by Sharon Sala
Laughter erupted as the others began teasing the man, claiming he didn’t even like venison and just went hunting to get out of the house.
The joking put them all at ease. They shifted from teasing the lazy hunter to praising her service to the country, along with a half dozen promises to pray for her healing. She was both surprised and touched by their sincerity.
“Thanks,” she said. “So, what’s good on the menu?”
“Burgers and fries,” they all said in unison.
One of the waitresses sped by with a pitcher of iced tea.
“Pick yourselves a seat. I’ll be right with you.”
They sat down at an empty table just ahead of their waitress, who came by with glasses of water.
“Hey, Quinn. Hey, Mariah, nice to meet you. I’m Sue Ellen. Me and Quinn are kin.”
Mariah smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I believe I’ll have a burger and fries. Everything on it.”
“Same for me,” Quinn said.
“Sweet tea or pop?” Sue Ellen asked.
“Tea for both of us,” Quinn said.
Sue Ellen wiggled a finger in goodbye and ran off to put in the order. Conversation resumed around them, which prompted one of the customers to fill Quinn in on the latest gossip.
“Hey, Quinn, you hear about the new business goin’ in up on the mountain?”
“Can’t say I have. Fill me in.”
“Remember Lonnie Farrell?”
Quinn flashed on a skinny, pimple-faced kid who was always in trouble with the law. “Yeah, I remember Lonnie.”
“Well, he’s back in a big way. Went and bought the old Foley Brothers Mine, and now he’s starting up a mushroom farm in it. He hired his brother-in-law, Buell Smith, as manager, and already has more than two dozen men on the payroll. There’s big talk about what a good deal this is. Hasn’t been work on that mountain since the mine closed.”
Quinn nodded. “Mushrooms, huh?”
“That’s what I heard.” Then he grinned. “It’ll be a surprise if it’s the kind you eat ’stead of the kind you smoke.”
The room erupted in shared laughter.
Mariah leaned closer to Quinn. “What am I missing?”
“Lonnie’s a little older than me, but he hasn’t been back to Rebel Ridge since he was a teenager. He got busted for making and selling meth, and hauled off to jail. He never came back, but he funnels enough money back to his mama to keep her in a style better than most.”
“Oh, that ain’t all,” the man added. “He came back dressed fit to kill and driving a big black Hummer. He’s made it big, that’s for sure.”
At that point Sue Ellen came back with their burgers and fries, and Quinn filed the info away for future reference. It paid to stay current with what was happening with the neighbors, especially those with iffy pasts.
Twelve
By the time they finished their food Mariah was no longer the stranger in town. She was Quinn Walker’s girl. Even if it wasn’t technically true, she liked how it made her feel. She made a trip to the bathroom while he was paying, then they stopped at the small grocery store to pick up what they needed for tomorrow’s cookout.
She used the shopping cart for a walker as Quinn filled it up, and though she was in pain as they drove out of town, she wouldn’t have changed a thing. The trip off the mountain had been worth it.
When Quinn turned on the radio, she stretched her leg out in front of her, leaned back and closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, they were driving up the road toward the cabin. She sat up with a jerk.
“Did I snore?”
“Something awful,” he said. His expression was blank, but his eyes were dancing.
“You lie!”
He grinned.
“I don’t even care if I did,” she said.
He wasn’t going to tell her that she’d cried out, because wherever she’d been in her sleep, it appeared she’d left it behind when she woke.
“We’re here,” he said, as he pulled up and killed the engine. “Hold on a sec and I’ll help you up the steps.”
“No. I’ve got it. I’ve been practicing, and it’s easier going up than coming down. You’ll see.”
Quinn watched from the corner of his eye until she reached the steps. She paused, as if steadying her balance, grabbed the railing and took the first step up, then the next and the next, until she was on the deck. The moment she reached the top she turned and threw her hands in the air.
“Ta-da!”
He began to clap. “Way to go, pretty girl,” he said, then grabbed a couple of grocery sacks, hurried up the steps and unlocked the door, winking at her as he passed.
Mariah sighed. If she could have, she would have done a little dance. She promised herself that one day she would dance again, hopefully with him.
Still stiff from the ride, she stayed out on the deck to walk it off while Quinn carried in the rest of the groceries. She walked the U-shaped deck from one end to the other until the muscle spasms had eased.
Quinn was sitting on the end of her mattress watching TV when she went back inside. The minute she saw his face, her stomach roiled. This had been such a good day, and something told her it was going to hell.
“What’s wrong?”
He looked up. “Remember Dewey Pomeroy?”
“The blond-haired guy from motor pool?”
“Yeah. He was killed two days ago in a firefight in Kabul. I liked Dewey. He was a real nice guy.”
Mariah felt sick, thinking about the big broad-shouldered guy with the goofy sideways grin being dead.
“Shit.”
Quinn blinked. She’d pretty much summed up his feelings, too. He headed for the kitchen and came back with two cans of beer, popped the top on one and handed it to her, then opened the other for himself.
“To Dewey,” he said.
Tears burned the backs of Mariah’s eyes, but she wouldn’t cry.
“To Dewey,” she echoed.
They took a drink, then a second, and without speaking went out to the back deck. She sat down in one of the deck chairs, but Quinn moved to the top step and sat down alone, his back to her as he stared out across the meadow. Every now and then he would take a drink, but he didn’t talk.
She kept thinking there was something she should be saying, but she knew if she tried to talk she would cry. Time passed as they continued to sip their beer, and as she sat, the peacefulness of the place began to settle the turmoil within.
A thin, high-pitched screech caught her attention. She looked up and saw a hawk slowly circling in the sky above them—a sad reminder that life went on, no matter who was around to live it.
She finished her beer, then crushed the can and went inside. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she crawled into her bed, curled up on her side and closed her eyes. It was a mistake. One image after another of Dewey Pomeroy flashed through her mind: of him sliding out from under a Humvee with grease all over his face; his fingers bleeding in half a dozen places when a shattered fan blade broke in his hand; the way he laughed when he told a joke—and the sweet expression he got on his face when he talked about his wife.
Somewhere his family was in mourning.
She took a breath, then choked on a sob.
The back door opened. She lay without moving, listening to the sound of Quinn’s footsteps, then the clink of the empty beer can that he dropped in the trash.
* * *
Quinn felt numb. He knew he should be used to this kind of news. It was what happened in a war, but it made him feel empty—like he was all used up. He stopped at the end of the living room. Mariah was in bed. She must have sensed he was there, because she suddenly rolled over to face him.
There were tears on her face. She’d been crying. He wished he could. Maybe the knot in his belly would ease enough that it wouldn’t hurt to breathe.
She patted the edge of the mattress, as if offering him a place to sit—a case of grief seeking solace.
He wanted to make love
to her.
“Talk to me,” she said.
Quinn moved closer, stopping short of sitting down. “I don’t want to talk.”
Mariah shivered. She knew what he wanted. It had been so long, and she was as vulnerable now as she’d ever been. If they started this up again, would she be strong enough to lose him if it didn’t work out?
Then her instinct for self-preservation kicked in. What the hell. She’d been hopping on one foot most of her life without backup. If this didn’t work out, she still had the other foot to fall back on. She sat up and pulled off her shirt.
Quinn’s heart thudded hard in his chest as a little wave of shock swept through him, but that was the last of his hesitation. He kicked off his shoes and started toward her.
She unzipped her jeans and wiggled out of the rest of her clothes as he stripped and crawled onto the bed, then took her in his arms. There was nothing between them now but the dog tags he still wore around his neck. Three years had come and gone, and she still curled against him as perfectly as if she’d been made to fit. When she wrapped her arms around him, the emptiness vanished.
“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you,” he whispered.
She leaned back.
“We’ve already been hurt. I’m tired of hurting. We know how to make each other feel good, remember?”
His nostrils flared. “Hell yes, I remember. You set fire to my blood, pretty girl.”
“Then make love to me, Quinn…make love because we still can.”
He cupped the back of her head and pulled her close.
Her lips were as soft as he remembered. They opened at his touch like a flower to the sun, yielding to his need. Her hands felt small on his back, but he knew her strength. He cupped her breasts, brushing his thumbs across her nipples. She moaned as they hardened to his touch. When he slid a hand between her legs, she arched upward, pushing against the pressure of his palm.
He knew how she liked it.
She knew what turned him on.
All of a sudden her hands were on his chest, then sliding down his belly and encircling his erection. Now he was the one struggling to draw breath. The heat between them ignited as he rolled her over onto her back, settling easily between her legs.
“Now or never,” he whispered.
“Now,” she begged, and shuddered when he slid inside.
For Quinn, it was a homecoming.
For Mariah, it was a reunion with the man who made her whole.
Then he began to move—thrusting deep, in and out, over and over—rocking in that slow, steady rhythm she knew so well. In her heart, she was finally dancing—following his lead, because she knew all the steps—and the miracle they were seeking began to happen. When they were in each other’s arms, the rest of the world ceased to matter.
One moment Mariah was riding a building heat wave, then all of a sudden was hit with an orgasm that made her think she was falling. She screamed, first in shock, then in ecstasy, as the waves rolled through her.
Quinn felt her coming, from the first tremors inside her, to the orgasm’s peak. But then she screamed and he lost control, coming so hard he forgot to breathe, spilling his seed in hard, urgent bursts until he collapsed in utter bliss.
They clung to each other in silence, remembering why they’d made love, knowing this had happened out of a sense of shared grief and at the same time acknowledging that there was far more between them than good sex.
It was Quinn who finally broke the silence.
“That was the best that I’ve felt since the last time we did this.”
Mariah pushed out of his arms and sat up.
He sat up, as well, waiting for her response. The scars on her body were as blatant as a slap in the face, and yet she wore them like a badge, with no excuses. Her body was damp with sweat, her lips swollen from his kisses. If there had been a way to measure the energy between them, it would have lit up the room.
Unashamed of her nudity, she touched his face, then his mouth, then laid her hand in the middle of his chest. To her surprise, his heartbeat matched the steady rhythm of her own. Her voice was quiet when she spoke.
“I have never denied that you turn me on, but I also have never told you how much you mean to me, and that’s stupid. We know, better than most, how short life can be. I grieved for you after you were gone. I didn’t know how to find you.”
Quinn threaded his fingers through hers, then gave them a gentle squeeze.
“That’s because I was lost. It took forever before I trusted myself around anyone, even family. I moved off to an old trailer after my body healed, because I was afraid of what I might do when I forgot where I was. I didn’t quit on you, but I almost quit on myself. Can you understand?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Completely.”
“I still have moments when I lose it. Hell, for all I know, that may never go away. But I’d given up on believing I would ever have any kind of a life or anyone to share it. Then I found out what happened to you, and that you were about to be released on your own, and all I could remember was your face and your smile and the way we made love.”
“I don’t know where you want this to go,” she said.
“As far as you’ll let it. I don’t want to lose you again.”
Her voice was as shaky as the hand she cupped against the side of his cheek.
“I don’t want to lose you, either, but I won’t promise you anything until I’m convinced I’m gaining ground, not losing it.”
“But you’re—”
“No, Quinn, no buts. I feel crazy in my head, and physically, I can’t even run without falling. I feel like a cripple in every way that matters, and until that goes away, or until I learn how to handle it, there’ll be no commitment between us. Is that a deal?”
It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he understood.
“Deal—if you don’t shut me out of your bed.”
“Deal.”
She offered her hand.
He shook on it, and the deal was sealed.
“I’m still sad about Dewey,” she said.
And just like that, the reason they’d made love was back between them.
“Hell, honey, so am I. As sad as a man can be and still keep breathing. I’m tired of losing friends. I quit going to funerals. The only thing I can do is keep living the best life I can, because they don’t have that chance.”
Mariah nodded, then glanced toward the window and frowned. “It’s getting dark.”
“Night comes fast on the mountain. I’m going to take a quick shower before I make us some supper.”
“I need a shower, too,” she said.
He grinned. “Race you?”
She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been here before, and I wound up with a cold ass. The least you could do is be a gentleman and—”
He rolled off the bed and grabbed his clothes. “Whining will get you nowhere, woman. I’ll wait until you’re standing up, then the race is on.”
“Oh, for the love of Pete,” Mariah said, as she scooted clumsily off the bed and picked up her clothes. “I demand a handicap. I should get at least a five-step start before—”
He bolted for the stairs, still as naked as the day he was born, except for his dog tags.
Mariah squealed, then laughed and stumbled toward the downstairs bathroom, cursing him as she went.
* * *
The grill was hot, and the burgers were shaped into patties and sitting in the refrigerator waiting to be cooked. The cabin felt homey with all the hustle and bustle of preparing for company, and Mariah was actually getting excited. She had taken the sheets off her bed and turned it back into a sofa so that there would be more seating. On her own, she dusted the house and cleaned the hardwood floors until they glistened.
Quinn watched as she worked, gauging her mood by the expression on her face before he finally relaxed. Yesterday had been a turning point for both of them. Making love had been inevitable, but accepting that they both wanted more was even better. It was
the first time since he’d come back from Afghanistan that he let himself believe he could be happy again.
By the time she’d finished the floor she was limping. That was when he took the dust mop out of her hand.
“You’ve done enough. I don’t want you worn-out and hurting before they even get here, okay?”
She frowned. “I want to do my part. It’s bad enough that I’m letting you and everyone else take care of me. I can’t help in any other way but this. Lord knows we don’t want to be eating anything I’d try to make.”
He laughed, then slid his arms around her waist and cupped her hips.
“I’m not doing a damn thing I don’t want to do and don’t you forget it.”
Mariah locked her hands around his neck and kissed him, feeling the strength in his touch and the gentle demand of his lips as he deepened the kiss. He made her feel safe. He made her feel loved.
Quinn groaned as he finally pulled away.
“If company wasn’t coming, you and I would so be taking our clothes off right now.”
She smiled. It was a heady thing to know she had “that kind of power” over a man she so adored.
“What time are they due?”
“After church. They’ll probably get here just before one o’clock.”
Growing up like she had, church had never been part of Mariah’s daily routine.
“Do you go to church?”
“I used to.”
“So what changed?”
“Me,” he said, and looked away.
She knew what he meant and didn’t push the issue. It was hard to see the death and destruction they’d seen and not be changed in some way. Faith of any kind was definitely a struggle.
She glanced at the clock. It was just after noon.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m sort of hungry. What do you say we open a bag of chips a little early?”
Quinn sighed. And just like that, she’d changed the darkness of the moment without even knowing it.
“I say yes, and let’s pop the top on that ranch dip, too.”
“Good call. It’s our duty to make sure what we serve is edible, right?”
He grinned. “Exactly.”
At his bidding, Mariah sat down, easing the weight on her leg, while Quinn brought the chips and dip to the table, along with a couple of cans of Pepsi, and by the time they’d finished their snack the mood had shifted back to a happy one.
