by Amity Green
Something clicked evenly and the sound didn’t belong with them in their good place. Savannah tried to ignore it, but the ticking wouldn’t go away. He was touching so perfectly, but the noise picked at her and made her a little mad. She opened her eyes because the sound came from right in front of them.
Through dim light she saw the hands of her bedroom clock as it ticked away on the wall. She let her eyes close again, trying to enjoy the game. He was there and she was so close to finishing. They never stopped until she was done.
His placed his mouth over hers and slid his fingers inside. If he moved like that two more times he’d finish the game. She grasped the familiar soft skin of his shoulder and opened her eyes.
She grabbed Witcher’s wrist with a gasp. He held still but didn’t pull back.
“Are you sure?” he whispered.
She blinked, the reality that she was with him in the dream buzzing in her mind. They’d been touching each other … he wore nothing and her pajama bottoms were around one ankle. Her lace tee was pushed up and one nipple was cold and wet. He dipped his head and kissed it again, gently and perfectly keeping her hanging, the feeling dangling.
He faced her again and without a blink moved his hand just right. She shut her eyes and let it happen, her body tightening and trembling. She moaned. He kissed her and she clung to him until the last wave passed. He pulled his hands away and rolled her to her side, then wrapped his arms around her.
“You see, we can be so close we share thoughts, Savannah. I am good because it is right.”
Savannah didn’t respond, just watched the clock do its job, feeling filthy and far too awake and aware.
“Go back to sleep.”
“Get out of my bed.”
“And suddenly she’s all grown up.” Witcher kissed the tender skin on top of her shoulder.
Savannah ignored the way he’d become too damned good with sarcasm. The mattress rebounded from where he’d been and cold air fell around her back and legs but she didn’t care.
***
Chapter 21
“One, two, three.” They lifted their parents’ dresser and with Savannah walking backwards, and carried it down the hall and into the room where Chaz used to stay. Molly kicked a book out of the way. They set the piece down and on cue, they both moved to the front and pushed it against the wall. The room was full of furniture, with their parents’ bed leaning on a side with Chaz’s and all the family’s clothes tossed in trash bags and left inside the closet. Molly closed the door behind them and they went back to Jack and Caroline’s old bedroom, which from that point on would be Molly’s sewing and dress design room.
That morning they’d mailed off a huge order from the Montgomery Ward catalog. Two new Singer sewing machines would arrive, along with some new summer dresses for Molly. New curtains and throw rugs would change the feel of the main rooms, and new towels were always nice. The J.C. Penney catalog, the one that was usually only a Christmas wish book, was picked through, and an order went off to that company, too. Savannah did her best not to think about what was in the envelope to the lawyer in Alabama when she put the outgoing mail in the box and tipped the flag high.
She looked down the long, gravel and dirt driveway. The trees in the yard were a beautiful mixture of aspens and spruce, but some nice, dark purple flowers would look great lining the driveway. And she didn’t like mud. The drive should be paved. Rather, cobbled, like the streets she saw in photos of English country houses, and the half-circle drives were ringed with a low, rock walls that had stone steps leading to grand front entries. Molly would like that.
She walked back to the house, adding the improvements to the growing mental list of changes she wanted made, along with the new garage and security features for the place. Molly was in the kitchen, putting the last of the breakfast mess away.
“About ready?”
“Yep.” She tossed the dish rag in the sink.
Savannah picked up their list from the table and grabbed her purse. She fished for the keys. “I can’t wait to get your new clothes here so you’ll quit with the sweats every day,” she teased. Molly walked past and went to the door without a word.
“Kidding. It’s summer so I guess that means wear what you want.”
Molly didn’t respond. Savannah followed her to the Toyota, wondering why her sister was pissy when she was the one who’d had a bad night. Part of her wished she would have just slept through the whole thing like she imagined she’d done many times. At least that way she wouldn’t feel dirty and victimized and guilty for letting herself like it.
Doing her best to stow the memory, she climbed into her four-wheel-drive and they were off to get grain, cloth and thread, and some art supplies for Molly. The chores were done and the house was locked up. They’d be back in the early afternoon so Savannah could meet up with the construction guy to get started on the garage.
She let Molly pick out what she wanted to make herself feel better about teasing her earlier and bought a small, lighted drafting desk. A second hand furniture store close to the doughnut shop had two wooden sewing tables and a tall lamp with three moveable arms so Molly would have plenty of light to work by. Savannah just smiled and shook her head when Molly picked out bright purple and royal blue velvets, and black satin for her designs. Molly played it smart and grabbed a catalog to order from, along with a supply of needles and a new pair of scissors. Colored pencils and two different sizes of sketch pads, plus white erasers and a folding wooden easel were the last things she grabbed. They were finished and back on the road before noon, sipping 7-Up and chatting excitedly about Molly’s new “studio” room. Molly pulled out the craft catalog and opened it up.
“You should put that away until we’re out of the truck.”
Molly’s face dropped, smile dissolving as if she’d bitten her tongue.
“I’m sorry, Molly, but I’m just trying to save you from throwing up again.”
“I’m not car sick, Savannah.” Molly turned toward the window and watched trees go by.
“Well maybe not now, but reading—”
“Forget it!” Molly yelled. “Just leave me alone about it.”
“Okay. Jeez. You don’t have to get so snotty.”
Molly just shook her head.
They were quiet for the rest of the trip, and Savannah guessed Molly’s stomach wasn’t bothering her because she didn’t ask her to pull over. When Savannah turned off the motor in front of the house, Molly filled her arms with as much as she could carry and went toward the door. Savannah ran up the steps and unlocked it for her, then went back to drop the tailgate. Working together, but in silence, they unloaded the sewing tables and took them upstairs, followed by the lamp and boxed drafting table. Once it was all inside the room, Molly plugged in her little stereo and closed the door.
Savannah turned to head downstairs as the door jerked open again.
“I thought you said you bought a copy machine,” Molly called, from her room.
“I ordered one for the study.”
Molly closed her door again with no reply. Savannah took a deep breath to cool her temper and went outside. She drove around to the barn and unloaded the sacks of grain.
Reluctant to go back to the house, she walked the horses, two by two, over to the gate to the hay field and let them loose to graze and stretch out. The outside of the perimeter fencing was barbed wire, which she didn’t like. Now that she thought of it, the top of the hillside made up the little hay field. It was only about an acre, maybe a little more. The iron fencing around the front could be extended to that part of the property, and the horses would be a lot safer without the possibility of getting caught up in the wire. She watched the horses trot around for a moment then went back to the house.
Right on time, the construction people arrived in a big Ford truck. There were three men, and it was obvious which was the “father” of the trio from “Father and Sons”. His name was Michael.
“Are your parents around?” he as
ked.
“They're dead,” Molly blurted.
Savannah went on like she’d heard nothing from her sister. “I am twenty years old and fully capable of handling any business at my home. My name is Savannah Caleman. You and your crew will be working directly with me, and I’m also the one who will sign your checks.”
“I see then.” Michael surprised her by offering a handshake and introducing his sons, without further argument.
Savannah smiled at him, careful not to seem overly grateful for his acceptance of her “take charge” attitude and white lie about her age. Molly perked right up when introductions went around, and one of the younger men, a redhead with a football player’s build, shook her hand, rather awkwardly.
“Sammy. It’s nice to meet you.”
Molly turned a pinkish shade of red and finally managed, “Hi.” She smiled and went back inside.
Savannah came to the rescue immediately. “So, can I show you where we want the garage? And do you guys install fencing and security systems?” They walked around the property, pointing and talking costs and time frames. The men measured and took photos, talking and taking notes on clipboards, so Savannah dropped back, leaning against the side of the house.
Witcher stepped from around the corner. “This is good,” he said. “You will feel safe with the fences.”
Savannah kept calm so she didn't draw attention. “If only they could build something to keep you out, it would be perfect.”
He didn’t respond and it took a few seconds before Savannah let guilt force her to speak.
“I’m sorry. That was mean.”
“Accepted.” He smiled.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Certainly.” He let a shoulder rest against the wall beside her.
“Why didn’t you tell me our dad had been molesting Molly since before … you know, you?”
Witcher looked at the ground for a moment before he answered. “You wouldn’t have believed me anyway.”
“That’s completely true.” She sighed.
“Please listen carefully to what I say. I do not go without guilt in that. I played my part.” He took a deep breath. “I give you honesty from my heart. It beats heavy with what I’ve done, for my part in what he did. I gave him liberty to ask the ultimate of her.”
“I understand that.” She couldn’t help it, but she stood up and stepped away from him a little. “Please leave.”
“There’s more you should know, Savannah.” He closed the distance she’d gained.
“I really want you to disappear now,” she said, keeping her voice under control.
“Your good father asked the ultimate from her, and she accepted him of her own desire. Stop looking at her like she’s a child.”
“That’s enough!” Savannah yelled.
“Everything okay over there?” The elder of the builders called, looking concerned.
“Yeah, we’re okay, just a lover’s spat,” Witcher called. “Carry on, gents.” He turned to Savannah, whispering. “I’ve warned you about your anger. Look what you did. Best prepare your lies.” He disappeared around the side of the house.
Savannah approached the crew. “Everything’s fine. We just need to … um, talk it out.”
“He looks like a chump,” Sammy said.
“Sam, it’s not your business,” the father warned.
“It’s okay,” Savannah said. She turned to see if Witcher was gone, shaking her head. If there was one thing her damnably good looking “lover” didn’t look like, it was a chump.
“We’ll work it out later. What’s going on over here, anyway? Things going good?”
“Your new garage will be a good fit here. And I think we can help out a couple of other ways, too,” Michael said. “If you’re interested, I mean.”
“Of course I am,” she said, breaking into stride beside him to hear what the company had to offer. Michael was a quick businessman. He’d likely put together what Molly had said about their parents and guessed she had control of an inheritance. She’d accept his respect and keep the job under her control, however.
The family of builders was full-service, including maintenance work. There would be fences welded around the top of the property and gilt security bars installed on the windows, which made Savannah breathe a little easier. No, she didn’t mind if the men measured and left some markers while they were there. Construction would start immediately with a check for a down payment for the estimate of the garage. Michael and his sons were pleasant and ready to get started, stating they’d call and be back to start dirt work as soon as they could load up their equipment and schedule a concrete truck.
Savannah shook Michael’s hand as the crew prepared to leave.
“We’ll be in touch shortly,” he said.
“Perfect. We can’t wait to get started.” She smiled, barely containing her excitement at handling her first real business transaction with confidence.
“Miss Caleman, if you girls need anything before we get back out here, you just give us a call, okay?” Michael pulled keys from his pocket, waiting for her to respond.
“Of course,” she said. “Thank you, Michael.”
Each of the sons shook her hand as well and they headed out. Savannah locked the door behind them.
Moments later a knock sounded before she’d even made it out of the mudroom. Michael was at the door.
“Hi.” She waited for him to answer. Maybe they’d forgotten a tape measure or something.
“Miss Caleman, we were talking out there, and seeing as how you young ladies are bound and determined to get this done by your own means and all, one of us will plan to give you a call and stop by often until we get the security set up out here.”
“That’s very kind.” She smiled.
“Talk to you soon,” he said and went back toward his truck.
Savannah locked up again, thoughtfully. It was darned lucky she’d called a good company.
Molly was in the kitchen making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of leftover hotdog buns. She handed one to Savannah and they both went to the table.
“We should get some dogs. Like big dogs that bark when they see people at the gate. The kind that won’t chase livestock.” Their dad’s cattle dog was killed by a rattlesnake before they left the old ranch. They would no longer have the burden of counting cows, so they could pick good, protective security dogs.
“Let’s get a couple of beefy Rottweiler pups,” Molly offered around a sticky bite of sandwich. She slugged down a huge gulp of milk. “We can get them spiked collars and name them Smith and Wesson.” She laughed.
Savannah couldn’t help busting up herself.
After dinner, Molly went to her studio, so Savannah grabbed the cat painting from where it still leaned against the hearth and went to the study. She dropped the canvas on the floor behind the desk and sat down to organize paperwork. Molly was ensconced in her creative process, so she figured it was a good time to work on the books.
The study was silent, like always. Savannah opened up the ledger and turned on the desk lamp. It worked to light the desktop even though it was damaged and listed toward her a little. Cheaply made crap was due to be systematically replaced. That went for anything overly-used by one of their parents, as well. Neither of them needed the reminders in their home. She’d done away with the hand-made afghans from the couch just after ordering a new one.
The toilet flushed above, louder than any other sound that made it through the extra thick walls. The way the upstairs stool was the only household sound she ever heard was an oddity, but a good way to track her sister. Savannah dug for a pencil and arranged paperwork to balance the ledger. The toilet flushed again, just a couple minutes later.
Worrying about her little sister’s well-being had become a very familiar type of awareness. Sure, she’d worried a little before, about both her siblings, but it was just normal, big sisterly love kicking in. The worry that settled in her gut for the last few months wasn’t like t
he old stuff at all. Plain old anxiety had the power to ruin anything she had going. The current situation illustrated that perfectly. She closed up the ledger and headed upstairs to make sure Molly wasn’t sick again.
The bathroom door was locked. Gently, Savannah thumped the wood with the palm of her hand.
“Molly? You okay?”
One more flush, but no answer.
“Answer me, please. I’m just checking in with ya.”
The sink ran inside and a moment later Molly pulled the door open, an oversized smile on her face. “Hey,” she barked, a little too enthusiastically.
“You all right?”
“Yeah. Fine. Why?” Molly brushed past, but Savannah got a look at her flushed face and watery eyes. The smell of vomit lingered, trailing out on Molly’s footsteps.
“You were in there for a long time. Just making sure you didn’t need anything.”
“So now I can’t even use the damned bathroom without you up my butt?”
“Hey! Watch your mouth!”
“It’s none of your business. I can go to the bathroom ten times if I want to!” Molly shouted back.
Savannah stomped toward her. “You won’t talk to me that way, get it?” She poked at Molly’s chest for emphasis.
“You’re not my mother!” Molly slapped her hand away.
“I’m not trying to be. And you’re lucky I’m not. I’d kick your ass three ways from Sunday for being a nasty little shit.”
Molly’s mouth locked into a white line. The top of her sloppy pony tail trembled, betraying her emotions. She put her head down and ran past Savannah in the opposite direction, bumping shoulders hard enough that both girls thumped into walls. Keeping her momentum, Molly careened back into the bathroom just as her stomach heaved.
Savannah swallowed hard, hoping Molly had made it to the toilet. She leaned against the wall, waiting it out. The door never closed, but the stool flushed. Quietly, she decided to check.
Molly’s back was to the door and she leaned sideways against the sink cabinet, head hanging.
“We need to talk.” Savannah let the words out slowly. “I want to take you to Doctor Jamieson.”
