Wild Poppy

by Victoria Johns

  Was this God’s way of continually showing me how misplaced my own aspirations had been?

  “Hey… Where are you?”

  I snapped back to the reality in front of me and realized I’d been lost in my musings while she was right there. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Where did that come from?”

  Standing naked in the tiny hotel bathroom probably wasn’t the best place to start this conversation. What the fuck was I going to say now? I had no idea, but I had to come up with something. “I’ve... just... not lead the best life.”

  Penny put her arms around me, flooring me with her compassion. This beautiful, trusting woman was comforting me. With her pretty tits squashed up against me, she looked away, swallowing hard before she spoke. “We’ve all got a past, all done things we wished we hadn’t, all been places we’d rather forget.”

  My heart punched and clenched, the last thing I wanted was her trying to make me feel better.

  Penny was a victim.

  I was a perpetrator.

  Words were dangerous. Words would lead us to a place I wasn’t ready to take us to, so I kissed her. Kissing removed both the need and ability for conversation.

  Within a minute or so, the room was full of steam, only making the moment so much more erotic. It was like a teenage fantasy I’d wanked over as a kid when watching a dodgy porn film.

  “How sore are you?”

  “I’ll cope,” she whispered into my mouth.

  Still trying to keep her in the control seat, I perched on the edge of the tub and let her straddle me. This time she bounced more vigorously, and it felt like the best sex I’d ever had—well, since the last night anyway—and I got to watch her fully. Head thrown back, steam swirling, body dripping with water.

  Literally magnificent.

  After a while, I could feel myself falling over the edge and I needed to make sure she was with me, so I took a chance and held her at the waist. When she bounced down, I slammed up and when I heard her groan, I knew she was into it, right here with me in this moment. Trusting me to treat her with care.

  If I got to keep this wild beauty in my life, this would be how I’d bring her back to life. Slowly, I would show her what a man’s touch should really be like. I’d never known sex be like this, and it crossed my mind that I wasn’t entirely sure about who was reviving who.

  “Yes! Just there!”

  “You like that, huh?”

  Penny didn’t reply but worked with me, slamming herself down as I surged.

  There were no words needed; actions spoke so much louder. Her moaning intensified and I felt her whole-body quiver, inside and out, just like last night, and instead of watching her go this time, I went with her.

  We stayed locked together, both breathing through the high, waiting for the low.

  Or rather, I was.

  My subconscious would serve it up, remind me again and again what an absolute shit heel I was. Taking this precious gift, again and again, and doing so with deceit.

  “I think I need a cold shower.” She chuckled and kissed me gently on the lips. Her face suddenly looked shy and timid. “Thank you.”

  Here it came.

  The knife to my heart and soul that was pushed deeper and deeper everyday with no sign of easing up. The blood that leaked from that wound was dark, thick and infected, and seeping slowly into the core of my body. Soon it would overwhelm me. It would send me back to the darkest of places that I’d only just clawed my way out of last time.

  I wasn’t sure I would survive that again.

  “Never thank me.” My words came out gruff and her face dropped. “Never thank me for letting me be part of bringing you back to life.”

  We showered, soaping and cleaning each other, and Penny rambled on about everything and nothing. Always stuff about the present, though—Bullet, Vinnie or our safe haven homes in the middle of nowhere. Never ever the past. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear her life had only started when she came to Pitlochry.

  And the problem was, it felt like that was the case for me. Until Penny, I’d been wandering around in purgatory, waiting for something to cleanse my soul so I still deserved to be on the list to go to heaven. Unfortunately, with all the lies it seemed like that was impossible and I was about to go straight to hell.

  Go to hell.

  Go directly to hell.

  Do not pass go.

  Do not collect two hundred dollars.

  “Another history lesson?”

  She rolled her eyes but I could see she was faking irritation. So we jumped on the bike and rode to the last place on my mystery tour.

  “Hey, to appreciate the monster, it needs context.”

  “Hit me with the data.” Penny clapped her hands together and rubbed the palms like she was gearing up for something exciting.

  She also said it ‘datta.’ “Cute. Just one more thing, though, socks and shoes off.”

  She looked at me like I’d lost the plot. “Are you insane? It’s cold!”

  “Not quite the OC, I know, but get on with it.”

  I took the lead. Sat on the edge of the water, I kicked off my boots, stripped off my socks and rolled my jeans up my calves. Hiding the discomfort, I gingerly lowered my feet into the freezing cold water. After three or four seconds, I ignored it, feeling comfortable, like it called to me, fused with my own blood and connected me to my motherland.

  “Can’t you just tell me,” she whined.

  I ignored her, knowing she’d give in eventually. At least I hoped she would. If she dragged this out, I was in trouble. I might have loved being connected to the water, but I’d already lost the feeling in my little toes and kicking the gear lever on the bike with dead, blue feet would be a challenge.

  “I’m not amused,” she huffed, and was by my side a couple of minutes later, removing her footwear. “Sweet Jesus, this is not fun!”

  Sweet Jesus? Really?

  “Now we can begin. This freshwater lake is called a loch in Scotland. Welcome to the famous Loch Ness.”

  “Lochhh Ness.” She emphasized the Scottish part, very much taking the piss out of me. Like any normal teacher did when their student got lippy, I raised a brow until she smiled.

  Cute and cheeky.

  “Lochhh”—I did it this time—“Ness, is over twenty miles long and eventually feeds into the sea by a series of rivers, streams and other lochs.”

  “Geography, check!” Penny mimed checking an item off a list.

  “It isn’t the biggest—that would be Loch Lomond—but in terms of water mass it is, because it’s deeper.”

  “How deep?”

  I leaned closer and waggled my eyebrows. “Monster deep.”

  “Oooh.”

  “More water in this bad boy than all the freshwater lakes in little England and wee Wales.”

  “Impressive. Check. Now, tell me about the monster.” Her eyes shone, which was a shame, because I was probably the only monster here.

  A lying, deceitful, murdering monster.

  “It’s a lake monster.”

  “Well, duh.” Penny flung her arms out pointing to the obvious, the big fucking lake it supposedly lived in.

  “One photo from fuckin’ years ago makes it look like a sea serpent, but I think the pictures we used to draw as kids were much better.” I reminisced back to a time when life was innocent and all I wanted to do was hide in the living room away from my parents, scribbling on a bit of scrap paper with my Crayolas.

  Penny moved her feet sending ripples of water my way. “Kids always have the very best imagination. I remember drawing Bigfoot as a kid. I didn’t go near the woods for a good couple of years after that, scared myself silly.”

  I leaned closer to her, trying to create tension and atmosphere. I could tell she wasn’t buying into it, though. “Scientists dispute old Nessie.”

  “Like Area 51.”

  “Probably. They’ve come up with a theory of opposing views every time there’s a sighting. But it�
��s good to have some imagination, you know, a little faith.”

  “Faith?”

  “Yeah, faith. Everyone needs it.” Penny went to stand up abruptly, and I held her hand to stop her. Not surprisingly, she shrugged me off and stood up. “Where you going?”

  “It’s cold. We should get moving.” It was like the cold had overcome her and turned her to frost completely.

  Her reaction was odd, and I didn’t want to press her, but I just couldn’t let it go. “What just happened?”

  I watched as she tried to vigorously dry her feet on her socks. “Told you, I don’t have faith.”

  I stood up to join her. “What? None?”

  “Only in myself, that’s the only faith I can rely on.”

  “What about religion? Weren’t you baptized?”

  “I was, but I’ve since learned that religion isn’t about faith and believing.”

  Whatever she was working through inside her head, I had to understand, get to the bottom of it. I’d been as close to being a man of God as possible and while I fucked that up, I still wanted to believe I still had some faith. “Explain it to me.”

  Penny was unpacking a panier in a hurried and angry manner. I assumed she was looking for dry socks. “Faith is a fallacy. It’s not about believing. It’s about oppression.”

  Now it all made sense. It clicked into place based on what Shadow had told me.

  “And what about those who have faith?”

  “Deluded.”

  “Deluded?” I might have abandoned mine, but that still hurt.

  “Yes. If people enjoyed their faith, they’d feel glad about it instead of all the guilt and suffering that comes with it.” Well, fuck me, I couldn’t argue with that and she forged on. “Nothing good should make you feel like you’re suffering.” I remained silent, watching her, completely forgetting that my feet were fucking freezing and I was stood on a dusty bank on the side of Loch Ness.

  “But my biggest fucking problem is those who make others suffer under the guise of faith. Those despicable people who inflict the suffering on others.”

  I wanted to counter her words and something inside me told me I should. “Only through true suffering do we inspire change.” I could see Father O’Farrall preaching those words to me, time and time again, and then all I could see was penance and Hail Marys, everything I’d been conditioned to agree with around belief and faith.

  Then like a flash of light, I realized that I’d used the word conditioned.

  “Those who enjoy inflicting that suffering don’t want to be the ones to fucking change. They make you suffer unimaginably so you’ll change. It’s just brainwashing in the name of faith.”

  How could I not agree with some of her points?

  My mum used to say that the church was just a legal cult, the biggest racket going. It preyed on the young, impressionable and lonely, or those who were missing something in their lives. You should feel no need to say sorry to some God who never answered your prayers. In her eyes it was just a form of radicalization that people willingly paid towards and trusted for no reason at all. Needless to say, she was not amused when I revealed my career plans. Essentially, it was a kick in the teeth. She hated that I was saying I was better and worth more than where I’d come from and was sticking my middle finger up at her skills as a mother.

  My head fogged up inside. It was safe to say my beliefs had been shaken to the core.

  This girl had hurled out words that I could finally get along with, reconcile. A long time ago, I’d have been able to dismiss them as an alternative opinion, allow her the luxury of having that opinion, but still be able to search my own soul for the truth I knew existed.

  I’d had two phases in my life.

  One I’d hated, which was pretty much my entire childhood and upbringing.

  And the other, the one that made the most sense because it reasoned out the other one, was my purpose. It rationalized my suffering, the light at the end of my tunnel, and she’d just taken it all away.

  I couldn’t settle her view.

  Because I was the unsettled one.

  Lost.

  I’d thought I’d abandoned my faith by seeking revenge on the fucker who destroyed the life of my sister. I’d betrayed God, my teachings, my beliefs. I’d succumbed to the devil.

  But then, what if I hadn’t?

  What if the action I took was the right recourse, the one that actually settled my soul, allowed me to look in the mirror and go on living?

  Had I jumped into the Catholic church because I was weak, lost and searching?

  Fuck!

  Maybe my whore of a mother was right.

  My head hurt so bad I feared I might be sick. In these circumstances I’d jump on my bike and ride until I’d outridden the despair. Or I’d stay at the club, letting the familiarity and brotherhood of the Black Sentinels soothe me. But that wasn’t an option. Instead, I had to stay with the person who’d shaken me so badly. I couldn’t even call Shadow and talk it through, because she was here.

  “We need to get home.” I just blurted it out.

  “Uh... okay. Are you okay?”

  I pulled it together. I had to. It was either that or tell her she’d just blown my world apart. Tell her that all the despair and disappointment I’d clung onto for so long had been pointless, worthless. Tell her that something I’d been praying I’d find my way back to was never going to happen. Admit that I’d been a man of faith, the kind of person she hated, couldn’t stand, despised even. Tell her right here and now that I understood why, and I’d been lying to her all along. Tell her that I understood why men who devoured religion, lived by it, killed for it, scared her so much.

  But I couldn’t fucking do that on the banks of Loch fucking Ness. I knew I was the real monster here, but I wasn’t ready for her to figure that out, too. I had to get her home. Do it somewhere I could give her space. A house to retreat into where I could still be near her, because she’d just taken away the life I’d been living for, the lies I’d clung onto and right now, I couldn’t lose her as well.

  “All good. Tour of Scotland time is done, next stop is home.”

  She looked crestfallen and it hurt, but I had best get used to that. When I spilled my guts and the truth came out, it would destroy her for sure.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Penny

  He’d been different since we left Loch Ness and I was doing my best not to let it affect me, but without words—specifically words from him—my mind was conjuring up all sorts. Fraser showed all the same affection, but I knew I didn’t have his complete attention. Every time I got that feeling of desolation, I’d wish to be back on the bike, racing through the forest roads where conversation was impossible and silences almost necessary, but not obvious.

  “Can we do it again?” I’d blurted out as soon as we got home, desperate to keep whatever we’d found on that trip alive. Wondering whether he was going to go the whole hog of avoidance and we’d go back to sleeping in separate houses... separate beds.

  I didn’t want that.

  I didn’t want to miss him, yet his distance made it feel like I already was.

  “Sure, but there’s more of Scotland to see, so maybe we can head in the other direction.”

  My heart leaped. That was more than a little hopeful.

  “I’d love to see it all, with you, I mean.” There, I’d made it obvious, dropped a super huge hint about where I wanted things to go.

  Fraser stopped and looked at me, and even though he smiled at my request, the few seconds of time it took for that smile to turn genuine on his face were evident to both of us. He might have thought he was fooling me, but my job was to notice the smallest thing, the real detail behind the actions of others. It was how I stayed alive; reading a situation kept me breathing.

  I was beginning to hate being back here, how it had ended and how he was now making me hate the home I’d come to love, the one sanctuary I’d found in the whole craziness of my life.

 
“I’m gonna wander to Vinnie’s to pick up Bullet. Wanna come?”

  This time my smile felt easy and genuine. Fraser wanted me with him, I also wanted to see my trusted four-legged friend, but then I had a better idea. “How about I pop and get us something for dinner, a sort of welcome back?”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.” I had plans to remove the insecurities he’d convinced himself of, and a great steak dinner and bottle of wine would be the perfect start.

  Fraser started for the door and then stopped. “You’re getting the dog treats, aren’t you?”

  I smiled. “He needs to know I’ve missed him like crazy.”

  Fraser shook his head, muttered, “Jealous of my own damn dog,” and walked off. His mood kept changing and I kicked myself for not having the balls to ask where we were. I wanted to know what was happening between us right now.

  I wrote a quick list and as I grabbed my purse and turned to leave, I heard a cell ringing. I’d never seen Fraser with one, but it must have been his because mine didn’t ring, ever.

  “Fraser!” I shouted after him, but he didn’t come back. I gave the ringing cell in our unpacked bike paniers a wide berth and walked to the door he’d just left through. I was too late, though. He’d already made it across the yard and out of the other side to the track. The phone stopped and started ringing again immediately. Walking to it, I talked myself out of rooting through the damn panier for it over and over again, but still the old Poppy kicked in and I wanted the information I was missing badly. I acted like it was vital to my survival, knowing rather than not was the difference between breathing or not.

  When my hand finally located it, I pulled it free of the clothes and threw it at the kitchen table. “I could leave it for him, let him know it’s been ringing. Yes. That’s what I’ll do.” But then I flipped it over and the display illuminated in time with the ring. My heart blipped erratically when I saw the words: