My Heart Can't Tell You No

by M. K. Heffner

  “Don’t you let him see the boy otherwise?”

  “Of course I let him see him. I don’t think I could stop it if I wanted to. And I certainly don’t want to. Jackie loves Lew as much as he loves Dad, and John and Tom.” She got up and moved to the window, staring out at the darkness.

  He moved to stand behind her. “You said he’s using a cane now. Why?”

  “I don’t know for sure. Maybe arthritis. But I never hear him complaining about it. So I really can’t say.” She turned and saw there were only inches separating them, so she backed up to the wall, gaining only another inch as she leaned back and held the blanket over her shoulders, unconsciously twisting her wedding band again as she looked at the contrast of the white T-shirt against the brown skin of his upper chest. “But really, he’s doing fine.”

  “He likes your boy a lot, huh?”

  “You don’t know the feeling that goes through me when I watch Lew with Jackie. Lew works magic with him. He can make him laugh with just the lift of a brow.”

  “Tell me about your son, Maddie,” Joe said in a soft voice.

  Her eyes flew up to him, hesitating. “Well, what’s there to say? He’s going to be tall, I can tell from watching him sprout like a weed. His eyes are brown. His hair is brown.”

  “I could see all that when I looked at him. He looks a lot like John. John must enjoy that.”

  “He does.” She smiled, relaxing a little. “He calls him Sailor, because he took him for a few hours once, and, when he put him down to get something off the stove, Jackie took off. When he found him he was in the bathroom throwing his small boats into the toilet. Of course Jackie doesn’t know that’s why he calls him Sailor.”

  “I watched Felicia go through that stage too. Only it was towels instead of boats. When was he born?”

  “A little over three years ago,” she said simply, uncomfortably.

  “Did you call him Jonas? Is that why you and Bob call him Jackie?”

  “No. I named him John. One look at him told us he had to be named John. Jackie was so we don’t confuse them. This way he’s named after each of them.”

  “Each of them? Then his middle name is Thomas?”

  “No.” She moved back to the heater where she checked on her clothing.

  “Didn’t you give him a middle name?”

  “He has a middle name.” She got her underclothing and started upstairs.

  “Well, what is it?” he asked, but she pretended not to hear as she mounted the steps.

  In the darkness she didn’t see the shoe that had been left in the middle of the floor, tripping her and throwing her against the dresser.

  “Jesus,” she cried hoarsely as she picked herself up, the pain shooting through her thigh, bringing on the tears her nerves had been trying to wring from her.

  “Are you all right?” Joe asked from the bottom of the stairs, but, when she couldn’t answer without letting him know she was crying, he came up with a lantern.

  “Go away,” she said in a childish mope.

  “Ah, Maddie, what’d ya do?” he asked softly as he moved closer, seeing she was holding onto her leg.

  “Nothing. Just go away,” she whispered.

  “That bridge really bit into you, didn’t it?” His fingers met the tender flesh of her thigh, but she jerked away.

  “I’m all right. I’m just tired.” She rose and moved back toward the stairs. Glancing into the adjoining bedroom that her brothers had shared, she saw the small bed along the wall. “You can sleep in here tonight. I’ll sleep over there.”

  “The bed’s bigger over here. Sure you don’t want to sleep in your parents’ old room?”

  “I’m used to sleeping in a single bed. Until I got married that’s all I ever had.” She took a step toward the small bed, then curiosity got the best of her, and she went farther, into the bedroom she had occupied.

  “Does it bring back memories?” he asked as he moved behind her with the lantern.

  “Not actually. Not much anyway. Just little things like being sent up early on Christmas Eve with Tom. The bed was right there. I remember he didn’t like it that I wouldn’t go to sleep, because he had to make sure I was asleep before Santa Claus could come. He kept trying to scare me into going to sleep. He kept telling me Santa’s special elf Bruno was watching me.”

  “Bruno?”

  “Yes, Bruno,” she smiled. “You know Tom. It couldn’t be Trixie or Peter—it had to be Bruno. Then he’d throw my dolls across the room and tell me it was Bruno, which didn’t bother me, because I never really liked my dolls anyway. So, I started throwing them too. When I ran out of dolls he started throwing them back at me. By the time Mom and Dad yelled up at us and sent us both to bed, my dolls had arms and legs lying everywhere and the room was total chaos.”

  “You were always such a delicate little creature,” he smiled, giving her a feeling of warmth as she laughed.

  “Oh yes, that’s why Mom could always find me out playing football with you guys whenever I could escape. I remember one time John told me to go out for a long pass, and he threw the ball and hit me in the head. That hurt!”

  “I remember. You came back and hit him where it would hurt more.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I was aiming for his stomach. My little hands just couldn’t aim right yet. Anyway, he deserved it. He just stood there laughing at me! Well, he wasn’t laughing after that.” She glanced around again. “You probably have more memories of this room than I do. I was too small when we moved. Most of my memories are in the living room and outside. I guess I didn’t spend much time up here.”

  “Just trying to maim Tom with dolls, huh?”

  “That’s about it.” She turned and headed back for the bed near the wall, pulling back the blankets to check on their thickness. “I hope the blankets on your bed are thicker than these.”

  “I’ll survive.” He looked at her oddly, then turned and went downstairs again, leaving the lantern on a dresser in the room she’d be staying in.

  Maddie changed into her underclothing, not liking the idea of walking around in her cousin’s clothes and sure he wouldn’t like it either. She could hear Joe moving around downstairs, then the closing of the front door, prompting her to turn toward the head of the stairs.

  “Joe?” When there was no response she rushed down the steps, glancing into different parts of the house and finding it empty. “JOE?”

  “I never imagined such pieces of clothing could look so good on a woman,” Joe said as he closed the door behind him, the sound turning her to face him.

  “Where were you?!” The distance of five feet separating them made little difference as his eyes moved over her. They were sending more chills through her than the cold, wet air that had blown in behind him.

  “I took my clothes out to the clothesline. They were muddy from the water in the cellar. The rain will wash them out some.” He removed his raincoat and picked up the pack of Luckies on the table, not looking at her anymore. “It’s past ten. You’d better go up to bed. You’re probably tired.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Listen to the radio. I’ll bring the heater up in a minute. Go on, up to bed.”

  She did as he ordered, more out of exhaustion than any inclination to actually obey him. As she stopped in front of the dresser mirror she noticed her hair needed brushing. The humidity had turned her dark locks into long curls. She looked around and came up with a brush, then bent slightly at the waist to untangle the hair that normally flowed past her shoulders by an extra three inches. She was almost done with the front, but, when she pulled the backs forward, she found a large knot, bringing an exasperated sigh as she tried to untangle it.

  “I’ll do it.” Joe’s unrealized presence behind her immediately brought her into a rigid stance.

  “No. You don’t have to.”

  “I can reach it better without tangling it more.”

  She stood motionless as she looked in the mirror at him, but his eyes we
re on her hair as his fingers gently moved through the strands.

  “You’ve got twigs in it, probably from your swim back at the bridge.” He put the small weed-like pieces of wood on the dresser, then reached for the brush and began stroking the thick softness.

  “I can get it now.”

  “I’ll do it,” he said as if he were talking to a child, not paying any attention to the way her face was filling with tension, only intent on his job before him.

  She watched him in the mirror. He had changed little in the past four years. Perhaps a line or two around the eyes, and certainly the scar at his eyebrow. But, other than that, he looked much the same. Maybe a little better. Leave it to Joe McNier to be the kind of man who looks better with age. Compared to Joe, Bob looked like an adolescent with acne, just out of high school. As her eyes lowered, she noticed Joe had removed his T-shirt, probably having gotten it wet when he went outside again, but when she glanced lower to see what else he had removed, she saw his jeans still hugging his hips. When her eyes came back up, she saw he was watching her, the sight sending her back six years to a stream where a young girl had to be convinced she wasn’t fat. The biggest difference in the picture was that, where her head reached only the top of his shoulders, it was now just above his chin.

  “Do you still think you’re fat?” His voice was velvet.

  She stiffened as she realized their thoughts had been on the same thing, then watched as he put the brush on the dresser and moved toward the stairs.

  Sleep didn’t come easily to Maddie that night. She lay awake more than two hours before weariness drew her under sleep’s depths. The dream was colorful and real, showing her the bright brown eyes of her son’s laughing face.

  “Mommy.”

  “I’m here, Sailor.”

  She pulled herself into those brown depths, drowning in them. But it didn’t matter, she knew they were safe now. As she pulled away from their shiny brightness, the face smiling back was no longer her son’s, but his father’s. Joe smiled with careless ease as he pulled her back to him. She was indeed safe.

  “Now we can be together,” he said simply.

  She watched him, his face so comforting, so welcoming. But suddenly the scar on his eyebrow turned red, a bright maroon that glowed as it flowed down the side of his face. She knew the cause of the blood as she turned her gaze to the ring on her finger. It too was bleeding. She looked back to him, but his smile was gone. His expression was covered by the steady flow of blood.

  “Don’t hurt me anymore, Maddie.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You’ve got to stop hurting me.” He took a step away from her. God, don’t go that way! The creek—the water!

  “Joe.”

  “You’ve got to stop hurting.” Another step.

  “Mommy!”

  There was Jackie on the other side of the creek. Stay back! Jackie! Don’t come any closer! Joe! Stay away from the edge! NO! Jackie, stay back! Joe, come back!

  “Let them go, Maddie.” Bob stood next to her, holding his arm around her waist as he watched them getting closer to the raging water.

  “NO! Jackie! Joe!”

  “MOMMY!” His little legs carried him in a run toward her just as Joe took a final step away from her, plunging them both into the muddy waters.

  “NO!” she cried, trying to pull out of her husband’s embrace but his hold tightened.

  “Let them go. Now we can be together. We can start out fresh. We can have more babies. It’s our time.”

  Her eyes stayed on the water, tears streaming down her face as she tried to tear away from him. She could see Joe’s and Jackie’s bodies bobbing up twice, then they were gone.

  “NO!” she screamed at Bob.

  “Maddie! Don’t!”

  “Let me go!” She was shoving the arms away from her. “Jackie! Joe!”

  “Maddie—don’t. Stop it.” This time it was Joe’s voice coming to her, holding her, trying to restrain her.

  “I’ve got to get them!” she cried, still not thinking straight as she fought the man on the bed. Her attempts to get away were keeping her from realizing where she was.

  “Maddie! Wake up. Wake up!” Joe’s hands were trying to capture hers, but the recognition was slow to seep in. “Maddie—it’s okay. You’re safe.”

  “No—Jackie! We’ve got to get Jackie and Joe.” Her fighting stopped as she leaned against him, her tears bringing the words in a moan. “We can’t let them go.”

  “Maddie. I’m right here,” he breathed against the top of her head as his hands got lost in the mass of her hair.

  Her crying was agonizing—she seemed to die a little in his arms. She felt his tender kisses on the top of her head before he tilted her head back to look at her with a longing that made her sleepiness slowly fade, to be replaced with a longing of her own. And the relief, oh the relief that he was there with her and not drowned under those waters.

  “Joe,” she whispered as she looked at him, her fingers tenderly coming up to his face as if to make sure it was really him and he was really there.

  “Don’t cry anymore.” His mouth moved to her face, tasting her tears as he kissed her cheeks and then her eyes. “I won’t let anything hurt you. Don’t cry.”

  His mouth met hers so gently. Tasting and exploring without forcing. He was kindling a fire that the mere closeness of him had already sparked moments earlier. She needed to feel him. She needed to be sure he was here. Her hands went around his neck, pulling him to her as she answered his kiss. Ever since he had taught her that first kiss, that was all it would take to turn her past any point her husband could ever coax her to.

  “Joe. Make love to me. Now,” she breathed against his mouth as she moved onto her knees, slipping one leg over his as she sat on him and pressed against his chest. All those years of carrying the memory of his lovemaking, and the lonely nights in her husband’s bed, turned her to a fiery passion and longing only Joe seemed able to satisfy.

  His deep moan made any throbbing that was already driving her, race madly. Her legs came up around his hips as he stood with her, holding her tightly in place as he took his first steps toward the larger bedroom and the larger bed. He stopped, looking down at her with a hunger that made her pull his head down to hers again. She tightened her legs around him, pressing harder against the part of him that was already making her breathing irregular. He walked with her, holding one hand across her bottom, pulling her against him to increase the erotic pleasure his steps were creating. But instead of going to the bed, he placed her on the low dresser. He pulled away from her kiss but her legs refused to release their hold. Her mouth went to his chest when she could no longer have the warm moistness of his lips to cling to, her lips and tongue tasting his skin, taking pleasure from the feel of the lean muscle. Her tongue met his left nipple, rolling around it before moving back toward the center of his chest. She felt the quiver that shook him and heard the release of breath through clenched teeth as she moved to the other side of his chest. She knew he had no control over the sensual movements of his hips as they stroked their bodies together. Just as she couldn’t control the way she was pulling his hips against her with a need that was ripping her apart. She felt his hands lifting her T-shirt and bra, pulling her hands from him one at a time before she realized what he was doing; then, as she moved her head back, she helped him remove them completely. She felt him lift her arms again, looking down at her as he brought her hands to his mouth, first kissing and gently nibbling the fingers on her right hand, then her left. Pausing when he came to her ring, he looked at it through pain-filled eyes before lowering her hands and pulling her possessively against him. Crushing her to his chest as his mouth met hers, he bruised her lips in a kiss filled with anger.

  “You’re mine! Do you hear me?” He growled hoarsely as he moved her to the bed.

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t care what he was saying, it made little difference to her. All she wanted was the pressure of his mouth on hers
again. He dropped her on the bed, lying on top of her as his hands moved into the thickness of her hair, pulling it until her head was tipped back awkwardly.

  “Why?! Goddamn you, Maddie! Why didn’t you wait?!”

  She couldn’t make sense of his words. Why didn’t she wait for what? Coming out to help them at the creek? Was he still angry about that? She didn’t care—for even his small infliction of pain was sending shivers through her, making her twist her hips against him.

  “Love me, Joe,” she said softly, her voice shaking from the sensations flowing through her. It wasn’t a question—rather a request.

  “Shut up.” His grip tightened, but, when the pulling became too much and she let out a small cry of pain, he released it and moved his kiss back to her lips.

  His hand moved down her left arm to meet her hand, bringing it up close to their faces as his fingers entwined with hers. Her free hand roamed over his back, meeting the elastic of the underpants still hugging his hips until he rolled off of her and got to the floor. She watched him remove the briefs as she pushed her own down, not even having them completely off before he was reaching for her again. His mouth moved to her neck, the sensations he was making her feel were sending her hands up to pull him closer as his tongue moistened the hollow of her throat. His decline to her shoulder sent her fingers through his hair, feeling its thickness and trying to quicken his descent to her breast. The first time his mouth had touched her there she was only sixteen and the pleasurable shock was jolting—this time was no different as he wasted no time moving to the nipple his fingers had already hardened. His body moved between her legs as his tongue rolled around the hardened stone, sending electric jolts through her as she tried to pull him closer. His suckling brought a low moan from her as his hips moved against her. Her movements to ease the pressure he was building inside, and her soft panting brought his head up as he looked at her. He pulled her hands from him, raising them to lie on the pillows and holding them there while he positioned himself over her.