She reached for the blanket draped over the couch and held it to her front. “Where?”
“I can make a bed on the floor. I have more blankets.” Her eyes told a thousand stories, asked a million questions.
“Just sleep?”
“Just sleep.”
“Then yes.”
He shut out the lamp and tossed the cushions off the couch and onto the floor. Laying out a blanket, he considered his clothing. Her clothes were draped over the back of the sofa, drying. His were still damp, but he was afraid what would happen if he took them off. He kneeled on the makeshift bed and reached for her hand.
Stepping slowly, she lowered herself to the floor. “I never slept beside someone other than my parents.”
“Can we share the blanket?”
She nodded and rested her head on the pillow. Lifting the blanket, she showed him a glimpse of her body and he curled close. His hand reached out and hesitated a breath away from her hip. Gliding over the contour of her side without making contact, he simply took in all of her uncharted beauty.
Her breath caught as she watched his slow progress. Nipples drawn into tight little buds, his control nearly slipped, as he wanted nothing more than to pull one perfect tip into his mouth. Peeking out just between the crease of her thighs was the softest looking thatch of blond curls. Virginal. That’s what she was.
“Do you want to touch me, Kelly?”
“You have no idea,” he rasped. “But I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t be able to stop.”
“What if I don’t want you to stop?”
His gaze jerked to hers. “Ashlynn. No.”
Her lashes lowered and he worried he’d hurt her feelings. Tipping up her chin, he said, “Two weeks. Two weeks and you’ll never be able to peel me off of you. But I can’t until then. You’ve waited your whole life to do this right and I’ll be damned if I’m the guy who ruins that for you.”
“But we’ll be married.”
He grinned. At least she trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t bolt if she gave up the goods too soon. “Yes, love, we’ll be married, but I want you as my wife. Not just because it’s important to you, but because you’re important to me.” He kissed her nose—lips were too dangerous. “Now try to get some sleep.”
She rolled to her other side and he snuggled up to her back. Jesus. The heat of her body singed right through his clothes. He nestled his hips to her butt—
“Kelly—”
“Ignore it.”
She giggled and he pinched her ass. “Ouch!”
“Stop thinking about it. You’ll only make it worse.”
“Does it hurt?”
“At the moment? I’ve had more comfortable days.”
“Do you want me to put my clothes back on?”
“No. Shh. Now go to sleep.”
She giggled again and snuggled closer. He mentally groaned and as a distraction tried to focus on math problems, namely how many excruciating minutes had to pass to get through two weeks. It wasn’t helping.
Unsure if she was asleep, he whispered, “Tell me a secret, love.”
She shifted silently, her brown eyes blinking up at him under the shadows. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Something you never told anyone else.”
A few moments passed, as she appeared to think. “When my mom died, happiness changed.”
“What do you mean?”
Her voice was soft and her gaze drifted. “There were still happy times. Life is happy and nothing stops time. But whenever something would happen, a birthday or a milestone of some sort, my dad and I would smile and then there’d come this pinch of sadness. It never goes away. It’s the reminder that she’s not there.”
His mind played over visions of his family. His eyes closed as he pictured his mother. The woman came in dimensions because there weren’t words to describe all that she encompassed. There were a lot of them, in the McCullough clan, but his mother was the glue.
His lips pressed to her forehead and he whispered, “I love you.”
She snuggled closer and his arms held her tight. Shutting his eyes he did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He prayed, silently thanking God for bringing her into his life.
* * * *
Ashlynn awoke in a bundle of warmth. Kelly’s body curled around hers, holding her tight. His leg draped over her thigh and his arm was wedged beneath hers, his palm cupping her breast. “Um, Kelly?”
“Mmmm…” His hand squeezed.
“Oh God.” She cleared her throat as he pressed his hips forward and poked her. “Kelly?”
The scruff of his jaw rubbed over her shoulder as warm lips pressed a kiss there. “Ashlynn…” he mumbled. She wasn't sure if he was awake yet.
“Kelly?”
His hips slowly bumped her again and a tightness formed in the pit of her stomach. How many times would he wake her up like this once they were married? But it wouldn’t be wrong then. There’d be no barrier of clothing, no reason to deny their desire. She’d simply bare her body and he’d claim her.
A heated rush bloomed in her chest. Dear Lord, she wanted that now. Her thighs clenched and she pressed her backside into him. He was really aroused. Either that or he was always that big. His hand tightened again and she moaned.
His body tensed behind her. “Ashlynn?”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck.” He scrambled off the floor and jumped to his feet. “Sorry.”
She gathered the blanket to her chest. “It’s okay, Kelly.”
“Ah, no it’s not. I got a situation. I’ll, uh… be right back.” He disappeared into what she assumed was a bathroom. The moment she thought of a bathroom she had to go. Crossing her legs she fidgeted and waited.
When he didn’t emerge in the next several minutes, she went to the door and knocked. “Kelly?”
“Be right out!”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded strained.
“Are you sick? You don’t sound too well.”
He hissed something then quickly said, “Don’t come in.”
She frowned. “I wasn’t going to,” she mumbled then turned and said in a louder voice, “Please hurry. I have to use the bathroom.”
Wandering back to the couch she sat and bounced her knee. What was taking him so long? She could use the bar bathroom, but wasn’t sure where he put the key. The sound of rushing water was a relief but it also didn’t help matters. She went to the door and knocked again, “Kelly, I really need to—”
The door flew open. His face was flushed and his eyes shadowed in secrets. She frowned. “Can I use the bathroom?”
“Yeah.” He stepped aside and she rushed in, quickly shutting the door. The bathroom was simple. There was a shower with only a clear curtain liner hung. After washing up, she rinsed out her mouth and sighed at her hair. Wrapping the sheet around her toga style, she left the bathroom.
Kelly had already folded the blankets and replaced the cushions to the couch. “You ready to go?”
He sure seemed in a rush. “Okay. I just need to get dressed.”
“How about I meet you downstairs? There’s cereal and milk there.”
“Sounds good.”
With quick instructions to lock the door behind her, he left. She certainly hoped married life wouldn’t feel so rushed in the mornings.
They had breakfast and Kelly drove her home. He had to work later that day and she had a number of things to do in her garden and at the market. She thought about the McCulloughs and wondered how everyone reacted when they realized they were gone. Kelly would probably get an earful when he got home.
* * * *
As the wedding approached, Ashlynn noticed strange little differences in her life. She’d always been a responsible person, never having a mom to do what most houses needed, but as time went on she realized the people that made up her world had held something back. She was suddenly feeling more li
ke an adult than ever before. It was as though there was a new level of respect granted she hadn’t realized was missing before.
Everything was changing. Her father looked at her a little different and she wasn’t sure how to decipher the gleam in his eyes. Women gawked at her, likely shocked that she was the one who wrangled a proposal out of the notorious Kelly McCullough.
It was as if she’d stepped into a circle she never should’ve been invited to. All of her life she’d stood on the outside looking in, but now she was smack dab on the arm of the most popular boy. Somehow she’d become the Sandra Dee of Center County.
Later that week, Ashlynn let herself into her father’s house, not wanting to perform her next task in the presence of others. From the window in the den she saw the cloud of dust kicking up behind the tractor in the field and knew Roy would be out for at least another hour.
She dropped her keys on the small table in the hall and took the stairs slowly. When she reached the attic door, her fingers held the knob a moment before she twisted. The old wooden door clicked and whined and she was greeted by the scent of dust and time.
A beam of sunlight highlighted small motes floating in the air. Her feet climbed the winding stairs and once she reached the top she spotted the trunks that held what was left of her mother’s life on earth.
Her hand gripped an old stepstool and dragged it to the trunk. Lowering herself, she took a deep breath. Beneath the peaked, exposed beams of the soffit she waited for a sense of her mother’s ghost to greet her, but only vague flickers of broken memories passed through.
Her fingers turned the latch and the trunk popped open. She lifted the lid, stamped with bus passes and political brochures before her time. Her eyes first settled on the faded album resting at the top.
Ashlynn pulled the heavy book to her lap and blew a cloud of dust off the photograph displayed in the front frame. There was her mother.
She smiled softly, her fingers gently tracing the image of the woman she missed more than anything and thought of everyday. The spine of the old album creaked as she turned the cover.
Her gaze traveled over pictures of grandparents she’d never known. Each page told the tale of happy moments that meant enough to her mother that she’d trapped them on film and locked them in their own corner of time.
When she reached the page with a picture of her mother and father, she smiled. They were so young. In Roy’s eyes there was a mischievous glint that Ashlynn didn’t recognize as her father’s. Her mother looked euphoric and in love.
When she found a picture from their wedding, Ashlynn studied the dress her mother wore. It was simple and white. A fitted bodice that flared slightly at the waist with delicate capped sleeves.
Following the wedding photos came the arrival of her. Black and whites changed to faded colors, her mother with a swollen belly smiling into the camera. Certain photographs told Ashlynn her father had been the photographer. There was a telltale gleam in her mother’s eyes that spoke of intimacy and secrets.
And there she was, a small bundle of pink in her mother’s arms. Such pride and affection showed through her mother’s expression. Ashlynn’s fingers caressed the image, wishing she could hear her mother’s voice just one more time.
Their lives as a family were cataloged in that book until Ashlynn’s tenth birthday. That was around the time they lost her, taken by a drunk driver. Those empty, yellowed pages at the end of the book were so symbolic of the time after her mother died.
Years passed in a blur of nothingness. There was always a sense of guilt when something would make her and her father laugh, a shared look that said they wished she were still with them.
The pictures of Ashlynn prior to her teen years were of a girl she barely recognized. Her legs were always adorned with little ruffled socks. Her feet neatly encased in patent leather shoes. Ashlynn had the strangest memory of slips and petticoats being slid under her Sunday dresses. Her eyes closed as she recalled waiting patiently for her mother to braid her hair.
With her mother, those feminine traditions had died. Her father was a good man and a good parent. He did the best he could, replacing tea parties with things he knew, like fishing and shooting. He taught her many skills and she’d held onto what she could of her mother.
Ashlynn never learned to sew like her mom. She was taken from them before Ashlynn formed the interest, but the intent was there. Promises cut down before their chance to bloom.
Ashlynn fanned through the empty pages and frowned when she saw a faded envelope stuck to the back cover. She peeled the tan packet from beneath the clear sticky sheet and recognized her mother’s script. To Ashlynn Rose, on your wedding day.
With trembling fingers, she peeled back the lip of the envelope. Lined paper, faded at the edges, filled her hands and tightness pinched hard on her heart.
Ashlynn carefully unfolded the note and read.
To my darling daughter,
As I hold you in my arms, still too small to predict the incredible woman you will become, I think of all the wonderful things ahead of you. In this life there are many blessings. You and your father are by far my most cherished.
I find myself praying more than usual as I see the proof of God’s love all around me. It is shown in the love your father has given and the existence of you. There is such an awakening that comes with having a child. It grows slowly as a new life takes shape. And then one day, a beautiful part of two people’s love arrives and everything is forever changed.
What was once I, is now us. What was once mine, is now ours. You are the blending of souls and I never want you to doubt how very much I love you and your father. I think of how he has changed me, taught me, guided me, and given me you. If there’s one thing I want you to trust in this world, it’s the whispers of your heart.
Do not fear love, sweet Ashlynn. Embrace it. Love is perhaps the greatest gift of God. One day you will be a woman and you will find a man. I hope that he is a good man, as good as your father. You will experience love. It’s not always easy, but as you grow you will surrender to its tides and it will carry you places you’ve never dreamed. And from that love, life will bloom and that is when you will feel what it is I feel today, holding you in my arms.
I have so many hopes and dreams for you. I await the day you take your first steps, the day I hear your first words. I look forward to those awkward moments that will come when you ask me questions and I struggle to find the right answers. There is so much I look forward to. One day you will be a woman and I will be there with pride in my eyes.
There’s so much I wish to say, but I have a lifetime to sow these seeds of thoughts and dreams. For now, know that I love you more than anything and I will love you long after my last breath. No matter how time changes us and how we grow, you will always be my baby and I am so grateful God has blessed me with you.
Love,
Mom
The paper crinkled with Ashlynn’s fallen tears. Why had she not known of this letter until now? Perhaps even her father was not aware of its existence. Perhaps God had intended for her to find it here in this special moment in her life.
She pressed the pages, made brittle by time, to her chest and the closeness of her mother’s presence she sought for so long washed over her. Although her mother might not be there in body, Ashlynn truly believed she was there in spirit.
With tender care, she folded the letter and returned it to its place in the back of the album for safekeeping. She sifted through the trunk filled with relics of her mother’s life, but didn’t find what she was seeking.
Sitting back on her stool, she folded her hands and whispered, “Show me where it is.”
Her eyes closed and warmth spread over her face from the small window at the peak of the attic, much like when the clouds roll overhead letting bits of sunshine through. She opened her eyes and noticed a blue box sitting in a puddle of light. Moving to the box, she lifted the lid and heat spread in her chest. There it was. Her mother’s wedding gown.
* * * *
The phone rang and Kelly plucked it off the counter. “O’Malley’s Bar and Grill.”
“Kelly?”
“Ashlynn? What’s wrong?” Was she crying?
“I need Italian Mary.”
“Okay. Did you find your mom’s dress?”
“Yes,” she sobbed. “It’s a mess.”
“Okay, calm down. Come to the pub and I’ll see what I can do. Don’t drive upset.”
She sniffled. “Thanks, Kelly.”
His heart pinched. Ashlynn upset was like watching a puppy drown. He could take many things, but not that. “We’ll fix it, love. I promise we’ll fix it.”
He hung up the phone and dialed his Aunt Colleen. “Aunt Col? It’s Kelly. I need a favor.”
“Oh, now you’re wantin’ favors, but the other night you couldn’t be bothered with the lot of us.”
“Please.”
She sighed. “You know I can’t say no to you, darling boy. What is it you’ll be needing?”
“I need to borrow Italian Mary.”
The line was silent for a pregnant moment. “Well, that’s a request you don’t hear too often.”
A while later Kelly watched the door of the pub while his aunt puttered in the kitchen and Italian Mary sat at the booth in the back, her weathered olive face set in harsh lines and her black hair pulled tight into a sort of old world bonnet sewn of black lace. Her red lips and ruby covered fingers glittered under the dim light of the pub.
The door opened and Ashlynn stepped in carrying a faded blue velvet gift box. He went to her and kissed her softly, taking the box. “How bad is it?”
Her eyes were pink and lined with stress. “I don’t know if it can be fixed.”
“Come with me,” he said, taking her hand. They approached Italian Mary. The woman scowled at Ashlynn like she scowled at every female that dared to tempt her boys.
Chaste Page 27
