A Love for All Time

by Dorothy Garlock

  She pressed her lips together, didn’t answer, and the silence dragged. Then she looked at him and he winked at her. She couldn’t keep the corners of her mouth from turning up. “Damn you, Dan. This is a serious conversation!” “Sure it is, sweetheart.” He was on his feet and pulling her off the recliner. “It’s so serious, it’s tired me out and I need a nap. I didn’t get much sleep last night and it was all your fault.” He sank down on the couch taking her with him. “After our nap well have another serious talk.” He pressed his back against the couch and pulled her back tightly to his chest. “Does that hurt your ear? No? Then go to sleep,” he commanded gently and buried his nose and his lips in her hair.

  It hadn’t occurred to Casey to resist the pull of his arms. Her mind and her body were tired and it was comforting to be held. Her buttocks pressed against the front of his jeans and his knees pressed the back of hers. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her back and she wondered for the hundredth time about the fate that had brought this man to her on that foggy night.

  That evening when Dan asked if she wanted to go out to eat, Casey shook her head vigorously.

  “I have some canned soup and a few other things I keep in stock if you think you can survive on a skimpy meal.”

  “I’m not fussy. Heat it up while I unload your car and park it. You can drive mine when we get to Bend.”

  “Dan, I’ll drive my own car.”

  “That’s foolish. I’ve got two more cars at home.” He opened her purse and took out her keys.

  “I don’t understand you. I said—“

  “Good!” He cut off her words with the quick pressure of his mouth. “If you don’t understand me, you won’t be bored and we won’t end up one of those statistics you were telling me about.”

  Casey thought surely he would make a negative comment when she got out her portable sewing machine, a large box of fabric she had bought at various times when they were on sale, patterns, and miscellaneous sewing items. But he merely peeked into the box, lifted out a piece of knit material with large wine-red and blue stripes and held it up to him.

  “Would this make a shirt?”

  “No!” Casey laughed and took it from him and stuffed it back in the box. “You’d look like the barrel they race around at the rodeo!”

  “Yeah?” He dropped down beside her on the floor. “What’s in there you could make into a shirt for me?”

  “You’re not kidding? You’d wear a shirt I made?” “I said I would. Don’t you believe anything I say?” He pounced on her and pushed her gently down on the carpet. “I’ll probably have a hernia by the time I load all your stuff in the car, but I’m willing to risk it for a shirt . . . and a kiss.” He leaned over her, holding her wrist lightly. She tried to free her hand to be sure her hair still covered her ear, but he-refused to release it, so she turned her head to one side. “It’s been hours since I’ve kissed my Guinevere,” he said huskily. “I don’t count those little pecks you gave me.” He kissed her long, his mouth wonderfully warm and passionate. “Everything about you turns me on. That short upper lip.” He stroked it with his tongue. “This little crease beside your mouth.” He licked it. “You’ve got beautiful thick eyelashes. And right here at the corners of your eyes you’re going to have little smile lines.” His lips touched each eye. “You’re going to get more and more beautiful as you grow older.”

  “Don’t—“

  “Hush. I know you don’t want me to say you’re beautiful, but I will say it, my beautiful Guinevere-Cleopatra—Clementine. Put your arms around your lord and master.” He lifted her arms to encircle his neck.

  “Lord and master? Ha! I find you maddening, puzzling, a real chauvinist! The hair on your chest tickles me and the whiskers on your chin scratch me.” Her fingers reached inside his shirt and she gave a hard yank to a thick tuff of hair, then tried to roll away when he yelped.

  He growled fiercely and his long arms locked her to him and they rolled on the floor. Casey heard her own peals of laughter, disbelieving they were her own. This lightheartedness wasn’t real. This wasn’t . . . her, but, oh, how wonderful to be in his arms playing like two teenagers. Dan rolled her over him and they came up against the couch. He locked her to the floor with his arms and legs and laughed down into her smiling eyes.

  “I’m going to have to teach you some respect for your lord.” He drew his brows together in a heavy frown. “That is, if I have the strength after I make wild, passionate love to you.” He made a sound deep in his throat like an aroused torn cat and she couldn’t suppress her laughter”.

  “I must warn you. I’ve had a course in jujitsu and you are leaving a most vulnerable spot unprotected.” She giggled in delight at his evident surprise.

  “You mean you’d . . .?”

  “Uh-huh.” Her laughing eyes were glittering pools of molten gold.

  “You’d hamper our . . . love life?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  A little to her surprise, he pulled his upper body away from her, but nestled that vulnerable part of him tight against her thigh. He looked past her face and focused his eyes on the carpet.

  “What a cold, hard lady. I can’t believe that she would injure my delicate parts. She’s more Lucrezia than Guinevere, more Lizzie Borden than Clementine!” His conversational tone was addressed to thin air. “She pulls the hair on my chest, calls me a chauvinist, tells me I’m maddening.”

  Casey reached up and enclosed his face with her palms. “Ahhh . . . poor baby.” She had never felt so good, so free, so happy. “I’ll kiss it and make it better.” This childish play had unleashed the reserve she normally kept under such tight control.

  “It’ll take more than one,” he said sulkily.

  “I think I can manage.” She circled his neck with her arms and pulled his head down to hers. With her lips tightly puckered she made loud smacking sounds against his lips. Then laughter bubbled up and out of her throat.

  He gazed into her laughing eyes and shook his head. Then lightning fast his fingers found her ribs and raked across them. She tried to knock his hands away, but he was pressing her to the floor. Peals of laughter rang out.

  “Don’t! Don’t! Oh, please, Dan. I can’t stand to be tickled. Stop! Stop! Or ... I’ll have an accident!”

  He stopped immediately and grinned down at her. “You’ll what?”

  “Have an ... an accident, you big brute!”

  It was his turn to roar with laughter. “You mean you’d—“

  Her hand came up and covered his mouth and he nipped at her fingers. Then he rolled over on his back, taking her with him. The enchantment grew in the circle of Dan’s arms. She didn’t speak, finding words an inadequate means of expressing her feelings. Never had she felt this light, this carefree, this close to another human being. When he turned so his lips could reach hers, she welcomed them gladly.

  Closing her eyes, Casey savored the sweet ecstasy his mouth created with its warm exploration of hers and returned the pressure, the nibbling, giving as much as she was receiving. He raised his head and she looked into dark smoldering eyes.

  “I want you for my wife, my partner, my lover.” There was a ragged edge to his voice, a roughness to his breathing. It echoed much of what Casey was feeling until his hand slid beneath her shirt and began to pull it up over her breast. She caught his wrist.

  “Please, don’t.” Her voice was a whispered plea.

  “Sweetheart . . . why? I know you want me to love you. I can tell by the beat of your heart, by the movements your hips are making against mine.”

  “Not here,” she whispered anxiously.

  “Love doesn’t always have to be in the bed in the dark,” he insisted. She turned her face away, but he saw the glimmer of tears. “But if that’s the way m’lady wants it to be. ... Sweetheart, look at me. You do like being my lady?”

  “You know I do,” she said softly and wound her arms about his neck. She kissed his ear, his cheek, ran her fingers through his springy black h
air.

  “Well play it your way for awhile, sweetheart. You’ll get over your shyness with me.” He got to his feet and pulled her up beside him. “Sleepy?”

  “No, but I can’t wait to go to bed.”

  “Mmmmm . . . best offer I’ve had all day. I left this number for my brother to call. I think I’ll call him because I have a feeling I won’t want to be disturbed later on.” He kissed her nose and pushed her gently toward the bedroom door.

  The rain was pouring down by the time they reached the outskirts of Portland. Casey was glad now that she wasn’t driving. Something about the gray day and the sheets of rain hitting the windshield reminded her of that foggy night on the highway.

  Dan’s hand left the wheel and reached for her arm. “Come closer.”

  She went willingly, her shoulder tucked behind his, her hip and thigh in contact with his. He was an excellent driver and kept his eyes straight ahead.

  “I like you close.” He said the words simply.

  She placed her hand on his thigh and his hand immediately dropped to cover it. Being with Dan was like a dream. Maybe that was what bothered her. Dreams seldom came true. She looked at his profile; concentration furrowed his brow. He took driving seriously. I love you, Lancelot, she told him silently. I don’t want you to be a dream. I want all of this to be real. And maybe, just maybe ...

  “Maybe your father will pay us a visit.” Dan’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  “I doubt it. He always wants to know where I am. That’s why I called him. I think he suffers a guilt complex, but lie wouldn’t know a guilt feeling if it jumped up and bit him.” After a while she added, “I left a note for Judy. She would be the one to miss me.”

  “Only Judy?”

  “The rest of my friends were connected with my job and I don’t think 111 be seeing much of them.”

  “Who needs friends like that?” His voice sounded cold for a minute.

  Casey leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “Tell me about Bend. Is your mother at home now?”

  “She’s in New York with one of her sisters. My mother has a passion for plays. She’s been addicted to them for as long as I can remember. She and my aunt take in every play on Broadway and then go to London to see some more.”

  “London? To see a play?”

  “Well, not just to see plays. She has friends there. Aunt Bea is the exact opposite of my mother and her other sister. She lives right across the fence from us and you couldn’t get her out of Oregon with a team of mules.” Casey could tell from the amusement and affection that colored his tone of voice that he liked his Aunt Bea.

  “Will I be seeing her?”

  “You bet.” He took his eyes from the road long enough to grin at her. “Aunt Bea is quite a woman. She’s an apiarist.”

  “Your aunt is a beekeeper?”

  “Ironic, isn’t it? My aunt Bea, the beekeeper. She’s had bees for the last thirty years. Her yard is surrounded with hives and honey houses. She sells honey to all the local markets and to some stores in Portland. ‘Aunt Bea’s Honey.’ She’s even got her picture on the label.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Dan laughed. “I’m not kidding. She had a picture of a honey bee drawn with her head on the body. Appropriate, don’t you think?”

  “Well . . . uh, no doubt about that. Is she married?”

  “Her husband died about twenty years ago. She has no children of her own, but she claims me. She’s anxious to meet you and will probably give you the third degree.”

  “Why would she do that? And how does she know about me?” Casey suddenly was nervous and her words came out sharp and staccato.

  “She’s anxious to know you because she loves me and will want to check you out to be sure you’re everything I told her you were.” He put his hand on the inside of her thigh and pressed her leg to his.

  “Dan! You didn’t tell your family there was anything ... ah ... personal between us?” She practically groaned.

  “Of course I did. I told them I wanted to marry you. Why shouldn’t I tell them?” He sounded proud.

  “Because ... we haven’t decided anything for sure.”

  “I have. If you turn me down you’ll embarrass me and 1’ll lose credibility with my family.”

  “I never know when you’re teasing. You are teasing?” She looked horrified. “I thought I was going to house-sit, not be put on display so your family can decide if I’m good enough.” Taut nerves had put an even sharper edge to her voice.

  “I was teasing. You’ll love Aunt Bea and she’ll love you. The first thing she’ll do is bring you a cookbook that substitutes honey for sugar in all the recipes. Then she’ll give you a lecture on health food.” He chuckled. “I imagine you can tell her a thing or two about that.”

  “Where do you live?” The thought had just occurred to her.

  “There’s a cabin out at the mill. I stay there sometimes. Sometimes I stay at the house. My dog is at the house and I have to see her.” He braked to .allow a car to pass and squeeze in ahead of them. “Damn fool! Sometimes I think they should give I.Q. and sanity tests before they give out driver’s licences.”

  “Who’s taking care of the house now?” Casey asked quietly. It was slowly dawning upon her that the house-sitting job was a ruse to get her to Bend.

  “Aunt Bea, part of the time, and me, part of the time. The rest of the time my sisters-in-law come out. Mom has a million plants in the house.”

  “I love house plants,” she said lamely and lapsed into silence.

  The country they passed through was beautiful. The highway went through Mt. Hood National Forest and across the Warm Springs Indian Reservation. They turned south at a town called Madras.

  “It won’t be long now,” Dan said. “We have several wilderness areas near by. Some day well go backpacking.” He seemed to sense her nervousness and talked on calmly about the landmarks they passed. “We’re not too far from Bachelor Mountain. A friend of mine has a year-round lodge up there. It’s a skier’s dream. The snow is dry and the temperature perfect. Do you ski?”

  “A little. I’m not an expert, by any means.”

  “They have runs for every ability level.” He was holding her hand tightly. It was as if he was trying to give her strength for something that would be difficult for her. They didn’t talk until they drove into Bend. “It’s not much compared to Portland.” He laughed, lightly. It was a proud laugh, in no way apologetic. “This is our main street.” Casey thought the town was charming. It looked like a small thriving community. Most of the parking places were full. They passed quickly through town and out onto the highway again. “We live out of town along the Deschutes River. We’re almost home, sweetheart.”

  Casey gently tugged her hand loose from Dan’s and adjusted the scarf over her ears.

  Nine

  Dan turned the car onto a narrow blacktopped road which cut a swath through tall, dark cedar trees. Eventually the woods thinned out and they drove past a fenced meadow where a bay mare and colt grazed. The colt came trotting inquisitively to the fence and watched them pass, then kicked up its heels and went back to its mother. They drove through another wooded area and the trees gave way suddenly to a view of lawns sweeping up to the front of a large brown-shingled house. Dan turned up a narrow lane flanked with bushes and onto a wide flagged drive.

  Casey felt a flutter of relief. Somehow she had imagined a flock of Dan’s relatives would be waiting outside the house and she would have to run the gamut of appraising eyes. The double-hatched front door, with strap hinges of a trefoil pattern, were closed. The hip-roofed house, sides and roof, was covered with weathered shingles and looked settled, completely at ease in its surroundings.

  There was a drive that circled around to garages attached to the side of the house, but Dan stopped the car near the front door.

  Casey turned solemn eyes to him. “It’s lovely. It looks so calm and peaceful.”

  Dan squeezed her hand. “Somehow I knew you’d l
ike it. C’mon. The sun came out to welcome you to your new home.” He got out of the car and waited for her to slide under the wheel.

  Inside the house he turned her toward the big living room, which ran across the entire front of the house, leading into a dining ell. It was a fireplace, leather, and chintz room, with large soft couches and chairs and colonial-type curtains. A stately grandfather clock presided by the staircase opposite the front door. The broad-planked floors that gleamed beneath braided wool rugs told her the house was old and rooms had probably been added from time to time. The house seemed exactly right for Dan now that she saw him here. It reflected comfort, taste, and warm serenity.

  He led her into a large, windowed kitchen, scrupulously clean and shining. Plants lined wide window ledges and brass cookware hung over the island counter stove. A round oak table and high-backed chairs sat at one end with a view of the river beyond. The table was set with quilted print placemats and crockery. A fresh-baked pie sat on the counter. From the kitchen you stepped out on a screened porch, which looked as if it ran the length of the house.