CHAPTER SEVEN HANDLE WITH CARE
She was exhausted, and her body hurt at every level, but she could still feel the warmth of his arms around her, holding her close to his pounding chest. It wasn't right and she knew it, shaking her head to shed the thoughts from her mind, she quickly removed the soft sweater and pulled her old reliable nightgown over her head. There wasn't much to it, thin straps, and a bellowed body, made of satin. It allowed her to toss and turn all she wanted, without restriction.
Toss and turn she did, waking several times, sweaty and frightened by the events of a dream. Mainly they centered on Jim, but the last one included Mike and the disturbing words, "I understand. It's Okay."
It was useless to keep trying, she figured, grabbing the clock from the nightstand. Why put it off, she'd be up in an hour anyway. Instantly, she headed for the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee, she was going to need it. Mrs. what's her name, was supposed to be there sometime around ten, to discuss the preparations for the Summer Fair, but before then she had to do all that she’d let laps, while pretending to keep up with Jim.
Why in the world had she challenged him, of course he could do it better and faster than she could. That wasn't the reasoning she’d used though, she’d felt he was slacking off, not doing his job. Boy, did he prove her wrong, she thought, rubbing the bruises that ran the length of her upper arms and thighs.
She wasn't what some may call, a bleeder but she certainly bruised easily enough. That was what she’d tried to tell Jim, the day he pointed out the bruises Mike left by dragging her back to the house. Was he all that different, she now was covered with his bruises? Although admittedly, most of them came from packing grain bags, only a few were obtained when the truck whirled about.
The back door stood a jar, when she tippy toed onto the icy kitchen floor. The empty metal containers were missing, so she felt it was safe to proceed, without fear of running into Jim, he wouldn't return them until sometime after day light. By then she would find something else to keep her busy, and out of his sight.
Silently she was planning ways to avoid, the emotions she couldn't explain, and felt incapable of handling right then. Sipping the hot coffee, she’d had to wait until it perked. She stepped to the door in order to close it, but instead she found herself drawn out in to the brisk morning air. It rejuvenated her sense of life, she loved mornings, and sunrises, they represented life in its beginning to her. Sunset's while pretty, never seemed to cast the same warm feeling into her soul.
Dew covered the wooden deck, causing her feet to slip slightly, as she trudged to the three steps at the back. There she stood very still watching and listening to the morning in its infancy. Small animals scurried about the bushes, darting back and forth out of her sight. Secretly she hoped to see the small deer, she’d witnessed a few days earlier, drinking from the pond.
The lush undergrowth grew greener and greener daily. The thought of seeing the pond from where she stood now, was impossible. Lush leaves had filled in the trees, and were stretching their little veins to reach the sun, camouflaging the last of the pond from the deck's sight.
Softly she walked to the edge of the dell, silently so not to disturb any unwitting visitors. Her heart fell in disappointment. She was the only visitor there. Perhaps she thought, still toting the steaming cup of coffee with both hands wrapped around it. If I sit quietly for a few minute, something may show up. She inched her way to the copper toned stone, at the water’s edge, took a seat and proceeded to watch and wait. Soon though, her mind slipped to the events of the night before, as she gazed intensely into the clear water, waves of guilt washed across her. How could she even allow herself to think the things she had, Mike had always been there for her. Never had his eyes wandered, or at least if they had, he’d always returned home to her that night.
I'm only doing what he and I have planned for years, she argued silently with herself. He’s the traitor. They’d promised each other for years, to find a piece of land and work it into a bed and breakfast. They now had the land and all he wanted to do was stay in Salt Lake. No amount of excuses could hide the fact, that he just simply wanted nothing to do with the place.
Was this one of those times, she was expected to give a hundred and ten percent. Should she just turn her back on the Place? Forget about building it into something to be proud of, something to pass on to the kids, perhaps, even somewhere to grow old in.
She just couldn't imagine herself growing old, without Mike at her side, yet she still wasn't ready to give it up either. Mike was used to getting things his way, whenever they disagreed, she would always just give up and let him have whatever it was he wanted, if she could just hang in there a little while longer… Who was she fooling, certainly not herself, he wasn't about to come to his senses any time soon. If she was going to make this place, a place to be proud of, then she was going to have to do it herself.
"Where you waiting for me" Jim's hoarse voice interrupted her thoughts, with his arrogant assumptions.
"What?" she whirled to look up at his unshaven face It was apparent that his night hadn't been much more successful, than hers had.
"I didn't mean to startle you." He said softly, sitting down on the damp tall grass, near her bare feet. "You been walking in your sleep?" he continued on stoking a tender finger across them. Giggling she pulled them away, from his searing touch "I must of lost track of time." She again combed her hair back away from her face, with her fingers. He wasn't listening to her explanation anyway. He was fixated with staring at her feet.
"Don't leave because of me." He uttered without looking up.
The nerve of him, how dare he think I'd throw in the towel so easily, she thought, “Is that what you were out to prove last night, were you trying to drive me out?"
"How dare you!" he exclaimed looking up at her for the first time, the look that sweep immediately across his face, alerted her that there was something desperately wrong with her.
Turning her attention upon herself she realized, just how see through, the gown had really become over the years. The moonlight played around her sensual outline. Shadowing her every curve, she’d embarrassed him with her immodest behavior. Quickly she attempted to cover herself. Only to have her hands snatched back away from her body, almost as fast.
"Don't." He roared, pulling her to her feet, alongside of him, as he eyed every inch of her body once again.
"Let me go – let me go" she cried pulling away and heading towards the house.
"Emma, Emma." he shouted after.
She wasn't about to look back, she didn't need another bruise, or a lecture on what is appreciate to wear. What she needed was to get to work, and drive all his foolishness from her head.
It’d been a good thought, but proved to be as impossible as convincing Mrs. what's her name, she’d never set up a Ball before, she’d never even been to one, let alone sponsoring it.
"My dear, you’re a Chatterton."
"I'm one-eighth a Chatterton." Her spooky laugh caused Emma's stomach to turn.
"Oh no MY dear, there is no such thing as a partial Chatterton."
Emma simply chose to discuss the matter at some later date, she hated being judged by a name, it was something she’d never really given much thought to before but suddenly felt sorry for all famous people. It'd gotten hard even to stop in town, without having someone corner her and carry on a conversation about the Place.
"It's not your style, is it?" The harsh voice drew her attention.
"Pardon me?" She turned confused by the statement, to find a tall dark haired man, grinning at her from beneath his bushy mustache. His face was shadowed from the afternoon sun, by the wide brim of his white Stetson.
"It's not something you'd be caught dead in." He repeated, pointing to the dress in the window.
Looking back, she could see what he meant. The dress was hideous. The large floral print, made the dress appear even broader then it was. In fact, she wasn't even looking in the store at all. She’d been watching Jim's truck, which was parked across the street from where she stood.
"Perhaps, that's exactly what I do need." she answered the strangers statement a bit sarcastically.
"Not from where I stand." Jim's familiar voice answered her back.
"Hell Jim. Can't I just simply have a nice conversation with this lovely lady, without drawing you out of the wood work?"
Hardly" Jim protested, reaching around to take her hand and drag her towards him.
"Wait a minute here!" She exclaimed pulling her hand free. "Introduce me to this gentleman, before you tow me off." Jim's face twitched, in contempt.
"You heard the lady, Jim. Introduce me."
"Fine," he dropped his hand to his side, hopelessly. "Emma Chase, meet Wes Harris."
The name conjured up memories of the frightful truck ride, a week earlier. "Stay clear of him!" Jim had demanded, "You got what he wants, and he'll take it one way or the other."
She hoped her fear didn't show, as she reached for Jim's limp hand. He didn't with hold it, going so far as to pull her from in front of the tall stranger, and next to him, but she still hadn't seen the man’s face clearly.
"Mr. Harris, it's a pleasure to meet you." she hoped the hand she addressed toward him wasn't shaking as badly as her voice had.
"No indeed—” He took her hand and pulled it to his bushy lips "The pleasures all mine."
"Damned right" Jim insisted. "This old bum says that to all the ladies in the area, hoping one might actually take him serious, Emma."
"Excuse me-" she tried to change the subject and withdraw before the tension she could feel growing in Jim's body, actually did get loose. "But I really did have an appointment with a dress."
"Oh, please don't let our-" he looked at Jim sarcastically "Old school resentments, chase you off."
"I'm not." she stepped forward away from Jim's body heat and around the tall stranger. "I really do have an appointment. It was nice to meet you." She continued as she stepped backwards towards the store door. Casting a look of thanks, towards Jim she stepped in. Although she wasn’t listening, it sounded like he said the pleasure was all his.
She stepped right to the counter and asked if there was a back door. No such luck, however the style of shop had prevented Jim from following. At least that was what she assumed, when he merely waited outside. Actually, she thought he’d given up waiting and walked away or she may have spent the whole day in the shop.
Swiftly slipping into her car, she felt sure she’d avoided him, until he popped up from the back seat saying, "I knew you weren't going to buy that dress." Her heart leaped to her throat, and all turned black. A moment later, she awoke, to him lightly tapping her face. "Are you alright?"
She pulled away instinctively. She’d never fainted in her life. Suddenly he jumped backward with hands in the air, and proclaimed
"I promise I'll never touch you again — I mean-" he realized what he’d just said and couldn't let those words stand. "I—” He dropped his head, to stare at the seat that separated them "I will never hurt you again."
She didn't understand to what he was referring. “Hurt me — how?"
He looked around to see if anyone else was within hearing range, then turning back to her, he asked “Can't we go somewhere, that's not so public?"
She considered what he was asking, could she trust herself with him. She’d have to learn to, because she wasn't about to throw in the towel "Where" she looked about for a suitable spot.
"My office," he responded as he climbed from the back seat and opened her door.
She’d never been to his office. Actually, she’d gone looking for it once to submit a license fee but was unable to find Mayor James’s Office that day. She didn't know who that was until the night of the meeting.
On the sidewalk, he wrapped her arm around his and started towards the town’s only bar. Inside he quickly shuffled her up the steps, just off the doorway to an entirely different looking atmosphere. A long hallway jetted back to a brick wall. She could see several glass doors on each side, all finely imprinted with large black lettering, indicating county offices.
"Why, above the bar." her words hadn't made sense, she felt as if she’d left the bigger portion of her statement out, but he understood clearly what she’d asked.
"Why not, after all, this was the place everyone was going to get in trouble. Or at least that was the reasoning they used when they put it here." He stopped about half way down the hall, and pulled a key from his pocket. Inside he switched the lights on and cleared a seat. Then pulling a chair from the corner, he took a seat in front of her.
"Would you like something to drink?"
She couldn't help but laugh. "What, you got your own key to that too." Understanding her amusement, he chuckled as well. His eyes were once again dancing. "I like it when you laugh."
"Because, then you know I'm not going to hit you." he asked picking up the phone.
"No. You wouldn't." she was startled by his assumption. On the other hand– had he hit other women? Was that what he was telling her? She considered all aspects of the man, as she knew him, and discerned he couldn't hit a woman. After ordering a pot of coffee, he returned the phone to its rightful spot and looked back at her.
"Well, have you made your mind up yet? Would I actually hit you?"
When their eyes meet, she had trouble concentrating, and looked down at her feet. Again, he took it the wrong way.
"I've driven you off, even before you could understand."
"You've not driven me off. From anywhere." she spoke up, in her strongest voice "Don't you understand – I don't fear you." Her voice trailed off when there was a small tap at the door.
She stood and walked to the window, as he opened the door. Emma could tell the sweet young thing, presenting him with a tray, was smitten with him, even before she turned to witness, the blush on the girls face. Turning to look back out the window, she listened to his reaction, and determined the sweet thing was barking up the wrong tree. She wondered if she wore her heart on her sleeve so obviously. Did the rest of town already know her feelings for that man? Was that what they huddled about below, discussing? She watched the reader board, across the street at the bank, flash ninety-eight degrees, May’s already turned warm, warmer than she’d expected.
If he spoke to her, before he started to trace small circles on her back, she didn't hear him. The soft gentle, motion, caused her to grip the window seal even harder. Hoping to draw on its strength, before she’d responded to his comment.
"Their right, pink suit's you very well."
He was referring to her pink linen suit, perhaps that was what they were talking about, it had obviously raised a few brows, and the last time she wore it.
"I’d forgotten you hadn't seen it before." She answered through trembling lips, as he gently lifted her silky black hair, and slid her jacket from her shoulders. Turning he tossed it to chair, then he tenderly, turned her around and stroked the soft upper portion of her arms. When she refused to look, up into his piercing blue eyes, he turned and walked back to the desk stating,
“You heal fast."
It dawned on her that he’d seen the bruises that morning. “You don't think you did that – I mean the bruises...?" the words stammered from her lips.
Looking down at the floor, he responded, "Don't you?"
It was obvious that, he was convinced he had. "My God Jim, you didn't do that. The grain bags did, you should’ve seen my legs." she attempted to correct his misconception, while pouring a cup of coffee. "I bruise easy, that's all there is to it."
"Then why’d you pull away?" he asked taking the cup she offered, with a puzzled look upon his face "I don't understand, what have I done to make you fear me, if you don't blame me for the marks?"
She starred down into the blackened water, searching for just the right words.
"I told you – I fear myself." that was as clear as she could put it. Her hands and bottom lip were trembling.
Sitting his cup down, he reached out and cupped her face, tipping it up to look at him, his hands still radiated the warmth of the coffee. She felt as if she would burst if, she didn't tell him how she felt, but what good would that do? Admitting her feelings, would only leave her open to get hurt. What could he do to change the situation?
She felt he was searching her soul, as he gazed down upon her trembling lips, wetting his own as if in anticipation. "What else do you fear?" He questioned softly.
Didn't he know, hadn't he already searched every avenue of her brain, she wondered. Closing her eyes, she turned away, breaking his entrapment. "That you’re going to kiss me – that you don't want to – that place, and all the silly stories that go with It." looking back at him she continued on "Must I even tell you these things. Don't you already know, all that's stored up inside of me?"
When his strong hand encircled her neck and pulled her up to meet his burning lips. There was nothing to do, not that she wanted to. Even when his forceful tongue, parted her trembling lips and explored her mouth, she didn't pull away. He's the one that suddenly released her and walked to the window. The air seemed cold, against her searing chest, in his absents. "You don't understand and I can't explain it." He finally stated, turning back to her. "As God as my witness, Emma I wish I could."
She’d already crossed the threshold of sin, what was to hold her back now. "Please. You did want to do that. Didn't you?" It was her turn to try to read his mind, through his suddenly stormy eyes.
"Oh God yes–” He exclaimed, "from the moment I meet you."
"Then why can't you tell me." She asked the question, not sure to what he’d been referring.
He only turned to look back out the window, she wasn't about to take his silence as an answer, crossing the room, she pressed herself against his back, and whispered.
"Please."
Immediately he reversed their positions and held her close to his body. She now looked out the window, as he laid his chin down on her head.
"That morning at the pond, you looked like an angle sent from heaven." He continued on, nuzzling his nose deep into her hair. "Your hair laid like silk across your shoulder, dipping to cover even your chest at times, as you starred down into the clear water." he paused as if to collect his words. "Moonlight played across your angelic body." His lip was trembling, almost as fast as hers was. "When I sat down and you were bare footed, I just knew God was tormenting me with something that wasn't real –” His voice broke and she could almost feel the lump in his throat. "But then I saw the marks, the ones I, if not personally placed there – allowed to happen" he struggled with each word. "I – I knew I wasn't ready for this yet."
"What? You’re not ready for what?" her voice was trembling too.
He merely rocked his head back and forth, before he spun her around, to look down into her tear stained face. "You're not ready either, I originally thought you were going to be too weak, but you proved me wrong didn't you." He asked with raised eyebrows and a half chuckle. "You're ready to face up to your feeling and I'm not. But you’re not ready to know all of it."
The puzzled look never seemed to leave her face, no matter what he uttered.
"Lord, oh sweet lord." he looked up to the ceiling as if for an answer, then looking back down at her, he said "I wish I could just tell you, but that would break the bonds of the legend."
At last, he’d said something that made sense. If anything of the stories about the magic of the valley made sense. "Emma, you’re just going to have to believe me. That everything will work out. I promise I won't let anything happen to you."
"Jim you’re scaring me."
"I know baby." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest, once more. "Just remember you’re never alone — I'm only as far away as you want me to be."
When he tipped her back to look down at her, she understood what he was asking and she laid her face back against his chest, and felt him sigh as he placed his hands on her back and pulled her even closer.
Strapped securely to his chest, he locked the world out, but even the hot confining seat belts couldn't hold her emotions back, once alone in the car. She’d made it barely into the canyon, before the tears became so over powering that she had to pull off the road.
What was she going to do? She’d kept a brave face for him, but inside she was heaped with fear. The silly little poem rattled about in her head.
BENEATH THE THREE —IN MY CASE — YOU SHALL FIND THE KEY THAT UNLOCKS THE BOOK STOR —DOOR. WRAPED IN TISSUE — INSIDE THE FALLS — MY CHEST YE SHALL SEE.
She couldn't make sense of it. She couldn't even remember the way it was supposed to go together.
"It doesn't make sense." She blurted aloud to herself. "Why in the world would I want a key to a book store?" Lowering her head to the steering wheel, to allow a few more tears to pass from her cheeks, she thought, that isn't even to what he was referring. He said the legend, not the poem. What was the legend, and what does it have to do with the pictures in my head. Am I supposed to change the events of the past somehow? Was I supposed to stop that rape?
She trembled, just thinking about it. Painfully, she’d forced it from her mind ever since that day. "And what about the things I saw with Jim." She found herself verbalizing the words again. Could they all be connected?
"WHAT PART DO I PLAY, SWEET LORD." she called at the top of her lungs, while staring up into the clear sky, through the windshield. It had worked for Jim, where was her answers? The sky lay silent, as she’d known it would. Why had she even bothered? She wondered if there was a God, or had her actions driven him off. She refused to pay penitence- ate pork and never fish on Friday- She still celebrated all the holidays, and had never set foot into the mighty temple of her father's. If she had the time, she could come up with a few more rules she’d broken, including kissing another man.
If someone had stumbled upon the car that afternoon, the person might have thought her crazy or at least a non-believer. They would never have known just how much she did believe. They would’ve considered her questioning a lack of faith, but would’ve had no knowledge of the immense longing for what she knew to be true. The superior being was the only one that understood what she’d been through, or what she was to embark upon.