t you gallant – I thought you were just going to carry me upstairs and rip my clothes off.”

  When she reached the kitchen door, she stopped dead and put her palm on her chest. “Oh, Joe,” she said quietly. “This is so nice.”

  He felt unaccountably proud of himself, as if he’d slain a dragon for her. “Well, sit down,” he said, “better taste it before you say anything else.”

  They both sat and Emily immediately reached for a drumstick, then served herself a big dollop of potato salad. Joe saw her eyeing the wine bottle. “You happen to have a beer?” she asked.

  As he got out a couple of bottles and popped the caps, all Joe could think was “perfect.” A woman who turned him on in a whole new way and liked to eat, perfect. Except, of course, for the very minor fact that her real life was on the other side of the country and all this was just a quick little diversion, a fairy tale. Well, maybe an x-rated fairy tale.

  “When do you go back?” he asked.

  “Not ‘til the thirtieth. I traded New Year’s Eve and the First for the extra days,” she said, taking a swig of beer.

  She put the bottle down and stared at her plate for a moment. “Still,” she said. “Not much time, I guess.”

  Joe couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He toyed with his fork, took another piece of chicken. The silence continued until she cleared her throat and said, “This table always been here?”

  He looked at her, relieved. “Oh, yeah. My folks got it secondhand when they were married. My mom was always sentimental about it.”

  “It might be valuable, you know.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  It was oddly-patterned white Formica with metal edging – Joe had hated it since he was five years old, when he was convinced the strange blob-things of the design came alive at night and oozed around the tabletop.

  “No, people really like this kind of stuff nowadays. Midcentury modern, they call it.”

  Joe looked at her admiringly. “You know all kinds of things, don’t you? Later, will you walk around the house with me and tell me if you have any ideas?”

  “Sure.” She pushed her plate away and looked out the kitchen window for so long that Joe twisted in his chair to look behind him.

  “What are you going to do when you’re finished?” she said suddenly.

  He spun back around. “Oh. Put it on the market.” He knew that wasn’t what she’d meant.

  “Uh-huh. I sort of guessed you weren’t doing all this work because you were tired of the décor.”

  Joe thought back, trying to remember the last time anyone had asked about his plans. The question would never even occur to the ranch hands, line cooks or gypsy cab drivers that formed his usual social circle. Once in a while an owner, manager or crew chief would say, “You staying on another week?” And Joe would answer yes or no, depending on his mood at the moment.

  As for women – he only dealt with the kind who counted “maybe I’ll see you if you’re in the bar next week” as an acceptable plan. But obviously, Emily was different and he hesitated to tell her what he was thinking – what if she didn’t approve, or worse, thought he was crazy? He had no idea how to talk to someone who might actually care what happened to him.

  Taking a deep breath, he said, “I’m going to do it again. I hope. Want to go for a drive?”

  “Uh, okay, sure,” she answered. “But I don’t understand—“

  “We’ll have to take your car – I didn’t have time to fix the truck.” Quickly, he got the dishes into the sink and the leftovers in the refrigerator. “Get your coat and I’ll explain on the way,” he said. “Okay if I drive, since I know where we’re going?”

  Now he was excited, anxious to show her. They got into the car and as he navigated a few turns through the quiet streets, he decided on the best way to start. “I first noticed this place two weeks ago and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Finally I talked to the real estate agent who appraised my place and she brought me over.”

  It was only half a mile or so away – he pulled over and Emily looked around and turned to him. “What? What am I supposed to look at?”

  “There, that one. I want to try and buy it, fix it up,” he said, pointing through the passenger window.

  After a moment, she turned again, her face dismayed. Before she could speak, he went on. “Don’t look at the burned part – close one eye or something. Look at the rest of it and try to see how beautiful it was.”

  It was a little like Emily’s house, actually – weathered stone and clapboard, slightly smaller. “See how nice the lines are, how…charming, I guess, it can be? Most of the fire damage is to an addition that never should’ve been stuck on in the first place. I think I can do a much better job.”

  She didn’t say anything and he put the car in gear and turned around in someone’s driveway to head back. “It’s been empty for years,” he said. “The couple who owned it went into the nursing home, passed away soon after that. There’s a son in Florida and a daughter somewhere else, and they didn’t want to deal with it. The agent told me the cops think kids broke into the garage to mess around and started the fire somehow.”

  His eyes were on the road, but he knew she was watching him carefully. “So now the heirs really don’t want to deal with it and the agent thinks they’ll take what I get for the one I’m going to sell. There’s nothing left on the mortgage – my parents had it paid off before they, before the accident,” he managed to finish.

  He pulled into his own driveway and looked at her. Her eyes were wide with amazement, her mouth slightly open. Either she thought it was a great plan or she was trying to think of something soothing to tell the lunatic beside her while she plotted her escape. “Let’s go inside,” was all she said.

  In the front hall, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him enthusiastically. “I think you’re wonderful,” she said. “It’s a wonderful idea, I know you can make it work, where will you live while you’re fixing it up?”

  Relief flooded through him. He made a fist, pulled his elbow down. “Yes,” he hissed and then said, “Come back in the kitchen for a minute – there’s, uh, something else.”

  Once she was seated, he went over to the stack of books and papers he’d cleared off the table before lunch and fiddled with them for a moment. “If you thought the house thing was a little crazy, you’d better…uh, brace yourself,” he said, his back to her.

  With another deep breath, he turned, set the books in front of her, sat down and watched her. She stared silently at “SAT Study Guide 2012” for a full ten seconds before she looked up, her eyes shining with tears. “It’s an unbelievably tiny chance,” he said hastily. “I haven’t stayed in one place long enough to qualify for in-state tuition anywhere so I called them up at Stanford.”

  Emily’s mouth fell open. “And they said sure, they’d look at my application, but the fact that they let me in sixteen years ago wasn’t going to cut much ice. As for the financial aid part – the fact that I’m basically indigent makes my need pretty clear, obviously. So I guess there’s an up side to everything, even being broke.”

  Without a word Emily got up, walked around the table, stood behind him and slid her arms over his shoulders. He felt her lips on his cheek, then his ear. “Let’s go upstairs,” she whispered. “Smart guys rea
lly turn me on.”

  Well, that was probably the only reaction he hadn’t expected. But how very, very nice. Happily, he took her by the hand and led her up to his room, where he’d cleared away the dropcloths and put clean sheets on the single bed. Flash lay curled on a folded blanket, sleeping. “Hey, kitty,” said Emily, “nice to see you again.”

  The cat lifted her head, took one look at them and streaked out of the room. Emily shook her head. “True to form. She insists on pretending she doesn’t know me.”

  “Sleeps with me every night, but probably only because she’s cold.”

  “There enough room for the two of you?” Emily said, gesturing at the bed. “This is going to be very cozy.”

  “All the other rooms are empty. I sold everything because I didn’t want, I couldn’t—”

  “This will do just fine,” she said, and pulled her sweater over her head.

  When she began to unbutton her blouse, he gently took her hands in his. “No. I’ve been thinking about this. Do you realize I’ve never had a chance to take your clothes off? Either you were already undressed, or we were in a big hurry. I intend to enjoy myself this time.”

  He sat her on the bed and knelt down to slip off her shoes. As he hooked his fingers under her socks and pulled them down, he said, “The first time, I just shoved your nightgown up, remember? The second time, you…” He paused to kiss the tops of her feet, her ankles. “…you very nicely held your dress up so I could lick you…”

  He heard her make that funny little noise in her throat and a thrill shot through him. “And after that, you were asleep in bed, in your cute little pajamas.”

  Slipping his hands under the hem of her slacks on both legs, he caressed the sweet curves of her calves for a moment, then got up to sit beside her. He looked into her eyes and touched her lips with his finger. “And last night…well, last night was a little different, wasn’t it?”

  Her face slowly turned a pretty shade of pink. He brushed his lips briefly across hers and began to gently kiss her neck and throat. “I want to know how you feel about last night, but maybe not right now,” he murmured.