Chapter 15
May 30, 1936
I went back to the end of the property today.
Samuel sat under the same oak tree. Dark circles presided under his eyes, and his lips looked too gray for his skin. He wore the same clothes as yesterday, but there was a new hole in the knee of his pants…
He didn’t hear me approach, as he was engrossed in his task, so I adjusted my satchel and watched him. His broad shoulders let me know he could handle more weight on his body, and he used his large hands to draw on the back of a used piece of paper in his sketchbook. His hair, a soft brown in color, hung a little long in the back. His cap hid his right eye, and he had a small scar just below his left eye, not much wider than the thickness of a pencil. I wondered how it got there.
Yesterday, I could have sworn he was a man, but today, he didn’t look much older than a boy of seventeen or eighteen. Under the dirt and grime, I could tell he was attractive—not in a proper Southern gentleman sort of way, but in an untraditional way, and my curiosity about him pulled me even closer to this stranger.
The grass crunched under my feet. At the noise, he looked up, squinting against the harsh sun. His smile reached his crinkled eyes, and even though narrowed, I noticed the gold flecks in the sea of green. My heart hammered against my breastbone. I’ve never felt this much excitement over a boy before.
He stared at me as if expecting me to say something.
“What are you doing?” I finally asked.
He didn’t bother to speak, just held up his sketchbook, the page covered in several different drawings…all of me.
I gasped. “How did you remember my face so well?” I dared to settle in next to him.
“How could I forget?” He scribbled his name at the bottom of the page.
Samuel William Thomas.
“I thought you don’t like your whole name?”
“Just for you.”
My stomach flipped at his attentions while his let out a fierce growl.
“Here, take my apple.” I pulled the fruit from my satchel.
“No, I couldn’t.”
“Please.” I pushed the offering closer to him. “I brought it for you.”
He eyed the apple a few seconds longer, his stomach growling again before he finally accepted. “Thank you.”
I watched him eat as if I watched a wild animal. His movements mesmerized me as the juice ran down his mouth. The fierceness with which he attacked the fruit, the crunch that sounded from his teeth making contact with the surface, was like that of a predator. In a way, I felt sorry for the apple’s quick demise. When he finished, the only evidence there had once been a piece of fruit was the stem and a very thin core.
He tossed the leftover to the ground. “Take a walk with me?” He stood and held out his hand.
Mine shook as I placed it in his, my skin pale and soft compared to his covered in earth and scars.
We walked along the train tracks until the sun began to lower in the sky. Sunset wasn’t for a few more hours, but I knew our time was drawing to a close.
He showed me where he slept in an old abandoned house across the tracks. The people that lived there left three years ago when the town struggled with the Depression. Papa told me if people learned how to manage their money better then there wouldn’t have been one. Even when the boil weevil ate up all of our cotton, we’d been able to survive on our other crops. I believe it was because God had mercy on us, but Papa didn’t believe in God. “We haven’t suffered at all,” he claimed.
Not financially at least.
As I walked side by side with this stranger I felt so connected to, I heard the chime of the dinner bell. My heart raced. “I have to leave.”
Samuel entwined his fingers around mine as he helped me across the tracks. My hand so small in his large palm and long, thin fingers, I was reluctant to let go, but if I didn’t leave I knew the consequences. Papa began drinking promptly at five every day, and by dinner, he was always mean. I hated being on the other side of Papa’s hand.
That is why I was scared of Samuel at first because of the way he shoved me to the ground so hard. But honestly, he does not seem like the type to hit a girl. He is not like Papa. Samuel let up when he noticed I was a female. Papa does not. For that reason alone, this stranger is far better than Papa will ever be, and I do enjoy his company.
Despite whatever feelings I have or will ever have toward Samuel, Papa will never agree. That I know. I will be lucky to ever have a fine Southern gentleman of proper class choose me. And despite me being considered unattractive to most of the proper male population this side of the Mississippi—according to Papa—he will still never allow me to marry below my class.
Yet, despite the danger, I like Samuel, and I agreed to meet him again tomorrow.
****
“How sad.”
Lesley closed the journal and rested her palm on the cover’s flat surface. John wanted to reach for her hand, place it in his. His heart pounded heavy again at the thought, and his hormones raced like a teenager on a first date.
“I have to find out if this is the same Samuel William Thomas.”
He focused his attentions back to the book. “Go to the bookstore tomorrow before the town meeting. Do some research.”
“That’s a good idea.” She stood and lightly kicked the tree stump. “So, this was it? The place where she met her guy.”
“Has to be. It’s the only cut down tree this close to the tracks.”
Lesley examined the stump before she sat on it and propped the journal in her lap. “You know, I never remember my grandmother talking about her father hitting her or her sister. In fact, I never remember her talking about him at all.”
“Maybe he didn’t hit her.” He shrugged and brushed off a piece of dead grass from the blanket. “It’s possible he didn’t hit either of them. Everything in that journal could be false. Just the imagination of a young, bored teenager.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so.” She faced him, her body closer than before. “Some of these things, these details, are so real, so descriptive. They must have happened.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. These aren’t the writings of any normal teenager. This is turning out to be a real Romeo and Juliet. Aunt Myrtle was in love with a boy she knew she couldn’t have.”
“What makes you think she was in love? It could have just been lust or curiosity.”
She leaned closer. The faint scent of her perfume lingered on her skin. He glanced down and noticed just how short her cutoffs really were.
“I just feel it,” she whispered, and her eyes twinkled.
John wasn’t sure if she talked about Myrtle anymore…or them. His gaze involuntarily shot to her lips as they stopped moving and opened into a small part. The birds, the crunch of the grass, the whistle of the wind, all of it drowned out by the hammer of his heart, faster and faster as the sound of his blood rushed to his ears, masking everything around him.
He reached for her and cupped her face. He couldn’t deny the attraction, and he didn’t want to. He leaned up and moved his mouth to hers as she reciprocated the touch with her soft, supple lips. Gently, slowly, he pressed his tongue to hers, each caress sending a new jolt to his body.
John rose to his knees; the book slid from her lap as he pulled her closer. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her bottom still on the tree stump. His hand took on a mind of its own as it traveled from her face to her leg and up the length of her thigh, leading his fingers to hover at the top of her shorts.
One quick flick, that’s all it would take to have the snap undone.
He roamed his other hand up her shirt. The end of her bra tickled his fingertips, the pounding of her heart beating a chaotic rhythm through her chest to his palm. She arched her back, pressing her breasts closer to his body.
He wanted her, all of her, now. He cupped her breast, the feel of her much fuller than what he’d been used to…
An image of Sandra flashed through his mind.
This is wrong. All wrong.
Gently, John pulled back. He couldn’t be with one, while thinking of another.
Lesley’s breath hung heavy on her swollen lips. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Glancing down to her legs still wrapped around him, he placed his hands on her hips and dipped his forehead to hers. “I just think maybe we should slow down.”
“I agree.” She kissed his forehead and unwound her legs from him.
“Lesley, I haven’t…” He stopped, then tried again. “You’re the first person I’ve kissed since—”
“Since your wife?” she finished for him.
“Yeah.”
She picked up the journal from the ground and wiped off the dirt that had accumulated on the back cover before standing. Her shirt rose slightly above her navel, flashing an inch of bare skin, making him want to pull her close, touch her again, but the glorious feel of her was more than he was ready for. Instead, he rose and wiped the dirt from his jeans.
She tugged her shirt down and shot him a painful look. “I’m sorry about your wife. I truly am. I know what it’s like to lose. In a different way, but maybe…” She bit her bottom lip. “Maybe…it’s time to start moving on.”
His back stiffened. Move on. Everyone wanted him to move on. Hell, so did he, but the action was harder done than said. “I know that.” He grit his teeth.
She took a step back. “I’m sorry if I misspoke. And I understand pain, John. A different kind, yes, but pain all the same. My divorce…it wasn’t that long ago, and this—” She waved her hands between them. “This scares me a little, but we’ve spent a lot of time together these past few days, and we’ll be spending a lot more time together in the future, and that kiss. That wasn’t just any kiss…or was it just me that felt that?”
Obviously not. But thinking about Sandra and Lesley in the same thoughts just seemed wrong. Completely wrong. Like he disrespected both women without even trying.
“I can’t…” He grabbed up the blanket, marched across the grass, and opened the truck door. He slumped his shoulders. “Please, I can’t talk about this now. Let’s just go.”
This conversation had to be put to rest. He didn’t know how to deal with his emotions, much less talk about them with her.
“Sure. I’ll just…” She flipped a thumb behind her. “I’ll just walk back.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s getting dark.”
“I’m a big girl. I can handle a walk back to the house. Besides, I think it’s best we have some time apart.”
Time apart. That’s not what he wanted.
Hell, what do I want?
John tossed the blanket to the passenger floorboard and loaded into the truck. “Please let me drive you back.”
He cranked the ignition, leaving his driver’s side door open. Her walking back would make their awkward situation even more awkward. Good thing he hadn’t continued kissing her. He didn’t know how much more he could have handled before there would have been no going back.
Lesley turned on her heels and swiveled her head. “Go home to your children, John. I’m fine.”
Damn it. He shook his head. The kids. Money. He could not have waited for a worse time, but… “Lesley, I have something else I need to talk to you about.”
She stopped and faced him, but didn’t move any closer.
“Before I start work tomorrow, I’m going to need to be paid. I’ll need a thirty thousand dollar retainer.”
“Thirty thousand?” Her mouth gapped, her eyes drawn in concern.
“Yes, I’ll have to start buying supplies.” Avoiding eye contact, he fiddled with the nobs on his truck door.
He hated asking her for money even more than he hated her prying into his personal life, especially after what they just shared. The power behind that kiss…she was more than a client, more than just a job. His frustration, his uncertainty, his lust, all more than any man should physically and emotionally have to endure. He wanted to give her everything she could ever desire…and run as far away at the same time.
How the hell did this happen?
“Sure.” She shrugged. “I understand. Can I write you a check tomorrow? I need to make a few minor adjustments first.”
Adjustments?
“Yeah, no problem. In that case, I’ll arrive later tomorrow. I need to go order supplies.”
“Sure.”
She waded through knee high grass in the direction of the house; no telling what she came close to stepping in or on. The ant pile flashed in his mind.
“Please, let me take you back home,” he yelled after her.
“No thanks. It’s a nice night. Goodbye, John,” she hollered as she strolled farther away from him.
“There could be snakes,” he shouted. “Big ones.”
She stopped.
Finally. Why the woman had to be so hardheaded was beyond him. “Get in the truck, please.”
“I’ll chance it,” she shouted back.
Blasted woman.
Giving up, he shut his door and drove past her down the dusty path. Her small frame grew smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror as she clutched the Bible to her chest and wiped at her eyes.
A piece of his heart broke.
The heart he thought would never feel again ached…for her.