by January Rowe
“Let’s sell the house, Tern. Property here is worth a lot of money.”
“Not an option. Aunt Alice’s house is security for you. As long as I’m able to work, this house is off the table.” It was a command.
He’d used that formal tone of voice with her only once before. And, unfortunately, she had disobeyed him. It didn’t end well. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I won’t bring up selling the house again.”
“Jillie, I know you want to spare me anxiety and pain.” He squeezed her hands gently, emphasizing the words. “But that’s not your job. Your job is to support me in this.”
“Yes,” she said, “I will.”
Their relationship was based on her anticipatory service, rather than his control. But every once in a while she got it wrong. She’d misinterpreted his transparency with a plea for help. She was grateful he was setting her right rather than getting angry.
“I know I can count on you,” he said.
“When are you leaving?” she asked.
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
Already? She felt like she’d just been punched in the gut. She couldn’t seem to breathe. Why wasn’t he giving her any warning? She knew the answer. He didn’t want her to mope and grieve for days on end. And she would have.
“Oh, Tern,” she said, her voice cracking.
“No crying, heart. We’re going to enjoy the time we have.”
He carried her upstairs to their room. Riding in his arms, she wondered how she would ever survive without him.
He laid her on their big brass bed. Her eyes clung to his. Slowly, he stripped her bare.
He looked down at her nude body, tender.
She didn’t want sweetness. She didn’t want romance. She wanted him to fuck her silly so she’d forget he was leaving. Fully clothed, he climbed on the bed, straddling her naked hips. He jerked her wrists above her head with one hand.
Her anticipation shot up a level.
With his free hand he traced her lips. “I love your mouth. Full. Soft. Giving. Always giving.”
His compliment confused her. Why talk about her lips when he could kiss them?
Kiss me, Sir.
He drew his large warm hand down her neck to caress her collarbone. He brushed the outer swells of her breast. Expectancy fired through her.
“I can’t get enough of your breasts. I love the way they swell up even bigger when I fondle them. And I adore your nipples. How they invite me for a visit.”
Again, a loving compliment.
He leaned down, his breath soft and warm against her chest. His hot tongue licked an erect nipple. Her heartbeat took off. She drew in a sharp breath, praying he’d abandon his strange praise and take off his clothes and do what came naturally.
He suckled the sensitive tip delicately, as if tasting her, committing her flavor to memory. He lifted up, brushing his palm over her other nipple. “Perfect.”
Uncoiling his hand from her wrists, he adjusted his position, sliding his body down hers. His rough fingers traveled down the slope of her belly, gently flowed over the curve of her hips. He caressed her hipbones, now moving up to circle her belly button. Her stomach jerked.
Lower, Sir!
“So sensitive, so lush.” He continued to stroke her stomach, long and leisurely.
Her breathing became a battle for air. Her core ached. Her clit pulsated with need. Was he teasing her? Was he testing her patience, enjoying her accelerating arousal? Did he want her to beg for release?
No. It wasn’t play. He wasn’t smirking, his eyes weren’t snapping with lust. His voice wasn’t growly, on the edge of control. The expression on his face was one of peculiar, sincere adoration.
His smoky eyes latched onto hers. His palms skimmed, traced, explored her skin as if it were Braille. Desire flared in her, hot and restless.
Fuck me, Sir. I want to forget.
But he didn’t fuck her. He stroked her thighs, her knees. He closed his teeth on her hipbone. Sharp, painful longing pushed through her. With delicate sweeping motions, his fingers trailed along the inner creases of her thighs. His touches inflamed her. How would she survive their separation?
“All woman,” he murmured.
She trembled violently when he slid his hand over her wet slit. He continued stroking.
“So wet, so swollen,” he said.
Frustration sizzled through her. She didn’t need his preparation, his sweet words. She was wet the minute he’d carried her up the stairs. She sucked in a ragged breath, confused by his self-control and languidness.
And then finally, he slid off her. He tossed away his clothing. Seeing his massive erection, she squealed with delight, arching her hips off the bed. He had been teasing her. Tern was as aroused as she was. She couldn’t wait for the coming mindless, insane fuck. Soon he’d make her forget he was leaving for North Dakota.
He slipped inside her, and she spasmed hard. She expected him to pound into her like he usually did. Maybe even harder, now that he’d denied himself by fondling her.
Instead, he seemed to settle and sigh and…stop.
“Focus on your feelings,” he said, laying a warm hand on her heart.
Feelings? She felt nothing but melancholy and fear. He was leaving. She didn’t want to feel. She wanted to forget.
Wasn’t he going to drive into her? Make her quiver and shake? No. He pulled her close, filling her, but not fulfilling her.
With only an occasional delicate thrust, he lay with her like that for hours, immersed in his own sensations.
Meanwhile, her heart was breaking. He was leaving.
Why had he picked tonight—of all nights—to experiment with Tantric sex?
He fucked her slow, if you could even call it fucking, until, with one unhurried thrust, he came. He stayed embedded inside her. Rolling on to their sides, they fell asleep.
In the morning he fucked her again, slow and methodical as if he was taking a slow motion video of their merging. Their sex was like a stew cooked in a Crock-Pot too long. Bland mush.
With a kiss, he pulled out of her, and went to take a shower. She lay in bed, listening to the sound of the water, consumed by dread and unappeased heat.
With a sigh, she got dressed. She promised to be supportive. No matter how raw she felt.
After showering and dressing, he packed his duffle. He was absorbed with the packing, barely acknowledging her. He spent the rest of the morning working on the computer that sat in the dining room.
She wanted to be near him, but he was distant toward her, building a barrier around himself to prepare for their separation. She busied herself in the kitchen.
He called her into the dining room. She rushed in, obedient, hoping to get an emotion from him.
He was all business. “I’ve set up Skype. It’s a program we’ll use to talk and see each other. Like a video. We’ll Skype every weekend.”
He showed her how to use the Skype program. His manner was brusque, as if he was her teacher, not her departing husband. She kept swallowing a dry lump in her throat as he continued to lecture her on the mechanics of life without him.
“Jaeger will come around,” he said. “He’ll make sure you have what you need. You can call him anytime for help. Swift will visit every chance he gets, too. I told him to leave his slave-of-the-week at home. You don’t need the aggravation of his high-maintenance girlfriends. And you know CeCe will always have your back.”
She bit her lip, nodding. Yes, yes, yes.
She heard the front door opening. Poppy was home.
A few moments later, Poppy rushed into the dining room, dumping her sleeping bag at Jill’s feet. “I been looking all over the house for you!”
“Did you have fun?” Jill asked, her voice shaky.
“A blast.” Poppy’s black eyes sparkled. “I got to see stars through a telescope! And we made popcorn! And then we told scary stories while we sat out in the tent!”
“You went camping? Th
at’s awesome. You hungry for some pancakes, muffin?” Tern asked.
“I am. I love pancakes!”
Tern fixed pancakes on their stove for the first time.
Only Poppy had an appetite.
“So what did you guys do when I was at my sleepover?” Poppy asked.
Fresh grief shuddered through Jill. She said nothing.
“We had dinner,” Tern said. “We set up a computer, too.”
“Oh.” Poppy grabbed another stack of pancakes.
After breakfast, Tern told Poppy he was leaving for a job far away.
“I don’t want you to go,” Poppy said.
“I’ll be back in a few weeks,” he said.
The little girl followed him around as he gathered a few last items. Jill just stood in the foyer, her heart in pieces.
Done with packing, he dropped his duffle near the front door. He stepped over to Jill, his eyes latching onto to hers. He tipped her chin. “I expect you to be strong, heart.” His voice was raw.
The doorbell rang.
“The shuttle’s here.” He turned away from Jill, and gave Poppy a pat on the head. “Be good, muffin.”
Tern hefted the duffle over his shoulder and opened the door. Watching him stroll out to the waiting shuttle, she took a deep, stabilizing breath.
She had to stop feeling sorry for herself. People had long-distance relationships all the time. If Tern had asked her to be strong, she’d be strong. Of course she’d be strong.
Tern took one look backward and waved. His jaw was clenched with suppressed emotion. She almost broke down.
When the shuttle drove off, Poppy started bawling. Jill cried, too. Not for herself, because she was strong, but for Poppy. Her little niece had finally accepted Tern as family, and now he was leaving.
Hugging Poppy close, she leaned against the doorframe, staring at the empty street.
“Miss you already, Sir.”
Chapter Six
Jill and Poppy had survived the first three days of Tern’s absence. It was registration for kindergarten day. Poppy was nearly exploding with excitement. Jill had made Poppy a special orange-and-yellow-flowered dress with ruffles at the hem. Poppy spun around, enchanted with the way the dress spiraled around her.
Jill tried to brush Poppy’s long dark hair.
“When are we going?” Poppy asked.
“As soon as I get your hair done. So stop swirling, girl!”
Poppy stilled for a second. But only a second.
Jill had intended to braid Poppy’s hair. She looked so adorable with two braids, like an Indian maiden. But on this day, the overly buoyant maiden didn’t have it in her. After a few more brush swipes, Jill popped the little girl’s hair into a single ponytail.
“Okay, Poppy, we can go now.”
Hand in hand, they headed over to Cobb Elementary School, hand in hand. School was only three blocks away. Jill walked. Poppy skipped. The closer they got, the more nervous Jill became. What if the teachers questioned Poppy’s guardianship documents? What if they thought Poppy was an illegal alien or something and demanded her birth certificate? What if they refused to let Poppy go to school? Jill couldn’t seem to keep her breath.
She wished Tern was there with them to straighten things out if registration went bad.
I’m going to be strong.
It turned out the school was welcoming and patient. The Cobb teachers were perfectly happy with the guardianship papers. They didn’t demand a birth certificate. One of the teachers, a young woman with pretty green eyes, took Poppy to another room. The teacher was going to test Poppy to find out if she was “kindergarten ready.” Jill felt sorry for Poppy. Jill despised tests.
Waiting out in the hall, she knew Poppy would do fine. Jill and Tern had been teaching her colors and numbers and even most letters.
After about ten minutes, the teacher popped her head out into the hall and invited Jill into the testing room.
Poppy was sitting at a tiny desk, coloring. She grinned up at Jill. “I knewed it all!”
Jill admired Poppy’s confidence, if not her grammar.
The teacher and Jill took seats in a different part of the room.
“Poppy is a very smart girl,” the teacher said. “We’d like to place her in Mrs. Phil’s first grade.”
“First grade? Not kindergarten?”
“She’s academically ready for first grade. Perhaps even second grade. Is it possible she’s older than five?”
Was she? Jill’s unease returned. It was like Jill suddenly didn’t know Poppy at all. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Perhaps she was home-schooled?”
Jill shrugged. She doubted Kim had devoted much time to educating Poppy.
“If you’d prefer,” the teacher said kindly, “we could put Poppy in kindergarten. She might get bored, but if it becomes a problem, we can move her up to first grade.”
Jill desperately wanted to talk it over with Tern and ask him what to do. The teacher seemed eager to have her decide right then and there. So she decided.
“I don’t want her to be bored. Let’s try her in first grade. But if she gets overwhelmed or stressed, I need to know there’s a place for her in kindergarten.”
The teacher agreed. She handed Jill the list of supplies Poppy would need.
* * * *
Saturday morning, as Jill was in the kitchen making soup, the doorbell rang. She heard Poppy scampering down the stairs and opening the door.
“Yay-Grrr!” Poppy cried, followed by giggles.
Wiping her hands on a towel, Jill came out to greet him. He held a Starbucks coffee cup in one hand.
“Since when do you ring the doorbell?” Jill asked. “Just come on in. The door’s open.”
“Don’t leave the door unlocked, Jill.” He growled. “I could have been a bad guy.”
She lifted a shoulder. The cop was getting all paranoid on her.
Poppy started scaling Jaeger’s legs like a monkey. The coffee cup nearly toppled.
“The coffee’s for you,” he said. “Can you take it? I’m being attacked.”
Jill grabbed the coffee.
He lifted Poppy high up into the air with both hands. After a wild, loud, private roller coaster ride, he let Poppy down.
“Bye.” The little girl raced back upstairs.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Jill said, taking a grateful sip. “Hey, we’re about to have lunch. I’m making tomato soup. With tomatoes from our garden. Please stay.”
“I appreciate the invite. But I just dropped by to see if you’re okay.” His cop face now turned on full. His eyes narrowed, all of his police observational senses trained on her. “Do you need anything?”
She laughed at his serious expression. “We’re doing fine. Tern hasn’t even been gone a week.”
“You getting the hang of using your cell phone? You aren’t letting it run down, are you?”
It felt like an interrogation. Why was her brother-in-law suddenly acting like Tern’s hyper-anxious stand-in?
She preferred the flirt.
“Stop worrying,” she said. “The phone’s all charged up. Tern and I talk every night. His reception there in North Dakota is lousy, so we don’t talk long. We tried to text a few times, but we aren’t good at it yet. Tern’s going to Skype with us later on. That should be a lot better.”
“Skype? I’ll go check up on your Internet connection.”
While she drank her coffee, Jaeger poked around the computer.
“The Internet’s working,” he announced. “Did he teach you how to use Skype?”
“Yes, Jaeger. Are you sure you can’t stay for lunch?”
“I’m sure.” His smoky blue eyes, so similar to Tern’s, fixed on hers. She felt an unexpected pang of longing for her man. Jaeger stood. “You call if you need me, Jill. And lock the door behind me.”
* * * *
That afternoon she sat down at the computer for her first Skype session. It took a few tries, but they finally connected.
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Her heart was filled with joy when she saw Tern’s face on the computer screen. He looked haggard. He’d stopped shaving.
“How are you?” they asked each other at the same time.
They both laughed. Their mutual concern suddenly made everything all right.
“What’s happening at home?” he asked. “Give me every single detail.”
“I never got to tell you about registering Poppy for school. She thought she’d start school that exact same day. She was so sad when I told her she wouldn’t start school for another few weeks. She was absolutely heartbroken. For all of a second.”
He smiled. “That’s our girl. Bounces right back, doesn’t she?”
“Bounce is the right word. I couldn’t get her to hold still while I was getting her ready. She looked kind of unkempt. Except for the new dress. Anyway, once we got to the school, they gave her some tests. And you know what? She’s advanced! I’m trying to register her for kindergarten and they end up putting her in first grade! The teacher thought she might even be ready for second grade.”
“Poppy, the genius. I’ll bet it’s all because of those birdhouses we built together.” He winked.
“For sure. How’s the job going?”
“Okay. Mainly dragging lumber around. I haven’t done any actual construction. I’m working overtime so maybe the boss will finally think I’m reliable enough to use a hammer. But the company did lend me a pickup truck. I can even drive it during off-hours. Where’s muffin? I’d like to talk to her, too.”
“She’s outside. Picking dandelions in the backyard, I suppose. I’ll go get her.”
Poppy was playing hopscotch on the small worn concrete pathway that lead to the vegetable garden. She clutched a dandelion bouquet.
“Tern’s on the computer. Come say hi to him!”
Poppy ran into the house with her flowers, settling in front of the computer.
“I see you!” Poppy cried.
She breathlessly told him about the ladybug she saw and how a little birdie had been sitting on top of the blue birdhouse.
“Will the bird come live there now?” she asked.
“It very well might,” he replied. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
