Promises to Keep

by Chaffin, Char

  “I have something I think you’d like.” With a smile just for Annie, the salesclerk headed toward the rear of the store and disappeared behind a door. Annie sat there wide-eyed as Travis pressed her hand to his cheek.

  “Travis, you can’t afford this. You need your money for school.”

  “Yes, I can. What I can’t afford is to let another day go by without the world knowing you belong to me, Annie Turner.” When her eyes filled yet again, he groaned, “Not another tear! You’ll make me think I’m torturing you instead of getting engaged.”

  Before she could respond, the salesclerk was back with a small tray lined in white velvet. She chose a seat across from Annie and placed the tray in front of her. Rings lay against the velvet, some plain and others fancy. Glints of pure light shot through many of the faceted gems, and every one was breathtaking.

  She tore her gaze from them with a beseeching look at Travis. “I can’t choose. I don’t know—”

  “I’ll help you.” His face suddenly sober, he selected a ring from the center of the tray. Deep and pure, the stone was not too small, but not so large that it would overpower her hand. Emerald-cut, as he’d requested, and in a simple, yet elegant, gold setting, framed on two sides with tiny, perfect diamonds. He took her left hand, slid the ring on her finger. It fit as if it had been waiting for her.

  He lifted her hand until the ring was close to her eyes. The stone was just a few shades lighter. Against her skin, it glowed and pulsed, warm and pretty, just like its new owner. With his other hand he cupped her chin, brought her lips to his, and kissed her. For long seconds, he kissed his Annie. Slowly, he released her and gazed into her starry eyes.

  “Marry me, Annie.”

  Her lips trembled, then parted. She cleared her throat. Spoke through a dawning smile.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 13

  “What have we got?” Bernard Grayson, the cardiologist on duty at Rockingham Memorial, rushed into Emergency, the ER nurse running to keep up with him.

  “Stroke. Patient’s second. Male, approximately forty-six. EMTs brought him in from Thompkin. His family’s with him. Three women.”

  “Three women who might go hysterical on me. The day just gets better and better,” he muttered as he entered the cubicle. The patient’s vitals were choppy at best, with an elevated BP and pulse, irregular heartbeat, and gray-tinged skin. The right side of his face appeared palsied. Bernard picked up the chart.

  Ronald Quincy, of Thompkin. He frowned at the vaguely familiar name. Two women stood beside the bed, and a third sat in a chair placed beyond the privacy drape, rocking back and forth with her head in her hands.

  Bernard addressed the woman closest to the patient. “Are you Mrs. Quincy?”

  She raised red-rimmed eyes. “What? No. I’m Martha Knowles, Mr. Quincy’s cook. This is his private nurse, Phoebe Sherman.” She indicated the woman standing next to her, her eyes also swollen. “Mr. Quincy suffered a stroke two years ago, and Phoebe has been with us ever since.”

  He nodded to the distraught woman. “I’ll need to talk with you later. Is Mrs. Quincy here?” He pointed to the emergency contact sheet attached to the chart, adding, “Ruth Quincy?” Martha released the patient’s hand and walked to the chair behind the privacy curtain, bent down and whispered to the woman hunched there. Bernard turned just as the woman shook her head vigorously. Martha murmured to her and took her arm, trying to ease her to her feet, and the woman again shook her head and tried to pull away.

  He glanced at Phoebe. “What’s going on here? Is that Mrs. Quincy?”

  She nodded toward Ruth. “That’s her, Doctor. Ruth suffers from a form of agoraphobia. She’s only been away from her home a handful of times in over fifteen years. The last few years it’s been impossible for her to step outside at all. We had a heck of a time getting her here.” She lowered her voice and added, “We’re trying to reach her son, Travis.”

  Sighing, Bernard laid the chart down, stepped over to the chair and squatted down until he was level with the wife, who had once more buried her face in her hands. “Mrs. Quincy, I’m Doctor Grayson. I need you to calm down and focus on the questions I’m about to ask you.”

  “Can you give her something to relax her?” Martha asked.

  “No.” Bernard placed a hand on Ruth’s arm, taking note of the way she shuddered and recoiled. “Mrs. Quincy? Listen to me. Your husband has suffered another stroke. It’s caused paralysis along his right side, which I understand mirrors the damage his first stroke inflicted. Yes?” He glanced up at Phoebe, who nodded. “All right, then.” He brought his attention back to Ruth. “I need to know what your husband was doing prior to his stroke.”

  “I don’t want to be here. You can’t make me stay here.” Ruth wrenched her arm from his grip and struggled to her feet. Martha and Bernard both took hold of her and pushed her back into the chair. Ruth burst into tears and slumped sideways.

  Bernard signaled the ER nurse, who came over and took the sobbing Ruth off his hands. “Put her in the waiting room for now. Have Grace stay with her.” He indicated one of the older ER volunteers. “I’ll make sure to talk to her before we move her husband to ICU.” Grace stepped to Ruth’s other side, caught her arm, and spoke to her in a low, soothing voice.

  Bernard returned his attention to Martha. “Well now, what about the son?”

  Martha moved toward the bed and stroked the hair back from Ronald Quincy’s damp forehead. “He doesn’t have a cell phone. He went Christmas shopping in Charlottesville with his girlfriend. I spoke to her mama and told her what happened. She’ll tell Travis as soon as they show up there.”

  “Unusual to see a young man without a cell phone.”

  “Yes,” Martha agreed. “But his mother didn’t want him distracted at school.”

  Bernard glanced at the monitors, noting the slightly improved vitals. He picked up the chart again. “Why don’t you head into the waiting room and sit with the wife? I’ll schedule Mr. Quincy for some tests. For now, his vitals are holding. Not much we can do until he regains consciousness.”

  The early-evening light was pearly and soft when they left the busy mall. Annie held Travis’s hand and as far as he was concerned, all was right with the world. He didn’t have to look at her to know she was smiling. He laid their joined hands on his thigh and felt a thrill when she seemed content to leave hers there.

  The ring on her finger glinted up at him. It was exactly right, too. He cleared his throat as he eased out onto the highway. “It’s been a while since lunch. Are you hungry again? Do you want to stop and get something to eat?”

  “No, I’m not hungry. Are you?” The look she gave him was half-shadowed, almost mysterious.

  A sudden attack of nerves made him catch his breath. “Not really. It’s still early. Do you want to go see a movie?”

  “I—” She paused, then rushed on, “I just want to be with you. I want to sit next to you somewhere alone. Just us, Travis.” He heard the plea in her voice. “I don’t want to go home yet. You’ll have to go back to your house, and your mother will still be angry. Can’t we stay out a little longer? Can’t we just go somewhere and be together? Alone?”

  He broke out in a sweat at the immediate picture her words conjured up. Did he want to be alone with her? More than anything. But he also knew his own limitations. He couldn’t be with her and not want to hold her. Couldn’t hold her and not want to kiss her.

  Couldn’t kiss her without wanting to touch her, all over.

  She was only sixteen, and he wanted her so much, but he wasn’t sure how ready they were. At nineteen, he was inexperienced by his own choice. Most of his Academy buddies dated steadily and had sex with their girlfriends. Busy with his studies, Travis crammed as many classes as he could into his days so he’d graduate early, his single-minded goal to get it done as soon as possible. Coming home to Annie was all that mattered.

  In a few weeks, he’d pack up his car and head to Yale for spring semester. His schedule woul
d be insane, with no time to himself. The next time he’d come home to see Annie would be early summer, if all went as planned. He knew there was no way her folks would let her travel to Yale on some weekend to be with him.

  But they’d just gotten engaged. An engaged couple had the right to take some time for themselves, didn’t they? He needed it, and so did Annie. With that decision already firmed up in his mind, he turned at the next intersection he came to.

  She raised her head and glanced around as he maneuvered off the highway and onto a side street. “Travis?”

  He slowed down and entered a parking lot. A lit sign on the side of the lot said, “Shenandoah Inn.” She blinked at it for several seconds, turning to him with uncertain eyes.

  Travis cut the engine and unbuckled his safety belt, twisting in his seat to her. “I think we should get a room. I want to be with you, Annie.” His voice threaded out to a hoarse whisper. “I want to make love to you. We’re engaged. We’re getting married as soon as we can. But right now, I need you, so much. Please don’t say no.”

  Her hand was cold in his and her fingers trembled, but she came into his arms when he urged her closer. Pressed to his heart, her mouth met his in an ardent kiss. And it was so new yet so familiar, so right, like coming home after a long, hard, impossible day. Their families were far from there and they were alone in the encroaching twilight. It was their own private existence, where they ruled and made the decisions.

  Tomorrow would come and with it, too many troubles to count. But for a few hours tonight, they were newly pledged, and the world was theirs for the taking.

  “Annie? Please.”

  She kissed him on both cheeks, and again on his mouth. “Yes, I want to. I want you to show me. I want to learn from you.”

  He choked out a shaky laugh, his forehead touching hers. “Annie, I—I don’t know how, either. I’ve never done—I’ve kissed only you. You know that.”

  “I know. We’ll learn together, Travis.”

  “Then wait here.” One more kiss, and he was out of the car and walking into the inn’s office. He returned shortly with a key attached to a large plastic disc with the room number stamped on it. He opened her door and helped her step out. Annie clung to his arm while he locked the Beemer, and he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile as they walked to the row of rooms on the first floor of the inn. His hand shook when he inserted the key.

  The room was chilly, so they turned on the heater under the single window. Curious, Annie poked around. “I’ve never been in a motel room before.” A bed and two nightstands took up one side of the room; a table and three chairs crowded the other. Everything looked plain, but clean. Travis couldn’t claim to have been in many motel rooms, either, but this one had everything they’d need.

  He dropped his coat on the table and sat on the edge of the bed. He should use the bathroom, but he didn’t want Annie to hear him do it for fear it would embarrass her. He should brush his teeth. How could he kiss her unless he had clean teeth? He should take a shower. Annie deserved a fresh-smelling lover, right?

  And why the hell was he nervous, anyway? This was Annie. He adored her. It should be the easiest thing in the world, coming together this way, loving each other like this.

  Shouldn’t it?

  For endless minutes they sat there, their eyes meeting and then glancing away. Tension stretched between them like a tightrope.

  Travis found some of his nervousness easing off as he watched her. She was so beautiful in the dim light of the room. The glow from the lamp cast gold over her hair. Her eyes seemed apprehensive. He could understand the fright, because this was a huge step for them. He’d always assumed when the time came for them to make love, everything would fall into place, and they’d know what to do.

  Stupid. This wasn’t the movies. This was real life.

  His Academy buddies often ragged on him for not going out with them during the week, after classes, and getting drunk or chasing girls. To be honest, several times he’d been tempted. It was lonely in the dorms. What held him back was the thought of Annie, waiting for him.

  He’d lie in bed and picture her sweet face and her bright smile. He’d strive to recall the silky texture of her hair and how good her arms felt around him. He’d compare her to some of the girls he saw around Newport, and they’d all come up lacking. Nobody seemed to fit him the way Annie did. They were meant to be together, simple as that.

  And just as simply, the rest of his nerves eased. His worries about clean teeth and perspiration also disappeared. Travis smiled at the girl he loved, and watched her smile back at him.

  She rose and unbuttoned her coat, draping it over one of the chairs, then took a few steps and reached for him. Their fingers clasped as she sank down on the bed and nestled close. Travis brushed a hand through her hair, and Annie sighed, her head on his shoulder.

  He palmed her cheek and raised her face to his, searching for reassurance. “Are you—all right—with this, Annie? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

  She nodded. “I’m okay with it. Honestly.”

  She kicked off her boots, slid over on the bed and stretched out, her eyes locked on his. She grasped the edge of her sweater to remove it, but he stopped her.

  “I want to.” His low words made her blush. She nodded again and relaxed.

  He knelt on the bed next to her, and his hands trembled as he pushed her sweater up and slipped it over her head. Underneath, she wore a pale pink bra that was as innocent and demure as Annie. She shivered when he traced the edge of it with his finger.

  “Cold?” He didn’t even recognize his own voice, raspy and thick.

  She shook her head.

  “Good.”

  He reached for the button of her faded jeans, paused, then took a deep breath and unfastened them, pulling them off and down her legs. She was so tenderly-formed; shapely thighs, pretty calves, dainty ankles. She wore panties with tiny hearts all over them. Her skin still had a trace of the tan she’d acquired over the summer.

  She overwhelmed him. He didn’t know where to touch, first. He forgot about taking off his clothes. Travis could do nothing but stare down at Annie in amazement at how lovely she was. He feathered his fingertips over her stomach and felt it flutter. Nerves, anticipation, he had no idea which, but it excited him. He couldn’t stop looking at her.

  When she tugged at his own sweater, his gaze snapped back to hers. She swallowed, hard. “I want to see. Travis, can I—?” The words seemed to stick in her throat.

  “Oh, God, sorry.” He fought the urge to fidget and tried to remain still while she undressed him. Somehow she got everything unbuttoned, and soon he wore only his briefs. The heat rose in his cheeks and felt almost as warm as the pretty blush he saw on Annie’s soft skin. For a few seconds they remained side by side, their hands clasped, hardly daring to breathe.

  With hesitant touches and shy caresses they came together on the cool sheets. He trailed kisses over her, and each one tasted like heaven. He touched her, marveling at the differences between a woman and a man, how skin could take on such a sheen of silk when it stretched over slender bones.

  “Annie—” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask. Permission to continue, assurance she wasn’t scared? It didn’t matter because she seemed to understand without further words. She stroked her fingers over him and made him shudder. This time when he kissed her, she clutched his hair with both hands and held him tightly. A moan slipped from her lips, and he swallowed the breathy sound.

  He wanted to inhale her, absorb her right through his skin. And he was glad he’d waited for her, glad he’d never given his innocence to another girl. Annie was the only one who could appreciate it. They’d waited for each other. What could be more perfect?

  Her muscles quivered as he brushed his lips along her navel, and her legs moved restlessly when he nibbled on the tender curve of her breast. When he pressed against her, instinct took over. Their bodies blended together as easily as their love,
sweet and true.

  He’d never belong to anyone else.

  She turned her face into his neck; her fingers gripped his shoulders. Her breath came in short, hot bursts. He found her mouth with his and kissed her deeply as their bodies moved, clung, shuddered. How could something this amazing be anything but right?

  He looked into her face and saw the same wonder he could feel. He slipped his hands beneath her hips and pulled her closer. Closer. And just like that, the final link—the one stretched between their souls—forged and held. Permanent.

  In the quiet, warm room, he made love to Annie with the eagerness and endurance of youth. The shadows at the window deepened into evening as they lost themselves in each other.

  Chapter 14

  Ruth sat wedged between Martha and Phoebe in the waiting room outside ICU. Martha tried to get her to drink a cup of coffee, but she’d knocked it away. She didn’t want any damned coffee. She wanted to go home.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen again. After the first stroke, Dr. Perkins, their family physician, told her Ronald would be fine. That all she had to do was alter his diet and add daily rehabilitation. Well, she’d done all he’d prescribed, hadn’t she?

  She had Martha prepare special meals. She’d hired Phoebe—much as she hated to have another domestic in the house—to assume live-in status and to assure he received that daily rehabilitation the quack doctor had ordered. She’d even contracted to have a goddamn elevator installed. And for what? So Ronald could still be in danger of having another stroke? Forcing her to leave the security of her own home and sit in a hospital, in a stuffy room that smelled of stale coffee, smelly feet, and worse? Expecting more doctors to come forward and tell her that Ronald was now a vegetable. That’s what happened when someone suffered another stroke, they became little more than a rutabaga.