by Kim Bowman
“What? Where will we live?”
“I don’t know.” I decided on candor, letting her know what we faced. “We can’t depend on Grayson’s good-will for too much longer. It’s not right to bring such a burden.”
“But I don’t think Grayson would mind!”
I smiled at the child’s naïve words. “Still. We mustn’t take advantage of his generosity. He will have a long row to hoe himself. It wouldn’t be fitting, or proper, for us to press ourselves into his life.”
“I don’t think whether it’s fitting or not matters, Liv. Not now anyway. I know you’ve let him kiss you. That’s not fitting, either, right?” She turned to me, stopped kicking her feet.
“All we did was kiss, and that was in a weak moment. I’m not condoning my behavior, Amelia Ann. I don’t want you to ever feel the license to repeat it; it isn’t something I am proud of. And it doesn’t mean that Grayson has a responsibility to us.” I stood, pulling her up by the hand. “We have no one to depend upon but you and me. I want you to remember that, not get raised expectations. Once we get to Tennessee, I will have to find employment. You might be on your own quite a bit, and I need to know I can trust you to behave with decorum.”
She nodded her agreement and I wondered if it was right to tell her such things. It painted a bleak portrait. One I wasn’t sure a twelve-year-old should see.
The time for Rachel’s arrival was slowly approaching and Amelia and I joined the gentlemen near the arrival platform. I half-hoped the train would be late. I didn’t want to face what this train would bring.
It wasn’t. The engine rolled into the station exactly on time. I started to shake, waiting and watching as each passenger disembarked, until finally, my sister descended the steps. She accepted a helping hand from the porter, and turned, looking over her shoulder at whomever walked behind her. I stood on the balls of my feet, straining to get a glimpse, but the person was too short.
It wasn’t until Rachel was completely off the steps that I realized it was a child, a very young child. He had pale hair, nearly white, and his skin was the pale of warmed cream. He was an intensely beautiful child, ethereal even. But what struck me was the total confusion written on the little face. I wasn’t aware I’d whispered the words until I felt them leave my mouth, “Who is that poor child?”
“Must be Elias, my uncle’s boy.” Matthew’s voice was terse as he continued, “But why does she have him? His mother had a large family up Chicago way.”
Rachel noticed our group, and the look on her face startled me. Such relief and surprise was reflected that I knew she hadn’t been told Amelia and I would be meeting her.
She lifted the child and nearly ran to me, sobbing my name and that of her husband. My heart broke then for what she had endured in just a scant amount of days. I wrapped my arms around her and the still silent boy, rocking and weeping right along with her.
I don’t know how long we stood there on the platform before Grayson and Matthew moved to separate us. The child still hadn’t made so much as a sound and I wondered if he could be deaf and mute. Grayson guided us to the bench Amelia and I had just recently vacated. He gently nudged me into the center and my sisters each followed on either side. He told me he and Matthew had to see to some arrangements and not to move until they returned. I nodded though I had paid little attention to his words. After he and Matthew departed I sat there murmuring reassurances and useless platitudes to my siblings.
“Liv, who is that man? The one with Matthew.” Rachel turned the child and I got my first close look at the boy. His eyes, as green as newly budded leaves, were sightless. And while on first glance it appeared his brows and lashes to be pale blond they were actually missing. In their place, arching over his eyes, were mere red patches of skin. I wondered then, as my stomach turned horribly, just how close this poor little one had come to being lost in the fire like the rest of his family. Heart-rending, for the child could be no more than three years of age.
“He’s the man with whom I’ve, we’ve, been traveling. His name is Grayson, and he is a good man.” I stumbled over the words, unsure how to describe my relationship with the man. “I think you’ll like him.”
“How did you meet him? I don’t recall seeing him before.” Rachel’s voice was curiously flat, devoid of emotion, and it worried me some.
“I found him; we met, near Uncle’s farm. He was ill, and I helped him,” Not nearly the complete tale but I wasn’t sure how much detail to give her. Why burden her with worry over Amelia and me so soon after her own difficulties?
“Oh.” Rachel turned away, seeming to lose interest. She ran her hand down the boy’s back, soothing him as he fidgeted.
“The child, Rachel. Can you tell me of him? He is a beautiful boy.” His head rested on her shoulder, his face pointed in my direction.
“His name is Elias. Gideon’s cousin. His parents were lost with Gideon. Elias was lucky, Gideon pulled him out. But the fire was so close; it seared his little eyes. We don’t know if it’s permanent.” She rocked, and the boy still made no sound ¯ though I knew he knew he was the object of our conversation. “He won’t talk. Hasn’t since they told him of his mama and papa. And his sisters.”
“Does he have no other family? No one to take him in?”
“They didn’t think they could handle the burden. Not now, with his eyes and all. I insisted he come with me. They didn’t protest too awful much.” Her mouth turned downward and I wondered just how stridently she had had to insist.
“But what will you do with him? Will he stay with Mr. Lofton?” I stroked his little brow and he pulled away, turning his head into her neck.
“He stays with me.” Rachel stood resolute on her decision and I couldn’t help but admire her determination. But I knew what trials she would face, caring for a small child on her own. I wanted to question her but held myself in check. Now was not the time¯not while her loss was so fresh, so raw. And not while the boy was in hearing distance.
Grayson and Matthew soon returned, the former clutching a handful of train tickets.
We returned to the hotel and Grayson escorted my sisters and me to our room. With two more people to crowd the small space, it was unbearable. Grayson must have echoed my thoughts for he told me he would seek a second room. He left to do so, just as Matthew excused himself from my sister and his young cousin. The gentlemen closed the door behind them, leaving me alone with my sisters and the young boy.
The hours passed slowly, with us settled in various corners of the room. Grayson delivered us a small repast about half of noon and we thanked him and invited him to sit with us for a while. He refused after quietly murmuring his desire not to intrude upon my sister’s grief.
As the sun set and the night became cooler, Rachel settled the boy on the far corner of the thin mattress. It had been decided that they would use the bed this evening. Though Rachel was much taller than I and would have trouble fitting well, Amelia and I agreed that Rachel needed the bed more. Amelia settled into the space Grayson and I had previously shared. I tried to feign interest in slumber but I couldn’t and I soon excused myself from the room, intending to spend a few quiet, and private, moments upon the front porch.
My intentions weren’t met. My soldier sat just outside his room’s door, only three rooms down from ours. I didn’t see him at first, so caught up in my thoughts¯many about him ¯ as I was. Grayson stood as I neared and my breath stalled in the back of my throat. I stopped less than a yard from him, silent and staring.
He reached out a hand and beckoned me forward. I exhaled audibly as I placed my shaking hand in his. He pulled me closer as he one-handedly opened the door. I didn’t resist, knowing I wanted him to hold me ¯ at least for a little while.
His room was slightly larger than ours, most likely because it was a corner room. Nerves held my tongue silent as he lit the lamp on the lone table. The light only deepened the shadows and planes of his face. But now I could see his eyes as they stared into mine; I wasn’t su
re I wanted that.
He sat on the bed, not trying to touch me. I stood there, near him, not saying even a word. I didn’t know what to say.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” His voice was loud in the room, and I started.
“The room is too small. There are too many people in it.” I whispered the words, my fingers twisting the end of the ribbon tying my hair back.
“You are more than welcome to sleep here tonight. But I’m not taking the floor, not after two nights on hardwood. But the bed’s plenty big for two.” He laughed a little as he said this and I wondered what he was intending.
“If you don’t mind,” I told him, bending to remove my worn and tattered shoes. Amelia wasn’t the only one in need of a new pair of shoes.
“No. I can’t say I mind at all.” He removed his own new boots, setting them slightly beneath the bed. It was much larger than the one in my room.
I began unbuttoning my dress, fingers shaking so badly it took me an inordinate length of time. By the time I had removed the garment, revealing my underclothing, he was completely undressed save for the bottoms of his underwear. Even his chest was bared, his wound now only a thin red line, barely visible in the honeyed lamplight. He stared at me, eyes running from my face to my feet, taking in everything in between.
No one save him had ever looked at me so boldly.
I wasn’t sure I liked it.
He reached out a hand, touching not my face as I expected, but pulling on the ribbon holding my hair back. My hair fell loose about my shoulders. “But it gets so horribly matted.”
“I like it down. You’ve beautiful hair when it’s like this.” His hand lowered, catching mine and pulling me toward the bed. “Come, I know you’re tired.”
I settled on the mattress on the side closest to the wall; I’d noticed before that he liked to sleep nearest the door. I pulled the thin quilt up to my chin, watching him.
Chapter Thirteen
I’d never been completely alone with him before¯not without Amelia’s chaperoning presence. He rolled on his side, facing me, and pulled the blanket up to his own chest. His knees bent, coming a little closer to mine and I pulled back, just a little.
His chest loomed quite large over me in the dark, though he only lay on his side. He was such a big man, broad of shoulder and strong. The mattress squeaked as he shifted again and I started to sit up, whispered words running off my tongue. He hushed me, laughing a little, telling me I was making little sense. My eyes settled on his chest, seeing the mat of hair covering his skin, marred only by the thin red scarring. I brushed a finger over it, remembering how he had bled. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Only a little.” His hand wrapped around mine, pulling it to his lips. He brushed a kiss into my palm, followed the caress with his tongue.
I shivered; I liked that. He flattened my palm against his chest and I could feel the excited thump of his heart.
His arm slid around my waist, drawing me nearer to him, still under the old quilt. I knew this was what I wanted ¯ to be held, kissed, if only for a little while.
“Grayson?”
“Hmm?” He nuzzled my neck and his slight beard prickled the skin of my throat.
“Did you mean it? What you said earlier about me touching you?”
His body stilled completely, even his breathing. His hands tightened on my back; I wasn’t sure how ¯ or when ¯ they had gotten there. “Do you want me to?”
“I don’t know,” I paused a moment, unsure how to go on. “I think I do, yes.”
“Only think? I need more than that, Olivia.” His fingers relaxed and I felt him withdraw his arms.
I didn’t want him to let go. I ran my hand over his jaw, trying to tell him without saying it that I did want him to touch me, to perhaps do more than just touch me.
It was up to me, I knew that, and hadn’t I determined that I ¯ and only I ¯ was in charge of my life? Grayson had handed me the perfect opportunity to show him that. Wouldn’t I be something of a fool if I refused to take that opportunity? “Grayson?”
“Hmm?” He had pulled away some, though he still faced me. I regretted that, I wanted him even closer.
“I want you to touch me,” I whispered the words and he went still and silent for so long that I began to doubt he’d heard me.
“You sure?” He swallowed audibly and I could feel him tremble. “Once it’s done, it’s done.”
Why was he so hesitant? Didn’t he want to touch me anymore? “If you’d rather not, I’d understand.”
“I just want you to be certain.” He pressed his lips to mine, softly at first. I opened mine, giving him entrance. His hand ran down my spine, a touch I had grown familiar with. He did that a lot. It then slipped lower, gliding past my bottom, resting against the back of my thigh. He squeezed gently, pulling my leg over his.
I gasped, feeling the strength of his legs so near to my own. He kissed me for several moments, licking, nipping and suckling until I forgot about his hands and what they might do. It was only when he moved to slide my camisole from my shoulder that I broke the kiss. “What are you doing?”
“Shh, I’m just going to touch you, remember?” He kissed me again, but his hands were insistent, lowering first one tiny sleeve then the other. I felt the material fall to my waist and I waited, anxious for what he would then do.
His hand ran first over my shoulder, my neck, slipping into my hair. He always wanted to touch my hair. Then he repeated the pattern, drawing over my shoulder again, and moving to trace my collar bone.
My whole body tensed as I waited, wondering if that hand would ever go lower. My breath hitched as it slowly ¯ ever so slowly ¯ drifted downward.
“Do you like that?” His mouth hovered near my neck and as I nodded I felt his hair against my cheek. “There’s more.”
More? I began to whimper. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, what was happening to me. Certainly it was the first I had ever experienced such. I squirmed some under the blankets, unconsciously pulling away from him.
“Shh. It’s all right.” I felt his touch clear down to my belly. “I’m only touching you, remember? You asked me to.”
I nodded, unable to speak. I waited, certain something else must happen next. I wasn’t totally ignorant of what went on between a man and a woman ¯ I’d been raised on a farm after all. But I hadn’t known it would feel like this.
I startled, certain he hadn’t intend to kiss me there. He did it again, with a little more deliberation and I twisted, murmured an incoherent protest. He hushed me again, stroking his fingers along my ribs, slowly, one by one. I said his name, fisting my fingers in his hair. I didn’t know if I wanted to pull him closer or push him away from me.
“That’s enough for now,” he whispered the words. “We’re to stop now.”
“But why?”
“There are consequences to this sort of thing. Have you thought of that?” He pulled the blanket back up to my chin, though he left my chest unclothed. The quilt felt so strange against my sensitized skin. What an odd feeling.
“But...” I tried one more half-hearted protest before stopping. I knew of at least one big consequence that he meant. I didn’t want a babe without a husband.
“Before we go any further with this, I want you to take some time and think on things.” He rolled to his back, pulling me slightly over him. He ran his hand over my back, tangling in my hair. “Tonight we’ll just sleep.”
“But shouldn’t I cover myself?”
“No. Give me this much at least. I’m just a man, not a saint.”
It felt so good I never wanted him to stop and I told him that. He ignored my wishes though, and stopped shortly after.
He woke me several hours into the night as he rose from the bed. “Grayson?”
“Shh. Just closing the window.” He did so, but not before I heard what had awakened him. The soulful sound of an old hymn wafted up from the ground floor.
“Matthew again?” I whispered the question as the soldie
r returned to the warm bed. I had grown somewhat accustomed to the feel of my naked chest against his side, and I was anxious for him to settle in. “Poor man.”
“Hmm. Go back to sleep.” He ran his fingers over my elbow and I obeyed.
~~~~
The pounding awoke us early the next morning. Grayson threw the blankets at me before hurrying to answer it. I panicked thinking something must be wrong with Rachel or Amelia. It was a moment before it occurred to me what the people on the other side of the door would think seeing me in Grayson’s room, clad only in underclothes and a thin blanket.
He opened the door and I could just see the outline of Matthew. Grayson’s body blocked Matthew’s view.
“The girls are upset. Can’t find their sister. Figured I’d check here before sounding the alarm.” Matthew’s voice was filled with calm tolerance and I relaxed a little. “She with you?”
Grayson nodded, “Tell them she’ll be with them shortly.”
“Excuse me, then,” Matthew backed from the door, “Didn’t mean to intrude.”
Grayson shut the door and turned to me. He lifted my dress from the chair where I’d laid it last night and placed it on the bed. He sank down beside it, grabbing my hand and pulling me into his lap. His hands once again tangled in my hair. “We’ll talk later.”
I nodded, shamed at my behavior. What would I tell my sisters, Rachel in particular? What did Grayson expect from me?
“We did nothing wrong. We’ve hurt nobody. Remember that.” He kissed me, ran his tongue over my lips. I returned the touch, meeting his tongue with my own. I almost didn’t feel his hand once more caressing my chest. He touched me there for several moments and I let him, not caring that my sisters were waiting. He pulled back, touching my lips softly with one gentle finger. “You’d best dress, your sisters need you.”
