A Notion of Love

by Abbie Williams

  “Hi guys,” I said.

  “Hey, Mom,” Clint replied, tipping his head at me in the way he had that meant he was about to ask for something. He and Tish both had the true-blue eyes bestowed upon me by my errant father Mick. I used to tease Jo that the stork had truly intended Tish for me, rather than her and Jackie. Clint already knew Justin was my boyfriend since I’d talked with him about it after lunch earlier today. He’d said, “Cool, Mom” and I was deliriously grateful yet again to have such an easygoing son. He asked, “Does this mean I can drive the motor boat now?”

  His tone was so hopeful that Justin and I both laughed, while Tish added, “You get to drive the boat? Can I learn, Aunt Jilly?”

  “Ask Justin,” I told her.

  Tish turned her gaze to him, folded her hands as though praying and widened her eyes in pleading; that expression had never failed on Jackson, I was sure.

  “If your moms say it’s all right, I’ll teach both of you,” he promised.

  “All right by me,” I said.

  “Can we take out the canoe for a while right now?” Tish asked then, and this time Gran piped up, “Be sure to grab life jackets first, you two.”

  Tish and Clint raced out the door and Gran’s face wrinkled into a knowing grin. She added, tapping Justin’s leg teasingly with her cane, “You two remember the same thing.”

  ***

  “Did Louisa mean that I should use a condom?” Justin asked me a few hours later, his voice low and content, after he’d definitely not used one twice since we’d gotten to his house. “Now I’m feeling a little guilty.”

  I giggled at his teasing, my cheek on his chest, lazy and drowsy and expecting to hear myself begin to purr any moment as Justin continued to caress my back with soft, languid stokes.

  “I think maybe,” I conceded, my eyes closed. I could hear Justin’s heartbeat as I lay there, the slow, steady thump of someone who’d just spent the better part of an hour making love. “But don’t listen to her. I love feeling you inside me without that in the way.”

  “Me too,” he agreed, stroking my hair. And then, “Can you stay the night, Jilly-Anne?”

  I felt so good, so warm and satisfied and about to melt into him, but I murmured, “I better not, not yet.”

  “Soon, though?” he asked, cupping the back of my neck and massaging. “I’m selfish. I want to hold you until morning.”

  I spread my fingers and curled them lazily into his chest hair, then suggested, “I could sneak you into my place. But you’d have to sneak out in the morning, too.”

  Justin laughed, his chest vibrating under my cheek. He said, “I could bring a rope and go out the window.” His tone became speculative. “That could work…”

  I giggled, saying, “It’s not as though Clint would be angry or anything. It would just be a little awkward. But he likes you a lot. He always has.”

  “I like the kid too,” Justin told me. He shifted a little, curling me more securely against his chest, then resumed stroking my back. He said, “When I’d see you around town with him after Chris died it always hit me hard. I’ve worried about you much longer than you’d think, Jilly. For years.”

  “I knew you worried,” I said, my eyes still closed. “But you were the first person to make me laugh. That first summer.”

  “I was?” he asked. “Well, good.”

  I kissed his chest just in the spot where his heart was beating. I confessed, “Speaking of worry. The day of your accident I wanted to chase after Dodge. I wanted to fly to the hospital and make sure you were all right. But I knew I couldn’t. That was so horrible, waiting to hear, not knowing.”

  He was silent for a moment, no doubt grappling with memories. At last he whispered, “I don’t honestly remember much after the battery exploded. It was probably like something out of a horror movie. I was flopping on the garage floor like a hooked fish. God, it burned so bad and I couldn’t get it off my face.”

  “I was so afraid for you. And after it was so hard to watch you suffer.”

  “Jilly,” he murmured, tightening his arms around me.

  “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” I admitted, my chin resting on his chest. He stroked my cheek. “That night we sat on the dock and you were so angry. Even though I yelled at you, I really just wanted to touch your face and show you that I wasn’t afraid to. And then I was too chicken after all.”

  “God, I wish I’d known that,” he said softly. “But maybe I was too angry then. I was so mean to you that night, baby, you didn’t deserve that.”

  “You weren’t mean,” I contradicted, thrilling at the way he’d softly called me ‘baby.’ “Besides, I was pretty mean myself.”

  “But honest,” he said. “I needed someone to be that way with me. Other than Dad, that is.”

  “I’m so glad I found you that night,” I told him. “I almost didn’t walk that direction.”

  “That was when you told me to come back to Shore Leave in the mornings,” he whispered. “That meant so much to me, Jilly.”

  I shifted just enough to raise myself to one elbow, our legs braided together. He held me tightly with one arm, and I put my fingertips gently on his face. His eyes closed immediately as I traced over his scarring, only a little hesitant, knowing how self-conscious he still was. I wondered how to convince him that it didn’t matter to me, that I loved everything about how he looked. Time, I supposed. And a flare of satisfaction darted through my belly, a radiant burst of happiness at the thought of time with him. He remained almost motionless as my fingers gently stroked the right side of his face, where the marks were red and ridged, and continued down his neck where his work shirt would have been open and exposing his skin that day. His skin was olive-toned, darkly tanned, and the scars had actually become less intense over the years, though they were still obvious. I shifted over his chest to put my lips on him next and he shivered just slightly, eyes still closed, his wide shoulders hunching fractionally in an almost instinctive defense.

  “Let me,” I implored in a whisper, pressing soft kisses along the same route that my fingers had just taken. I kissed his forehead and eyebrow, the outer edge of his right eye which was pulled just slightly down, over his cheek and jaw and then his neck, where I paused and breathed in against him, imagining all too vividly what he’d described just few minutes ago, about writhing on the floor of the shop, unable to stop the burning acid from destroying his skin. It made my heart constrict and I moved back up to kiss his temple. In the dimness of his bedroom I might not have noticed, but I felt the warm wetness against my lips in the next second, as tears trailed down the side of his face. He made a sound deep in his chest.

  “Justin,” I breathed, my heart clanging hard with love and concern. I was so in love with him, so head over heels over tail over teakettle. I rolled instantly on top of him and hugged him as hard as I could. He shifted suddenly, turning us to the side and wrapping his arms around my waist. I held his head against my breasts, stroking his hair, pressing my lips to him while he sobbed. Terrible, chest-wrenching sobs that I knew had been buried inside of him for years. He clung to my waist, his strong arms like bands of iron around me. I murmured to him, wordless sounds of love, holding just as tightly. And when morning came tiptoeing across the bed on sunny feet, we were still wrapped around each other.

  ***

  Just a few nights later, Gran, Mom and Ellen held our annual Fourth of July Eve party at the café. Jo and I shared my apartment bathroom to get ready, just like the old days when we fought for space in the mirror. She was wearing a drop-dead-gorgeous green dress that made the jade in her eyes absolutely sparkle. Bly would probably start crying the moment he saw her. I was pretty proud of my own dress, a deep blue number with a tiny skirt and ruffles over my breasts, absolutely designed to make my man fall to his knees. Though I had to make quite a show of enjoying myself dancing, playing eye games with him on the sidelines, before he drummed up enough nerve to brave the dance floor.

  “Come here and dance wi
th me, beautiful woman. God, you’re making me crazy,” Justin said at last, holding out his arms, as a slow song began.

  I moved into them with joy, nagging, “It’s about time you got your ass out here on the dance floor.”

  “You look insanely gorgeous,” he said, his eyes caressing me in the candy-glow of the lanterns as his hands curved around my waist.

  “You’re forgiven,” I replied primly.

  “This color matches your eyes almost exactly,” he went on, smoothing the material gently over my hips. I curled my fingers around the back of his neck, smiling up into his eyes.

  “I’m glad you like it,” I murmured.

  “I love it,” he said, low, his eyes so dark and intense that my heart jolted. He added, “And when can we get out of here without offending anyone?”

  “Now,” I decided instantly. “Let’s go now.”

  Fifteen minutes later we were in his bedroom, and the air was super-charged. Even more so than usual. We’d ridden in complete silence on the way to his house, though the space between us was crackling with almost perceptible sparks. My heart was dancing inside my chest, sending hot rushes of blood through me; when he pulled into his driveway my knees were almost too jittery to allow for climbing down. But I needn’t have worried; Justin came around the hood like a man on a mission, hauling me by the hand as he led us into the house and up the stairs. Something had shifted and I was clanging with the energy of it.

  In the darkness of the room he gripped my shoulders in both hands. We hadn’t yet spoken since sneaking away from Shore Leave. I was certain he could feel my fierce heartbeat; my blood was pulsing. He moved suddenly and wrapped me in his strong arms in a way that made nothing else in the world matter.

  “Justin…” I breathed against his chest, clinging to him. Need and want were spilling through me, stunning me with their force.

  “Jilly,” he said back. He shifted slightly to lift my chin and looked at me so intently that my heart slammed even harder against him. He took my hand and pressed it to his chest; his heart was thundering. He said, his voice deep and hoarse, “I’m so scared.”

  Tenderness rocked me. I gripped a fistful of his t-shirt, just over his heart, tightened my other arm around him. I whispered fiercely, “Don’t be scared, not of this. Never of this.”

  He closed his eyes and was gritting his teeth in the next moment, almost unconsciously, but I insisted, “You are incredible, Justin, and beautiful, you always have been. Inside and out. You have to believe me when I tell you that. Don’t you know—”

  His eyes opened and burned into mine and I was so close to telling him that I loved him, it would have been the next thing out of my mouth, but he said, his voice harsh with pain, “Jillian, God, oh my God, you just don’t know. You don’t know how dark I can be, how terrible my thoughts are sometimes. I thought about killing myself for a while after…” his voice grew hoarse with the memory, “the accident. I didn’t think I could go on another day.”

  My heart constricted with pain. I clutched him, wishing I could bring him even closer to me, into me. I asked him, “You think I don’t know? You think I didn’t have those feelings once too? But I had Clint, and he needed me. Justin, sweetheart, you can tell me these things. I understand.”

  He closed his eyes and rocked against me, pressing his lips to my right temple and breathing in against my hair as he crushed me against his chest. I said, “You can tell me anything,” and stroked my hands into his thick black hair, cupping his head. I was desperate to comfort him, as I had the other night.

  His words spilled out in a passionate rush, “Do you know that I wish Clint was my son? I wish I’d shared that with you, Jillian. You and I should have been together all these years. I don’t mean to insult Chris’s memory, I swear to God, but that night we danced at your wedding all I could think was that I’d married the wrong woman and that you’d just promised yourself to the wrong man, even though I know you loved him. But then I told myself I was drunk and forced that out of my head for good. But I know I was right that night, and we wasted so many years apart.”

  I remembered well that dance, though I would never have dreamed that he’d felt these things that night. A fierce possessiveness surged over me and I held him as tightly as I could. I felt in my soul the truth of what he’d said.

  “Then let’s not waste another second,” I whispered. “Not one more second, Justin.”

  He breathed out in a rush, as though he’d expected me to shove him away and run. He whispered, “I need you, Jillian.”

  “I’m here, I’m right here.”

  He shuddered and said, “Now, you’re here now. But what about next month, next year? What about when you can’t take me anymore?” He felt me shift in protest, about to contradict his words, and he drew back, caught my face in his left hand, his dark eyes pouring into mine as he said that words I’d been aching to hear. “Jillian, oh God, you have to know that I love you. I’m fucking in love with you and it’s more real than anything I’ve ever felt. I’ve never been so happy, but I’m so scared. I can’t count on anything anymore.”

  Tears spilled over my face and the back of his hand as it cupped my jaw. I said, “Justin, I love you too. Oh God, I love you too. I’ve been in love with you for so long. And I’m not letting you go.”

  He thumbed away my tears and kissed me hard, possessive and passionate. I arched against him, joy rippling over me like the aftermath of an earthquake, one he had caused in my soul. He said, “I’m so sorry that I said we made a mistake the first day after we made love. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t imagine that you could love me when I look this way. Jilly, making love with you is so incredible, so many million times better than in my fantasies.”

  “I love everything about how you look,” I told him sternly, and then I couldn’t help but tease a little, “Fantasies?”

  He choked a laugh against my neck and admitted, “Yes, hell yes, I told you that you drive me crazy. You have for so long.”

  “Well good,” I said then, softly, immeasurably pleased, and he tumbled us onto the bed in one smooth motion, bending over me on one elbow and tracing my cheek with the other hand. He smiled at me so tenderly it made my heart ache with love. I reached up to hold his face. His precious face that I wanted near me from here on out.

  “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” he whispered.

  “I knew it. And you have told me in a million ways before now,” I told him softly, feeling like a torch that had caught flame and was burning wildly, as though to consume us both. “That night we sat on the dock and you told me not to feel sorry for you, I loved you then. I loved you back when you called me ‘tomboy’ when we were kids. Oh, Justin.” I stroked his face again. I said softly, “I love your scars because without them, you might still be married to her.”

  Justin looked intently into my eyes, his own dark and steady.

  “Come here,” he ordered, low, and my blood thundered as he bent his mouth to mine.

  His kiss, oh God, his kiss. It ate me alive. I moaned and pressed up against him, unable to get close enough as he kissed me, open-mouthed, his tongue playing with mine, stroking my lips. He was such a natural. Without breaking contact, he slipped down the straps of my dress, baring my skin and then unhooking my bra; for a moment he broke away to remove his own shirt and toss it to the edge of the bed, before pinning my wrists to the mattress, lightly rubbing his chest against my breasts. He smiled down into my eyes and linked our fingers as he bent down and kissed my lips so gently, so sweetly. I murmured wordless sounds of pleasure that made his smile deepen and sent him traveling down my center, trailing hot kisses on my throat, my breasts, his tongue teasing my belly button, making me squirm and giggle, before he moved lower and all laughter fell from my throat. I pressed up against him, my fingers threading into his hair as he lifted my skirt with slow, calculated movements, building my need for him to a feverish pitch.

  “Jilly,” he whispered, his fingers warm on my hips as
he slipped off my panties. I gasped and clutched the bedspread, hard. His voice was throaty with desire as he said, “My beautiful woman, I want you to come all over me.”

  I couldn’t manage to answer with words as he bent his head and proceeded to make me do just that.

  “Oh my God,” he panted some time later, moving back above me, breathing as though he’d just sprinted a mile. I was drenched in sweat, barely able to recall my own name, but I clutched his shoulders and curved my thighs around him. He shuddered above me, gasping, before grasping my hips and laying into me, just like I needed. He was everything that I needed.

  “I won’t be able to walk…for a week,” I murmured against his chest later, after he’d collapsed above me and then tilted us gently sideways, cuddling me against him.

  His chest rumbled with a laugh and I propped myself lazily onto one elbow, studying him in the dim glow of the street light outside. His eyes were closed, the hand not clutching me laying palm-down on his hairy chest. Again I marveled at his manliness, admired him in repose. I loved the line of dark hair that extended from his chest hair, down over his flat belly. I felt the urge to run my tongue along that length, but held back, busy relishing in being here beside him like this. His jaw was black with thick stubble, pirate-like, giving him a menacing, totally sexy appearance that made me tighten with desire, despite the fact that he’d just left my body and I was already a little sore. His lean, hairy legs extended far past mine on the mattress. His lashes fanned his cheeks, his lips were soft and just slightly parted. I couldn’t resist and planted a single kiss on them, feeling the pulse in my vitals expand everywhere within me. He had told me, finally.

  He tightened his arm around me and I burrowed against him with a little happy sigh. He kissed my hair, breathing in like he always did. He whispered, “Jilly, tell me you can stay ’til morning, sweetheart.”