Tenderness

by Dorothy Garlock

  “We’re going there first?” She felt the need to say something.

  “We’ll reverse the trip we made today.”

  “The Gordon girl was the sickest.”

  “We’ll be there in an hour unless you have to spend extra time at Prestons’ and Fosters’.”

  “Why were you walking when I met you today?”

  “I was strolling around—seeing the sights.”

  “In the woods?”

  “Lots of interesting things to see in the woods.” When she had nothing more to say, he said, “I’ll draw you a map tomorrow so you can see where each family lives.”

  He’d draw her a map so he wouldn’t have to bother with her again. That was fine with her!

  Jesse shook herself mentally. She was here to do a job and should be grateful for his help, but she wasn’t. She wished the help would have come from anyone but him.

  The horse’s movements brought her into rhythmic contact with his body from his chest to his knees. There was no way she could escape his closeness. It would never do to let him know that being in his encircling arms made her heartbeat accelerate and her silly brain stop functioning. No wonder, she told herself. Being alone in the dark woods with this strange wild man was enough to give a person heart failure. The horse moved carefully down an incline, crossed a dry creekbed and scrambled up the steep bank on the other side.

  Jesse’s hand grasped Wade’s wrist in sudden fright.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. “Samson has good night vision. He can see better than we can.”

  “Thank heavens! I can hardly see my hand in front of me.” She laughed. “Are you sure you know where we’re going?”

  “Sure as shootin’.” A chuckle escaped him. His voice was low and soft, and she had felt the vibration in his chest when he laughed.

  Conscious of a loud and determined thumping between them, she wondered whether it was his heart or hers. She did not have time to consider the question. Something swished in front of them. The horse shied and danced in place.

  “Whoa!” Wade commanded. “It was only an owl.”

  “My goodness!” Jesse exclaimed. “It’s scary in the woods at night.”

  “Not as scary as in a big city or even in a town the size of Harpersville. Two-legged animals can be far more dangerous than four-legged ones.”

  “You’ve been to a lot of big cities?”

  “A few.”

  “I’ve never been to a big city.”

  “You haven’t missed anything.”

  They came into a clearing. A backlash of lightning showed momentarily against the overhead blackness, followed by a low rumble of thunder.

  Jesse’s mouth curved at the thought of what her friend, Pauline, would say if she could see her now—in the dark woods, astraddle a horse, with the man the whole town believed was The Looker.

  CHAPTER

  * 5 *

  Otis Merfeld sat sprawled in a chair watching every move Jesse made. Aware of the gaze of the thin, wiry man with a head of straw-colored hair, thick, loose lips and watery eyes, Jesse was glad that Wade was just a call away. She realized Otis was drunk when he grabbed his eldest daughter, Flora, and tried to pull her down on his lap. When she hit him with her fist and darted to the other side of the room, he laughed as if being struck by his daughter were the funniest thing in the world.

  Jesse was giving Mrs. Merfeld instructions on how to administer the medicine her father had sent when a stunning crash of thunder shook the house. It was still echoing when another roared in its wake. Otis staggered to his feet.

  “Hit’s gettin’ ready to rain pitchforks and nigger babies. Ya’ll jist have to stay the night, missy. Flora,” he shouted to be heard over the now constant rumble of thunder, “Fix up a pallet for the nurse.”

  “Never mind, Flora. I’m expected at the Lesters’. Be sure to keep the children covered, Mrs. Merfeld—”

  “Ain’t no need a’tall fer ya to go to old Granny’s. She ain’t—”

  “I’m going, Mr. Merfeld,” Jesse said firmly. “But I thank you for your concern.”

  “Ain’t decent ya goin’ off in the dead a night with that nigger-lover,” Otis mumbled and shouldered his way past his wife to reach Jesse and grasp her arm. “Yore pa’d think me lax—”

  “Let go of my arm,” Jesse said quietly.

  “Otis!” Mrs. Merfeld whispered fearfully.

  “Go sit, Pa,” Flora demanded. “Yo’re bein’ a jackass.”

  “Watch yore mouth, girl,” Otis snarled and raised the hand he removed from Jesse’s arm in a threatening gesture.

  “Ready, Nurse Forbes?” Wade’s voice came from the door leading to the porch.

  “Just about. Mrs. Merfeld, I’ll caution you again about not allowing the children to get chilled. Don’t allow anyone in the house who could carry the germs to another household. If you were in town you would be under quarantine.”

  “Under what?” Otis pushed his face so close to Jesse’s that she backed away.

  “Quarantine. A red sign would be put on your door and no one would be allowed in or out until the doctor declared the patient no longer contagious.”

  “Ain’t no sonofabitch puttin’ no sign on my door, by Gawd.”

  “No one is planning to do that. I said—if you lived in town—”

  “They’d not do it in town either.”

  Knowing she was about to lose her temper, Jesse focused her mind on a motto that hung in her father’s surgery: “Patience is a Virtue.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow, Mrs. Merfeld.” Jesse picked up her bag. “You’ve done a good job keeping the fever down. I don’t think there’s much danger of you or Flora getting the disease, but you could carry it to other children. So stay close to home.”

  “Yo’re just bound to go traipsin’ off in the night with Wade Simmer. Ain’t ya carin’ what folks’ll think? Yo’re shamin’ yore pa is what yo’re doin’. Ya been offered a decent bed—”

  “Otis… please—” Mrs. Merfeld followed Jesse to the porch. “Don’t pay him no mind, miss. He ain’t hisself when he’s drinkin’.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Try to rest. Let Flora take a turn sitting with the children. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Wade appeared out of the darkness and settled the shawl over her head and around her shoulders. She cupped her hands and he poured a small amount of the disinfectant in them before capping the bottle and putting it in her bag.

  The routine had been the same at each place they had stopped. He lifted her into the saddle, mounted behind her, then unfurled the poncho slicker and settled it over their heads.

  “Your feet will get wet, but there’s nothing we can do about that.”

  Wade turned the horse away from the house and down the road. The first spattering of raindrops began to fall onto the poncho that covered them like a tent. With her back pressed snugly against Wade’s big hard and curiously gentie body, his arms around her, Jesse felt cozy and safe. There was no doubt in her mind now that he would see her safely to Granny Lester’s.

  “Poor Mrs. Merfeld. I don’t see how she stands that… that lout of a husband!”

  “She has no choice,” Wade said.

  “He’d have to sleep sometime, and when he did I’d work him over with a stick of stove wood.” Jesse’s voice rose heatedly.

  “I bet you would at that.” Wade chuckled. “I thought for a minute I’d have to barge in and rescue you. But you were holding your own pretty good.”

  “Only because I knew you were just outside the door.”

  Wade felt a surge of pleasure. She overwhelmed him, driving all logical thought from his mind. She melted back into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He struggled against the passion she aroused in him. Her body moving softly against his was seductively dangerous to his self-control. He breathed in the scent of her, a faint antisceptic and woman scent, mingling with the clean night air. His chest rose and fell with his breathing. He hoped desperately to c
ontrol the part of him that would embarrass both of them if she became aware of it.

  “Here it comes,” Wade said almost welcoming the sheet of wind-driven rain that hit them. “Are you scared of storms?”

  “Sometimes.”

  She turned her face to his shoulder. His back and bowed head were to the wind and the slicker shed the rain that pounded them. He held her tightly against his chest in a protective, sheltering way. She could feel the beat of his heart. She couldn’t remember ever being held this close to anyone except her brother and sister. Like all young girls she had had her dreams. One of them had been to wonder what it would be like to be held by a lover. Of course, she admonished herself, Wade Simmer was not her lover, but just a man taking care of her because he admired her father.

  The thunder and flash lightning rolled and crackled over them, and with it came the heavy downpour that lasted for what seemed a long time. When the deluge finally let up, a gentle constant rain continued. Jesse rested against Wade in sweet comfort while the rain curtained them and bestowed upon her a sense of belonging, enriching her faith in this man she had known for less than twelve hours. The rain gradually receded until it became a light drizzle, then stopped.

  Jesse moved her face back to look into his. Water from his hat brim spilled down on the slicker when he tipped his head. Moisture clung to his lashes and ran down his cheeks. They were a breath apart, so close she could see the shine of his eyes as they moved intently over her face. Seconds slipped by and he said nothing. As the quiet between them stretched, and the horse carried them onward, Jesse blinked at him in confusion.

  When they came, his whispered words were a shock that caused her heart to make a frantic leap.

  “Jesse.” He said her name softly. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kiss you.”

  “No!”

  “I… won’t bite you.” He knew the words were stupid, but it was too late to take them back.

  They looked at each other for a long while before he lowered his head slowly, giving her time to turn her face away. Jesse was mesmerized. She knew what was about to happen but was unable to stop it. He brought his mouth down on hers; his lips were wet with rain but warm and gentle. He brushed her lips with his, lightly, like the wings of a butterfly. It wasn’t enough.

  “God help me!” It was a groan that ended as his lips, hard and intense, found hers again, covering, taking control, feasting on her mouth as if it were a warm ripe peach.

  Never before had she felt quite like this. Never had she known this melting, letting-go sensation that now invaded her innermost being. The sudden joy was startling, and yet so lovely it was breathtaking.

  Why couldn’t she think? Now his lips were playing with the corners of her mouth, tracing a path to her eyes and then back to close over hers. Their lips met with an eagerness and familiarity that was unique for two who had not been lovers. Her senses commanded her to move back out of his embrace, but her body ignored the order, remained pliable, and molded itself against him. She could feel the steady thumping of his heart and feel the hard muscles and bones of his chest and arms.

  A warning crept into the back of her mind. She knew she should have found his kiss distasteful, but it was wildly exciting, deliciously sweet. Her sanity argued, this is madness! For once she refused to listen to that inner voice and delighted in the wondrous warmth, the sensation of his lips on hers, to the feel of arms encircling her, to his strength, to the masculine smell of his skin, to the roughness of his cheeks.

  “Damn! Damn! Damn!” Wade groaned in frustrated agony and pressed his cheek tightly to hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” His voice was husky with regret.

  “I don’t know what possessed me to let you—” Her lower lip trembled. She was glad he couldn’t see her face. “I’m not… I don’t… go around kissing strange men.”

  “I know that,” he said quickly. “It was my fault. I should have resisted. But you’re enough to tempt a saint and I’m sure as hell no saint.”

  She was aware of the heavy beat of her heart and his. His mouth had had the bittersweet taste of tobacco. Her nose, when pressed to the roughness of his cheek, had caught the whiff of smoke. These scattered thoughts floated through her mind as her eyes focused on the space between the horse’s ears and her mind fought for something casual to say.

  “Why don’t you have a mustache?”

  “Too much work.”

  “I don’t like them anyway,” she said lamely, turning her head and moving it slightly away from him.

  Jesse sat still, dazed, aware that Wade no longer held her tightly against him. Coldness was seeping in where she had been so glowingly warm before. With shaking fingers she adjusted the wet shawl on her head.

  “Looks like the rain is over.” Wade spoke as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “That’s the Lesters’ ahead. Grandpa put a lantern on the porch.”

  Too late, too late. The refrain echoed in Wade’s brain as he rode home through the rain-soaked woods after he left Jesse at the Lesters’. His insides churned and twisted painfully. He couldn’t even excuse himself on the grounds that he hadn’t known what was happening, would happen if he kissed her. From the beginning he had known. The first time he had looked at Jesse Forbes through the field glasses he had known that he would have to be very careful. And knowing that, he had gone full tilt ahead, paying no heed to the warning signals.

  Jesse was so far above him they didn’t even breathe the same air, he reminded himself sternly. His brain knew that, but his body and his emotions lacked that understanding. What he needed was to go to Knoxville and visit a woman he knew who was skilled in giving him relief. After visiting her, he didn’t give her another thought until time for the next session, and she didn’t expect him to.

  The frenzy of his obsession with Jesse frightened him. He had tried all day to analyze his feelings. It was not that he was desperate to get her into bed—although he had to admit that he had thought about how it would be to bury himself in the soft warmth of her body. It was more than that. Never before had he wanted someone to belong exclusively to him, care for him.

  Even now he could smell the clean, sweet scent of her, see her eyes as calm and serene as a mountain pool one moment and sparkling with laughter the next.

  She could destroy you, you idiot!

  Wade was disgusted with himself and vowed to stop thinking about her. He had done foolish things in his life but never any quite as foolish as kissing the doctor’s daughter.

  Still, the warmth that had settled inside him and the odd feeling of belonging when she returned his kiss were the most pleasurable moments of his life. He allowed himself the luxury of imagining how it would be if she were in his kitchen, standing at the stove, waiting for him. She would have a sweet smile on her pretty mouth and her dark hair would be loose and hanging down her back.

  Damn, damn. In one short day she had turned his life upside down.

  The smell of coffee roused Jesse. She identified it and became aware that she was snuggled down in Granny Lester’s featherbed. She turned on her back and found herself looking out on a clear morning. She stretched luxuriously. Then a clatter of iron brought her full awake. She sprang out of bed and scrambled into her clothes, brushed and pinned up her hair, and hastily made the bed. She glanced around the small room where the neat iron bedstead was now spread with a patchwork quilt, then walked barefoot into the kitchen. Granny stood at the cookstove stirring a pan of raw-fried potatoes.

  “Morning.”

  “Hit’s goin’ to be a fair day. Mr. Lester says there ain’t a cloud in the sky. Sleep good? Bed not too lumpy?”

  “The bed was wonderful.” Jesse had not slept well. Her mind would not release thoughts of Wade Simmer and the devastating effect of his kiss. As she washed her face and hands and dried them on the towel that hung on a nail above the wash bench, she strove without much success to put him out of her mind. “What can I do?”

  “Ya can sit. Mr. Lester is comin’. I
heard the gate swing shut.” Jesse stood behind the high-backed kitchen chair feeling awkward at being waited on by this elderly woman with the goiter that was choking the life out of her. But knowing the pride of the hill people, she waited quietly.

  The screen door banged behind Grandpa Lester. He set a dishpan on the wash bench and poured water from the bucket over a small skinned animal in the pan.

  “Caught us a possum, Mrs. Lester.”

  “We ain’t had a possum in a coon’s age.” Grandma Lester wiped her hands on her apron and went to peer into the pan. “It’ll be plumb larrupin’ fer Sunday dinner. Got to let it stand a day and night in salt and sody water,” she explained to Jesse. “Ain’t nothin’ better ’n possum and sweet ’taters.” Granny went back to dishing up fried potatoes, white milk gravy and buttermilk biscuits.

  Jesse’s stomach did a slow roll at the thought of eating the possum and she gave thanks silently that she’d be spending the next night with the Baileys.

  After they were seated at the table and Grandpa Lester had said the blessing, he announced that the “boy” had come early this morning with Jesse’s buggy.

  “Jody brought it over?” Jesse asked.

  “Wade brung it.”

  “When you said boy, I thought you meant Jody.”

  “Wade brung it,” Granny repeated. “Said tell ya Hod Gordon’d meet you at Merfelds’. Boy ain’t got but one flaw. He’s dead-set on treatin’ that darkie like he was white. Ain’t natural.” Granny’s mouth twisted in lines of disapproval.

  “Now, Mrs. Lester, don’t get yoreself all flustered,” Grandpa said soothingly, then to Jesse, “Wade’s goin’ to Coon Rapids and tell the teacher to close the school.”

  “Oh,” Jesse said and busied herself with pouring sorghum onto a buttered biscuit.

  “Mine is the first face the boy saw when he come into this world o’ woe.” Granny pushed the gravy bowl toward her husband when he reached for it. “Scrawny, skinny little beggar. Looked like a skinned rat, he did. Humpt! No wonder. The woman that birthed him bein’ what she was. But he let out a whoop when I whapped his behind and I knew sure he was a Simmer.”