Devlin's Grace

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  Devlin took her mouth and kissed it, his lips swift and savage against hers. He became the match to ignite her desire but even as her body came to life, Gracie knew what fueled him. He acted not with a sensual passion or even a hunger, but with need, pure and unbridled need.

  His want stretched beyond any simple gratification or dream. He required her, her mouth and her kisses and her body to survive. As simple and basic as it might be, Gracie understood. In these moments, Devlin wasn’t making love or giving lust power. He sought life, simple and eternal and thought he could find it in her arms.

  She realized it on a gut level and knew she was the life jacket tossed to a drowning man, the oxygen given the patient to survive, and the escape route to safety. Gracie offered herself, a willing sacrifice to banish remembered death and to be the conduit to drain some of Devlin’s emotional anguish away. If she didn’t, he might die of it and she felt it, stronger than almost anything she’d known. As he kissed her, his tongue found her mouth and entered. His unshaven cheeks raked against hers, prickly and abrasive as sandpaper, but somehow she couldn’t mind, not when his extreme need roared like a beast between them.

  She was far from sexually experienced, but she wasn’t a virgin either. Her few experiences, interludes with unhappy endings, were nothing like what Gracie knew now. His extreme need evoked a response within her and the passion born of his essential requirement birthed a greater, wilder desire within. She ached to please him, to take his pain and channel it back with love. As Devlin’s hands caressed her body, awakening it, Gracie gave him back the same. Her fingers touched him, fondled him, and by the time he stripped away his clothing with urgency, she’d shucked her own. Gracie caressed his terrible scars. Her mouth rained kisses on them, and she took care not to injure his side where she’d pulled out the shrapnel.

  Devlin ravished her, but with her full consent and participation. He took her the way a storm pounds the landscape, with force and power but with undeniable majesty. Even as he rubbed his naked body against hers, as his hands clutched her breasts and his mouth suckled at her nipples with harsh desire, Gracie gloried in it. He swept her with him in the turbulent floodwaters of his wild emotions and she clung to him for the ride.

  “Bedroom,” she said as their crazy lovemaking neared a peak.

  Through his berserk yearning Dev heard her and they headed for her bedroom, mauling one another worse than a bar room brawl. In her pink and pretty sleeping space, he pulled the rose sprigged comforter from the bed and thrust it aside. Devlin put Gracie on her back against the soft sheets and he entered her without further foreplay. His cock rammed her hard, but she opened to him, her body squeezing him to caress, his pleasure becoming hers, too.

  He moaned aloud with pleasure and rocked her until they came in a burst of completion. Exhilaration exploded within and her body spasmed with a delight beyond anything she expected. In the final moments, their bodies become one force, living and loving. Such a powerful rush of physical wonder and emotional joy combined to carry Gracie to the stars and back. She cried out with it, wordless and guttural.

  Devlin shuddered against her then collapsed on top of her, his voice echoing in her ears. She had no idea what he said, but Gracie knew his emotion as her own, and when she felt the soft moisture of his tears, she realized she’d been crying, too. Her arms went around him and held him close to her. He rolled so they could lie side by side, intertwined and close. Their lovemaking leached away his frenzy, and he wiped a single tear from her cheek with one finger.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked. His voice was no more than a sigh in the night.

  “No,” Gracie replied, hoarse yet happy.

  “I needed you,” Devlin whispered. “Oh, Jesus, Gracie, I’m sorry if it was too much…”

  “It wasn’t,” she said. “Don’t apologize, Devlin, don’t.”

  In the faint light shining from the living room lamp in the otherwise dark bedroom, Gracie watched a slow smile creep over his lips. “You liked it?”

  “Well, yeah,” she replied. “I probably wouldn’t want it so intense every time, but oh, yeah, I did.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he breathed and it wasn’t meant as an oath. He said it with wonder, with shock and awe. “You’re a woman in ten thousand, then.”

  She liked his compliment and so Gracie snuggled against him. They lay quiet, content in each other’s arms and presence, but after a while, Devlin said, “Now you understand why I don’t sleep much.”

  Gracie nodded, head against his chest. “Do the nightmares happen a lot?”

  “Every damn night, sooner or later, they do. If I could live without sleeping, I would. How long did I sleep before I went ape shit in front of you?”

  “Twenty, thirty minutes.”

  “Really?” He sounded impressed. “That’s longer than I usually go. You’re not going to kick me out now that you’ve seen me at my worst?”

  “No way,” Gracie said. A warm trickle against her arm caught her attention and she realized it must be blood from his wound, knocked open in all their exertion. “I think you’re bleeding on me.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I’d just open it up again.”

  For a moment she didn’t understand his meaning, but then, as Devlin began kissing her with slow sweetness, she realized he meant to love her again. This time, he touched her as if she were fragile, breakable, and she reveled in his tenderness. And afterward, he slept for a space of a few hours without dreams and without waking.

  So did she.

  Chapter Six

  On an October Sunday, when it seemed as if they’d been together longer than a few months, the blue sky stretched overhead vivid and beautiful, contrasting against the colorful fall foliage, they headed down to Silver Dollar City. Brisk temperatures caused Gracie to don her bright red cable knit sweater over her jeans and blouse. Devlin changed from his worn denim jacket to a heavier black leather one, but it had some of the same military patches on the back. She understood he suffered from PTSD, but didn’t dwell on it.

  Chilled from the ride, Gracie shivered as they entered the theme park and Devlin put an arm around her shoulders. “Are you warm enough, babe?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, snuggling against him. She timed their arrival so they’d miss the opening ceremonies, something she usually enjoyed. But Gracie feared the salute to veterans, the national anthem, and the raising of the flag over the park might trigger memories for Devlin so she made sure they avoided it.

  “Let’s grab some coffee,” he said. “I’m hungry.”

  At the little bakery near the entrance they shared some sweets and sipped coffee. They were exquisite, rich and just out of the oven. As Gracie broke off a piece of cinnamon roll, she watched Devlin as he devoured his apple Danish. His shoulders were relaxed and since he’d gotten a few hours of sleep, his eyes were clear, not bloodshot. When he noticed her gaze, he grinned at her, the good mood he’d awakened in still intact.

  “So what do you want to do?” he asked. “It was your idea to come here.”

  She picked it because all her memories of Silver Dollar City were pleasant. It’d always been a peaceful place, more the way the world should be than the realities. Gracie couldn’t think of anything past the opening ceremonies with the possibility to trigger bad memories. She didn’t intend to ride any of the wilder rides. She never did – they scared the life out of her.

  “I love walking around, watching the crafts people create things,” she said. “Some of the shows are good, too. I don’t know – I haven’t been here in several years. I think the last time was when my high school class came as a senior trip.”

  Devlin entangled his fingers with hers. “So it’s about five years then?”

  “Yes,” she said. She’d graduated five years ago, went to her first year of college, then dropped out, broke. After working full-time at K-mart and part-time as a waitress, she saved enough to go back to classes. At twenty-three, she wanted to start living and if everything w
orked out she’d graduate in December. “When’s the last time you came here?”

  He cocked his head as he calculated. “Must’ve been in 1999,” he said. “It’s just been a century or so.”

  His quip about the date amused her, but she watched, wary in case it conjured up anything unpleasant. Nine years older, Dev lived through hell in Iraq and sometimes it bubbled to the surface without warning. “I bet the place changed since then,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah,” Devlin said with a nod. “I think they’ve changed some of the rides, probably even more, but overall it’s the same place I remember. It was fall then too because it was just before my birthday.”

  Gracie knew his age but not when he was born. “When is your birthday?”

  Laugh lines crinkled in the corners of his dark eyes as he responded. “Halloween. You know, the day all the hard shell religious people say is the devil’s birthday. It just shows I’m a devil for sure, huh?”

  Today he joked about his nickname. Sometimes he didn’t. “Were you really born on Halloween?”

  “Sure,” he said. “If you want, I’ll show you my birth certificate.”

  “Driver’s license will do,” she said, so he sat down on a bench and pulled out his wallet. He handed her his license and Gracie read the date. “Okay, so you’re not joking,” she said. “It’s just a couple of weeks away.”

  “Don’t plan anything,” he warned. “I don’t do birthdays anymore, Gracie.”

  She lifted her hand to touch his cheek and sunlight caught the sparkle of the ring he’d bought her in Eureka Springs. “You will with me.”

  For a moment Gracie thought she’d pushed it too far, but when he smiled, she did, too.

  “We’ll see,” he said. “Let’s go ride a rollercoaster.”

  “No way! They scare me.”

  “So did the motorcycle,” Devlin said. “Come on, ride Thunderation with me.”

  All the way through the line, she fussed, but once they climbed into the cars and were strapped in place, Gracie got quiet. Although the coaster roared at tree top level, twisting, turning, and dropping over the narrow track, Devlin loved it, and she caught some of his enthusiasm. It still frightened her, but she focused on the fun and it wasn’t so bad. Afterward, though, her head spun dizzy and when she headed for the closest restroom, she got sick, a post ride hazard. Her stomach rejected the coffee and rolls. Gracie lingered a few extra minutes, rinsing out her mouth and splashing her face with cold water. Good thing I don’t wear make-up ‘cause it’d be ruined.

  Gracie didn’t plan to tell Devlin, but when she came out of the restroom, he frowned. When he took her hand, he leaned over and sniffed. His nose must’ve caught the lingering stink of vomit because he asked, “What’s wrong? Did you get sick?”

  Surprised at his discernment, she nodded. “It happens sometimes after a wild ride. It’s no big deal.”

  Devlin shook his head. “You look pale. How do you feel?”

  “Good,” Gracie said, honest. “I’m okay.”

  Despite her protests, he insisted she sit on a shady bench and brought her a cool soda to sip. He fussed over her and although she hated to admit it, she liked it. They lingered for another fifteen or twenty minutes, enjoying the sunshine filtering through the trees. As she watched a lazy yellow leaf drift to the ground, Gracie said, “Let’s go do something. I doubt this is much fun for you, just sitting here hoping I don’t puke again.”

  “I’m not complaining,” Devlin said. “I’m not in a hurry and I like being with my woman.”

  He’d never called her that before and the words delivered a warm glow to her heart. “Let’s go ride Shootout in the Flooded Mine.”

  “Are you up to it?”

  She laughed. “It’s a baby ride. No thrills at all.”

  “If it’s what you want, let’s go.”

  If he had any qualms about the name or wondered if there was any actual shooting involved, Devlin didn’t voice them. Gracie couldn’t remember how long the ride existed, but she knew from past experience no real shooting happened. The sound effects were more cartoon than realistic so she didn’t expect they’d trigger anything. They shared a boat and used the laser equipped prop guns to aim at various items through the indoor ride. Floating the route, she decided Devlin must be quite a shot in real life, because he never missed any of the targets.

  Hunger replaced her earlier nausea and so they snacked as they strolled. Vendors offered everything from fried ‘taters to popcorn and frozen lemonade. The kettle corn they bought had a sweeter taste she liked, and they wandered down to watch the boats on the Lost River of the Ozarks.

  “Do you want to ride?”

  On a summer’s day, temperatures in the nineties, she would, but Gracie shook her head. “I don’t want to get wet and the sign’s right – if we ride it, we’ll be soaked. It’s too cool.”

  At the old time photographer’s studio, she talked Devlin into posing for a tintype style photo. He put on the gunslinger’s outfit she suggested while she dressed up as a saloon girl to stand beside him, one leg leaning against his chair. They stared into the camera with old-fashioned sober faces. Even before they could pick up the finished result, Gracie knew she would treasure the picture, the first she had with both of them.

  They sat down long enough to hear a traditional music group perform, watched the glass blower at work, and avoided the other roller coasters. Gracie wouldn’t have minded riding the relatively tame Fire in the Hole, an older indoor coaster, but she recalled the sound effects of an explosion on the final drop and rejected it for Devlin’s sake. Everywhere they went, they held hands or he kept an arm around her shoulders.

  “I’m hungry,” he announced long after noon. “Let’s find something to eat.”

  Choices abounded, but they ended up eating barbecued chicken. After they finished, they rode the carousel just for kicks. Gracie heard the high, thin whistle of the Frisco Silver Dollar and exclaimed, “Oh, I almost forgot about the train.”

  “How could you?” Devlin asked. “It’s one of the original attractions.”

  “Let’s ride it,” she cried. The train, an old steam engine with open air cars running along a narrow gauge track, ranked as one of her childhood favorites. The ride through the forest and back through parts of the park made a fun excursion. Somewhere in the middle, the train always got robbed. The comic routine hadn’t changed much over the years. It was corny and country.

  Until the end of the skit, she thought Devlin enjoyed it, too. They sat side by side on a wide bench at the rear of the last car watching the show. Late in the season, there were more adults than kids on board the train, but people of all ages laughed at the antics. Gracie forgot the skit always ended when the conductor from the train showed up with a shotgun loaded with blanks and fired into the air after the fleeing would-be bandits. Seconds before the end, she remembered and started to warn Devlin, but by then it was too late.

  When the shot fired, he reacted. Devlin grabbed her and took her to the floor, covering her body with his. “Stay down,” he said in a serious voice, a tone she’d never heard before.

  Applause broke out from the other passengers and some whooped their appreciation. At the sound, Devlin realized what he’d done and helped her up. His face turned ashen, paler than she’d been earlier, and his expression shifted from joy to despair. Gracie noticed how his hands trembled. They sat still and silent as the train headed back to the station. She put her right hand over his left and leaned until her head rested on his shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. He said nothing, even after they got off at the train station and merged into the crowds. Devlin walked with brisk steps over to a bench as far away from everyone as he could and sat down. He buried his face in his hands.

  Gracie bent over and put her hand on his back. “Devlin?”

  “Jesus Christ!” He spat out the words with force, with self-disgust. “I’m sorry for being so fucking pathetic, babe.”

  “You’re not.
” Gracie stroked his back, hoping to soothe him. “I should’ve remembered about the shot. Don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s a natural reaction for someone who’s been in combat, nothing to be ashamed about.”

  His head popped up. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

  “Don’t say such things. You’re my Devlin,” she said. “I need you.”

  Admitting it took gumption, more than she’d had before she met him. Gracie didn’t know what to call him – boyfriend, lover, best friend or buddy? He was all that and more to her.

  “Why? I’m no use to anyone, just a fucked up pain in the ass embarrassment.” He put down his hands and glared at her. If she couldn’t shut down his reaction now, the rest of the day would be shattered. Everything could crash and she refused to let it happen.

  Until now, she’d saved the three words, kept them back for a special occasion or a rainy day. Her old lack of self-esteem and nerves prevented her from speaking them aloud because Gracie feared rejection. She spoke them now, hoping they would matter, throwing out her heart into the fray to be mangled or destroyed if they didn’t. “I love you.”

  Devlin went still, the way everything does just before a storm. Gracie waited. He didn’t twitch or move and the wind didn’t seem to ruffle his hair. If he drew breath, it wasn’t apparent. He just sat - a virtual human statue.

  A few seconds passed, but he failed to move or speak. Moments became minutes without change. His expression remained solemn and bland. She began to tremble as a floodtide of emotional pain erupted and swept through her so powerful her knees knocked together. With every ounce of inner strength she possessed, Gracie willed herself not to cry and wondered if she could succeed because this hurt ventured far beyond tears. She prepared to surrender, to walk away when he said her name.

  “Gracie.” His voice resonated with tenderness, soft and somehow sweet. With trepidation tempered with the slightest dash of hope, she met his gaze without blinking.