Saved Between the Sheets: An Anthology of Stories that Get to the Point

by R. M. Walker

  “I’m seeing a different doctor. He thinks the memories are locked away, still there, just waiting for the key.”

  “But I’m not your key, Parker. I never was.” Exhaustion washed over me. “You forgot me. Nothing else. Not this village, not the people in it, only everything associated with me.” And that burnt me like hot coal lodged in my chest. He’d only forgotten me.

  “I need to do this, Lowena. It’s a huge hole inside.” He looked at me sideways, the pain clear in every line on his face.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Time.”

  “Time for what?” It wasn’t what I’d expected.

  “Just—I don’t know. I’m staying here. This place calls to me. I tried moving on, believe me, I tried.” He grunted, got up, stuffed his hands into his pockets and paced. “I’ve tried forgetting this place. Which is ironic, considering it’s forgetting that’s my problem.”

  “You need closure?” Didn’t we all?

  “I don’t know. I just know when I saw the chapel was for sale, I had to buy it.”

  “Yeah. You did all right for yourself.” I was proud of him. I honestly was. Bitter, but proud.

  “Did I?” He frowned at me, coming to a stop in front of me.

  I leant on my hands, looking at him. “Well, yes, you own your own company—holidays in the sun—darling of the nouveau rich.” I quoted a headline I’d seen once during a weak moment when I put his name in a search engine on the net.

  “I suppose.” He shrugged. “Working was a way to…”

  “Forget?” I suggested.

  He grunted and began pacing again.

  “I don’t know how to handle this,” I admitted.

  “Why do you have to handle it at all?” he asked, frowning.

  “Because you may have forgotten, but I haven’t.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed, before opening them and looking right into mine. “Just because I can’t remember doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. You always thought because I don’t remember you it’s all good for me. I don’t remember you, Lowena, but I have this huge fucking hole where something should be. Where you should be!”

  “How can you be so sure? Last time we tried I gave you nightmares!”

  “I was seventeen for fuck’s sake. I still had metal staples in my fucking skull.”

  “And how is this my fault?” I hugged my arms around myself.

  “I didn’t say it was your fault!” He flung his arms into the air. “You saved my life, Lowena. And I can’t recall a damn thing about you.”

  “And it’s taken you ten years to come and fill that hole?

  He arched an eyebrow at me, and it sank in how he’d taken my words. Okay, so maybe some of my Parker was still there.

  “Don’t.” I got up, my emotions on a see-saw. I couldn’t trust myself not to do something stupid, like crawl into his arms.

  I ached to be held by him again. To hear his heart beating under my ear, his arms surrounding me.

  But that ship had sailed with Heathcliff as Captain.

  I didn’t look back as I walked away. Half of me was desperate for him to stop me. The other half, which didn’t want the pain, was victorious.

  Victory was just as painful, though.

  ***--***--***

  AUTUMN, ten years earlier...

  I slipped out the back door, trying to suppress my giggles.

  He pressed his fingers to my lips and clutched my hand. He tugged me, and I went willingly. I’d always go willingly with Parker.

  We left my cottage and ran towards his uncle’s farm. With the end of summer and the rain more frequent, we’d had to find alternatives to our cove. He’d found somewhere when he’d been helping his uncle. His uncle rotated his crops yearly, and Parker led me to a ploughed field which was now resting till next year, which meant we’d be undisturbed.

  I thought he’d take me inside the barn that stood in the corner of the field, but he led me around the side. There was an old stone hut with glass windows and a padlock on the door. A new padlock.

  “Someone comes here already,” I said.

  “Yeah, me. I’ve cleaned it out and put a lock on.” He unlocked the door and went inside. “Hold on, a sec.”

  I waited at the door as he lit candles and two kerosene lamps.

  “Careful, there’s a step down,” he said, putting the matches into his pocket.

  The little room showed signs of recent use. A camping stove sat in the corner, a table with a rickety chair next to it. Against the far wall was an old sofa covered with blankets.

  “Who lived here before?” I asked.

  “No one. It’s only used when the sheep are lambing.”

  “And you cleaned it for us?”

  “Didn’t need much, to be honest.” He rubbed his neck, looking at me through his fringe. “Just chucked some blankets over the sofa and a bit of a sweep.”

  I kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” I sat on the sofa, and he joined me.

  “Breakfast.” He drew out tin foil wrapped sandwiches from his backpack and handed me one. He rooted around in the backpack, his hair messy and in need of a good cut. I fell deeper in love with him.

  He brought out a bar of my favourite chocolate “Here you go.”

  “I love you,” I whispered, holding his gaze.

  “I love you too.” He pulled a face at me. “Why do you look as if you’re going to cry?”

  “Because you did all this. For me, for us.” I waved the chocolate bar around.

  “Bloody hell.” He chuckled. “If kisses shut you up, and food makes you happy, I’m going to keep you.”

  I laughed. “Keep me? Like a hamster? Do I get my own wheel?”

  “I was thinking more of forever.” He rubbed his neck, and my breath left me in a rush. “I know we’re not eighteen for a few months, but I’ve always known what I want. And it’s you, Lo, it’s always been you.”

  “Oh…” I put my food on the bag, clutched his collar, and jerked him to me. “I’m yours, Parker. Always have been, always will be.”

  He threw his sandwich on the bag and clutched my head, claiming my lips in a kiss as desperate as it was passionate. We were sparks igniting into a blazing inferno.

  Without breaking our kiss, he pushed me to lie on the sofa. I went gladly, moaning as he worked kisses over my jaw and under my ear before coming back to my lips. He shifted, cupping me over my jeans and my breath hitched, my hips bucking in response. I knew his touch well now and was ravenous for it

  “Need you, Lo,” he grunted into my throat.

  “Then have me.”

  He raised his head and stared into my eyes for a few seconds. Then he was motion and heat, and hands everywhere. My jeans were stripped off and flung onto the floor before my brain caught up. He allowed me no time to think before pulling my legs apart and fastening his mouth over my core.

  I cried out as the incredible rush of lust engulfed me. He swept his tongue over me, and I was his to control. And control me he did. His lips, teeth and tongue worked over me, demanding I give everything to him. I was given no quarter, no time to adjust or to breathe as he destroyed me with his mouth. Driving me wild, I was incapable of keeping still, writhing, and sobbing with the intense pleasure. I was close to coming, and he knew it because he’d edge me back just before I came. The throbbing ache beneath his fingers had me incoherent with need for him to fuck me.

  He lifted his head and parted my folds with his fingers to look at me. He licked me like an ice-cream and my head went back, my hands clenched into his hair.

  “You’re gorgeous and so fucking wet,” he murmured before flicking my clit with his fingers.

  I screamed his name bucking violently under his touch.

  “You like it here, don’t you?” he whispered, his breath stimulating me. “I love the way you respond when I do this.” He touched my clit with the tip of his tongue, and I groaned, his words affecting me just as much as his touch. His fingertip nudged my entrance as he teased
my clit with flicks of his tongue. Just enough to keep me on the edge, coiled tight as he caressed me with fire.

  “Please!” I was beyond any semblance of dignity, ready to beg in any way he wanted.

  “Please, what?” he murmured.

  I groaned; my eyes rolled. “Please, please, please,” I begged, writhing under him, but his other hand held my hips in place.

  “Tell me what you want.” He licked me again.

  “You!”

  “You’ve got me. What do you want me to do to you?”

  “Fuck me, Parker.”

  “Oh, I will.” He chuckled. “Do you want to come?”

  “Oh, god, yes. Yes, yes, please, yes.”

  “Say it,” he ordered.

  “Make me come, please. Please, god, Parker. Yeah, there, right th… I’m coming, I’m c…c…” I cried out, my hips jerking as I clutched the sheets beside me. I couldn’t keep still, trying to close my legs against the intense flood of pleasure. He stripped me of all restraint, turning me into molten lava. Wave after wave of white light crashed over me, and when he pushed into me, I spiralled upwards again. Meeting him thrust for thrust, I clung to him as I sobbed his name in ecstasy.

  He pushed into me over and over, grinding and thrusting. His forehead connected with mine and he held my gaze; his eyes had a feral gleam making me frantic for him.

  “You’re mine,” he growled.

  “Yours.” My voice and body screamed it as the intimacy coiled me tighter and tighter.

  He grunted, uttered a strangled noise, and came deep inside me. It pitched me over the edge again and my internal muscles clenched and released around him as he emptied into me.

  Out of breath, he collapsed onto me, his head tucked in my neck, still buried inside me.

  “I will love you forever,” he mumbled.

  “I’ll hold you to that.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed the side of his sweaty head.

  He was mine as much as I was his.

  ***--***--***

  Seeing Parker after so long was a mix of pain and regret. I’d have handled it better if I’d had a warning. As it was, work was my distraction, and I used it well.

  It took me another week before I ventured outside my front door again. But ultimately, I was a creature of habit. And Friday was my pub meal night. If I missed another week, Davy Wilkes would come to find out what was wrong. He’d been a year below me in primary. And our local pub, The Rub, had been in his family for generations. When his father retired, Davy had taken over. He was nice, easy going, and comfortable. We’d gone out together a few years ago, but while I liked him, it went no further. It wasn’t his fault, and we parted as friends. Looking back now, he knew I wasn’t over Parker. And judging by Mrs Pennington and Mrs Tellers’ reaction, the whole village had known I wasn’t over Parker. It was only me that missed that memo, and it took seeing him again to make me realise I’d been going through the motions of living. I was content here, content with my job and my cottage. But I was drifting through life without really living. I’d been waiting for Parker, for a miracle, but miracles don’t happen, and Parker wasn’t seventeen anymore. Neither was I.

  It was time to take the training wheels off my bicycle and grow up.

  I was a strong, independent woman.

  Okay, so maybe strong was exaggerated, but I was independent. I made a living, kept my cottage, and still had enough for occasional treats. Like my Friday pub meals and I wouldn’t let myself lose that.

  ***—***—***

  By the time I pushed open the pub doors, I had my battle make-up on and my sketchbook in hand.

  “There you are, figured we’d be sending out the Mounties to find you.” Davy waved at me from behind the bar and I went over, casting a furtive glance around. There weren’t many locals in, and none of them were Parker.

  “Got lost in work, again,” I told him, semi-truthfully. “Needs must when the devil drives.”

  “Eh, and does this devil have a name, by any chance?”

  “Yes, my agent.” I knew what he meant, or rather who, but I wasn’t going to bite.

  “Well, it’s good to see you in here, love.” He pulled a pint as he spoke. “Tables yours, make yourself at home and I’ll send Meg over in a moment.”

  “Thanks, Davy. I’m starving.” I crossed to where I always sat on a Friday. My back was to the wall, and I could look out over the pub and see who came and went. I was a people-watcher, and often got inspirations for my drawings from the villagers.

  With no Parker and no one heading my way to ‘see how you’re doing’, I allowed myself to relax and open my sketchbook. I took a pencil from my hair and began to sketch the bar.

  ***—***—***

  The steak and kidney pie was homemade and delicious as always. But my appetite fled when Parker came in, looked around, and made a beeline to my table. He sat opposite me and opened the menu.

  “Excuse me,” I snapped.

  “Why? What did you do?” He arched an eyebrow at me.

  “Never mind me, what are you doing?” I demanded as heat crept into my cheeks. From my vantage point, I could see more than one person take an interest in this side of the room.

  “Choosing. It’s been a long time since I looked at this menu.”

  “Exactly. Go and choose somewhere else.”

  “There’s another pub?” He set the menu down.

  “You know bloody well—”

  “Hey, what can I get you?” Meg had arrived with her notepad and broad cheerful smile.

  “Lager, and another—” He looked at my empty glass.

  “Orange juice.” Meg betrayed me. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

  “I don’t want—” I was too late as she walked away.

  “How old is she?” he asked.

  I stared at him, and he had the grace to look sheepish.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he grunted. “I meant she looked too young to be working behind a bar.”

  “She’s eighteen,” I murmured.

  “We were eighteen once,” he replied, his gaze on my open sketchbook.

  “Pretty much everyone was or will be.” I snapped it shut.

  “You’re not making this easy for me, are you?”

  I put my cutlery down, unable to eat anymore for the lump in my throat.

  “We were friends once, maybe we—”

  I cut him off, “We were more than friends. Besides, we tried friends after you came home from the hospital. You do remember that, I suppose? The arguments, the migraines I gave you? The bloody nightmares?”

  “We were kids.” He shrugged, folding his hands together on the table.

  I picked up my sketch pad and pencil. “If you’d wanted to be friends it’s taken you a bloody long time to come home.”

  “I can recall some things.”

  His words took the wind from my sails, and I gaped at him. “What things? Us?”

  “Not quite. It’s like flashes of us together. I know it’s you, but I can’t see your face.”

  “What sort of flashes?”

  “A graveyard, climbing trees, reading, making love,” he murmured, his dark eyes holding mine.

  “How do you know it’s me you see? Have you fucked anyone else since me?”

  His gaze dropped to my plate, and heat suffused my cheeks as tears brimmed in my eyes. Of course, he’d been with other women. He was gorgeous. They probably fell at his feet with their legs open. But it wasn’t his fault I’d meant it when I told him there was no one else for me but him.

  I got up from the table, two seconds away from embarrassing myself.

  “Once, Lo, I tried once but it didn’t feel right. Sit down and finish your meal,” he ordered.

  My body wanted to obey, but my brain kicked it for being stupid, and I walked away. It was sheer bloody-mindedness that got me home without looking back. And I considered it an accomplishment. My first trip without my training wheels was wobbly, but I hadn’t fallen off even if I did cry myse
lf to sleep.

  ***--***--***

  AUTUMN ten years ago...

  “Wow! Come and see this crab, Parker!” I crouched studying the enormous crab scuttling around the rock pool.

  It wasn’t unusual to see crabs, but normally they were no bigger than my palm. This was a whopper. The sort caught to be eaten. I felt sorry for it.

  Parker hadn’t answered, and I was glad in a way. He’d catch it, sell it to Frank Wilkes, and crab would be on the menu for someone in the pub that night.

  “Live long and prosper, my friend. The evil Parker will not find you.”

  I stood, determined to move away before he spotted it. I turned, looking for him, but couldn’t see him.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Parker!”

  He might be in a rock pool, crouched behind a rock. But there was no reply and no head of tousled black hair appearing above the rocks.

  I moved to see if he’d gone onto our cove, but it was empty. The breeze picked up, and I shivered in my jacket.

  “Parker!”

  A dog barked, and I turned, seeing Mr Morgan and Sally, his Irish Setter, walking along the shoreline.

  “Mr Morgan!” I cupped my hands around my mouth as I shouted.

  He heard and waved.

  “Have you seen Parker? He was here and now he’s… not.” Well, that was the dumbest thing to come out of my mouth.

  “No. Was he with you?” he shouted, coming towards me on the sand. He said something to Sally, and she bounded across the beach and onto the rocks.

  “He was over there!” I pointed in the general direction. My stomach clenched in fear. Had he fallen and got swept out to sea? Or stuck in a gully unable to get out?

  Sally barked, and I made my way over to her. Mr Morgan was too old to clamber over the rocks, but he’d sent Sally to find Parker, and with horror, I realised she had.

  “He’s fallen!” I shouted as I spotted him lying on the pebbles between two steep rocky outcrops.

  “Stay with him. I’ll get help,” Mr Morgan shouted.

  I lifted a hand in acknowledgement, but he was hurrying up the beach. Sally gave a whine and raced after him.