Sarah wanted to argue, but didn’t dare. The tension was still high enough to get them in trouble. They needed distance from each other and their emotions. She stood quickly, dusted her backside, then moved toward the screen door. “Good night, Professor.” She hoped she seemed nonchalant.
From the window she watched William walk down the porch steps, then she closed the curtain. Sitting on the porch alone hadn’t been such a good idea, even in this small college town. How much of what she’d felt had been fantasy? Her fingers traced her lips, lingering on the tender center.
She was tired, but she doubted she would get a good night’s sleep. She hoped he wouldn’t. William wasn’t supposed to be sexy and he wasn’t supposed to make her want to kiss him.
##
William seldom saw a sunrise. But this morning he watched the pink streaks grow along the horizon and intensify. He hadn’t slept a wink. Each time he’d closed his eyes he’d seen Sarah sitting in the moonlight, like an enchantress. He’d heard her siren’s song and been drawn. How had he missed the way her lips begged to be kissed, the way her body had ripened to perfection?
There was no way he could let that Jackson jerk have her. Kissing her had been the most wonderful experience he could have imagined and the biggest mistake of his life. The kiss was all his dreams had promised and more. His dream lover had been Sarah, but different. His dream lover had known what he needed.
He had tried to sleep, even dozed a while. Big mistake.
##
William felt like a different man but he didn’t know why. Sarita. The name echoed in his mind, then formed his lips into a smile. He studied his wife’s face nearly hidden beneath fiery hair. God, she was beautiful! His penis hardened, thinking about how her pouting red lips would taste if he kissed her. He wanted her. He needed her. So much time has passed since I held you in my arms, love. God forgive him, he wanted to paddle the woman’s backside, but he needed to make long and tender love to her. He would never have the heart to hurt her.
Of all places, she had fallen asleep in the unused barn farthest from the main house. A tempting swell of breast peeked from the mannish shirt she wore. He ached to touch her. Would she let him? Would she help him? I could awaken my beloved with a kiss. I could make love to her until she could argue with me no more, or slip away again while I sleep.
Reminding himself of such things was not good. Letting her see him too soon would upset her. His lady was not vain, but she would want to wash the dirt and grime from her face. She really needed to wash her hair. Sarita was far too proud to have anyone, even him, see it mussed and dirty. Women! She was beautiful, desirable in any state. No, I will wait and suffer. If she tries to sneak away without seeing me, I will hog-tie her and lock her away where she will be safe, for a change.
A lump formed in his throat as he touched the lone lock of hair on her forehead. In a flash he was down the ladder and past the sorriest excuse for horseflesh he had seen lately. Skinny, but fed and watered and wiped down. He slipped out of the barn before he lost his self-control.
##
William awoke slowly, as though he’d been drugged. The clock read 5:45. Remnants of his dream hung on the edges of his consciousness. Sarah in boy’s clothes. Sarah, but not Sarah. He punched his pillow and tried to go back to sleep for the hour and a half ‘til his alarm would go off. Sleep would not come. The dream and its meaning haunted him. The man in his dream had wanted the woman so badly he hurt.
Rolling out of bed he made his way to his back porch. At times like this he wished he smoked. He stayed for the sunrise.
How in God’s name do we act now? How could he take the chance of ruining his friendship with Sarah by giving in to his libido? Seven years difference in their ages was too much for a romantic relationship. Besides, he’d never seen himself as a marrying man. His Sarah deserved a man who would give her a home and children, not just an affair. Some protector he was!
##
Morning had come way too early for Sarah. After last night’s revelation sleeping had not been an option. She had turned her alarm clock off without punching the snooze button once. She’d showered and brushed her teeth like a zombie. Somehow she made her way to the kitchen table.
“Sarah, dear, you look terrible. Are you coming down with something?” her mother asked.
Sarah would’ve settled for a cup of hot tea and a slice of toast, but she sat at the kitchen table as her mother brought her breakfast, as she had insisted on this ritual everyday since Sarah could remember. Everyday, except the months her mother had spent recovering from her miscarriage, she’d sat with Sarah in the mornings.
“Mom, I’m fine. I have the usual end of the year insomnia. Those darling college freshmen become pains this close to summer.” Sarah wasn’t about to tell her mother that she’d discovered ghosts in the attic, her best friend had kissed her, and she’d enjoyed every second of it. Nor could she say whether she was scared spitless he’d do it again, or that she might initiate the next kiss.
Her few moments of sleep had been filled with erotic thoughts and fantasies about the person who took her fishing and had taught her to ski. Last night he’d taught her to kiss. Her memory blended with her dreams, but this time involved both reality and fantasy. She flushed as she remembered his tongue slipping past her lips, exploring and caressing her mouth.
“Sarah! You look flushed.”
Sarah reached for her mother’s hand as it checked the back of her neck and her forehead. She held her mother’s hand against her cheek in a caress. “I’m okay, Mom, really I am. You don’t have to worry about me. I wouldn’t go to work sick.” She looked up at the woman who had been so loving and so gentle.
“Mom, has anyone been up to the attic lately?” Sarah asked.
“No, why? Do you need to go up there?”
“Just wondering, I thought I might look through some of the old trunks I remember seeing up there.” Sarah wasn’t ready to mention what else she had seen quite recently.
“Mama, you really don’t have to make breakfast for me every morning.” Sarah and her mother had this conversation every once in a while. It hadn’t done any good the other dozen times.
“I know, dear.” She smiled as she passed the peach preserves to Sarah. “Your father has breakfast early every morning and leaves for work just before you come down. I’m already up, and I’ll work on my writing after you leave. So why shouldn’t I pamper you and enjoy your company for a few minutes? Someday you’ll marry, and we’ll both miss this time together.”
How could she argue with the logic of a natural caregiver? Maybe she’d send her children over for breakfast with Grandma, if she ever had children. The vision of children with William’s black hair and her eyes followed her all day.
##
Sarah had dragged herself to school. By the time she walked into her classroom, she was her old self, excited but ready to end the school year. She was so ready for summer.
The students weren’t as bad as she’d feared, thank heavens. She was tired and ready for a short rest before she graded music projects. Once her parents were in bed she’d need to have a chat with her ghosts, if they would show up on request.
She didn’t run into William at school all day. If he came by her house, she’d send him home so she could grade papers and do test averages.
As she opened the front door of her house, the part-time housekeeper greeted her. “You look happy, Mrs. James.” Sarah smiled at the tall, gray haired woman.
“Sarah. Come see what J. Kilgore’s Florist delivered.”
Sarah nearly fainted when she saw the floral arrangements in the wide hall. Roses and spring flowers overflowed baskets on stands and vases. “Who …?” she asked. She couldn’t finish.
“I left the cards with the flowers, so you could enjoy reading them as you remove each one.” Mrs. James smiled as she left Sarah to her card reading.
Sarah was a kid in a candy store. She read each card, anxious to find who had sent so many flowers. I
t seemed like the kind of thing Peter would do. Peter never did anything halfway.
They’d dined at fine restaurants, usually in Macon, or one of the plantation houses converted to restaurants. He’d behaved like the perfect gentleman bringing candy or flowers for dates. He was a fair-to-middlin' poet and a real charmer.
The sentiments on the cards from Peter were as beautiful as the flowers, but the one that brought tears to her eyes came with a dozen yellow roses and read.
Sorry, my princess. Forgive me, please? Still friends?
William.
William had remembered her love for yellow roses. How could she not forgive him? She still couldn’t let last night’s performance on the porch happen again. She couldn’t let him know how much she enjoyed his kisses, in her dreams and in reality.
She carried the yellow roses to her room, leaving the other arrangements downstairs for the family to enjoy. She’d stretch out on her bed to relax and clear her head.
##
The nap was just what the doctor ordered. Mrs. James served a wonderful supper, and Sarah’s parents went to bed.
It was time for a trip to the attic. If she found no ghosts, there’d be no need to mention them to anyone. She grinned. William would love to hear she was seeing spooks. He’d have her under treatment so fast her head would spin. Her parents would delay their two-month tour of Europe. She hoped to find only a dusty attic.
Creeping slowly up the staircase to the attic, she felt like the lion in The Wizard of Oz. “There are no ghosts, there are no ghosts, there...”
The attic was as it had been the night Mattie and Eloise had summoned her. Mattie wore an off shoulder dress of pale pink, with a matching camellia in her hair. She still looked delicate and youthful, not quite the matron. She smiled at Sarah who stood in the door and stared.
“Come in, my dear. Eloise will be here in a minute. She’s working with her hair. She was reading and lost track of the time. Sit with me and we’ll have coffee.”
“Decaf?” Sarah asked, before she thought.
“If you wish. There’s creamer and sweetener. Eloise says we should have them since you use them. I haven’t tried either, but she says they are quite tasty.” Mattie patted Sarah’s arm as Sarah gingerly eased down onto the love seat beside Mattie.
Sara had just taken a sip when Eloise appeared. Her fitted dress featured a keyhole neckline and made its owner look like a character straight from an old Betty Grable movie.
“You look lovely,” Mattie said. “Doesn’t she, Sarah?”
“She always says that, dear.” Eloise smiled as she winked at Sarah. “You look more rested than you did yesterday. You had some night. Guess you listened to our warning.”
Sarah couldn’t resist. “You were reading? Something by a ghost writer, maybe?”
Eloise laughed. “Nope, but the writer is definitely dead.”
“Please tell me about the warning you issued last night. I think I should know, if I’m really in danger. What haven’t you told me?” Sarah asked.
“Well,” Mattie began. “When I was in my early twenties and the War of Northern Aggression had ended--”
“She means the Civil War,” Eloise interrupted.
“--I was courted by Miller Jackson, a neighbor.” Mattie continued. “His family’s plantation wasn’t doing well before the war. The Jacksons were hurt even more from the loss of their slaves and the destruction caused by army deserters who came through, while the men were away fighting. I allowed him to call on me, but I did not feel the way he said he did. He was handsome and seemed like a good man, but he did not make me feel the way a woman should when she marries.” Mattie paused, refilling their empty cups as they listened intently.
“We worked to keep our plantation going and were spared the worst of the destruction. Somehow we could always find the means to care for our people. Many of our slaves stayed as workers, and we prospered together.
“On a trip to Macon for supplies, I met Jonathan Mayfield, a young man who made me feel all the things Miller hadn’t. Jonathan asked if he might call on me. My father gave him permission and we were engaged within six months. When Miller learned Jonathan was calling on me he tried to ruin William in our eyes and those of the community by spreading rumors. No one believed Miller.” Mattie twisted a dainty handkerchief.
“We married anyway. Jonathan was a Yankee, but he had saved the lives of several local soldiers when they had been imprisoned. They were not about to fault him since he had been investing his own money in several local businesses, saving their owners from financial ruin. He always did things like that, even after our children were born.”
Sarah listened, enraptured with this unfolding of a romantic history. This was better than a movie.
“Miller tried to convince our neighbors we had worked with the Yankees and had treasures that should rightfully belong to everyone. He made us sound like thieves, carpetbaggers. He was jealous and never forgave me for rejecting him. From that time on the Jacksons have been suspicious of us.
Eloise took over. “They have passed down the story of our family treasure for so long they all believe it. That’s what got me in trouble. That’s how I met Mattie.”
“What is the treasure?” Sarah asked.
“That is just it,” Mattie answered. “We know of no treasure. We could not hoard a treasure we have never seen. Our family worked hard and took care of each other.”
“What happened to you, Eloise?” Sarah asked, trying to stifle a yawn.
“We’ll tell you later. You need your rest. I’d say you need your beauty sleep, but not after the way William kissed you.” Eloise laughed at the blush coloring Sarah’s face. “That was as good a kiss as I’ve ever seen, reminds me of my Joseph.”
“Wait a minute, you were spying on me?” Sarah asked, as if she didn’t know the answer.
Mattie blushed. “It is what we do. We have been in this house since before you were born, waiting until we were needed.”
“Yeah, Mattie was here before I was born. She waited until I needed her.”
“I have never seen such a kiss.” Mattie sighed. “And I did not sleep well for months after my Jonathan first kissed me.”
“She still blushes after all this time.” Eloise laughed as she patted Mattie’s arm. “Yankee Johnny must have been some kisser.” She changed topics. “When you were born, Mattie and I knew you would need us someday.
“She’s right,” Mattie added.
“William and I have been friends forever. That’s all,” Sarah protested. She knew what they were thinking. But he wasn’t in love with her and she wasn’t in love with him. Sarah stifled another yawn. Could imaginary coffee put a person to sleep? No, she was just tired. Meeting ghosts was as likely to disturb sleep as being kissed by your best friend.
Sarah practically sleep-walked as she left the attic and headed downstairs. Before she knew it she was alone in her room. She crawled into her bed, ready for rest without dreams or fantasies about making love with William. One out of two? What could she expect the way things had been going?
Chapter Three
Sarah slept through the night, tossing and turning. Her bed looked as though someone had fought a battle on it. Her dream lover had made love to her all night. Her dream version of William had turned her inside out.
How can I face him after last night’s dreams? Or even after the kiss. The circles under her eyes seemed lighter than yesterday. Maybe her mother wouldn’t think she was ill. Mama worried if her family looked less than one hundred percent.
##
The afternoon sun shone with Georgia warmth. Honeysuckle and gardenia scents hung heavy in late spring air. Everything seemed so normal Sarah was lulled into a sense of peace and tranquility as she crossed the picturesque college campus.
“Hey, Teach, wait up.” Sarah cringed as she heard hurried footsteps coming closer. Not him!
William’s heavy arm covered her shoulders as his sensual voice whispered in her ear. “Glad to see
me, Princess?” Shivers ran down her spine. He murmured, “I missed you. I had the strangest dreams all night. You were there, begging me ...”
“William!” Sarah warned, turning toward the pesky man. Her eyes narrowed.
“...Not to dunk you,” he finished. His pace slowed as he became mesmerized by rose-tinted lips. God, he wanted to kiss her. A mischievous imp had landed on his shoulder and made him sneak up on her to get her unguarded response.
His Sarah looked very much the teacher. Her navy skirt demurely outlined her softly rounded hips. It caressed her thighs and legs, the hem below her knees, but riding up as she strode down the worn path. Medium-height, navy pumps accentuated her well-developed calves. Watching her walk was a study in grace. She’d slowed her pace to match his. Her breathing matched his chest-pressing gasps. His imp wanted to uncover the playmate with whom he’d always been safe and in control of his feelings.
Sarah wasn’t fooled. He wanted to throw her off balance, to pester her as they had always pestered each other. Their banter was an important part of their relationship. Last week she would have laughed it off, or teased him back. This afternoon she could only pray she wouldn’t do anything stupid, like let him kiss her, or kiss him, if he didn’t kiss her first.
“What do you want?” she asked, trying to sound calm.
“Come with me to the Snack Shack, I’m buying.”
“In that case, I’ll have a banana split, de-luxe.”
“Anything you want, Princess.”
Their manner was different from usual. When their hips touched, electricity shot through every part of her body.
“I meant to call you last night.” Sarah slowed their pace again. “I loved the yellow roses. I can’t believe you remembered something I said so long ago.”
“I remember everything about you, Sarah.” His voice was husky. “Even the way you drown your Oreos in milk.”
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