Morning Comes Softly

by Debbie Macomber

  Travis brushed a wisp of hair from her face and looked down at her. He kissed her again, urging her mouth open even wider. His tongue sought hers, involving her in a lazy erotic play. When he raised his head she noted that his eyes were dark with passion.

  “Mary, I thought about you all day, about us, wondering if we could make this marriage real.”

  “I did, too,” she admitted softly. “I was so afraid of what it would be like, but I’m not anymore.”

  “You’re not.” His kissed her until they were both breathless, then pulled his mouth away and pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re in trouble now.”

  She heard the humor in his voice and responded with a smile. “How’s that?”

  He stood and closed the bottom half of the stall door. “I mean to have my way with you, woman.”

  “Here?” She feigned deep shock.

  “Right here and right now.” His large hands were busy with the buttons of her blouse. It surprised her how agile his fingers could be.

  “What about the children?” Her voice was little more than a husky murmur. She did nothing to impede him, nothing to deter him from his mission.

  “They won’t bother us.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’m sure.” He peeled the blouse from her shoulders and deftly removed her bra. “Oh, Mary,” he said with a deep sigh of satisfaction. “You’re so damn beautiful.” As he spoke he swathed her nipples with his tongue until they were tight and throbbing. His tongue curled around the delicate bud, drawing it deep into his mouth. He sucked gently, and again Mary felt the effect of it all the way through her.

  “Am I shocking you?” he asked.

  “No…no, this feels as good as the kissing.”

  He heightened the pressure, sucking at her greedily, roughly, then gently again.

  Mary threaded her fingers though his hair and let the warm passion melt over her. Travis was making sounds, too, the kinds of sounds Mary had never dreamed she’d hear from a man, the type a husband made when he needed his wife.

  Travis paused and looked at her, his face tight with desire, the planes of his face chiseled and hard.

  Mary urged his mouth to hers and instinctively raised her hips to meet his. The hard evidence of his desire convinced her of the truth of his words. He was watching her, waiting for her to respond. “I need you, too, Travis.”

  He seemed to have stopped breathing. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

  She lowered her lashes and nodded.

  Travis traded positions with her, so that she lay sprawled atop him. He touched his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “Not in a barn, Mary, not your first time.”

  His thoughtfulness touched her as few things ever had.

  “Tonight?” he asked. “After the children are in bed?”

  Mary nodded. She was a mature woman, not some teenager with stars in her eyes. Where once there was loneliness now there was joy. It had seeped silently into her soul.

  “Travis…the children. We need to get back to the house.”

  “I know.” His words were filled with regret.

  Mary leveled herself away from him and buttoned her blouse. Travis’s hand reached for hers, and his eyes burned into hers. “You make me feel strong.” He kissed her fingertips. “And alive.”

  Mary understood. Grief had overwhelmed her following Clinton’s death. It had taken nearly a year for her to notice the world kept right on going when she’d been trapped in her pain. A year had passed before she’d realized the roses continued to bloom and the sun continued to shine. It had taken a full twelve months before she felt alive again.

  Mary and Travis went into the house together. Jim was washing the dinner dishes without having been asked. Scotty was sitting at the table doing his homework, and Beth Ann was sitting on the kitchen floor playing with her Barbie dolls.

  “Mary?” Beth Ann asked, her eyes round with concern. “Did you fall down?”

  “No, sweetheart, I’m fine.”

  “But there’s straw in your hair.”

  Eleven

  “Tilly, damn it, I know you’re in there. For the love of heaven open up and talk to me.”

  Tilly stood on the other side of the door, her hands pressed to her trembling lips. Her head and her heart were involved in a fierce battle. She desperately loved Logan, and at the same time she hated him and wanted to punish him for the agony he was putting her through.

  By all that was right she should have gone directly to the sheriff and reported what she suspected. Each minute she kept the information to herself, it weighed her down more.

  “Tilly.” The pounding grew louder.

  The knot in her throat increased until it was nearly impossible to breathe. She felt as though someone had stuck a fist down her esophagus.

  Silently she cursed Logan. He’d made a believer out of her. No one had ever been more cruel. Not even Davey when he’d stolen her ATM card and emptied her checking account, then left town. Not Phil when he’d slapped her around and left her with two black eyes, bruised ribs, and a broken heart.

  Logan had made her feel good about herself. He’d brought out the best in her, helped her heal. They’d helped each other. Or so she’d believed; now she understood what her real role had been. She’d soothed away his guilt.

  Tilly had always been a slow learner. Life’s lessons had never come easy. Everything, it seemed, had to be learned the hard way. Phil had taught her that if she continued to love someone who was hurting her physically and mentally, eventually she would stop loving herself.

  Davey had been a multiple lesson awardee. Lesson number one: Try to save a drowning man and you risk going down with him. Tilly had made the plunge three times. If Davey hadn’t left town first she might never have survived their affair. Lesson number two had come when she realized there was a limit to how much pain and confusion any man was worth.

  Now Logan was the teacher and Tilly was convinced his lessons would be the most pain-filled by far. From him she learned she’d lost the ability to judge character.

  She’d been so sure this time. Logan hadn’t dragged her down, he’d built her up. Because of Logan she wanted to better herself. For the first time in years she was becoming involved in her community. For the first time in years she was truly happy. What a farce happiness was, Tilly realized, closing her eyes to a fresh stab of pain.

  “Tilly, damn it,” he shouted, “are you going to make me break down the front door?”

  It wasn’t an idle threat. Exhaling her frustration, she unbolted the lock and threw open the door. She stood defiantly on the other side of the threshold, dredging up each bit of backbone she could muster.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you?” Logan asked angrily. “You’ve been avoiding me for two days now. If we’ve got a problem the least you can do is talk to me about it.”

  Tilly knew he was right, but knowing that didn’t change things. She could think of no way of asking him if he was the driver responsible for the deaths of Lee and Janice Thompson. She’d gone over the details in her mind until she couldn’t bear to analyze them any longer. No matter how she tallied the facts they led to the same inevitable conclusion.

  “Don’t you have anything to say?” he demanded when she didn’t speak.

  Staying away from Logan had been damn difficult. The first day she’d called in sick to Martha’s. She hadn’t answered her phone either. The second day, when he showed up at Martha’s, she had Sally wait on him while she slipped out the back door.

  Now he stood before her and she saw him with fresh eyes. He was a distinguished-looking man, handsome as sin, gentle and good. And he loved her. He honestly loved her.

  “Baby, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded.

  Tilly shook her head wildly from side to side.

  “Damn it, Tilly, what the hell happened?”

  He was angry with her, but she read the confusion and pain in his eyes.

  “I did something?”
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  Unable to look at him any longer, Tilly lowered her gaze. She couldn’t make herself say it.

  “Tilly,” Logan exhaled sharply. “For the love of God tell me what’s wrong! Don’t you know I love you? This is killing me. Baby, if we’ve got a problem, let’s face it together.”

  She didn’t know who moved first, but before another moment passed she was in Logan’s arms, holding on to him and sobbing uncontrollably. He felt so strong and warm, and so damn comforting. She longed to lose herself in him, and blot out everything else.

  Driven by her fears, her mouth found his and their kisses took on a frantic wildness. Tilly knew Logan was as confused as she was, but he withheld nothing from her. His arms were locked around her waist and he lifted her so her feet dangled above the floor. Holding her against him, he carried her into the house, their mouths locked together. Kissing became far more important than breathing.

  A scary kind of sexual excitement filled her. Logan, who’d always seemed to be in tune with her needs, moved directly into the bedroom. They barely had time to get their clothes off. Tilly undressed first and clawed at Logan, demanding that he hurry. Rushing was essential otherwise she’d be forced to look at what she was doing.

  Their lovemaking was as fierce as their kissing had been. When they finished, they were both left exhausted. Logan gathered her in his arms and kissed her temple.

  “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

  Tears welled in her eyes and she turned onto her side so he couldn’t see her face.

  She felt exposed and weak, more emotionally insecure than she’d ever been with anyone else. More than her heart was involved this time. Logan had wrapped tentacles of hope around her soul.

  “It’s my father, isn’t it?” Logan whispered, tucking his arm around her waist and cuddling her spoon fashion.

  “No.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Tilly. He said something to you, didn’t he?”

  “No,” she said again, stronger this time. “He has nothing to do with this.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Taking her by her shoulders, he twisted her onto her back so he could look into her eyes. Tilly knew they were red and swollen from crying. She hated to have him see her like this but there was no help for it.

  “I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you,” he whispered and kissed her gently. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. If you say my father doesn’t have anything to do with this, then I don’t have any choice but to believe you.”

  As passionate as his kisses had been earlier, now they were filled with a warm tenderness. “I need you so damn much,” he whispered. “I swear the last few days have been hell without you.”

  “I need you too,” she told him, looping her arms around his neck and holding him against her.

  “Listen to me,” Logan said, lifting his head and cupping the side of her face with his hand. “I’m through sneaking around. Who do you think we’re fooling? Anyone with a lick of sense knows how I feel about you. In case you hadn’t noticed, our romance is old news. No more of this, Tilly. We’re dating the same as any other couple. I’m proud to have you at my side. Personally I don’t give a damn what my father thinks. I’m through living my life to please him.”

  “Oh, Logan, you don’t understand.”

  “No arguments,” he said and kissed her soundly. “We’re attending the Harvest Moon Festival together and that’s the end of it.”

  “I can’t,” she said, her mind racing frantically for an excuse.

  “Yes, you can. I won’t take no for an answer, Tilly. We’re through sneaking around behind closed doors.”

  “But…” A couple of days earlier she was going to turn what information she had about Logan over to the sheriff’s office, and now she was considering attending the Harvest Moon Festival with him.

  “No buts,” he said, kissing the end of her nose. “We’re going.”

  Tilly pressed her hands to his face and stared into his beautiful eyes. “You’d never hurt anyone, would you, Logan, and leave them behind? You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

  A sadness crept into his face and he smiled weakly. “No, Tilly, I’d never do that.”

  She had to be wrong, Tilly reasoned frantically and her heart lightened. He’d said he had to accept her word that his father hadn’t confronted her, now it was her turn to trust him. Logan wouldn’t lie to her. Not about this. Not about something so important.

  It wasn’t him, her mind shouted. It couldn’t be.

  Mary was lying still, dressed in the silk gown Georgeanne had given her. She waited for Travis to join her, feeling like a goose dressed up for Christmas dinner.

  She tensed when he came into the room and turned off the light. “Are the children sleeping?” she asked.

  “Yep.” He sounded nervous.

  Shadows flickered against the wall as he undressed. She caught the scent of his cologne and smiled, knowing he’d put it on for her. The mattress dipped with his weight as he climbed in beside her.

  For a moment neither spoke nor moved. Mary’s heart was racing in her ears like a revved-up car engine. Travis was tense too; his body seemed to be pulsing with anxiety. Mary knew she’d feel more relaxed if he’d kiss her again the way he had in the barn. When he was holding and touching her everything felt right and good.

  Travis rolled onto his side and supporting himself on his elbow, he looked down at her in the moonlight and grinned sheepishly. Mary saw the lingering light of need in his eyes and her heart constricted with love. Never would she have deemed it possible to have fallen in love with Travis so quickly. But love him she did, until her heart felt as though it would burst with the emotion. Smiling, she slid her hands up his shoulders, gently tracing the shape of him, reveling in the sleek, smooth feel of his skin. She linked her hands at his nape and tentatively lifted her mouth to his.

  The kiss was slow and deep. Mary felt its impact all the way to her toes. Travis had taught her much in the art of kissing and she welcomed his tongue and teased him with her own. His chest expanded with a sharp intake of breath and he wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled onto his back, taking her with him so she was poised above him.

  The kissing continued, but it was no longer a leisurely exploration, but one of hunger and urgency. He braced his hands at the back of her thighs and gathered the silk fabric of her gown until it collected at her waist. She felt his callused hands urge her legs apart, then slide up the inside of her thighs and over her bare buttocks.

  The small pleasure this afforded her was something of a surprise. He’d touched her like this before, on her stomach, and she’d felt threatened and a little afraid. Not now. He was introducing her to the world of sensual enjoyment and the limits seemed to constantly expand.

  His swollen sex pulsed against her leg and she wondered how it would be possible to take all of him inside her. He was hard and hot and huge.

  He broke off the kissing and exhaled slowly as if he needed to do something to compose himself, to slow down their momentum. He brushed the hair from her face and gazed into her eyes. “Are you afraid?”

  “A little,” she admitted shyly. “I know all the technicalities of what we’re going to do, but…you’re so big.”

  Travis grinned, looking inordinately pleased by her words. “We’ll go slow and you can stop me if I hurt you.”

  “I’m not going to want to stop.”

  He smiled again and lifted his head to give her a moist kiss. “Me either, but I will. I don’t want to hurt you.” Taking hold of her sleek gown, he stripped it from her so that she was completely bared to him. Mary felt her breasts tighten as they were exposed to the cool air. Pleasure mingled with heat darted through her as he touched her breasts with his hands, gently lifting one in his palm.

  “Perfect,” he murmured, “just perfect.”

  With one easy, deft movement, he rolled so she was beneath him. “I want to touch you. All right?”

  Mary closed her eyes and nodded.


  His callused palm lovingly traveled downward, over her ribs to her stomach until his fingers tangled with the silky triangle of curls.

  “Mary,” Travis whispered urgently, “look at me.”

  She found him studying her with an intense, loving expression and whatever fears she was experiencing fled immediately. Instead she was proud that this man should want her so desperately, that he cared so much about making this first time pleasurable for her even if it meant taking away from his own enjoyment.

  “I could shoot Georgeanne,” Mary whispered into the silence.

  “Georgeanne?”

  “My best friend. At least I thought she was. She never told me lovemaking was this good, I’d always thought…I don’t know, that it was all hot and sweaty.”

  “It is,” Travis said, and she heard the smile in his voice.

  “Maybe, but it’s a whole lot more.”

  Travis kissed the crown of her head. Within minutes he was asleep. Content, Mary smiled and sighing, she contemplated what a miracle it was to be nestled in her husband’s loving arms.

  Twelve

  Mary’s sewing machine had recently arrived and she’d set it up on the kitchen table. In front of her was a pile of mending. Travis was the worst offender. No fewer than fifteen of his shirts were badly in need of repair. Jim ran a close second.

  The phone rang and she gazed absently in its direction, resenting the intrusion into her morning. She removed the pins from her mouth and reached for the receiver, tucking it against her shoulder.

  “Hello.”

  “Mrs. Thompson, this is Mr. Moon from the school.”

  Mary’s heart fell like dead weight to her knees. Jim was in trouble again, she knew it even before the grade school principal could say the words.

  “I’m afraid there’s been an accident on the playground,” Mr. Moon continued. “Beth Ann fell from the swing and her right arm seems to be causing her a good deal of pain. I’m afraid it could be broken.”