Turner's Rainbow 2 - The Rainbow Promise

by Lisa Gregory

  Luke watched them go, unable to keep his eyes off the gentle sway of his wife's skirts. He reached for a third tart and ate it. The taste was a poor substitute for Sarah's lips.

  He carried the dishes in and stacked them in the sink for Sarah, then poured himself another cup of coffee and stood at the side door, sipping it and looking out at the night. He could hear the murmur of Sarah's and the child's voices upstairs and occasionally a squeal of laughter from Emily, Luke smiled to himself. Life was a constant delight to Emily.

  He set the half-finished coffee down on the counter and climbed the stairs to Emily's room. His daughter sat on the side of her bed, face freshly scrubbed, dressed in a long white nightgown, her hair neatly plaited into two short braids. Sarah was beside her, a large, colorfully illustrated book of Grimms' fairy tales open on her lap. She was reading, and Emily's eyes were wide with wonder. Luke lounged against the frame of the door. He had never heard the story; he had never heard any of the stories Sarah read and told to Emily. No one had ever read to him. But it made his chest swell with love to listen to Sarah reading the tales to their child. His daughter would know them, and she would know the love that lay behind the reading of them. She would never know the hunger, pain, and shame that he had grown up with, even if it killed him to keep them from her

  Sarah finished the story and glanced up at Luke. She smiled. She had heard him come to the door. He often stood there, watching their bedtime ritual, and she knew that it soothed him, that it somehow made up for what had been missing in his own childhood.

  "Daddy!" Emily darted across the room and flung herself into Luke's arms. "Hug and kiss. Hug and kiss."

  "Hug and kiss." He bussed her loudly on each cheek and on the mouth, then squeezed her to his chest. Emily wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "Break my neck," he growled, and she giggled and clung even harder.

  Luke carried her to the bed and tossed her onto its feathery softness. Emily laughed uproariously. "Again. Again."

  He shook his head, smiling. They both knew she would wheedle him into it, and she did. He tossed her onto the bed a second time, then she slipped out of bed to kneel beside Sarah and say a brief bedtime prayer. Sarah tucked her in, kissed her, and turned down the wick of the kerosene lamp until it went out. The pale white light of the full moon streamed through the window.

  "Mr Moon's big." Emily turned her head to gaze out the window at the night sky.

  "Yes. He'll keep you company."

  Emily nodded and pulled her rag doll tightly against her chest. Her eyelids were already wavering when they left the room. When they reached the kitchen and Sarah saw the dishes Luke had stacked in the sink, she smiled. "Thank you."

  He shrugged. "You wash and I'll dry them."

  "You don't need to do that. You've had a hard day in the fields."

  "If I help, they'll be done sooner, and we can sit on the porch and look at Mr Moon."

  Sarah giggled. "All right."

  They did the dishes in easy companionship, talking and joking as they worked. The love in Sarah's chest was enormous. Luke was one of a kind. There weren't many men who would help with "women's work" even when their wife was pregnant. But for all the toughness of Luke's reputation (sometimes deserved, Sarah admitted), with Sarah he was always considerate and gentle. Luke said that gentleness was something she had given him, but she knew that it had always been inside him.

  Even with Luke helping, it wasn't quick or easy work, particularly scrubbing the large cast-iron pots and pans, and by the time they finished, Sarah's back ached. It was a relief to sit down in the swing on the front porch, and Sarah leaned back with a sigh.

  "Tired?" Luke asked, and Sarah nodded. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled against him. His flannel shirt was soft beneath her cheek, and he smelled of earth, sweat, and skin, a familiar scent that never failed to stir her. Heat snaked through her abdomen.

  Luke kissed the top of her head. She was warm and pliant against him. The air was thick with the scent of honeysuckle that adorned the trellis at the end of the porch, a sweet, heady odor that wrapped around Luke seductively. He wanted her.

  He knew it was pure temptation to sit out here with Sarah and look at the moon-washed yard, the scent of honeysuckle teasing at his nostrils, Sarah's body soft in his arms. But he loved it too much to avoid the temptation. There was nothing as sweet as holding his wife in his arms, nothing as bone-deep satisfying.

  His right hand went down to her stomach and smoothed over its roundness. It never failed to fill him with awe to think of his seed resting inside her, growing to life. He felt the familiar surge of power in his loins. "Are you feeling all right?"

  "Yes. A little tired, sometimes, but..." Sarah shrugged. Tiredness was a fact of farm life, especially in the spring and summer.

  "When do you go to see Dr. Banks again?"

  "A week from Saturday."

  His hand curved around her belly again, protectively. He hated to think of Sarah's seeing that bastard Banks, hated to think of him touching her. He had despised Jimmy Banks for eleven years, ever since that rich kid from town had gotten Luke's sister Julia pregnant.

  Luke hadn't even known Jimmy had been sneaking out to the Turner shack to see Julia until she had announced one day late in June that she was marrying Will Dobson. Dobson was a brutish sort, not nearly good enough for his sister, and he and Luke had disliked each other cordially. Dobson had been hanging around Julia for nearly a year, but she had clearly not welcomed his suit. It had been a shock when Julia decided to marry him, and Luke had questioned her about it until finally she had broken down and admitted that she was marrying Dobson only because she carried Jimmy Banks's child and had to give it a name.

  Three days later, at the annual Fourth of July dance, Luke had found Jimmy Banks dancing with one of the "good girls" from town. He had charged up on the platform and started slamming his fists into Banks, and it was only because several men had seized Luke's arms and held him back that Luke hadn't beaten him up much worse than he did.

  Of course, it hadn't changed anything. Luke had spent the night in jail. The town had gossiped about it for a few weeks. At the end of the summer, Jimmy had gone back to Tulane to school. And Julia was married to Will Dobson.

  Julia lived near Gideon, in the next county, but Luke never saw her. Dobson had gotten his revenge by not allowing her to visit Luke or even attend his wedding. Luke had missed Julia. She had been his only real family. She had mothered him, and he had protected her from their father's worst rages. They had clung together for the only love and support either of them had known. Not being able to see her had added to his hatred of Jimmy Banks.

  Banks, of course, was still to all appearances an exemplary person. He had graduated from Tulane, then from the Tulane medical school. He had lived for a long time in New Orleans, but a couple of years ago old Dr. Banks had died, and Jimmy, now Dr James Banks, had returned to take over his father's practice.

  Luke had managed to avoid Banks until a couple of months ago when Sarah had gone to him about her pregnancy. Luke didn't like the man being Sarah's doctor. Every time he saw Banks, the old bitterness curled in his stomach, eating at him. Luke was a different man now, however, not a hotheaded boy anymore, but a man in control of himself. No longer did the wildness take him; no longer did the pain and anger build up in him until he thought he had to hit somebody or burst from the force of it. Sarah needed a doctor; Luke wouldn't let her be attended by only a midwife. Because James Banks was the only doctor around for miles, she would see James Banks—no matter how much he disliked the man.

  "Luke!" Sarah said in mild protest, and Luke glanced down at her, surprised at her tone.

  He realized that his fingers were digging into her shoulder, and he relaxed them. I'm sorry."

  Sarah smiled. "It's all right. What were you thinking about? For a moment there, you looked all coiled up inside, like you used to."

  Luke shook his head. "It was nothing. Just thinking
..."

  "About Dr. Banks?"

  "I guess so."

  "And your sister?"

  "Yes."

  "You miss her, don't you?"

  "Yes." For a moment Luke's face was stern and sad, then he smiled down at her. "But I have you, and you're all the family I need. You and Emily." He patted her stomach gently. "And Bud, here."

  "Bud?"

  "Or do you think Sonny'd be a better name? Bubba, maybe?"

  "No! Most definitely not." Playfully Sarah swatted his arm. "No son of mine is going to be Sonny or Buddy or any of those things!"

  "No?" He grinned, his eyes devilishly alight.

  "No."

  "Well, what do you think, then? Daniel?"

  Sarah tilted her head to one side. "Maybe." Her face grew serious. "You want a boy, don't you?"

  "I'd like one." He put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up. "But don't you go thinking I wouldn't be happy with another girl. I would love a daughter. And there's always another time."

  "Good." Sarah stretched up and kissed him lightly. It was the merest taste of her lips, and it left him wanting more.

  Luke's hand moved to her throat, spreading out to caress the soft skin there. How fragile she was, how delicate. It seemed crazy that her very delicacy would make him want to crush her to him, to consume her, even as he wanted to protect her. Yet that was exactly how he felt.

  He nuzzled her neck. She smelled faintly of the apricots she had stewed this afternoon, a tart, sweet scent that stirred him. Her flesh was soft against his lips. He opened his mouth on her skin and tasted it with his tongue.

  Sarah made a soft moan, and her hands went to Luke's arms, digging into his shirt. "Oh, Luke. Do you think—do you think it would be so bad if we ignored what the doctor said, just this once?"

  Startled, Luke lifted his head. Sarah's eyes were closed, her head lolling back against his arm, and her face was soft and slack with desire. Wrapped up in his own longings, it hadn't even occurred to him that Sarah might miss their lovemaking as much as he. "Oh, sweetheart." His hand slid down her throat and across her chest. He covered one of her breasts, and she made a noise deep in her throat and stirred. Her nipple was a hard point against his palm. "I never thought...."

  He circled the nipple with his thumb, dreamily watching it thrust against the thin material of her dress. Sarah's hands moved to his hair, sinking into its thickness. His blood ran thick and hot in his veins. He wanted her desperately; it was madness to continue. But he couldn't resist pleasing her, satisfying her, at whatever cost to himself.

  His hands went to the front of her dress, trembling a little as they unfastened her buttons. Sarah's eyes flew open in surprise, and a smile crept across her mouth. "Luke."

  He smiled back, his mouth full and sensuous, heavy in the way she knew so well. He bent, and his mouth touched hers lightly, hovering over her for a moment. Their breath intermingled, hot and moist. Then his lips sank into hers so deeply she felt the hardness of his teeth. His tongue thrust into her mouth, moving slowly, firmly, savoring her hot, honeyed taste.

  Sarah's arms wrapped around his neck, and she pressed up into him. His chest was hard against her breasts, and she moved against him, abrading her nipples with the cloth between their bodies. Luke sucked in his breath at her movement, and his kiss deepened. His teeth scraped her lips. Desire pulsated through him.

  He pulled her across him so that she sat in his lap. Her bottom pressed against his already turgid manhood, further heightening the fierce pleasure building in his loins. With one arm Luke supported her back while he kissed her, and his other hand went to the opening of her dress, spreading the sides apart and sliding beneath the dress to the cool, sheer cloth of her chemise. He cupped her breast through her underclothes. It was heavy, fuller now that she was pregnant. He could see the dark circle of her aureole and the thick, pointed nipple. He thought of their son suckling her breast, his little fingers kneading the soft white flesh, and he wanted her with a desire that went far deeper than just sex.

  "Sarah." Luke's voice was rough with yearning. He pulled down the chemise to expose her breast. He had seen her naked time after time, yet the sight of her never failed to excite him. He wanted to take her in every way a man could have a woman, wanted to fill her completely. His control hung by threads.

  Luke leaned back his head and closed his eyes, sucking in air. His arm was clenched tight as iron behind her back. Sarah opened her eyes, puzzled. She looked at his taut face and neck, harsh and beautiful in the pale moonlight. She reached up and caressed his cheek lightly. Luke opened his eyes and gazed down at her. Sarah saw his hunger and she saw his control, and she knew with disappointment that Luke would not make love to her tonight.

  But then he bent and took her nipple into his mouth, and Sarah wondered if she was wrong. His tongue moved gently over the hard button of flesh, circling and caressing. No one would have guessed the leashed hunger within him, so soft was his mouth on her breast. But he caressed her now for her, not himself, and he took great care not to hurt her tender breasts, sensitized by her pregnancy.

  Luke pulled down the cloth from her other breast, and his mouth made its lazy way to it. Sarah felt the slight scratch of his chin and cheek, unshaven since early this morning, a counterpoint to the softness of his mouth. The air was cool against her nipple, damp from his tongue, and it pebbled even more. Her loins were heavy and liquid with desire. She ached to feel his hardness inside her, and she moved her hips a little, beckoning him.

  The shifting of her body rubbed his engorged shaft, and instinctively Luke shoved her hips down, moving her against him, aching to reach fulfillment and loving the ache. His teeth sank into his lower lip as he struggled for, and found, control. His hand went under her skirt, pushing it up, sliding along her legs to their juncture. Sarah made a choked sound and arched her back, pressing up against his hand. He slid between her legs, caressing the hardness of bone beneath the cloth, touching the dampness of her desire.

  His hand moved up and untied the drawstring of her undergarment. He caressed the mound of her abdomen, sliding downward to the prickle of hair. Sarah drew in her breath sharply. His fingers moved into the hot, moist crevice of her femininity, exploring the slick folds of flesh. He stared down at Sarah's face, watching the play of emotions across her face, the restlessness and longing, the pleasure, the almost unbearable buildup of passion within her He loved seeing what he did to her, loved watching the pleasure take her.

  His finger slid over the tiny button of pleasure between her nether lips, stroking and pressing. Sarah moved beneath his touch, circling her hips, squeezing her thighs together as though to entrap the pleasure. The waves of pleasure were growing in her, building, climbing until they were so intense she thought she must die from not reaching the end. Then his finger moved quickly, and the gathered force exploded within her.

  She groaned, digging her heels into the wooden slats of the swing and arching back, shaking all over with the intensity of her satisfaction. Pleasure coursed out through her body, flooding her with heat and sharp, prickling tingles of enjoyment. She stayed taut for a moment, pulsing with the afterwaves of passion, then slowly, panting, she relaxed. Her breath came out in a broken sigh.

  Sarah opened her eyes and smiled up at her husband. Her face was flushed and loose with contentment, her eyes glowing. "Oh, Luke." She brushed her hand across his face and down the column of his neck. His skin was searing. "Thank you."

  "My pleasure."

  She started to get up, but he held her tightly against him. She glanced at him, puzzled. "Don't you want to go up to bed so we can—"

  "No." He shook his head. His voice was hoarse. "No. You remember what Doc Banks said."

  "But— "

  He laid his cheek against her hair, enveloping her with his unspent heat. "That was for you, sweetheart. Just for you."

  "Oh. Luke!" Sarah flung her arms around him, burying her face in his chest, love flooding her at his generosity. "You're so good, so
kind."

  He chuckled. "Hardly, I just love you."

  She clung to him, and he rocked gently, holding her It seemed to him that he held the world in his arms.

  ❧

  James Banks walked his last patient to the door and opened it politely for the gray-haired woman. She smiled at him. "Thank you, Dr. Jim."

  He forced himself to smile back despite the fact that it was seven o'clock, he was tired and hungry, and this was the fourth time in two months that Mrs. Singleton had come in for an imaginary illness. Her husband had died six months ago, and her only son lived in Greenville. She came because she was lonely more than anything else. "It's no trouble, Mrs. Singleton."

  She patted his arm. "You always were a good boy. Your mother must be very proud of you."

  "I hope so." James watched Mrs, Singleton navigate the four shallow steps to the walk, then closed the door and pulled down the shade over the glass upper half of the door. He leaned back against it and closed his eyes, sighing. He was a handsome man, with thick black hair, warm, chocolate brown eyes, and even features; but tonight weariness blurred his looks, and he appeared older than his thirty-one years.

  It had been a long day, one that had begun at five o'clock this morning when he'd been called to the depot where a railroad worker had had his leg crashed uncoupling a car. James had managed to save the man's life, but not the leg.

  James opened his eyes and pushed away from the door. He walked down the hall past the examination rooms and through the door leading into the house.

  It was a large, elegant house. James had grown up here, and he knew every inch of it, just as he knew every nook and cranny of his father's office. He smiled to himself. He'd been here two years, and he still thought of it as his father's office; old habits died hard. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it over the newel post of the staircase as he passed by, then continued into the kitchen, untying his string tie and unbuttoning his collar and cuffs as he went.

  Lurleen sat at the kitchen table with her daughter Dovie, chatting, and she rose to her feet when she saw James.