The Vicarage Bench Anthology

by Barbour, Mimi

  “Let’s get that gorgeous body on the bench and get this switch over and done with. I can’t wait to hold my girl in my arms again.” He looked away from Marnie’s shocked expression, but not before she saw tears glinting.

  He winked her way while at the same time his jaw trembled with emotion. God, it was good to have him back, she decided. She’d missed him much more than she’d missed her employer.

  Jenna’s pallor was disturbing to Jake, but he knew her wan, ashen face and thin body would resume its healthy glow in a matter of weeks with good food and care. They set her in the same place where he had sat only moments before, strapped her there, and then collectively held their breaths.

  Flutters of movement started in Jenna’s hands first, her fingers twitching. She whimpered and tried to force her body erect, but it quite simply was too weak. Her blue eyes opened and were glazed with tiredness.

  “What is wrong with me?” Croaking out each word in a pitiful, feeble voice, she glowered accusations. Then she looked around, saw her friends and relaxed. She was home.

  “My love, you’re frail from lying in a coma for months. Give it time. You’ll get your strength back, I promise you.” Jake hovered near her on his knees.

  They bundled her into the wheelchair and made their way into the vicarage, where Dr. Andrews did a cursory exam of her vital signs.

  Marnie fell back into her old habit of staying close but in the background. Jenna’s eyes roved the room until she spied her. “Thank you, Marnie,” she said. Her voice was already stronger. She stretched both hands up to grasp Marnie’s hand and repeated emotionally, “Thank you so much for staying with me.”

  “You’re welcome, boss. I’m glad to see you again.” Upon saying the words, Marnie realized how very sincere they were. She had missed her lively, bratty boss.

  “Jake,” Jenna ordered next. “Please, take me to the mirror.” Since she couldn’t stand, Jake had to wheel her over and help her up so that she could see for herself—she was truly back.

  The screech could almost be heard on the street.

  “What the hell have you done to me? I look horrible! Where’s the rest of me?” she whispered fiercely, gripping her cheeks in her hands.

  This was too much. Marnie jumped to her feet in fury. “Why, you ungrateful little bitch! Do you realize how hard it was to take care of you, a dead weight lying there? We had to feed you through tubes, administer your medications, wash you and turn you every so many hours, and talk to you till we were hoarse. We brought you here to…”

  Jenna cut in, her voice pathetic. “Please, Marnie, forgive me. It was the shock, and I think some of my bitchiness must have remained in my old body after all. I’m sincerely sorry, my dear, and I’m lucky to have you and Jake and Dr. Andrews as my friends.”

  Jake, trying to help settle emotions, turned to Dr. Andrews. “You were right all along—your idea worked.”

  Dr. Andrews looked searchingly at Jake. “What do you remember about the last week?”

  “If you mean do I remember being a roommate in John Norman’s body, then yes, I remember it all.”

  “Jenna,” Dr. Andrews interrupted her catch-up conversation with Marnie. “What do you remember about the time you were away?”

  “I remember everything, doctor, especially about how brilliant you were—are—whatever.”

  Laughter is touted as being the best of medicines and for the next hour giggles and reminiscences evoked medical miracles.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next night Jake crept into Jenna’s bedroom after Marnie had retired.

  “Are you sleeping?” he whispered quietly.

  “I drifted off earlier, for an hour or so, but now I’m wide awake. I’ve been hoping you’d come to me.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d welcome me or not. I picked up on your goodnight smile and sensed an invitation—or should I say that I prayed it was an invitation? These last two days have sped by so fast, and we really haven’t had any time alone…”

  Jenna burst out laughing, and after he thought back over what he’d said, he had to join in.

  “You know what I meant. It’s hard for a guy to make out with his woman when she’s in someone else’s body.”

  “Am I your woman?”

  “Uh-huh!”

  “And you want to make out with me?” She wore a witch’s smile, tantalizing and provoking.

  “More than I want to breathe. Unfortunately, I’m a gentleman, and it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of you in your condition. You’re weak and have been through so much. I can wait…”

  “Oh, shut up and get in here,” she ordered as she lifted the blankets on his side of the bed.

  He had her in his arms in seconds, cuddled against his length. Her eyes had widened when he’d first entered the room wearing only pajama bottoms and in the glow of the bedside lamp she’d been able to see his muscular shape. How marvelous, she thought giddily. His chest was wide and tanned, and the triangle of chest hairs he sported was so macho and so unlike the Jake she had thought she knew that it took her breath away. He was a gorgeous male specimen, right under her nose all that time, and she hadn’t even seen it. Goes to show how right Lucy was. Just call me superficial, Jenna thought.

  He held her tenderly and smoothed his hands up and down her arm like he was patting his dog, which finally got to her. She realized if she wanted anything to happen she’d have to start it herself.

  Little did Jake know that with each passing hour, her strength was returning. True, she couldn’t walk any long distances or sit for long periods, but lying here in his arms she felt energized and for the first time in so long she felt passion saturate her body, and that gave her power. Walking might still be a problem, but making love would be a snap. She needed this to happen, needed to feel alive.

  Her hands lifted and pushed him away as she sat up and pulled off the ruffled monstrosity they’d laid out for her. Not wanting to push buttons again, she’d worn it rather than complain, but now she was glad to be rid of it for more than one reason.

  The light from the same bedside table that had highlighted him to her now did a similar favor for Jake, throwing a golden halo over her beautiful, frail body. He shook with needs tamped down for so long.

  “Now,” she said. “I want you to treat me like a woman, your woman, and not a pet poodle.”

  With adoration stamped over his features, he touched her breasts, hand fillers so beautifully formed, with hard, pink nipples distended and begging to be kissed. He leaned up and gently cupped one breast while he kissed her neck as she arched above him. He treated one side the same as the other and covered both with kisses, licks and little love bites until she collapsed over him and nestled right in.

  He turned her onto her back and gazed down at her adoringly. “I love you.” He mouthed the words.

  He waited but not in vain. Her reply was the same; no sound at all, just the message from lips and eyes. It was all he needed as he kissed her silly, his passion barely held under control while his erection lost the battle and grew, becoming hot and hard.

  With her legs splayed open, he nestled between them and his eager member surged towards the area designed especially for it by the maker. He was careful to keep his full weight off her, resting on his elbows, but she would have none of that nonsense. Feeling his body covering hers was therapeutic, as well being a large part of her earlier fantasies. His pajama bottoms impeded their joining and were peeled off, two pairs of hands tearing at them, helping each other.

  He wanted to slow things down, to concentrate on her face, kissing and nibbling at her eyes, her lips, her ears. It was important to him to make this a memorable night of lovemaking, to teach her the beauty of the physical act between a man and a woman who love each other. She wouldn’t co-operate. Agitated movements enticed him to move things along. She arched her lower body and he quickly became diverted downwards. He stopped at her neck, licking and nuzzling. She moaned and rolled her face back and forth invitingly,
opening both sides to his searching mouth.

  Her chest heaved and rubbed against his, deflecting his attention. He held her swollen breasts, tenderly kissing first one and then the other, his hands forever active, kneading and rubbing, caressing and stroking. She was on fire. Her breath came in spurts and she felt again as if she was experiencing an out-of-body miracle. Flutters of ecstasy started and ended up flooding her system. Hot wetness flowed and she was ready for the first time in her life. Ready to mate with her man. Her response was to wriggle this way and that until she felt him at the entranceway to where heaven was waiting.

  It was what she had been made for—he was what she had been made for. They fit perfectly. All his gentlemanly feelings were forgotten in an instant, as he became the passionate, hungry man of her dreams.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jenna was in a frenzy, her usual state on a day she had to fly. Packing her own luggage was always a priority with her. Regrettably, her organizational skills left something to be desired, and the room looked like a destructive cyclone had been through it.

  “Why does Dr. Andrews want to see us this morning? We saw him yesterday, and he knows we have packing to do today because we’re leaving tonight. I thought he was going to come to the airport with us to say his goodbyes.” Jenna was anxious to get home and back to work now that she felt so much better. The last two weeks of recuperation had been wonderful, but life had to resume, and she had a wedding to plan.

  “I’m not sure, sweetheart. He’s taking us for a drive to see something he thinks we’d be sorry to miss.” Jake shrugged, his hands held out in front of him in a standard what-do-I-know gesture.

  Shortly, Dr. Andrews was knocking at their door. They stopped packing and together went to greet their old friend and liberator. In the car, Dr. Andrews gave them last-minute instructions on coping with any lingering health issues once they landed back home.

  “Take things easy for a while. Get plenty of rest. Don’t get back on the treadmill too soon, particularly you, Jenna. You might think you’re strong, but your body will need you to spoil it for some time to come.” He was a bit of an old lady, picky and stubborn. That’s what comes from living alone most of your life, Jenna thought.

  She poked Jake and jerked her head in the doctor’s direction. “Where are you taking us, Dr. Andrews?” asked Jake, following his love’s evident hints.

  “I want you to meet some very close friends of mine before you leave,” said the thoughtful gentleman.

  Both Jenna and Jake recognized the small house instantly. As the car pulled into the driveway, the front door opened and an elderly couple emerged, smiles of welcome on their friendly faces as they recognized Dr. Andrews’ car.

  They were both considerably older. Lucy’s hair was white but still worn shoulder length and curled around her plump face. John, his arm around his wife affectionately, was balding and stooped with age and arthritis, but his familiar direct gaze over the top of his wire rims brought tears to Jenna’s eyes.

  Introductions were made. It was obvious to the young people that these two old dears had forgotten them. Lucy seemed the same, only older, but after a short while they could tell that John’s brilliant mind had weakened. He had lapses of memory and tended to cling to his wife fretfully.

  Jake and Jenna were saddened, because their precious reminiscences were so strongly entrenched in their hearts.

  It was a short visit, as they had a plane trip to get ready for, but they left with warm handshakes and best wishes—and an emptiness deep in Jenna’s soul.

  Then, just at the moment they reached the car, a soft voice could be heard. “Jenna?” Lucy called questioningly. “My dear, I feel I need to hug you goodbye.”

  Jenna reached out and warmly scooped the shorter woman into her arms. She closed her eyes and held on, all her energy forming a shimmering net of love around them.

  “I missed you,” whispered Lucy.

  He’s Her

  In a small English town, a casino owner from Vegas, Rhett Parks, was relaxing on a bench in front of the vicarage. To his dismay, a young woman interrupted his sanctuary. A minute later, his body was out cold on the ground and he was taking up residence inside of the intruder - schoolteacher Carrie Temple - and without her permission.

  Her first words “get out” didn’t solve anything because he had no idea of how he got in. During the next few weeks they fought each other, taught each other and began to love each other, not an easy accomplishment considering the situation—but doable, as Rhett proved too sweet, naïve Carrie.

  They became involved with strange Dr. Andrews who assured them he had the answers to solve their problem. Rhett’s brother, Ashley, who they turned to for help, was absolutely certain that the man they were putting their faith in was a charlatan and a quack.

  Great Reviews for He’s Her

  “He’s Her is not like any paranormal romance I’ve read lately. It’s quirky. I recommend He’s Her to anyone looking for a quick, fun summer romance about a wallflower who learns to stand up for herself and finds love in the process.”

  ~Reviewed by Dorothy Johnson

  “He’s Her is a fun read with a few twists and turns that make the characters endearing and even the gruff ‘Rhett’ worms his way into the reader’s heart. I was invested in these characters and couldn’t wait to see the end! I look forward to reading the other stories in the Vicarage Bench Series—do yourself a favor and pick up this fun, quick read.”

  Reviewed by ~ Agapanthus, Long and Short Reviews.

  Prologue

  2007

  “If we do this, there’ll be no turning back. Sweetheart, are you sure it’s what you want?” His frail voice wavered.

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I want to keep you with me—always. Please, please understand. You must.” The grey-haired woman, faded beauty in her weary face, leaned her slender form towards the pale travesty of a once vibrant man. The washed-out blue pajamas he wore were typical hospital couture; not so was the luxurious navy velour robe that hung on his withered frame. In contrast, dressed in her stylish turquoise dress, the woman had a youthful heartiness and an innate vitality despite the tired lines around her eyes.

  Her companion sighed, slapped his hands on his knees and nodded. “Right! We’ll leave as soon as we can make the arrangements. Each day my strength fails a little more. I don’t want to be a burden longer than necessary, and the doctors did warn us that the end would come quickly.”

  “Darling, I’ve asked your brother to come, and he’s willing and ready to leave at a moment’s notice. He’ll be a strong arm to cling to, through everything.”

  “Yes, it’s a good idea.” He leaned to tenderly caress the beloved face of the woman he’d adored for forty-seven wonderful years. “You’re still so beautiful, my wild rose.”

  “And you’re still a silver-tongued devil.” She kissed him softly, lingeringly.

  “Sweetheart, I must tell you. I feel a sense of relief in making this decision.”

  “You do? I’m glad.” She gently patted his dear face.

  He nodded, gazing into her eyes, his own full to the brim with tears. “It’s because I know now that I won’t be leaving you, after all.”

  Chapter One

  Bury, England 1967

  The tall, slim, well-endowed broad was strolling directly towards him. Damn! He didn’t want to share this bench with anyone else, even a classy chick like her. The last few hectic days had taken their toll. He needed to catch his breath and unwind. Alone!

  * * *

  She smiled and nodded to acknowledge him and continued to head toward the back of his bench, where a luxurious, fragrant bush full of wild roses spread its splendor. Rhett watched her slide tiny garden clippers from her shoulder bag. He supposed she was pilfering roses, and he wished she’d get on with it and leave him to his peaceful sanctuary. He heard a snipping sound, followed immediately by a whimper and a sucking noise as she babied what must be a wound. Feeling
peevish, he ignored her.

  This pretty spot, just in front of the timeworn vicarage and near a busy country lane, had become Rhett’s safe haven over the last few days as he organized and attended his father’s lonely funeral. The vicar, himself and his old man had been the only guests at the service. His father had wished to be buried in England, in the church cemetery near the vicarage close to where he’d grown up. Rhett decided to honour this last request, though why he felt it necessary was beyond him. The old guy had paid scant attention to his family, including Rhett, his oldest son. While Rhett was a boy, the old man ignored him. As the boy grew to be a man he reciprocated, and so they never had a close relationship.

  Being an actor, making love to his leading ladies, and seeing his name in lights was all the fool cared about. Other than the ridiculous name bestowed on him, Rhett Parks inherited little else from the man who’d demanded to be called Father—never Dad.

  “I’m sorry. I seem to have pricked myself. I feel slightly faint.” The intrusive woman stumbled toward the seat beside him and slumped onto it, letting her purse drop to the ground. Her rose, the instigator of the disruption, landed at his feet.

  Without hesitation, he bent and picked up the stem, feeling a sharp prick in his thumb as he did so. His annoyance doubled. Silly woman was the last thought he had for some time.

  “Mr. Parks? Sir? Oh, my goodness! Whatever has happened?” The vicar rushed over and tried to hold up the body of the collapsing man, an impossible task. The dead weight rolled over and landed in a heap on the grass beside the wooden bench. The clergyman turned to the white-faced woman, whose open eyes were fixed and empty. “Miss Temple? Miss Temple? Are you all right?” The vicar reached over and nudged Carrie’s shoulder.

  “Ohhh!” Her head wobbled on her neck as she stirred.