by B. K. Rivers
“I’m lunderful. Who’s dat?”
Vic turns to me, still holding Lily in his arms, and pulls me in for a hug. “This is Jemma, my girlfriend.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks as I look up at him. He winks, kisses Lily on her cheek again, and places his hand on my lower back, guiding me through the door.
“Evyone’s outside,” Lily coos. We make our way through the house to the backyard where several tables are set up with chairs flanking them. There have to be thirty people here. Vic and I exchange glances when Lily announces, “Unkie Vic has a girlfwend.” Everyone’s heads turn around to us and we’re greeted with cheers and whistling.
“Quiet down,” Vic’s mom says to everyone, which does nothing for the noise. “I promised we would all be on our best behavior. Don’t make a liar out of me.” Jane walks to us, takes Lily from Vic’s arms, and kisses her son on the cheek. She welcomes me with a one-armed hug. “So good to see you again, and my, don’t you look lovely.” My cheeks flush once again, realizing I may be overdressed.
“Come and sit. Lunch is ready.” Jane shows us to two chairs that happen to be near the center of all the activity.
Everyone sits down to eat and Vic’s older brothers and their wives surround us. Cory, the eldest, and his wife, Angie, have three kids, one of which is Lily, who is three. Brandon and his wife, Stephanie, are expecting their first baby in September. Vic’s cousin, Steve, is the same age as Vic and is an EMT.
Vic’s older sister, Emily, is married to Marcus and they have two children, and his younger sister, Megan, is just finishing her first year at college.
“How am I supposed to keep everyone straight?” I whisper between bites of my amazing hamburger.
“Just smile and nod and pretend you have everyone straight. It’s what I do.”
I nearly choke on my lemonade as I try not to laugh.
“My mom was right, by the way,” he whispers, leaning closely. He moves his hand from the tabletop to my thigh, making my body warm all over just remembering how his fingers worked me at the movie.
Swallowing down the heat flooding through my body, I say, “What was she right about?”
His hand moves farther up and his fingers touch between my thighs, slowly moving in a circle. “That you look beautiful.”
My legs clamp together in an effort to suppress the jolt that flies through me. Vic chuckles, removes his fingers, leans close, and whispers in my ear again. “Let’s get out of here, what do you say?"
My heart stops briefly and then sprints in my chest. “Vic, I’m still not sure I’m ready,” I say, and then take his hand.
“I said I would be patient, Jemma. I’m just ready to have you all to myself.”
“So, you don’t want to…you know, with me?”
“Hold on, I didn’t say that.” He flashes his dimples at me and I want to kiss them. “I’m just saying that today doesn’t have to be the day. I can’t wait for the day you’re ready, but until that day comes, I’m satisfied just being near you.”
A clinking sound disrupts our quiet conversation, followed by everyone chanting in unison, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
Vic and I smile and he says, “I think they want us to kiss and I don’t think we should disappoint them.” Our lips barely touch before Vic brings his hand to the back of my neck and holds me gently while the kiss deepens. Cheering erupts and our kiss breaks apart. Vic’s cheeks look about as flushed as mine feel.
“And with that, we’re out,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “Mom, lunch was delicious. Family, it was good to see you, but me and my girl have places to go.”
Jane comes up to us and I thank her for the meal and give her a quick hug. We wave goodbye and then walk through the house hand in hand. When we’re clear of watchful eyes, we race across the gravel driveway, up the stairs, and through the door to Vic’s place. He spins me around so fast and our lips collide in a fury. I don’t have time to think or react. I only echo the kiss as we collapse against the door in a tangle of arms and tongues.
Chapter 37
The next few weeks pass in a blur. Vic and I see more and more of each other, each time drawing closer. We’ve met up with Angie and Caleb and gone dancing a few times, and as mid-summer heats up, so do our make out sessions. We can’t keep our hands off each other, and even though I know he’s the one, I can’t help but be apprehensive about having sex. Vic hasn’t once been angry or upset when I’ve put a stop to the petting, but I can tell he wants more. The problem is I do too. But I’m too terrified to go through with it. I’m too scared to admit to him I might be ready and for him to get his hopes up and then at the last minute I back out.
Closing up the stables for the night, I walk down the driveway and check the mail. There are some bills, naturally, and then the last envelope is addressed to me and it’s from the Brower Rehab Clinic in Warner. My feet stop moving and my heart thuds heavily in my chest. I waste no time in opening the letter, and when I see Jordan’s scrawling letters I sit down along the edge of the long driveway. I begin reading and it only takes a moment for my heart to settle into a strange rhythm.
My Jemma,
It’s been four weeks since I checked into the clinic, and I’ll be the first to admit I wasn’t really ready for what rehab meant. It was awful, worse than when I was with you. But I’ve made it four weeks now and feel good. Really good! My head is clear, my hands don’t shake, and I’ve learned that the lyrics are still there in my head. I haven’t lost them!
I want to thank you for being there for me. For coming when I needed you most. God knows I still need you, Jemma. I need you to know when I walked away from you it was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I regret that day and every day since then, well, until about three weeks ago anyway.
They say in rehab you should right past wrongs, and I hope you know that leaving you like I did, with that kiss, was wrong. Making you believe I could change was wrong. Wanting you…is wrong. You seemed so happy with that guy when you came to the hospital and I’m sure I’ve screwed it all up. I hope not—but secretly maybe I hope I did so that you’ll be waiting for me when I am sober enough to leave here. You’ve been my muse in my songwriting. I want you to know that. And not just here in rehab, but in the songs I wrote since I left you. Maybe that sounds pathetic, and now that I’ve written it, it really does. But it’s true and one day I hope you’ll hear my songs.
I hope you’re well and you’re happy. You deserve the world and all the happiness you can get.
Lovingly yours,
Jordan
Jordan’s hands may not shake anymore, but mine sure do. The letter flutters in my fingers like a leaf blowing in the wind. Jordan shouldn’t have written a letter like this to me. Not now. Not after I’ve come so far with Vic. The letter crumples in my hands and as much as I would like to throw it far away from me, I can’t do it. I can’t destroy something he wrote.
A cool breeze stirs around me and from the steps of the front porch Gran calls for me. I must have been out here a lot longer than I realized, and as I look around the ranch, the trees are casting long shadows and the sky has turned pink and purple. Brushing the dead grass from my pants, I stand and walk back to the house and into the arms of Gran.
“Gran, what am I going to do?” I ask with ragged breath. “I think I’m in love with two people.”
Her warm arms wrap tightly around me, holding me with her entire heart.
“Let’s go eat dinner and talk about it,” she says with a kiss on my cheek. While we eat I tell her about the letter from Jordan and how it made me feel. I tell her how I feel about Vic and she listens whole-heartedly, without interruption. I clear the dishes from the table when we’ve finished eating and I help Gran to her chair in the family room. She’s looking frailer and her eyes don’t hold the same shine. Here I am spilling out the woes of my two guys to her and she hardly looks as though she has the energy to sit in her chair.
Kneeling in front of her I ask, “Gran, do you want me to help you to bed?
Or maybe you need something to drink?”
“No, no, honey. I’m fine. It seems like you’ve gotten yourself into a little pickle.” She pats my hand, smiles, and then continues. “I can’t tell you who to love more, you need to find that out for yourself. But one thing I do know for certain is you can’t love one the most and string the other along the way. It’s not fair to him or to you. And I can tell you, life is short enough, it’s not worth having unanswered regrets.”
“Gran, I don’t even know what that means,” I admit, and then move to sit across from her on the sofa. “Can’t you just tell me what to do?”
“You need to let your heart decide, not guilt or expectations or even what you think others want you to do. This could be one of the biggest decisions in your life, and trust me when I say this, if you let someone make the choice for you, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
“How will I know if I’m making the right choice?”
Gran’s eyes look up at me and there is a softness in them; her love for me ever present and unwavering. “Sweetheart, you just will. Trust in yourself, love yourself and then you’ll know when you’re ready to let the other person in.”
And then it’s as if my mouth has a mind of its own and words tumble from my lips like water falling over a cliff. Every word like a drop of rain, drip, plop, drip, drip, drop. My mouth betrays the vault I’ve had locked for so long, it spills its contents as though it was overflowing.
The pregnancy. The miscarriage. The small lump in the ground at the base of the tree. It all comes spewing out in between hiccups and sobs and shaking shoulders. Loving arms wrap around me, holding me with tender mercy and great care. Gran’s tears mix with mine as she soothes me with her calming voice. There is no judgment, no shame, and no anger. Just unending love.
Her fingers brush away the hair that’s fallen in my eyes and she wipes away my tears. Her lips form a small smile and her eyes are red and swollen, matching mine.
“I am so sorry I didn’t know,” she says. “Honey, you’ve carried this for so long and held it so tight that you’ve built these walls. You’ve got to let them fall.”
“I don’t know how, Gran. I’m so afraid of it happening again. Or maybe I can’t have children.” My chest hurts, like someone has reached in, grabbed hold of my lungs, and is squeezing as hard as they can. Gulping air, trying to catch my breath between sobs, stars begin to dance in front of my eyes.
“Honey, you need to take deep breaths, you’re going to pass out.” Gran fans her hands in front of my face, helping me breathe. After a few cleansing breaths the spots disappear and my tears begin to dry. Gran tilts my chin so we’re eye to eye and her gray eyes look so full of wisdom and kindness. One day I hope to be just like her.
“Sweetheart, if you’re scared about having children or maybe miscarrying again someday, then you should go to see an OB/GYN. It’s the only way you’ll have some reassurance, as well as find out for sure that everything is working correctly. We have a lot of parts, honey, and sometimes they don’t communicate quite right. But those doctors, they can do amazing things.”
“Okay,” I say through a yawn. “I’ll make an appointment. Thank you, Gran, for not judging me. I love you so much.” I squeeze her in a giant hug, kiss her on the cheek, and tell her good night. As I climb the stairs I listen for Gran’s shuffling feet walking to her bedroom. I sit at the top of the stairs and silently thank God that he gave me Gran. I can’t remember my mother, and even though I’ve seen pictures of her, she holds no place in my heart. Gran has been my mother every step of the way. She’s been my rock, my encourager, and confidante. Thinking back now to three years ago, I should have told her about the pregnancy from the beginning. She would have been able to handle it and would have been there for me through the whole thing.
Before I fall asleep I send a quick text to Vic letting him know I’ve told Gran about my miscarriage. Moments later, and unexpectedly, I receive a text back.
Vic: Miss you and so proud of you.
Me: Xoxox miss you too.
Vic: Are you naked?
Me: You wish!
Vic: Yes. Yes, I do. See you tomorrow?
Me: Horse riding at my house, be there or be square.
Vic: Wouldn’t miss it.
Chapter 38
The buzzing of my alarm wakes me up, and for the first time in so long, I feel rested and happy. Sure I’ve been happy, but today I feel different. Like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, almost as if these past three years grew heavier with each passing day. Gran isn’t up yet, so I peek in on her and hear the soft sounds of her snoring, then get on with morning chores. I check the saddles and equipment, making sure they’re ready for my ride with Vic later this morning, and double check that Ranger and Belle will be ready for the day.
I eat a quick breakfast after saying good morning to Gran, who is now eating a bowl of oatmeal. We share silent glances of love and respect, and as I’m making sandwiches, Vic’s truck pulls up to the house. My heart leaps in my chest and my cheeks begin to burn. I can’t wait to see him.
Still holding the hand towel from the kitchen, I greet him on the front porch where he lifts me up by my waist, spins me around, and kisses me so deeply it nearly takes my breath away.
He sets me back on my feet and I lead him to the kitchen. He kisses Gran on the cheek and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she has the slightest bit of blush on her pale cheeks.
“Gran, are you blushing?” I tease. She bats her hand and excuses herself to the family room where she picks up her knitting. “I love you,” I call to her, extra loud, knowing she’s probably laughing to herself.
Vic steps behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and nuzzles my neck. His mouth burns a trail along the collar of my shirt until he spins me around and covers my lips with his. Heat runs the length of my body, escapes my pores, and settles somewhere between my legs. Stepping around him, I move us out of the house, down the front steps, and toward the barn and the horses. After all, we are supposed to be going for a ride, not making out in the kitchen. Where Gran could see us. Or where there is an opportunity to go further than my rules allow me to go. Stupid rules.
In the barn, we saddle up the horses and then ride off through the rear of the property. Vic sits nicely on Ranger, and as we plod along together, I let my mind wander. We’ve been dating for six weeks, and other than our first date, I’ve put a limit on his southern wandering hands. I’m still not sure why I let him touch me in that way. Not that I’m complaining; I’ve never felt that way before. It just really makes me wonder about sex with Vic. I wonder what it would be like, how he would make me feel. And most of all, I want to know if he could make me do that again. Just thinking about how his fingers touched me and how his mouth felt on my breast makes my stomach flip and the blood rush to my cheeks, and a couple other places I won’t mention.
We ride over amber-colored hills, across dried streams, and down into a wooded grove where we let the horses chew on the green grass. Vic ties the horses to a long rope strung between two trees so they can munch on the grass and I set up our picnic lunch. My body is zinging while I lay out the blanket. As I can feel his eyes on me, I take great pleasure in knowing he likes to watch me. I wore short jean shorts today and a pale pink and white gingham sleeveless shirt that buttons up the front; the bottom is unbuttoned and tied around my waist. Sure, riding in short shorts isn’t ideal, but it’s a hot day, and when paired with my worn leather boots, it’s pretty cute.
“You ready to eat?” I ask as everything is set out on the blanket. A coy smile plays on his lips, only enhancing those dangerous dimples. Before I have time to move, Vic rushes to me, grabs me around my waist, and throws me over his shoulder. Both of his hands hold me just below the hem of my shorts until he drops to his knees on the blanket and sets me on my feet. He leaves his hands on my upper thighs and stares up at me with a heavy gaze.
He releases a deep breath, the hot air swirling around my legs. “
Eat later,” he says as his hands move to mine and he gently tugs at them until I’m on my knees in front of him. My heart is pounding in my ears and my stomach is doing a little dance. “Kiss now.”
“Impressive your caveman impression is,” I say nervously while laughing at myself. Only I would be such a dork.
Vic snarls, only adding to my laughter, and he moves so quickly that before I know it, he has me lying down on the blanket with our lips locked in a fireworks kind of slow kiss that makes my toes curl. He rolls on top of me, my legs move around his, and he’s holding the back of my head with one hand. The kiss deepens and my want becomes desire. I need this heat he’s creating. He’s leaning on the elbow that supports my head while his other hand works my shirt’s loose knot at my waist.
“This…is in the way,” he says through our joined lips. He manages to untie the knot and then expertly glides his fingers along my skin, eliciting a breathy moan from my lips. When his fingers graze over my bra, I arch my back into him and my hands tug at his shirt. He breaks our kiss, raking his gaze over my face, and when I make no move to stop him, he swiftly shrugs his shirt over his shoulders. Oh God, he’s perfection—smooth skin, rippling muscles, and the smell that is uniquely him is driving me crazy. Back on our knees, Vic watches as I reach out to his chest. At my touch, he hisses and closes his eyes. His skin is warm and soft and there is only a small diamond-shaped patch of hair in the center of his chest and then a light trail leading down from his navel to below his pants. I trace his abs, delighting in the goose bumps that form on his skin. As my fingers move toward the top of his jeans, he softly takes my hands in his and places them on his shoulders before leaning in and pressing his lips to mine once again. His arms envelop me then move to the buttons on my shirt, which he slowly works to pop open each one. He slides the cloth off my shoulders and I let it fall to the blanket below us. Vic pulls away, studies me with a deep gaze, and then slowly lowers me to the blanket.
