Until Tomorrow

by Abbie Williams

  “What about when you guys came to Landon that summer? Why didn’t you tell me then that you felt these things?” I demanded.

  He laughed, half-ruefully. He said, “Yeah, when you were attached at the hip to Liam.” He stroked stray curls from my forehead and said decisively, “He will never touch you again. I want to kill someone just thinking about him touching you in the past.”

  I laid my face against Marshall’s chest and said, “He deserves better than this. He’s a good man…” and it might seem like complete hypocritical bullshit after everything that had just transpired between Marshall and me, but I acknowledged, “I feel so guilty.”

  I wanted to huddle up with it.

  Marshall wouldn’t let me. He made me look at him and said, “Don’t feel guilty. Please don’t. I can’t let you feel that way about the most beautiful hour of my life, as of this moment. This has been the most beautiful twenty-four hours of my life, getting to be near you since yesterday. Driving with you, eating dinner with you, watching you sleep beside me in the truck. Being at Case and Tish’s wedding with you. Seeing you wear that t-shirt with my name on it all day…” His sincere words struck my heart like blows and his eyes implored me. He said, “If I’ve made you feel guilty, that would kill me. Making love with you is so right…I want this with all my heart…I didn’t take advantage of you, if that’s what you think…”

  “I don’t think that,” I assured him, framing his jaws with both hands, studying the different colors in his eyes. I said, “I believe you. And you understand me, Marshall, in ways I can’t even explain.” He truly did, and tears came into my eyes as I studied the slight indentation upon the middle of his top lip, which Grandma would call an angel kiss. Because I wanted to, because now I could, I leaned and kissed him in that exact spot, softly stroking with my tongue, and he shuddered with pleasure and rolled me beneath him, opening my lips with his, kissing me deeply. This man made me more alive than anything I’d ever experienced. He fit to me so perfectly, and I’d only just found him. How could I walk away?

  How could I not?

  “I want you to stay here, with me,” he insisted, cradling me to him. “I want you to take that job with Al, and stay here.”

  His words slammed into me. Despite everything, I felt a rush of panic, of shaking ground. I wanted this – I wanted him, but I was reeling from everything that had happened since yesterday.

  “I just need…a second…” I said, and my voice shook.

  Marshall was very still for a moment, but then he sensed that I was overwhelmed. He said quietly, “I understand.” He added softly, “You’re tired. C’mon, I’ll bring you home and you’ll sleep in the guest room.”

  He helped me to my feet and then to locate my clothes; we were all but wordless as we dressed. I gathered up the clothes that I had just borrowed from Tish and stuffed them into the laundry, promising myself I would take care of them tomorrow. I retraced my steps to the bathroom and could hardly look at myself in the mirror, feeling like a lowdown cheater – far worse was the fact that I had madly loved every second of it. I decided that it would look too suspicious to show up at the Rawleys’ wearing new clothing, and so I slipped back into my old shorts and the M. RAWLEY t-shirt, my hands trembling as I tried to braid my hair.

  Marshall was cleaning out the eggs from the pan as I came into the kitchen; he was back in his jeans and green t-shirt. With every bit of my heart, I wanted to race across the meager space separating us and get my arms around him, but I held back. He looked over at me and I could sense that he wanted to talk, but he finished what he was doing and only asked quietly, “You ready?”

  I nodded, and he turned out the light above the sink, leaving the space in darkness. I heard him fumbling with something near the screen door and seconds later there was a glow of red-orange, from a string of chili-pepper lights hanging outside.

  “There,” he said, and I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was trying to put me at ease. He told me, “Case always has these going.”

  Outside the air was chilly and we hurried across the street to his truck, Marshall opening the driver’s side door for me. I clambered inside and he followed, starting it up and making a U-turn. I could sense his growing concern, but he remained wordless, letting me have a little space. It wasn’t far to his house, I knew, and I felt so tense, so tightly-strung, that we hadn’t gone a quarter-mile on the deserted gravel road before I burst into choking sobs.

  Marshall pulled to the shoulder at once, killing the engine. Without a word, he scooted over and collected me against his chest, where I clung to him. He smoothed his hand over my hair and then gently cupped the back of my neck, beneath my braid, while I sobbed and sobbed, everything catching up with me in a wild rainstorm of emotion.

  “It’s all right,” he whispered gently, pressing his lips to my temple.

  I held tightly to him, clutching the front of his t-shirt until my knuckles hurt, soaking it with my tears. I didn’t know how much time passed before I could draw a full breath and then I choked out, “I’m so sorry,” before being overwhelmed with another round of sobs.

  “Ruthann,” he said gently. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Not one thing.”

  I shook my head against his chest. It took another few minutes before I was finally able to speak. I drew apart so that I could see Marshall’s eyes and immediately took his face between my hands. He clasped my wrists lightly and softly into his grip, stroking me with his thumbs.

  “I’m not a cheater, it’s not who I am,” I said, my nose plugged and my throat still raw. Words came spilling and I said, “I can’t avoid hurting Liam and that kills me. He has never been anything but kind and loving to me, our entire relationship. He has never so much as raised his voice to me. He is a good, decent man and he expects me to come home and marry him. He was talking about that just before we came out here, Marshall…” and at these words, his grip on my wrists tightened almost instinctively, though he let me continue speaking without interruption. I told him, “Then we got here and it’s all been so crazy, with the fire, and everything with Case. And you, Marshall. I didn’t expect to feel any of this, but I do feel it and I can’t deny it. But it scares me…it scares me at the same time…I have never felt something so strong, that just overtook me so fast. With Liam, everything is so safe…so comfortable…” My voice trailed away.

  “He knows you, but he doesn’t truly understand you,” Marshall supplied quietly.

  “I told you that you understood,” I said, just as softly.

  After a moment’s pause, he whispered, “Do you know how happy I was when you reached for my hand at Case and Tish’s wedding, after I went and made that dandelion ring? It felt so right, the two of us being there, with them.”

  “It did,” I agreed emotionally. I explained, “I didn’t realize how much I wanted you to hold my hand until you did, there at the bedside. How much I needed that.”

  He said, “I will always hold your hands.”

  He understood me so much better than he could even know.

  “Marshall,” I whispered.

  “C’mere, angel,” he whispered, and tugged me into his full embrace, where I curled and closed my eyes. He said at my ear, “I wanted to kiss your lips this morning, in the parking lot. But I didn’t want to scare you off. I didn’t want you to think I was being too…forward.”

  “Yes, too forward,” I murmured, and smiled a little despite everything. “That was very gentlemanly of you.”

  “Let me tell you something,” Marshall said then, my cheek against his chest; I could feel the vibrations of his heated words as he delivered them. “Liam might be the nicest freaking man in the world, but if he is too goddamn dense, too goddamn clueless, to know what you really need, to know who you really are, then he has never deserved you and he never will. Your sisters talk about how sweet you are, how completely innocent, and you are those things, you really are. But there is a deep well inside of you, of heat and strength and sensuality, in addi
tion to your sweet innocence. And I see it. I’ve always seen it, and now I know it. It’s part of who you are, and I see you, do you hear me? I see you, Ruthann.”

  I looked up into his eyes and nodded, struck through the heart, trembling with the force of his words. I whispered, “I do. And I see you too, Marshall. I have never felt the truth of something so deeply.”

  He kissed my lips, tenderly, then my forehead. He whispered, “Let’s go home.”

  The Rawleys’ big yard came into view much too quickly. As Marshall parked, I unbuckled and reached for him. Despite everything, I didn’t want to go inside and have to see everyone else. I was terrified of leaving Marshall’s side and having nothing more than the memory of him to hold close to me.

  He hugged me, rocking us side to side. I said into his ear, “Will you come…tonight…”

  He knew exactly what I meant, and he whispered back, “Of course I will. You didn’t think otherwise, did you?”

  Inside the house it was chaos. Music was playing from the kitchen radio, Sean and Wy were battling it out on some race car video game, bashing each other’s shoulders as they shared the couch in front of the big living room television. Quinn was sitting on the counter in the kitchen, texting, a grin on his face. Clark was at the table with a newspaper and an ashtray; he was the only one who actually looked up at us as we came inside, though everyone called out some form of greeting. The house smelled of recently-baked pizza and cigar smoke. And dirty socks, a little, but I supposed that couldn’t be helped in a household of five men.

  Marshall said cheerfully, “Hey, everybody.”

  I thought Clark’s eyes swept between us a little too questioningly, but maybe in my paranoia I was just imagining that. I was about to quietly announce that I was very tired (which was actually true) and sneak right upstairs, but Clark said, “Kids, there’s pizza on the stove, if you’re hungry.”

  Marshall put his hand very politely and very gently on my lower back, to usher me to the kitchen, and even this light touch made me come all undone. I felt more than ever as though the path of his hands and mouth was drawn in neon-tinted ink, all over my body.

  “Wasn’t it a wonderful day?” Clark reflected. He invited kindly, “Ruthie, come join me,” and so I did.

  As is sat across from Clark, I thought, It was more wonderful than any I’ve ever known.

  My eyes went straight to Marshall, who had continued on into the kitchen, and then instantly away, but it was enough time for my heart to rocket out of my chest. Marshall served us up slices of pizza, then ordered Quinn, who was still sitting on the counter, “Get off your ass and get Ruthann some root beer.”

  Quinn did so, still texting with one hand.

  I said whole-heartedly to Clark, “It was a wonderful day. In every way.”

  Marshall joined us, setting a plate with two slices of pizza in front of me and then taking the chair on my left. He was so happy that I had just said that, I could tell even without words, even without looking directly at him. I was so aware of him beside me that I seemed to be audibly vibrating; surely everyone present could hear me. Marshall leaned on his forearms, our elbows just a few inches apart, and I could smell his skin, the subtle scent of him.

  Quinn called from the kitchen, “You want a root beer float, Ruthanna-banana, or just plain?”

  “Just plain, thank you,” I said.

  From the couch, Sean yelped, “Goddammit, Wy!” as the video game made a loud, rude noise, and then there was a scuffle between them. Quinn brought me my drink and then started making himself an ice cream sundae. Clark shook his head and snapped the edge of his newspaper, his cigar caught between the first two fingers of his right hand.

  In the bustle, nobody noticed that I reached beneath the tabletop, hidden from sight, and gripped Marshall’s right knee, hard, communicating everything I could in that touch. That I loved what had happened between us, both the physical and the emotional, that I wanted and needed him, that I was both overjoyed and slightly terrified by these things. Quick as the flash of a firefly, he put his hand over mine and squeezed back, and in his touch I felt the acknowledgment of all of those things, and a promise for later.

  And then we let each other go.

  Chapter Eight

  Later, curled in the black bear bed in the guest room, my phone vibrated with a text, and I saw that it was from Liam, my heart squeezing like a piece of ripe fruit in a tight fist. First I had avoided Mom’s text (See you bright & early in the morning, sweetheart!) and now I was avoiding my boyfriend’s.

  Because, despite all of the incredible things that I had said and done with Marshall in the past twenty-four hours, Liam Gallagher was still my boyfriend. And Liam may not ever fully understand me, that was true, but he did deserve better than what I had just done to him (however indirectly), and I felt sick with shame for that.

  Liam’s text asked, U doing all right?

  I closed my eyes, inundated with guilt. I thought, Liam, why do you have to be so kind? Why haven’t you ever been an asshole to me, in all these years?

  Downstairs the house was settling into quiet as the guys all headed to bed. I was awaiting Marshall to come sneaking to this very room, and even my tremendous guilt over Liam was not enough to dull my longing, the pulsing throb of anticipation that thinking of Marshall aroused inside of me. And so I set aside the phone without responding, and curled on my right side to wait.

  A half-hour passed and I was on the pointiest of pins and needles.

  What if he fell asleep?

  What if he doesn’t come?

  But I should have known better than to worry.

  Even before there was the faintest indication, not so much as a knock on the bedroom door, I knew instantly that Marshall was moving towards me. I felt simultaneously weak and fiery-hot all through my body, though I threw off the covers and rolled to my knees without a moment’s hesitation. My hair was loose all over my shoulders and I was bare naked beneath his M. RAWLEY t-shirt, which I’d worn to bed.

  Seconds later he was outside the door in the hallway, both palms pressed to it, I could plainly discern, even though I could not see him, nor so much as hear a breath. I placed both of my hands flat on the door on the opposite side, imagining that I was aligning them with his, tipping my forehead to the cool, smooth wood. My blood was already rushing and throbbing.

  “Ruthann,” he whispered, and I understood that he knew I was standing right here, this close to him rather than in bed.

  Forgive me, Liam, I thought.

  I turned the knob as quietly as I could manage, not that I could have heard anything over the sound of my heart. The door slid inward, towards me, and Marshall was a lean, dark silhouette in the hallway. He moved immediately and soundlessly, catching me close to his chest with one arm and closing the door behind him with the other.

  I had already clutched his jaws in my hands, pressing my breasts to his chest, taking his tongue into my mouth, unable to resist him, his deep kiss stealing my murmur of welcome. He carried me straight backwards, to the bed he knew was less than five feet from us, taking me to my back and bracing above me. My thighs curved around him and I moaned against his lips, and his hands were busy seeking out my bare skin.

  “You’re so naked beneath my shirt. I love that,” he whispered heatedly, and I could tell he was grinning at me, even though I could scarcely make out his face in the darkness of the room. I was already slippery-wet and trembling, my own hands busy as hell, ripping his shirt over his head before working frantically at his jeans, and he made a sound of pure satisfaction, reclaiming my mouth.

  I kissed him right back and we were unable to touch each other enough, our hands roving and clutching and stroking, by turns. Marshall bared my breasts and took them into his mouth with a deep groan, while my head bowed backward against the mattress.

  “You’re here,” I said, and the joy in my voice was apparent even in whisper.

  “Of course I am,” he whispered back, resting his chin between my breasts,
his strong hands wrapped around my hips. He pressed scalding kisses up my chest, biting my neck and then my earlobe, his fingers moving over my ribs. Against my ear he whispered, “You didn’t think I’d leave you alone in here all night, did you? What kind of fool do you think I am?”

  I curled my hands into his hair and demanded, “Come here,” and sensed his grin as he obeyed at once, moving right above me and teasing my lips with his, plucking at my mouth, stroking with the tip of his tongue. I was very nearly battering him with my hips, lifting so hard against him. He was still wearing his jeans, though I had managed to unzip them.

  “What do you need?” he teased me in a whisper, torturing my bottom lip and chin with little soft kisses. He cupped one hand between my legs, lightly pressing his palm, tapping his fingertips on all my most sensitive places, and I trembled as though with a fever, clutching him fiercely with both arms and legs.

  “You’re evil,” I reminded him, my voice shaking.

  He smothered a laugh against my neck at that and I wiggled from beneath him, stripping the t-shirt over my head and then gripping his shoulders, shoving him to his back.

  “I need you,” I told him simply and sincerely, and he made a throaty sound of desire, cupping my waist as I moved to straddle him. Naked, thrumming with a boldness I had never encountered in myself before Marshall, I shook my long hair over my shoulders and settled squarely over the very hard length of him.

  “Jesus, you are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen,” he whispered hoarsely, and his heartfelt words echoed into my soul. My eyes had grown better accustomed to the darkness, holding fast to his. I reveled in these feelings, the wealth of desire and sensuality that he caused to stampede through me.

  “You want me to tell you what else I want?” I whispered, growing more breathless as his fingers moved upwards to stroke my nipples.