The Line That Binds

by J. M. Miller

  I moved my hand across his bare chest, cherishing the rise and fall from his slow breaths and the rhythm of his heart, all beneath my fingertips. Tonight, my mind wasn’t battling with the decision to push him away. I only wanted him closer.

  His closed eyelids twitched after my movement. “Mmm,” he hummed. His fingers started tracing circles along my back again and his mouth formed a small grin.

  “You totally fell asleep,” I whispered, positioning my chin on his chest so I could see his face.

  “No way,” he whispered back. His eyes remained closed with his chin tipped toward the ceiling.

  I smiled. “I think you were out for a good five minutes.” I moved my fingers up to his face, touching the stubble along his jaw.

  “Mmm,” he hummed again. “I think I’m still asleep. This can’t be real.”

  “Oh, it’s real,” I said, climbing on top of him and kissing his neck.

  His hands adjusted the comforter around us then grabbed a hold of my thighs. When I kissed my way back up to his mouth, his eyes were open, gazing at me sleepily.

  “Hi,” I said, between kisses on his lips.

  “Hi.”

  “How’s your jaw? It didn’t get reinjured during our fun, did it?”

  “No,” he replied, his voice still husky from his tiny nap. “I can’t say I would’ve told you if it did, though.”

  “Wow, you look and sound so sexy right now,” I said, nibbling his bottom lip then moving to his neck again.

  “Stop. You’re making me blush,” he teased. “What time is it?”

  I looked past him to my alarm clock on the nightstand. “Just before midnight.”

  “Best birthday ever,” he said, pulling my body down on his. “I like how this feels. Can I just stay over?”

  “That would be so nice, but I don’t think breakfast with my father would be much fun.”

  “Right,” he agreed, then pressed gentle kisses around my face. “I guess that means you’ll have to come over and help me hang the curtains soon.”

  I dropped my face to kiss the side of his neck. “I’d love to.” I smiled against his skin then started to slide my body off his.

  “Where are you going?” he asked playfully, tightening his hands around my thighs.

  “Restroom,” I admitted. “I’ll be right back, promise.” I leaned down and kissed one of his dimples.

  “Okay,” he groaned, letting his hands fall from my legs as I slid off the bed.

  I pulled my panties and Ben’s green shirt on before walking to the bathroom. When I finished, I moved around the boxes toward the door to listen for any noises in the house. It was completely silent. Before I had a chance to turn around, Ben grabbed me from behind, squeezing me against his bare chest and boxers. He lifted me off the floor and walked us backward until his foot hit something and he tripped. His arms cinched tighter around me before we hit the floor, breaking our fall with his back.

  “Sorry about that,” he said with a laugh, letting his head relax onto the floor. “What’s with the maze of boxes anyway?” He loosened his grip around my waist.

  I stifled my giggles and sat up. “They are from Janine’s room, which is now Dad’s. He wanted me to look through this stuff before he added it to the junk in the basement.” I stood up and flicked the closet light on to brighten the room. “I started going through some before you got here.”

  Ben stared at the boxes and a trunk placed next to the dresser. “So these were all from Janine’s room?” He hopped up beside me and strode over to them.

  “Yeah. The ones I checked earlier were only filled with clothes and bags. I even checked the purse pockets. I didn’t find anything except some loose change.” I stepped beside him as he squatted down.

  “Did he say where he found this trunk?” he asked, running his hands over its wooden slatted surface.

  The top was arched, like a pirate’s chest complete with iron brackets and studs securing all the joints. Two leather straps buckled in the front, and between them was a metal panel lock with a date stamp of 1858.

  “The closet, I think,” I replied as he unbuckled the leather straps.

  He shook the top then ran his fingers along the lid’s seam before trying to pry the opening apart. “Hang on,” he whispered. He leaned closer to the keyhole then jumped up and snatched his jeans off the floor. “This is a long shot, but it’s worth a try.” He removed the skeleton key from the front pocket of his jeans and slid it into the lock.

  I pulled in a soft breath when he turned the key. It clicked open.

  He looked at me with a crooked grin. “I didn’t actually expect that to work.”

  When he lifted the top open, the inside revealed a flower-patterned lining, yellowed with age. A tray shelf sat propped up on the inside, holding small items like travel souvenirs, pens, and half-empty spools of thread. Ben picked up the tray and set it aside, then removed a couple of throw blankets, digging until he reached the empty bottom.

  I sighed and let my butt drop to the floor from my squatted position. “I really thought there’d be something inside, especially after the key opened it.”

  “I’m sorry. I was hoping for something too,” he said, kicking his feet out and sitting on the floor beside me. He slid his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “LJ, I know I told you Pop knew about the well from Janine, but I never told you that he also searched this place for answers. Actually, he had me help him, several weeks after the will reading.” He leaned back to see my reaction.

  “I understand,” I replied. “He wanted to know the truth, too.”

  He cracked a timid smile. “I didn’t believe it then, and I also couldn’t believe that Janine would leave this place to you instead of Pop or Simone. So, the reason I was in here was to search for any paperwork that could alter her will.”

  “So you’ve already been through some of her things. Like in the basement, and this?” I asked, poking the trunk.

  “Yes, but I didn’t search her room. Pop did. I’m guessing if something was in there he would’ve already found it.”

  “Right,” I agreed, dropping my head.

  “Hey.” Ben pulled my chin up, kissed my lips, and pressed his forehead to mine. “We’ll keep looking.”

  “But not tonight. My dad will be home soon.” I kissed him back then rocked onto my knees to put everything back into the trunk.

  “Why are you wasting time then?” he teased, tugging at the edge of the green T-shirt, trying to pull me into his lap.

  His hands slid up my thighs, tickling me playfully. I laughed as I pulled away from him, leaning too far forward and losing my balance. He yanked my shirt and tried to catch me by sliding his body under mine, but I still had to thrust my hand down into the trunk to keep from smacking my face on its edge. Something made an audible pop when my palm hit.

  “Oh, are you okay? I’m sorry,” Ben said, kneeling beside me.

  “I’m okay.” I pulled my hand up and noticed the bottom corner of the trunk had bent down. “What is that?” I asked.

  Ben reached inside. He flicked the bent piece, pushed it in, then peeled it back. “A false bottom,” he said, removing the piece of thin wood that concealed a secret compartment.

  Inside laid a thin pocket journal and a small tin box. I opened the tin’s lid first, finding a couple of old pictures and a yellowed envelope.

  Ben took one of the pictures and flipped it over. “It’s Dahlia again. This one’s dated eighteen sixty-three. I think that was the same year as the one we found in the basement ledger.”

  Dahlia leaned against a tree beside a half-built well with stones stacked at her feet. Her long brown hair wasn’t pulled back like it’d been in the other picture; it was loose, falling in elegant waves over her shoulders. She wore another servant dress, but that didn’t matter; she was stunning regardless of what she wore.

  “All of the other pictures don’t have dates, but they look like they were more recent. The picture quality is far better and I don’t rec
ognize anyone in them. The only other one that we know is this one,” he said, holding up another picture of Dahlia. This time she was beside Charles Stockton.

  “Ah,” I replied, poking my finger at the photo. “My adulterous ancestor.”

  “Not here. This was eighteen sixty-three, too. Like the others of her alone. He wasn’t married until eighteen sixty-four,” Ben said, dropping the picture in the tin and closing it. He gripped the envelope and slid the paper out from inside. “This was when he was in the war.”

  “What? Let me see,” I said, crawling closer to him and tucking myself under his arm. “Can you read it?”

  “It’s pretty faded.” He ran a finger across the print and began to read. “Harrisburg, December first, eighteen sixty-two. Dear Dahlia. Please know it was never my intention to leave. I hope for one gracious day of your forgiveness. After receiving word regarding the draft, my father spoke of plans to pay my obligation. His condition was that I wed with his partner’s daughter. Instead, I volunteered with the 177th Pennsylvania Regiment. We leave Harrisburg in two days’ time. Please understand that my plan remains to forever be joined with you. Yours affectionately, Charles.”

  “Oh,” I breathed, clinging to Ben a little tighter. “It’s beautiful, but I’m confused.”

  Following the guide of its permanent creases, he folded the letter back into the envelope and set it down. “I think I know what happened.”

  “It makes no sense to me. He married someone else.”

  “I’m not sure how that happened either. But by this letter, his father planned to buy him out of the draft if he married who his father chose. Charles volunteered for the war instead, to piss his father off.”

  “It’s sweet, but very sad because it seems like it was all for nothing.” I opened the leather pocket journal and scanned it, seeing small recipes and chore lists. The signature on the back inside cover was Dahlia’s. I flipped through the pages again, noticing one dated section toward the back. “Check this out,” I said, tapping Ben’s leg. “This is dated September fourth, eighteen sixty-four. It says, ‘Charles laid with me tonight. I thought he’d changed his mind, but I was mistaken. He said it was the last time for he doesn’t love me anymore. Tomorrow he is to be wed. Because of this, I will take my leave before the fortnight, though in that time I vow to gift the same grace that he has bestowed upon me. His family will have what they want once then they will serve others until their final thought fades.’“

  “That sounds … threatening.”

  “He broke her heart. He lied to her. Heartache is often the cruelest fate of all,” I said, flipping more pages. “All the other entries look normal, but there are a few pages missing.”

  Ben removed a threadbare quilt from the bottom of the trunk. Regardless of the loose seems and frayed ends, its patchwork was beautiful. Whoever made it had taken their time, stitching every section with careful consideration. “It has something in it,” he said, weighing the quilt in his hands. He unfolded the material, exposing a stone the size of a brick, the color of desert sand. His hand smoothed over the surface, examining its even texture.

  “Is that …?”

  “Looks like it,” he replied, flipping it to view at a different angle and pointing to the grooves along the flat surface. “They’re words, just like you spotted in the paintings.”

  I placed my fingers near his and rubbed them over the gouges. “What does it say?” The letters were etched deep and distinct. I leaned closer to Ben as he tipped the rock toward me.

  He slid his index finger below each groove as he read. “Give of yourself, part of the line. Make one wish to set the bind.”

  “This is it, right?” I asked with a smile, though tears welled in my eyes with the truth of it all. “So it was her. Dahlia did this, whatever it is. An enchantment, or a curse, or something.” I looked at the words again as Ben’s lips moved, repeating them silently to himself.

  “When Pop told me about the well, he’d said it was cursed and that it only wanted Janine’s blood, meaning family blood. I guess that’s the first part. Your bloodline. You cut yourself that day at the well.”

  “I did,” I agreed, looking at the new pink flesh under my thumb. “‘Make one wish to set the bind’ is pretty literal. I wished some things after I’d figured out what happened with Gavin, but no wish I thought came true.”

  “Except the first,” Ben said, setting the rock down and grabbing my hand. “You were upset that day, remember?”

  “How could I forget? I got that disgusting text from Mark and I’d already had a disagreement with Dad. Then I couldn’t concentrate with you walking around shirtless.” I smirked.

  He let out a breathy laugh. “The green shirt,” he said, pulling me in between his legs and wrapping his arms around my waist. His hand swept my hair to the side so he could press his lips to the base of my neck. “But, do you remember your wish that day?”

  I leaned back against his chest and rested my hands on his knees, contemplating. “I didn’t hear any voices that day. But I got a headache and a nosebleed when I came back inside. That’s when I found out Dad had gotten the job.” I pulled in a quick breath. “That’s what I wished for. Dad to get a job.”

  He brushed his lips along the back of my neck and inhaled my hair. His quiet breath drifted over my skin as my mind whirled.

  I reached under my legs for the journal and flipped through its pages. “His family will have what they want once, and then they will serve others until their final thought fades,” I read from the journal again. “She didn’t get to keep him. She only had him once, which means at one time, not forever. So we get to make one wish. And because she was a servant, the curse makes us grant other people’s wishes, like serving them. ‘Until our final thought fades.’ So this is for life? I will hear other people’s voices for the rest of my life because one of my ancestors chose the wrong woman?” A single tear ran from my eye, as lonely as I suddenly felt. As lonely as Dahlia probably felt. I breathed deeply and Ben pulled me tighter into him.

  “I’m not sure what it all means, LJ, but, if I could change it all, I would.”

  I nodded to acknowledge his words, still deep in thought. There has to be something else. I turned inside his folded body and slid my legs over his thighs to face him. “The mortar in the well left outlines for three stones.”

  “Yes,” Ben said, staring into my eyes intently.

  “Do you think that means there’s more to this? And if so, what?”

  “I’m not sure,” he whispered, looking down and grabbing my hands.

  “Maybe there’s a way to end it all,” I muttered as I looked down at Ben’s hands, caressing mine so thoughtfully. “I wonder if Janine ever found them … or if she had to hear the voices until she died.” That thought scared me because if Janine hadn’t found anything else, the chances of me finding something were infinitely worse. A sob escaped my lips.

  Ben’s hands left mine and reached up to my face to cradle my jaw. “Hey,” he said, running his thumbs under my eyes as a few more fearful tears tumbled out. “I don’t think there’s a way for me to make this easier for you, but I’m going to try. I’ll help you, LJ. I’m here.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, knowing his words were true.

  “I’ll search this whole house a hundred times over. I’ll dig. I’ll clean!” he said with a large, infectious smile.

  I smiled in return and sniffled. “Is that so?”

  “Hmm.” His dark eyes wandered to the ceiling for a moment before delving back into my eyes, and possibly my soul. His dimples deepened as his smile grew wider. “I’m willing to as some of the cleaning involves bubbles.” I laughed lightly. His gaze became more intense and serious again. “I will be here.”

  And I knew he would.

  Look for The Line That Breaks, sequel to The Line That Binds, March 2014.

  Writing a book is a crazy journey. I love it, but it’s difficult and emotional. The highs and lows are so extreme I’m surprised I haven’
t been institutionalized. There are several amazing people who’ve seen those extremes firsthand and decided, for some crazy reason, to stick around. Some have been in my life for a long time, others I’ve only recently met within the book-loving community. I’m going to try my best to remember everyone. And I’ll also try to keep this short so everyone can move on to devour their next read!

  I need to start with my beautiful family. Will, thanks for sticking your face in my popcorn once upon a time. My story is only with you. Zoe, you are the reason I discovered my dream. When you’re old enough to read this, I hope it makes you smile. Just one will make the effort worthwhile. Mom, Aunt M, and Uncle J, your love and support means the world. No matter how far away, I can always count on you. Thank you for that and so much more.

  Tonya Carey and Cari Schroder ─ I want to thank you both for so much, but there isn’t enough room to fit all the awesomeness that is our friendship. I’ll sum up with a few key words. Sisters. Rite Aid. Pedro. Cornfields. Siiip. Maryland. “Bohemian Rhapsody.” I’m honored to be a part of your lives and thankful for all of your encouragement and feedback. I’ll always value your opinions and trust you, even if you get me drunk and make me ride a bull. Start planning for my next visit; I need more material.

  To Kya Hazzard ─ Time and distance will never change real friendships. Even though our ears burn after our three-hour covos, I love them! Thanks a million for your honesty in this life, and your guidance in our previous life of lion hugs and kisses.

  I’m so lucky to have found a few crit partners whom I adore. Kim, Sam, and Jessica ─ You guys were so helpful with TLTB from early on. Thank you for your sound suggestions and hilarious margin comments. They really helped push me through. I wish you all the best of luck with your projects. Never give up!

  To Amanda Clark ─ Thanks for the early Beta read and your endless humor on Facebook. I really appreciate your input, and I’m so grateful you gave me and my other book a chance when others passed. We will get that drink someday.