Until Tomorrow

by Abbie Williams

  “We don’t know,” Case said.

  “Do you think he remembers the past, too?” I asked quietly.

  Tish held my gaze intently as she said, “I do.”

  “But probably he doesn’t understand what he’s remembering,” I speculated. Without thinking, I touched Una’s letter.

  In the space of a heartbeat the feeling from last night came rushing back, leaving me insubstantial; I felt as though I could fall straight through the trailer floor and to the earth below, with nothing to stop this motion of my body. I bent forward inadvertently, as though to contain a stomach cramp. Before I could blink Marshall’s arms came around me and I gripped him tightly, horribly unsettled, even as the sensation ebbed.

  “Ruthann,” Tish said sharply.

  “You’re tired,” Marshall said, his voice low. He smoothed his right hand over the back of my head and I could sense his abject concern even without words. He said quietly, “You need to rest.”

  Hurry, Ruthann…

  The marshal…

  I made myself sit up straight. With as much conviction as I could muster, I lied, “I’m all right.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Marshall and I left Case and Tish’s shortly after, and though I knew Tish wanted to grill me about what had happened, she simply hugged me hard.

  “Thanks for dinner,” I told her, hugging her back just as fiercely.

  I changed into jeans, a sweatshirt, socks and tennis shoes before we left to head over to the Rawleys’ house. I was determined to make the most of the night, and told Marshall I still wanted to ride Arrow and stargaze. I insisted that I was fine. I could plainly see that what just happened had scared him – it also scared me, ferociously, and neither of us understood it; I only knew I could not ever touch those letters again.

  There was a bonfire roaring away when we got to his house minutes later; Sean and Quinn, with their girlfriends Jessie and Ellie, were hanging out around it. Wy barreled out the front door as Marshall parked.

  “Whatcha guys doing?” Wy asked excitedly, opening the door for me.

  “Hey, that’s my job,” Marshall teased him, and I could tell he was determined to lighten the mood, for my sake.

  “Well, I was right here,” Wy said logically. He peered at me and asked, “Is your nose orange?”

  “Pollen,” I explained, gathering together the flowers. I asked, “Can we get these into some water? They’re so beautiful…”

  “You’re so beautiful,” Marshall said adoringly, helping me collect the blossoms.

  “And you’re the sweetest,” I told him softly.

  “Barf,” said Wy.

  Inside the house it smelled like a bakery; Clark’s sister Julie Heller and her husband Aaron had stopped earlier for a visit, bringing dessert, as Wy explained. Clark invited, “Pie’s still warm, you two. And there’s vanilla ice cream.”

  Marshall said in semi-exasperation, “We’re on a date, Dad. And we haven’t really had a moment alone.”

  I was busy arranging the flowers in a glass jar I had spied in the cupboard. I suggested, “Later, after we take a ride?”

  Wy darted back outside to join the bonfire.

  I glanced around the house, wondering where to put the flowers; Clark always kept potted bitterroot flowers on the dining room table, and there were too many things already on the island counter. Then I spied the mantle, with its arrangement of pictures. I settled the vase there and was instantly drawn to the framed photographs. One in particular caught my eye and I lifted it with great care.

  “This is you, isn’t it?” I asked Marshall, who came to stand beside me, using his thumb to trace a path between my shoulder blades as I smiled at the family picture from November, 1990; there was a date stamped in gold on the bottom corner. I was indicating the little boy resting an elbow on his mother’s shoulder.

  He nodded without speaking, his eyes on the picture; his expression was soft with remembrance. I wanted to take him in my arms and kiss away the lingering hint of sadness in his eyes, though nothing short of restoring Faye to her family could do that.

  “You all match,” I observed with a smile. “Mom used to do that to Camille and Tish and me, too. And this is your mom…”

  The picture had been taken outside this very house and the day was golden in the background, the brown earth of November a sharp contrast to the bold blue of an afternoon sky. Clark and Faye were posed sitting on the ground, their four sons (Wy not having been born yet) clustered around them. I could plainly distinguish between the brothers, even though they’d been dressed in matching plaid flannel shirts, same as Clark’s; Faye was dressed in a contrasting smoky-purple sweater.

  “My grandpa Clem took this picture,” Marshall said.

  I studied Faye’s face for a glimpse of Marshall. She had been smiling genuinely, I could tell, a lovely woman with golden-blond hair much like my own mother’s, falling just past her shoulders. Although the boys all favored Clark, Faye had given Marshall her eyes, dove-gray and long-lashed. In the picture he was leaning against his mother, smiling and adorable.

  “She looks so happy,” I said softly. “You all do. You were five years old?”

  He nodded and said, “I remember that day so well. Not two minutes after Gramps took the picture, I fell and chipped my tooth on a rock and broke it almost clean off.”

  Clark laughed from the kitchen and added, “And here we didn’t end up getting it fixed as it was a baby tooth.”

  “Mom was so worried. I cried like a baby,” Marshall remembered.

  “You were always your mama’s boy,” Clark said fondly.

  I set the picture back on the mantle and then wrapped my arms around Marshall’s waist from the side, burying my face against him. He kissed my hair and squeezed me closer.

  He whispered, “I was so worried earlier.”

  My voice was slightly muffled by his sweatshirt as I said, “I’m all right, I promise.”

  He gently caught all my hair into his hands at the back of my neck and asked, “Would you like to ride Arrow for awhile?” and I nodded at once, craving the feeling of his body against mine as we rode double.

  Marshall and I suffered a great deal of teasing from the direction of the bonfire once we got outside, but I didn’t mind. For one thing, I loved feeling like a real part of the Rawley family. Even the sweatshirt I was wearing was one Marshall had given me yesterday, in addition to the stack of t-shirts, also emblazoned with his last name. I thought of how he’d whispered my name, connecting it to his, after we’d made love.

  Ruthann Marie Rawley, I thought again, and smiled up at Marshall as we walked to the barn to collect Arrow; he was swinging our joined hands.

  “What?” he asked softly, his eyes crinkling at the outside corners as he smiled back, the firelight glinting over our faces, bathing us in a warm orange glow.

  Before I could answer, Sean hooted in our direction and called, “That’s cheap, Marsh, totally cheap!” He warned me, “Be careful, Ruthanna-banana, horseback is the smoothest way to cop a feel on a first date!”

  Everyone laughed uproariously at this warning, including me. Marshall answered calmly, “You’re past due, buddy, way past due for an ass-kicking.”

  “I’m telling you, little Ruthie,” Sean insisted.

  His girlfriend Jessie added, “I know for a fact!”

  Quinn called, “Marsh is just playing innocent.”

  Sean couldn’t resist, “Well it has been a while since he’s had a woman out here with him. I’d say about fifteen years or so…since junior high, probably…”

  Everyone was dying with laughter, and Marshall warned his brothers, “Keep it up!”

  Sean fired back, “That’s your job, buddy!”

  Marshall snorted and laughed as he clicked on an overhead bulb in the barn, and I called over to the fire, “I’ll be careful!”

  “I’ll protect you,” Marshall assured me, and then I was in his arms and we were kissing, hidden safely between the rows of stalls. Horses c
lomped and whooshed all around us, though in that splendid moment of kissing him, I heard only my racing pulse. I moaned with pleasure; he tasted so good, a combination of flavors as unique to him as the blue and green spokes of color in his irises. Greedy for him, I curled my fingers into his hair and pressed my breasts to his powerfully-thundering heart.

  “Touch me,” I begged against his mouth, grasping his right wrist and bringing it up towards my breasts, just in case he didn’t realize what I meant. Though of course he did; I felt him grin against my lips as he slipped his hand immediately beneath the old sweatshirt and gently cupped me, stroking with his thumb. I drew the sweet fullness of his bottom lip into my mouth and lightly bit him, and he groaned and shivered.

  “I think first date actually equals second base,” I whispered, as Marshall bent to press kisses to my breasts, one after the other. He rested his face between them, against the soft material of the sweatshirt. I stroked his hair and said, “Or at least, on this date.”

  “We’re doing as well as can be expected…with the no touching,” he said, short of breath. He grasped my waist and asked, “Do you know how much I think about you? Long for you?”

  “Come here,” I begged, and he surged upwards to claim my mouth again, pressing me against the wall. I clung to his shoulders as we kissed open-mouthed. I clutched the material of his t-shirt, desperate to tear it from him. Small, intense sounds broke free from my throat, matching the ones from his.

  “Oh God,” he uttered, his voice husky. I was up in his arms and my legs were locked around his hips, my back flat against the barn wall. His eyes burned into mine and he managed to say, “We’re courting.”

  I nipped his chin and he groaned again. He said firmly, “Courting. That means I have to put you down and we have to pretend that we don’t want to make insanely amazing love right here…”

  “I want you so much,” I whispered, pressing to him.

  His eyelids lowered and a pulse beat me directly between the legs. A wild frenzy of kissing, me gripping his head, both of Marshall’s hands beneath the sweatshirt now, touching and tasting each other, enough could never be enough…

  “Holy shit, they didn’t even wait to ride the horse!” Sean wheezed with laughter from the entrance of the barn, and then he yelped, “Wy, turn your head, boy, for the love of God!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, burying my face against Marshall’s chest as he let me gently to the ground and then yelled at his brothers, “Severe beatings for everyone who’s still in my line of sight in two seconds!” He turned back and hugged me close, rocking us side to side, whispering in my ear, “I’m so sorry about them.”

  Sean got Wy in a headlock; Wy’s voice cracked as he protested, “I don’t even know what’s happening!”

  “I was going to use the pisser and I thought there must be a mountain lion in here, with all that scuffling,” Sean said, still laughing.

  “What’s going on?” Quinn yelled from the fire.

  “There was a mountain lion attacking little Ruthie,” Sean insisted.

  “All right, that’s it,” Marshall muttered, and Sean whooped and darted away as Marshall took off after him, Wy on their heels.

  In any event, we didn’t get a chance to ride Arrow that particular night. Marshall dropped me off at my apartment hours later, after we’d joined everyone at the bonfire and done our stargazing there, complete with plates of apple pie and ice cream; it wasn’t until we were driving across town, hands tightly linked, that Marshall said, “I wish you’d called me after you fainted last night.”

  “I just didn’t want you to be worried,” I said.

  “It’s my privilege to be worried about you,” he said intently. “I will come to you at any second of the day or night. Don’t ever worry about worrying me.”

  “I know,” I said, studying him the dimness of the dashboard lights as he drove. “I really do.” Though I didn’t want to talk anymore about it, I whispered, “I know it scared you, earlier…”

  We had reached the little parking lot behind Trudy’s Diner, closed now, Main Street quiet for the night. He said, “You’re damn right I was scared. It was that letter, wasn’t it? You touched it and then –”

  “The same thing happened last night, just before I fainted,” I said. “I’ve never fainted before, never even come close. It was the strangest thing…I thought for a second that I could see –”

  “Una Spicer,” he interrupted quietly. “You could see her, couldn’t you?”

  “Could you?” I demanded at once, staring at him in stun. I answered my own question immediately, realizing, “You could.”

  “The second you bent forward, it was in my mind,” he admitted, squeezing my fingers tightly. He said firmly, “I don’t want you to touch those letters anymore. I know they’re important, but let Tish read them. They don’t affect her the same way. Promise me, Ruthann.”

  “I promise,” I said. I was exhausted and I wanted so much for him to come upstairs with me, craving the way our bodies blended together.

  Sensing my thoughts, he whispered, “I hate driving away and leaving you here alone.”

  “I hate it, too,” I whispered. “But I’ll be all right. Besides, Bender will protect me.”

  The big lab’s tail thumped excitedly at hearing his name; he was waiting patiently in the backseat to accompany me upstairs. I patted the dog’s head and Marshall stroked his ears, with affection, reminding his dog, “Buddy, you know your job.”

  The two of them walked me upstairs and I made sure my key worked in the door.

  “Thank you for a wonderful first date,” I whispered.

  Marshall cupped my jaws and the moon shone over us, bathing exactly half of his face with light, creating an angle over his cheekbone. He said softly, “When I look at you, my knees go weak. I feel like someone just punched me in the gut.”

  His words could not have been more sincere, and made my stomach light as thistledown on the summer air, but I gripped his wrists and couldn’t help but tease him, “You mean it hurts?”

  He shook his head, his lips lifting into a smile, and clarified, “You’re so beautiful that yes, it does hurt a little.” He whispered, softly enough it was just a breath, “So beautiful.”

  My heart was what hurt then, with need for him, a near-seizure of need. I stood on tiptoe to hug him to me and whispered in his ear, “Thank you, sweetheart.” I stroked his hair and he spread his hands over my back. I rubbed my chin on the side of his neck and added, “Call me when you get home.”

  “I will,” he promised and then kissed me good-night.

  Chapter Twelve

  Marshall and I talked for an hour after he’d gotten home and called me. I told him about the strange dream I’d had when sleeping beside Tish, how I’d been compelled to run out to the barn the night before. He was predictably upset that I had done such a thing; I understood – I would have been sadly equipped to deal with any intruder, armed with nothing more than my conviction.

  After we hung up, I was so exhausted I slept dreamlessly in my twin bed, and though Bender started the night lying on the floor beside the mattress, he ended it sprawled right next to me. The big lab produced so much heat that I was sweaty beneath the patchwork quilt that had once been pieced together by Faye. Marshall had raided the linen closet at his house, and had also gifted me with two sets of twin sheets.

  “Shoo, boy,” I groaned, then giggled, as the big lab didn’t so much as budge; Bender had made himself decidedly at home, lying nearly flat on his back, with his legs bent upwards into the air. He was actually snoring.

  Marshall came to collect him a little later that morning; he was headed to Miles City with Garth for a siding job and so couldn’t linger, though we made up for the separation of the night hours with kiss after kiss, there on my little landing, until Garth, down in the parking lot in his truck, beeped the horn.

  “When will you be home?” I asked between kisses, held fast in his arms, running my free hand over the side of his face,
his hair; I’d tugged the cowboy hat from his head so I had better access to his mouth, and it dangled down his back, caught in the fingertips of my right hand.

  “This afternoon. I’ll come over the minute we get back,” Marshall promised, his eyes so full of longing that I knew my heart would continue to throb out of control long after he left. His voice was soft and husky as he whispered, “Come here,” and kissed me one last time before I resettled his hat. I leaned my hips on the railing and watched as he headed to the truck, letting Bender climb inside first. Marshall stood on the running board and blew me a kiss before they took off. I watched until the truck was out of sight.

  Tish was already at the law office when I jogged across the street a half hour later, sitting at her desk with her reading glasses in place, rifling through a stack of file folders a good four inches high.

  “Morning, Ruthie,” she chirped as I entered under the tingle of the bell attached above the door. “It’s so great to look up and see you coming across the street. How’s your place?”

  “I love it,” I said. “We can go see it at lunch.”

  She studied me intently as she asked, “Are you feeling all right today?”

  I went to sit on the edge of her desk. I said, “I am. I think…Tish, I think it’s the letters that make me feel so strange…”

  “I agree,” she said. “I don’t want you touching them ever again, okay?”

  I looked out the window at the bright, sunny day unfolding, hardly seeing it at all as I said, “It’s like when I touch the letters I can actually see her. I feel like I know what she was writing about. I mean, as in I know the people…Una, for sure, and the marshal…”

  Tish said, “Una mentions him in another letter. She was really worried about him. She doesn’t use his name, so Malcolm Carter must have known who she meant, and Case and I think that she when she mentions Miles she must be referring to Miles Rawley, who was one of the family members who didn’t come to Montana but instead stayed in Iowa. We should ask Clark about them. Una wrote that she didn’t think the marshal was eating properly, that she was worried he was ill…”