Eloquent Silence

by Sandra Brown

  "I can understand that," Andrew boomed, and clapped Drake heartily on the back between his shoulder blades. "I, for one, would much rather stay here than a motel. Mother, what do you say?" Andrew asked Alice. Everyone seemed to have forgotten Lauri, who had started violently at Drake's mention of moving into the master bedroom. Now she realized what he had in mind, and it infuriated her.

  "Well, naturally I'd rather be here with Lauri," Alice demurred.

  "Then it's settled," Drake said firmly. "Let me collect some of my things while Lauri changes the bed. Then we'll let you get some sleep. You must be exhausted."

  The next half hour was a concert of confusion. Drake went into the spare bedroom and came back through the living room carrying a box of shaving implements and personal items. A velour robe was draped rakishly over his shoulder. He winked broadly at Lauri as she sat listening to her parents' detailed account of their flight to Albuquerque and the drive to Whispers. She glared at him behind their backs.

  She put fresh linens on the bed, working slowly and hoping that Drake would return to the room. She planned to give him a piece of her mind about his sleeping arrangements for the night, but he avoided her. While her parents were saying good night, he put both hands around her waist and possessively drew her back against his chest.

  "I'm glad to have you for a son-in-law, Drake. Take care of my daughter and love her. That's all I ask," Andrew said.

  "I will, sir," Drake said solemnly. Lauri felt an urge to kick him in the shins.

  The older couple retired to their room. Docilely she followed Drake up the stairs, but as soon as she shut the door to the large bedroom, she faced him belligerently. "I know what you're thinking, Drake, and your little plan isn't going to work."

  "What am I thinking?" he asked as he stripped off his sweater for the second time that night.

  "You think I'm going to get in that bed with you."

  "It never entered my mind," he said offhandedly as he unzipped his jeans.

  "What are you doing?" she gulped.

  "Taking off my clothes. What does it look like?" As he proceeded to do just that, he said, "I toured with a road company of Hair one summer and, since then, have absolutely no modesty. If you're offended, turn around."

  His underwear was light blue, tight, and brief, and Lauri swallowed the lump in her throat as he stepped out of the jeans and casually tossed them onto a chair. He turned away from her and began to unfold the covers on the large bed.

  "I'm sleeping on the couch," she mumbled as she opened the closet where extra blankets were stored.

  "Suit yourself. Your dad may be a minister, but it's obvious that he appreciates the facts of life. What are you going to say to them when they see you there in the morning? Lovers' quarrel?"

  She could have slapped his smug face when she turned around and saw him propped up against the pillows, the sheet pulled up to his waist.

  "I'll wake up before they do."

  "Well, I'm glad you have it all figured out." He yawned and sank down among the pillows. "Good night."

  For lack of a biting reply she stalked out of the room with her arms full of blankets. She crept down the stairs and, with the help of the last flickering firelight, found her way to the bottom.

  She jumped in alarm when the overhead light was switched on.

  "Oh, dear, I hope I didn't startle you. I was coming up to ask for a few extra blankets," Alice explained. "I'm going to have to sleep on the couch. Your father is snoring so loud, I'll never get any sleep. He does that when he's especially tired, you know. What are you doing with those?" Alice noticed the blankets that Lauri was holding in her arms.

  "I – uh – I thought you and Daddy may need them before morning. Even this early in the season, it gets terribly cold here at night." My mother is sleeping on the couch! her mind screamed.

  "Well I'll be just fine. I may put another log on the fire. Your father wouldn't know if it came a blizzard before morning, so you just get back upstairs to your husband and stop worrying about us." Her mother kissed her on the cheek then turned back into the room. She was wearing the quilted robe Lauri had given her last Christmas. The fragrance of her face cream poignantly reminded Lauri of the moments in her childhood when her mother would come into Ellen's and her room to tuck them in at night.

  "Good night, Mother," she said softly as she retreated upstairs.

  She paused outside the door of the master bedroom. She considered going into Jennifer's room and sleeping with her, but her bed was not even as large as a twin-size. If she startled Jennifer in the middle of the night, it would raise another ruckus that would need to be explained. She had no choice but to join Drake in the wide bed.

  She opened the door quietly and slowly, hoping that maybe he had already drifted to sleep. Her hopes were dashed when he rolled over and looked at her quizzically. She hadn't turned on the light, but moonlight streamed in through the windows, and she could easily see his body outlined under the covers. Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs.

  "Having second thoughts?"

  "No I'm not," she said with emphasis. "Mother is sleeping on the couch to escape Father's snoring."

  "A trait I hope you haven't inherited," he said grouchily as he returned his head to the pillow and faced away from her.

  Oh! she fumed silently. He was insufferable. She made as much noise as possible while she brushed her teeth and washed her face. Still harboring her anger, she stripped off her robe and, without thinking, started for the bedroom. What was she doing?! She never slept in nightgowns, but she couldn't climb in bed with Drake like this.

  She opened a drawer and took out a pair of panties and a bra and pulled them on. They weren't much, but they were better than nothing – literally. If she wore her robe, she would be sweltering by morning. The lights were out; he would never see her.

  She tiptoed to the bed and slid between the sheets, careful to stay on the edge of the bed. She lay her head on the pillow and closed her eyes tightly, commanding her body to relax. She had almost succeeded when his voice came out of the darkness. "Did you put on your suit of armor?"

  "Shut up and leave me alone," she threatened, but without much conviction.

  "I intend to," Drake said. "For now. But you'll come around." He patted her on the bottom outside the covers before turning over and facing away from her.

  Well at least he hadn't forced his attentions on her. She was glad about that. Wasn't she?

  * * *

  A soft violet dawn crept in through the windows. But it wasn't that harbinger of morning that woke Lauri from a deep sleep. She lay on her stomach, her face buried in the pillow. Something warm and moist was caressing her back with slow deliberation. She awoke reluctantly, relishing this euphoric haze between wakefulness and sleep. She wanted this floating sensation to last forever.

  The fastener on her bra gave way under skilled fingers, and the thin strap that crossed her back was pushed aside. She awoke fully then, and her muscles tensed under the hypnotic massage that was keeping her in this languorous submission.

  "Drake?" she whispered.

  "Hmm?" was the only response.

  It was hard to conjure up antagonistic feelings while he continued his ministrations. "What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

  "Having breakfast," he murmured as he nibbled the soft skin on her shoulders. His hands rubbed the small of her back and smoothed over the curve of her hips. "It's delicious. "

  His voice was no louder than an expulsion of breath. Lauri moaned and pressed her face farther into the pillow when she felt the moist, velvet texture of his tongue sampling the delights of her spine.

  One heavy hair-roughened leg was lying across the back of her thighs securing her on the bed while he continued to caress her back with his mouth and hands. He worked his way down to her waist and then started back up. This time he nibbled at her side, along her ribs.

  When he reached her armpit, he rolled her over gently onto her back and stared into her slumb
erous, amber eyes as he stroked the tousled hair away from her face.

  "Good morning," he said.

  "Good morning."

  He slipped the straps of her bra away from her arms, removing the garment with ease. He looked down at her skin, which was warm and flushed from sleep. Lauri closed her eyes, not able to meet the burning intensity of his gaze as he settled his body over hers.

  He raised her arms above her head and, starting at her elbow, kissed and nibbled the sensitive undersides of her upper arms until she wanted to cry out with joy. His mouth trailed across her collarbone and up her neck until he hovered over her lips that were parted and expectant.

  His patient arousal of her senses was well rewarded when she kissed him with a fervor that left them both shaken. Tongues, teeth, and lips were choreographed in a beautiful synchronization that brought the dancers to the height of pleasure.

  His earlier appetite for her hadn't been appeased, and he was greedy. His mouth and hands begged for cessation of the hunger that had gnawed at him since he had first met her.

  "You taste so good. You're sweet … warm … soft," he whispered as he inched lower and focused his ardent attention on her yearning breasts, which anticipated the relief that only his lips could provide. He set about the welcomed task, and Lauri called his name softly as she grasped his shoulders with her hands.

  She forbade any thoughts that might have shadowed the bliss of the moment, but they came unbidden to her mind. Even as she felt the urgency of his desire pressing against her, she was reminded that it was only that – desire. He didn't – couldn't – love her. When his lust had been gratified, what then? Would he walk away unscathed, leaving her with an empty heart? No! She mustn't let this happen. She could tolerate his arrogance, his role-playing, his scorn, his anger, but she could never withstand his indifference.

  Yet, she wanted him. Her mind was denying what her body craved. She arched against his strong length and writhed under the dizzying caress of his mouth on her stomach.

  His fingers smoothed over the skin of her abdomen and touched the soft mound that throbbed and felt heavy with moisture and heat. Lauri gasped sharply. His action catapulted her into the realm of reality. Did he even realize it was she who was lying beneath him? Was he thinking of Susan? Imagining—

  Lauri's hands were at his shoulders, pushing him away with a strength garnered from panic and revulsion. "No, Drake. Please. No more." He raised his head and saw her anguished face and the tears – which she was unconscious of. They coursed from the outer corners of her eyes till they disappeared in the mussed auburn strands that fanned onto the pillow.

  "Lauri?" he asked her softly. He propped himself on one elbow and leaned over her, stopping one rivulet of tears with his finger. The other he sipped from her cheek with solicitous lips.

  "I'm not going to ravish you, Lauri," he spoke softly. There was no mocking tone in his voice. "I find that I, too, have a bad case of the scruples. Your folks welcomed me into their family with unconditional acceptance. I wouldn't feel right taking you – as much as I want to – while they're downstairs, believing that we're married." He stroked her temple with his finger and whispered, "You never need to be afraid of me." He kissed her gently on the lips.

  She could feel his breath in her own nostrils, in her mouth, when he said, "Please. One more taste of milk and honey." He cupped her breast with his hand and lifted it slightly as he lowered his head. He took the pink crest into his mouth. It was a gesture void of passion, but abundant with longing. He tugged on her gently. It was no more than a flexing of his cheek muscles, but Lauri felt it in every cell of her body.

  He disengaged himself from her and left the bed. Stepping into his jeans, he said over his shoulder, "I think I hear Jennifer stirring. I'll get her dressed and meet you downstairs." He paused once more at the door. "For what I gave up this morning, I should either be committed or canonized." He smiled at her tenderly before he left the room.

  For a while everything was all right.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  «^»

  But everything wasn't all right, and there was no reward in pretending it was. Lauri felt like a hypocrite as she sat at the breakfast table with her parents, Drake, and Jennifer. Alice had insisted on preparing a sumptuous breakfast in honor of the newlyweds. For that reason alone Lauri felt guilty.

  Alice regaled them with news of Ellen's family, showed them pictures of her two boys, which Drake duly inspected. She told Drake vignettes of Lauri's childhood that made her blush and him laugh. Had she not known better, Lauri would have thought he was enjoying himself. He acted like a new son-in-law striving to impress his bride's family.

  He flattered her mother and listened with absorbing interest when her father launched into one of his stories that were traditionally monotonous. At their urging he divulged the inside gossip surrounding the soap opera. Alice wanted to know about all the behind-the-scenes love affairs – who was married, who wasn't. Was this actress as pretty in person as she was on the show? Did they get to keep the clothes they wore? Who cooked the food they used on the sets? And so on. He answered patiently and even colored some of his tales to make his titillating revelations even more entertaining.

  Their conversations were signed for Jennifer's benefit, though everyone knew that she didn't understand it all. Because of Ellen, the Parrishes were accustomed to using sign and used it automatically. Jennifer accepted them immediately, and her acceptance was reciprocated.

  If Jennifer had other grandparents, Lauri wasn't aware of it. Drake's parents were dead. She knew so little about Susan, she had no way of knowing if her parents had ever seen their grandchild.

  Drake insisted on helping Alice do the breakfast dishes while Lauri made the beds. Andrew settled in the living room to read the newspaper. Jennifer chose to sit on his lap and look at the comics.

  Lauri went upstairs to do her morning chores. Unwillingly she acknowledged the lump that rose in her throat, and it took every ounce of will to restrain the tears that pricked her eyelids. This would all be so wonderful if it were true. But it was a sham, a charade. Drake was exercising his acting abilities in a demanding role and performing brilliantly. He should be proud of himself.

  Making the large bed that they had shared stirred memories that were plainly etched on her mind. He had been tender and gentle: she had responded to him as she had to no other man in her life.

  On her wedding night she had gone to Paul's bed a virgin. Under his impatient guidance her initiation into the rites of love had been less than enchanting, but she had assumed that sex was overrated. Had it lost its mystique through too great expectations? Was the actuality dimmed by eager anticipation?

  Vividly she could recall one night when Paul had been particularly disgruntled over a song he was working on. As was his habit when he was frustrated, he came to bed seeking an outlet for his vexation. He had awakened her, and she had sleepily performed the ritual. When his lust had been satisfied, he got up and was pulling on his jeans when he said disgustedly, "You don't trouble yourself to do anything you don't have to, do you?"

  She was stung by his words. He had shown no tenderness, no love. There had been no stroking, no attempt to arouse her. Yet he expected her to react with instantaneous passion to his hurried, frantic lovemaking.

  By then she was wide-awake, and she sat up in the bed and said heatedly, "I can't turn on like a light switch, Paul, just because you're ready for sex. If you really cared, you'd take a little more time—"

  "Don't go coaching me on how to make love!"

  "Then coach me!" she cried. "I want to learn to please you. Teach me." She was desperate for his love. Her body and soul cried out for him to love her.

  He zipped up his jeans with a gesture of finality. "What good would it do? You'll always be the modest little preacher's kid." He turned away from her and left the bedroom; she had cried herself into an exhausted sleep.

  Now, as she smoothed out the bedcovers on Drake's bed, sh
e shivered when she remembered what his touch had been like. He had petted her and caressed her in a way that Paul had never done. He had looked at her body, studied it, praised it, not just used it. She had always dreaded the moment when Paul painfully and abruptly fused his body with hers. For her it had been an invasion, a violation.

  Instinctively she knew that it wouldn't be that way with Drake. He would take himself into her as if receiving an esteemed gift. When he had appreciated that gift to the fullest and enriched it by his acceptance, he would return it in a way she had never experienced before.

  She thrust those heartrending thoughts from her mind, dressed quickly, and went downstairs. Jennifer wasn't too happy about giving up her place on Andrew's lap and going with Lauri into the classroom. Lauri insisted that they have a few lessons since they hadn't had any the day before when they had played hooky and gone to Albuquerque.

  Had that been yesterday?

  Andrew made the recalcitrant pupil more cooperative when he asked permission to join the lessons. Lauri conceded, knowing that her father had participated in Ellen's education and would help her to hold Jennifer's wandering attention.

  Drake asked Alice if she would like to see some of the town and she was delighted at his invitation. They left with a promise to return by lunchtime.

  If anything, lunch was more festive and relaxed than breakfast. Everyone was having a merry time except Lauri. She was consumed by guilt over this deception, which she made no effort to disclose. It mustn't go on! But how was she to stop it?

  Her brows were knit in consternation, and when Drake caught her eye, he had a perplexed expression on his face. As if you don't know what's wrong with me, she thought as she threw daggers with her russet eyes.

  "Do you ever fish in any of these streams, Drake?" her father asked, interrupting her angry musings.

  "Yes, sir. Would you like to fish for a while this afternoon?"

  "I didn't bring the proper clothes, although I would have enjoyed that." His voice reflected his disappointment.