Wildflower

by Raine Cantrell

  There was shared laughter as Robby and Char­mas brought in the supplies, yelling at each other when the puppy got tangled in their feet. Jenny had no choice but to join in and set her fears aside. She helped settle their foodstuffs on the shelves, noting it was dusk, and mentioned fixing a simple supper for their first night, but again Charmas stopped her.

  “Look in that last basket, Jen. Gran fixed everything we’d need. Cold chicken, rolls, and a cake, too. I’d sure like a cup of coffee to go with it, though.”

  Grateful for something she could easily give him, she hurried out to get water. Chiding herself for becoming tense when she returned to find Charmas kneeling before the fire, feeding it bits of wood, she filled the pot with coffee. Hesitating to speak as he seemed lost in thought, she listened to Robby, scolding the cat for attacking the puppy in his room. His logic of calling the dog Promise wasn’t to be argued with when Charmas sided with him. And hearing it repeated over and over, she thought of other promises made.

  Chattering over the fireplace, how well it drew, how neatly he’d fitted the stones, Jenny tried to make up for what she couldn’t say.

  “I’m glad you’re pleased, Jen. That’s all that matters to me. If you’re happy here, then I will be, too.” Taking the coffeepot from her, he set it down on the firestone. “We have a few minutes till it’ll be ready. Come down to the corral with me.” He called out to Robby, warning him to watch the pot and tell him where they were going.

  “It’s good, Jen,” he said, simply and huskily. “So good for me to hear you laugh again. But you don’t listen well. There’s someone calling you.”

  Bewildered, she turned around. And there, in the last dying rays of the sun, was her sorrel mare, nickering and tossing her head over the low pole fence of the corral. Jenny ran to her. She had never thought to see her again once she had set her free. The mare’s velvety neck met her hands and Jenny buried her face against it.

  “Now, I don’t want you to think I was competing with you,” Charmas whispered behind her with laughter riding his voice. Stroking the mare’s nose, he raised his hand to scratch between her ears. “When I was at the cabin, she came down out of the woods and stayed. Tossed a halter on her without a bit of trouble. There’s wild herds here, too. I saw two bands that have promising stock running with them, and if you’ll show me how to Indian-gentle them, we have Michael’s promise to buy all we can supply.”

  “You’ve done so much, I don’t know what more to say.”

  “I told you, Jen, be happy here.” With a toss of her head, the mare nudged his hand and a longing tore his gut.

  And later, Robby settled in his bed, Charmas listened to the night sounds and tried to ignore Jenny’s softly humming voice while she bathed. She’d been like a child, filled with delightful laughter, heating water for her bath. He sat before the fire, rolling himself a smoke, knowing he needed to do something to keep his mind from remembering the sight of her. A glance at the closed door, built stout by his own hand, had him swearing softly. He was torturing himself by sitting here, knowing it, and making no move to leave.

  From the doorway, Jenny whispered his name.

  Answering her, he looked up when she told him she needed help to empty the buckets. Her form was shadowed. Hope flared inside, hope that Jenny was trying to tell him … The thought died aborning with her next words.

  “It’s just that I don’t have a robe, Charmas, or I’d do it myself.”

  “Get in bed, Jenny.” Only the tautening of his mouth revealed his complete frustration. “I’ll be right there.” Her whispered thanks fell on deaf ears. He ground his fist in despair against his thigh, then flipped his cigarette into the fire. It was too soon. He knew that. Too damn soon!

  Charmas couldn’t know how she lay there, fighting away the terror that marked her nights. She couldn’t call out to him to come, to hold her until she slept. She was so afraid of his arms locking around her, closing, tightening, once more smothering her. She could not give Char­mas, her husband, what she had given him freely before. It was wrong to think of Charmas and Jonas together, but she did. They were linked in her mind with the horror of being at any man’s mercy again. And that became her nightmare, too.

  “Good night, Jen.”

  Whisper-soft longing and a welter of pain was conveyed in his voice. She held her breath, fear taking hold, hating herself and unable to stop.

  In the weeks that followed, Robby became like Charmas’s own son, thriving on all the care and patience he offered, along with time to explore the valley. And Charmas grew leaner, finely honed muscles pushed to the limits of their endurance rippled with the punishing tasks he set himself. It didn’t help. Nothing helped him sleep through the night until Jenny’s screams would wake him. He didn’t run to her anymore, not after that first night. He couldn’t punish himself with the cruel brutality of being helpless. So he survived by taking joy in the days when her smile softly touched him, in stealing bits of contentment that made their home more than a lonely man’s dreams. Sometimes he would stare out over the valley, feel the full heaviness of the earth coming alive in the spring, and Jenny would come to his side. Sharing a smile or bit of talk, he would forget and reach out to touch her. Then she would withdraw. He knew his mind had focused on his body’s needs to avoid thinking of all else they’d lost. Still, she was not always as cold as he had thought, or perhaps he was getting used to it.

  It was the first rain that brought about a change. It also brought about the first break in her terror. Charmas looked back later and wondered how he’d dared to think he had the courage to see it through.

  There was nothing special about the beginning of the day; Robby had helped him complete the roof on the bam and now spent most afternoons down there in the loft with his pets. Tired from another night’s restless sleep, Charmas came up to the cabin for coffee. He also needed to see Jenny, having sensed something different about her this morning. She’d been rather quiet, avoiding his gaze whenever it chanced to meet hers. That didn’t happen often though. They were haunted eyes. All the sparkling brilliance in their deep blue depths was shadowed and haunted.

  The moment he opened the door, every instinct screamed; the fire was covered with dead ash. She hadn’t fed it in a long while. He went to her room, knocking softly on the door as he had trained himself to do. When she didn’t answer, he didn’t hesitate to think what he would find. He simply walked in.

  She was standing before the open window, one hand turned palm up to catch the rain. The soft cotton folds of the gown he’d first brought her molded her slender back and flared slightly from the hips. For a moment he thought she was crying and stayed turned away from him not to let him see. She had to have heard him knock, then come in; he’d made no effort to be quiet. The ache spread inside, when, without a move, he felt her withdrawal.

  To prove him right, without facing him, she said, “Charmas, I want to leave here.”

  “Leave here?” Disbelief filled his voice and he stood rooted.

  Steeling herself, feeling courage flee before the raw wound of him reaching out to her, Jenny slowly withdrew her hand from the softness of the rain to clutch the rough wood window frame. Its solidness steadied her to say what was needed. “We can’t go on living like this. At least I can’t. I try to fight the nightmares and you just hate me for turning away from you.”

  “I don’t hate you, Jen.” His hand raked through his hair. “How could you say that? I’d never hate you.” Listen to me, he cried silently. Hear me! For a moment when she lowered her head, shoulders sagging in defeat, he hoped, then died a little more.

  “Charmas, please! There’s anger inside you. Rightly so and don’t deny it to me. Don’t,” she warned, gripping the wood. “I know it’s there. I know you. And I can’t—no, won’t stay here and watch you in pain, too.”

  Each word was a knife thrust that pricked the bands of constraint that held him silent all this time. The defiant toss of her head broke one complete
ly; the sight of her gathering herself to stand tall against him, away from him, slid through and snapped the rest.

  “Does it matter to you what I want, Jen? Has it ever mattered to you? I asked for your trust. Was that so hard to give me? Do you think nightmares don’t haunt me for what I did to you? Do you think pain—”

  “Don’t—-do—this—to—me,” she whispered in agony.

  “I married you and that gives me the right to talk, and that’s all I want from you, Jenny! I loved you knowing it would never be easy. But I still dreamed, Jen. I wouldn’t let the dreams die. I still fight not to.” His voice was suddenly razor sharp. “But not you. You’ll run from what we had and from me. It’s easier that way, isn’t it? Cutting me up, punishing me for letting you go back that day is just easier?”

  “Stop shouting at me! I don’t want your anger. I…” Leaning her head against the wall, turning into herself, away from him, she cried out softly in a broken voice, “Please … let me go back to Gran Salinas. I felt safe—”

  “Christ, Jen!” For a moment he pleaded, wanting to cry out his pain, then he pleaded no more. “You can’t feel safe here with me?” he accused in a simmering rasp. And he waited, heard himself repeating the words over and over, his voice spinning out like the coldness of the mountain streams rippling over the rocks. And when she didn’t answer, his whole body froze. “Why? Why do you feel that way? Damn it, you owe me, Jenny. You owe me that much! Now tell me. Tell me!” he demanded, striding across the room, forgetting her terror in the bursting of his rage. And that damning flood made him grab her shoulders, spinning her around. His grip tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh, shaking her.

  “You’ll open your eyes and look at me! You can’t hide anymore. I won’t let you. Look at me, Jenny. Me. Charmas. No other man.” Her lips thinned, straight brown hair flying across her face. His voice shook with a deadly desperation, begging her to hear him. “Jen, it’s me, Charmas. I’m the man who loves you. Do you ever once remember that? Do you ever think of what we shared? Do you?” Her neck was snapping from the way he shook her, but he didn’t see. “Did I do wrong in staying away from you? Answer me! Did I? Did you want me to come to you and take the pain away? Do you ever need me? Jen…” In his eyes, the black rings spread, darkening the hazel lights until only black remained. And from the blackness of his despair, he cried out, “Don’t you want to forget?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The gentle patter of the rain sang against the sturdy timbers, filling the room with the scent of the earth’s welcoming. Firelight bathed Jenny, huddled on the floor beneath the window. Motionless, her mind was locked in the moments before Charmas had violently released her and abruptly left her alone. It was late, although she didn’t notice the time passing. The house had been quiet for a long while and she heard no one moving about now. Robby had long since gone to sleep under Charmas’s soft murmuring voice warning him to be quiet so his mother could rest.

  Why didn’t he come to her? Why couldn’t she simply ask him to? And how could he deny her need to leave here and stop the torture between them?

  She couldn’t cry; there were no tears left. She felt empty inside and yearned to have him near. His angry words resounded in her mind again and again. His face reappeared, etched with fury and pain and hopelessness, crying out that she was killing him, knifing him day by day, and didn’t seem to care.

  Charmas. His name became the litany her heart and soul and mind joined together in wanting, in crying out to and for. Hugging her flexed knees, rocking slowly back and forth, despairing of ever healing herself, she heard no sound until he stood behind her.

  “Jen? I came to tell you I’m going. You and Robby can stay here.”

  She listened to the sparse words, to his voice barren of feeling, and felt the love and need in him. Yet she tensed, afraid he would dare touch her again.

  “Don’t be frightened, Jen, I won’t touch you,” he stated coldly. “I need to say I’m sorry. More than sorry. I … lost … yes, I lost,” he repeated wearily, and with a whisper-soft brush of cloth he dropped to his knees beside her. “I packed my saddlebags. I want to leave before first light, so you tell Robby I needed to go to the fort. And you won’t argue with me. We both know you were right. It can’t go on. I was crazy to try.”

  For a long moment, Jenny said nothing. She listened to the crackle of the fire, the soft patter of the rain, his uneven breaths, and she remembered another rain, another fire, and Charmas. Closing her eyes, bits of crystal-clear moments came and haunted her. The very light and gentle touch of his hand cupping her cheek, his eyes, amber fire bright then darkening, his husky voice lingering in sweet memory, calling to her with his promise: “Warm me, Jen. All the warmth in the world to me. My woman. My life.” And now she was cold and hurting and Charmas would go and take the fire with him again. She had given him more than a gift of herself once; he claimed all she was.

  His breath caught in his throat when she turned to face him. He didn’t let the hope flare, he didn’t dare, but the ache inside him encompassed his being with the need to love her now and forever bury the pain.

  But her silence drove his fury to the surface. “Don’t you care about hurting me and destroying yourself? You’re not the only one haunted by nightmares and regrets. But I can’t take any more. I won’t let you bury me along with all the hope I had left. Jonas won. He left me with broken dreams and a broken woman,” he went on ruthlessly. “I can’t fight anymore.”

  His words lashed at the veil of self-pity she had wrapped around herself. Jenny tried to close out the sound of his voice, but there wasn’t any place left to hide.

  “I’ve loved you and you’ve taken everything I had to give and gave me nothing in return.”

  “What do you want from me!” she cried.

  “Look at what you’re doing to us!”

  “If you leave now, you’ll take any hope, any chance—”

  “Hope? Chances? For how long, Jen? When does it end? Next week? Tomorrow? When? What the hell do you think I’m made of? Stone? I loved—”

  “I’ve tried,” she protested, realizing she wasn’t losing him; she’d already lost. And without him … “Charmas, please—”

  “You’re right,” he cut in. “This is no way for us to part.”

  His pent-up sigh was released against her cheek. “Forgive me, sweet lady,” he whispered. “Kiss me, Jen? Just let me leave with the taste of you filling me.”

  She could not speak to deny him. She could not move when he touched her cheek with one callused finger. A ripple of pleasure shot through her at seeing the tenderness lighting his eyes when she couldn’t begin to forgive herself for hurting him, but sadness replaced it too quickly.

  “I’ll carry the scent of you inside me, Wild­flower. I’ll know you’re here and safe, and someday I’ll come back to you. And we’ll love again, I promise you that. But you, well, I know you need more time and it’s all I can give you, Jenny. It’s all you’ll take from me now.”

  Into the whisper of rain-soft night, his voice faded and she closed her eyes. Her lashes were dark, shadowed crescents, fluttering, then stilled just as her lids stopped trembling. Touched by his words and voice, and weak with a flooding desire that made fear and nightmares tangle together, she could not stop shaking. And her soul cried for the love he offered, a love beyond the healing her body needed, a love that would bring her to dreaming again.

  And Charmas waited, watching her. The soft folds of cotton rose and fell with her erratic breaths; her hands, tensed, kneaded the sleek length of her legs, and he sighed, resigned to leaving her.

  His warmth surrounded her. Small darting fires licked inside her, teasing her now with too many memories.

  Inside him a knife churned with the need to reach out and touch her, to hold her, and once again he tested all that made him a man and waited.

  Slowly she turned to look at him. Pain pooled in the blue darkness of her eyes. “Charmas,”
she whispered softly, catching her breath, touching his lips with fingertips that trembled, “I can’t bear hurting you like this. I can’t let you go from me now. You were wrong, I don’t want to remember any of it. I want to love with you again. I want only you.”

  He stilled, hunger alight in the brilliance of his eyes, his lungs expelling a harsh breath, his mouth softening under the touch of her.

  And Jenny remembered her strength and called upon it now as she never had before. She would not run from him. She knew there would be no other chance if he left her. Yet fear was not easily set aside, not when he was silent.

  “Don’t say we have no chance! I‘ll…” Gripping his arm, making him look at her, she knew he wouldn’t make it easy. “You were ruthless and brutal, but I can’t lie to you and say you’re wrong. But you hurt me. I … oh, please, don’t leave.”

  “Once before I asked how could I leave you, Jen. I ask it again now. How can I?”

  “I needed you then and you came to me,” she whispered in a tear-choked voice. “I need you now, Charmas. Will you come to me?”

  “Just tell me, Wildflower. Just say…”

  Her lips answered with the lightest and softest of touches. Her hand rested on his shoulder, the blue cloth warm from the heat radiating from his skin. With a painstakingly slow move, he leaned back, resting on his heels, drawing her against him. Rippling shudders encompassed them both.

  “Jen?” he groaned against her mouth. “Jen, please don’t let this be a dream.” But it was, she wanted to whisper, digging her fingers into the hardened curve of his shoulders. It was their dream. Their love. The wildness and the fire coming slowly together.

  Her kiss molded the heated softness of his mouth, her fingers slid upward to brush the hair on his neck. She let her sense of touch guide her, fingertips tracing the shells of his ears, the fullness of his lobes, gliding down to the pulse in his throat. Whispered sighs had their breaths mingling, a caress of building heat, and Char­mas shook against her.