Cards of Love: The Hermit

by Cora Brent

  Once the chickens returned to their shadows I stood and walked back to the house. Funny how I hadn’t felt a twinge of loneliness for years and now I was thinking about things like getting a dog for company and talking to the girl next door.

  The house was predictably stifling so I didn’t hang out in there. I knew damn well it might be days before the utility lines were repaired but I had no regrets over giving Deirdre my generator. I remembered the way a spot of color had appeared in her cheeks when I brought it over to her, like she was embarrassed and happy at the same time. Then I remembered her last words to me and how she’d cried and I wished like hell I’d stayed there even though she’d ordered me out. I could have told her I understood a thing or two about being haunted by the past. But if I’d done that then I wouldn’t have been able to walk away without giving her what she was asking me for.

  “I know that we both want something.”

  I hissed out a breath and went back outside to punch the bag I’d hung from the back eaves. It felt good to hit something and to get away thoughts that were making my balls ache. Unfortunately I found that I couldn’t quite stop casting glances toward the hill that I now thought of as belonging to Deirdre Paskevich, or whatever her name really was. I was watching partly because I was looking out for any hint of the Carter brothers, and partly because no matter how much I tried to redirect my energy I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I shouldn’t have left like that, shouldn’t have coldly walked away while she was sobbing out her heartbreak. I couldn’t stop feeling bad about it.

  For the rest of the day I worked on menial chores and kept one eye on Deirdre’s hill. By the time the sun began to sink over the horizon I was covered in sweat and dust and hadn’t seen a sign of humanity since Buster drove away. After I fed the chickens I retreated to the narrow shower stall inside the cabin to get clean. I also wanted to jerk off. I wrapped my hand around my dick and groaned, remembering the way Deirdre had boldly pulled her shirt off and faced me in her bra. The last girl I’d fucked was a waitress at a bar inside the hotel where I was staying the night before my world upended. Her name was Michelle and she was blonde but I didn’t remember her face. At the time I felt guilty right away because Casey would be flying in with my folks the next day and even though things had cooled off between us she was still important to me and I didn’t want to hurt her. I knew my mother was hoping Casey and I would end up together, that I’d return to Tulsa and marry my first girlfriend and produce a bunch of grandchildren. My mother had been wishing for grandchildren for years. My brother Alec and his wife were reportedly trying to give her the first one. But they’d been on that plane with everyone else.

  My hand had already left my dick. I grabbed a bar of soap and lathered up instead of dwelling on the memory of how Deirdre looked in her bra.

  The sky was nearly dark the next time I stepped outside. A few pink streaks over the mountains held onto the last of the day’s sunlight and I stood out there for a while, watching them slowly disappear. I was listening. Listening for a sound from Deirdre’s hill, listening for car engines on the dirt road, listening for anything at all. There was nothing except a few low squawks from the chickens.

  I didn’t plan on heading in that direction but I went anyway. There was a boulder a few yards from the base of the hill on the other side. It wasn’t large, just wide enough to sit on while observing the stars emerge across the night sky. She had to be putting the generator to good use. The power was still out in the area but a light was shining in her kitchen. Not that I was trying to see through the cracks in her window shades. I was just out here to enjoy the cool evening air. And to make sure the dipshit Carter brothers didn’t have any ideas about returning this way. I hadn’t raised my fists to anything besides a punching bag in five years, hadn’t needed to, but if anyone messed with Deirdre I wouldn’t hesitate.

  No, I wouldn’t hesitate for a second.

  Thinking of Deirdre made me recall the things she’d said, some vague, gruesome story about a boy she’d loved who’d been murdered by her own family. Deirdre of the Sorrows was an old Irish story. I liked the old stories even though many of them ended badly. That might be why I liked them.. A jealous king had desired Deirdre, the most beautiful woman in the land. But when she’d chosen a handsome warrior to run off with, the king had the man killed. He took Deirdre back to his kingdom but she couldn’t get over her murdered lover and ended up jumping from a cliff. So maybe there wasn’t a perfect parallel between mythological Deirdre and the real one but she’d obviously suffered. That had to be one of the reasons she wound up out here, searching for lost stories. People only chose this kind of isolation if they were trying to escape. I should know.

  In an instant my head filled with a thousand memories that I usually kept at bay. Memories of a happy childhood, of love and family and holidays and laughter. I shoved them away. I hated remembering everything I’d lost. I didn’t even keep any pictures around.

  I wasn’t doing anything more exciting than watching the sky, picking out the constellations one by one when I heard the sound of a door slamming. Then I heard her voice, a few muffled curses. Deirdre’s little house was dark now. A car engine fired to life and headlights were coming this way. I stayed where I was as the car closed in, rumbling over the uneven desert terrain. She wasn’t moving toward the main road. There was only one place she could be going, only one destination on the other side of the hill.

  She swerved in an effort to skirt around the hill. She should have noticed me sitting out there by now but she didn’t. At least I assumed she didn’t when she nearly ran me over.

  When the car veered too close I jumped up and waved my arms, glad my reflexes were as quick as ever. She slammed on the brakes ten feet away, creating cloud of dust. I squinted into the glare of the headlights until she cut the engine and flung open the door.

  “Jeremy, what the hell?” she shouted. I could see her now, wearing one of those shapeless man-sized shirts that couldn’t hide the curves of her body. She took a step closer and crossed her arms.

  “Jeremy?” she said, sounding uncertain now. It was a weird situation after all, finding your neighbor crouched out here in the darkness like some kind of night creature. Or pervert.

  My eyes found her face, her big eyes blinking at me behind those ugly glasses.

  “Where were you going?” I asked. Even though I knew.

  Deirdre exhaled and dropped her arms to her sides. “To see you.” Her long hair was down now, flowing over shoulders. I liked it down. I wanted to get it all twisted in my fists while we did things to each other.

  “I need to give it back,” she said. “The generator. I used up all your gas so I guess I owe you for that. But you should come take it away.”

  “Why?”

  She took a deep breath. “Because I don’t believe you.”

  The sentence struck a chord. A long time ago I’d uttered that same statement to someone else under very different circumstances.

  I don’t believe you.

  “What is it you don’t believe, Deirdre?”

  She looked away. “It doesn’t matter. I’m being an idiot. Just come take your generator back.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Her head whipped back in surprise. “No?”

  “No. I’m not taking it back.”

  She stared at me. “Jeremy Gannon, I don’t understand anything about you. Not one thing.”

  I took three big steps in her direction and now we were mere inches apart. I could hear her breath catch when I took her chin in my palm and slowly ran my thumb over her lower lip.

  “Do you want to understand one thing about me?” I whispered.

  The question could have been taken any one of a dozen ways. But I only had one meaning in mind. And she understood. I could tell by the sudden flash of fire in her eyes and felt it when she reached out and placed her palms on my chest. This had been her idea in the first place. She’d made the offer first.

  “I want t
o,” she whispered back.

  That was all I needed to hear. I kissed her and it wasn’t as gentle as it could have been. It had been too long for me and I needed it too badly. She liked it this way though, responding with equal hunger as our mouths collided. I gave her my tongue while my arms tightened around her soft body, pulling her close enough so that she had to feel how hard I was.

  “If I touch you right now there won’t be any turning back.”

  I’d said that to her. Had it really only been this morning? I meant it. Every primal impulse I’d been neglecting for five years was awake now. We could do this right here. I could shove down her shorts, bend her over the hood of the car and fuck her out here in the wild like the animal I was.

  Instead I pulled away. She gasped when I lifted her into my arms and she wasn’t expecting this, wasn’t expecting the way I protectively cradled her to my chest before I started walking toward her house. But she didn’t object. She reached up and traced the line of my jaw with soft fingers while I carried her.

  There were some things about me that weren’t going to change no matter what happened between us tonight.

  Maybe I was just a dark shadow of the bright star that had once electrified boxing rings all over the country.

  Maybe I was no longer someone my family would be proud of, or would even want to know.

  But I could still do one or two things right when I wanted to.

  And I was going to prove it.

  I was going to give Deirdre exactly what she’d asked me for.

  And I was going to take whatever I wanted in return.

  Chapter Seven

  DEIRDRE

  Jeremy Gannon was an asshole.

  Worse, he was an asshole who was obstructing my creative process.

  At least that’s what I told myself while I fretted in front of an empty computer screen for most of the day. Once I’d had a good cry in the empty house I blew my nose, resolving to forget the humiliation of being rejected by Jeremy while shoving away the ghastly memories that had caused me to break down for the first time in years. I figured I could shut all that noise out and concentrate on the thing I was good at, the thing I was here to do in the first place. Work. So far it wasn’t going smoothly.

  The generator hummed in the background as I tapped my fingernails against the keyboard. If my nails had been longer it would have been a more satisfying sound. The cursor blinked at me accusingly so I sighed and typed out the first words that came to mind.

  No one can contemplate the magnificent Superstition Mountains without wondering about all those who have come and gone in their midst. Why did they come here? Perhaps they were hunting the rumor of riches. Perhaps they were in search of isolation. Or perhaps they were looking for something else entirely.

  I stared at the paragraph. I started to delete it and then changed my mind. I ate a can of peaches and a sleeve of crackers for lunch while mulling that first sentence over in my head. I hadn’t really been thinking about the mysteries of the mountains when I wrote it.

  I’d been thinking about the mystery of Jeremy Gannon.

  Hollowed out. That was how he’d described himself. He had good reason. Losing everyone he loved in one terrible fell swoop had clearly been devastating.

  “I don’t believe you,” I said out loud. By this time the sky was darkening. I paced the floor, looked out the window at the encroaching night and said it again. “I don’t believe you.”

  I’d seen the way he looked at me, the desire in his eyes that he couldn’t hide once he dropped his pants. He still burned in an important way. I knew he did. I’d discovered that I did too. We were alike in that way. We could help each other with something.

  The generator was parked just on the other side of the window where I’d paused in the middle of my brooding. The machine came to an abrupt halt and the lights faded as suddenly as if someone had blown out a candle. The thing practically gobbled up fuel and I must not have done a good job of conserving power usage because I’d poured the last contents of the gas can into it an hour ago. In all likelihood it was out of gas again. Or else it was broken. Luckily the single flashlight I owned was in reach on top of the dresser.

  Going outside to investigate did me no good. I flipped the generator’s power switch a few times but it didn’t so much as shudder. With a sigh I gave up but didn’t go back indoors right away. Instead I kept the flashlight shining on the quiet generator. I was still puzzled by Jeremy’s gesture this morning. He was obviously not the type to go stay in a hotel while he waited for the electricity to come back on. By bringing his only power source here today he’d sacrificed his own comfort for mine. A man who did something like that definitely wasn’t empty, wasn’t ‘hollowed out’.

  With a sudden decision in mind I returned to the house in search of my car keys. My ankle was still sore so there was no way I could walk to Jeremy’s, especially in the darkness. But I was determined to pay my neighbor a visit whether he wanted to see me or not. He had a choice; we could finish our conversation or he could come over here and retrieve his damn generator. Because I’d rather sit here in the darkness than deal with a constant reminder of him.

  “Son of a bitch,” I muttered as I slipped on some loose rocks and nearly lost a flip flop. I pointed the car toward Jeremy’s house and sped away. The clearest route to Jeremy’s was a vague path that skirted the base of the hill. I’d just need to take care to avoid running into the boulder I knew was out there.

  And Jeremy. I needed to avoid running into him too. Because there he was, perched on the stupid rock like a Roman statue. I only saw him a split second before he jumped up and waved me down.

  “Jeremy Gannon, I don’t understand anything about you,” I told him. “Not one thing.”

  He reached for my face, holding it in his big hand.

  “Do you want to understand one thing about me?”

  He was asking if my offer from this morning was still on the table. No strings attached. No complications. Just this.

  My answer was instant.

  “I want to.”

  Oh god, how I wanted to. I doubted I’d ever wanted anything more.

  It was a moment worthy of the movies, the way he swept me into his strong arms and carried me to the house. But that’s where the scene would have gone dark in the movies, left to the imagination. The idea hit me that we were practically strangers. I had no idea what to expect from him, what he’d be like in bed. Jeremy was a difficult man to decipher and he’d been out here alone for years. We hadn’t compared sexual histories but I got the feeling he hadn’t been with anyone in all that time. Not that I was a trailblazer in that category. My own list of lovers wasn’t the most impressive thing in the world.

  Jeremy didn’t set me down until we reached the bedroom. Everything was still dark. We faced each other in the darkness and when my hands roamed over his broad chest I marveled over his powerful form. He hissed through his teeth as my fingers drifted lower, over his hard stomach, resting on the waistband of his jeans. I wanted him so much I was practically shaking. But he made no move to grab me, not even when my hands explored the sizeable bulge on the other side of his zipper and produced a low moan from him that ended with my name.

  “Deirdre,” he said and it sounded like a cross between a prayer and a curse.

  “Kiss me,” I answered, tipping my face up and leaning in with my eyes closed, anticipating the feel of his lips.

  But he didn’t kiss me. In fact he took a step backwards because suddenly the room was filled with light.

  I opened my eyes. The electricity had picked a hell of a moment to return.

  Jeremy and I stared at each other.

  “The power’s on,” I said, as if it wasn’t one hundred percent obvious.

  “Good,” he said and now I saw where his right hand was, straying low, touching himself as he watched me. “Now I get to see you.”

  “You can see me,” I said, unsure what he meant.

  He raised an eyebrow. “All
of you.”

  “Now?”

  He unzipped. “Now.”

  I’d always lacked confidence about my body. My breasts were a little too heavy, my hips slightly too wide. It’s true that Jeremy had seen it all already but that’s not why I didn’t mind pulling my shirt over my head and dropping my khaki shorts to puddle around my ankles. I stepped out of my shorts and stood there in my plain white bra and light blue hip hugger panties, enjoying the way his gaze rolled over every inch with excruciating slowness, like he was memorizing every curve. He was still standing there still fully clothed, and still making no move to do anything about it.

  “You’re fucking beautiful,” he said, his voice low and thick with the undercurrent of lust. And now he moved, practically tearing his own shirt off and seizing me before I had time to react. He lifted me in his arms again but this time it was no gentle embrace. My legs eagerly circled his waist while my breasts were crushed against his chest. With one strong arm he held me in place while the other snaked up my back and pulled apart my bra. My palms rested on his strapping shoulders and I could feel all that muscular power underneath, reminding me who he had been.

  Jeremy Gannon, once the most promising young boxer of his generation.

  Jeremy Gannon, who’d lost everything and retreated from the world that had caused him so much pain.

  Jeremy Gannon, who’d invoked a reckless kind of hunger inside of me that I’d never felt before.

  Whatever had been holding him back was gone. There was nothing hesitant about the kiss that lasted only a few hot seconds before we toppled to the bed and I loved it, the feel of his weight on top of me, the way he demanded more as my panties were yanked away with a sharp tear.