by Jane Keeler
Fenton gave Westley a long, considering look, and nodded. He got into his truck and drove off with a rock-and-roll beat issuing from his open windows.
“Alone at last,” Sarah said. She rested her forehead on Westley’s chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. He put his arms around her and laid his head on her shoulders. They held each other close and felt the stress melt away.
Sarah giggled. “What did I tell you? Hollywood.”
Westley buried his face in her hair. “This is what you put up with every day?”
“Every day,” Sarah replied. “Although you really stand out in a small town. Once they get used to you it won’t be so bad.”
“I hope so.”
“Why don’t you take a shower while I fix us up some dinner?” Sarah asked. “Venison stew alright with you?”
Westley kissed her briefly and went off to the bathroom. Sarah set about making slow-cooker venison stew. She caramelized some onions and tossed them in with chopped fresh tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, bell peppers, and sweet corn, along with cubes of venison tenderloin one of her hunter friends had given her. She took out a handful of the whole-wheat bread dough she kept in her fridge, set it to rise, and walked down to the bedroom.
Westley was standing there with a towel around his waist, looking through his suitcase.
“Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours,” she said.
“That should give us just enough time.” Westley grinned at her.
She winked at him and pulled off her dress. “I hope you left me some hot water.”
She was back in the bedroom in record time and was looking for Westley when she felt him grab her from behind. She squealed and then giggled.
He bit her gently on the earlobe and whispered, “Hello, my proud beauty.” She tried to turn around and kiss him, but he held her in place. “I’m going to blindfold you,” he said, “and then I want you to remain very still.”
She gulped and nodded. “I’ll do it.”
He led her to the bed and pushed her down onto it. “Lie down and close your eyes.”
She felt something silky wrapped around her head and tied with a firm knot in front. Her whole body felt exposed and extraordinarily sensitive. She quivered in anticipation. Without the use of her eyes, she felt each sensation with exquisite clarity.
The mattress shifted. She felt the heat of Westley’s breath against the inside of her thigh, followed by his lips and his teeth as he nibbled a line up towards her center. She writhed against him, but felt his hands hold her down.
“Stay still, I said.”
When she had complied with his satisfaction he continued his path upwards, scratching with his fingernails on her highly sensitized skin. She moaned and her hips jerked.
He stopped. When she whimpered she felt his breath hot against her flesh as he said, “Whenever you move I am going to stop and wait until you to lie still again. Say, ‘Yes, Westley, I’ll do it.’”
Sarah was breathing so hard it was difficult to get it out, but she managed. “Yes, Westley, I’ll do it.”
“Good.”
She felt his hands on her now-moist thighs, moving them apart. Now they were caressing her belly and breasts, pinching her nipples and pulling on them gently. Sarah mewled in frustration but was careful to keep still. As if to reward her, his hands moved downward again to her cleft. He parted her wet lips and stroked lazily up and down until he found the bud of her clit. His hand moved in small circles, starting gentle and then moving harder and faster. She ground her hips against his hand and moaned.
“Uh-uh, naughty.” His hand stopped moving and he bit her breast, hard this time, but she was past feeling it. It was only another and stronger sensation in the sea that was drowning her senses. Her breasts were so swollen they ached and her body was crying out for release.
“Say, ‘I’ll be good, Westley.’”
“I’ll be good, Westley.” She panted for breath and tried to control her legs, which were twitching now. Thankfully he seemed to have decided to accept her obedience, because his hand started moving again, maddeningly slowly this time. She whined low in her throat.
“I love that look on your face,” he murmured. “So open, so… vulnerable.”
“Please, Westley.”
“As you wish.”
She felt his body shift against her and he entered her in one slow movement. He pulled her hips forward and lifted up her legs, kneeling over her and moving deep and slow and steady. His grip on her thighs kept her from moving and she had to settle for moaning in time with his strokes.
He put her legs back down on the bed and she felt his body cover hers. His lips on hers as he kissed her. His tongue invaded her mouth, pushing down her throat at the same time he penetrated her body. This continued in a regular and relentless rhythm until she could no longer hold herself still. Her hips jerked up to meet his, but he didn’t punish her this time. He sped up, driving harder and faster until the built-up tension in her core released itself all at once and she screamed.
He thrust as deeply into her as he could and continued moving until he found his own release, and growled as he came.
They lay there until their breathing quieted and their hearts slowed down. Sarah felt the knots worked loose on her blindfold and looked up into Westley’s face. She pulled him down for a kiss and purred with satisfaction.
“That was incredible.” She kissed him again.
“For me, too.” He slipped off and lay next to her. She spooned up and they dozed for a while, until she felt Westley kiss the top of her head.
“Are you hungry? Because I’m hungry.” Westley said.
“Lucky for us we have a venison stew waiting, and it won’t take me but a minute or two to bake the bread.”
Westley took a quick shower while Sarah formed the now soft and puffy bread dough into rolls and put it in the oven.
“Fifteen minutes,” she told Westley when he walked into the kitchen.
Sarah took her own shower, and when she came back the kitchen was full of the delicious smell of baking bread. Westley was sitting at the kitchen table drinking iced tea. Sarah wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind and nestled her breasts against the back of his head. He leaned against her and sighed.
The timer sounded and they ate a hearty dinner of venison stew and fresh whole-wheat rolls with butter. They had blueberries for dessert.
Chapter 8
The next morning they stopped by the mayor’s office first thing after breakfast. Westley’s assistant had emailed a complete list of Braxton Industries’ requirements. Bob had made lists for them: possible locations, permits they would need, and local contractors they might want to consult with.
Westley and Sarah spent the morning driving around looking at possible factory sites. Westley was struck by the beauty of this countryside. In the middle of summer it was lush and fecund, full of growing things. It felt good just to be with Sarah, with no itinerary or commitments or important work to be done.
They narrowed down their choices to three locations and stopped for the day. They couldn’t do anything more until the site team arrived from the main office.
Westley was enjoying his second day sans tie. He had even considered going so far as to buy a pair of jeans. He had lightweight linen summer suits, but he couldn’t wear those out in the garden.
Sarah had told him she needed to go over her garden and make sure it was doing well after her trip. Westley wanted to help. It looked okay to him, but he didn’t know much about gardening.
Sarah cooked another delicious meal for lunch—something called ‘Shrimp and Cheese Grits’ that was made up of a thick and fluffy cheese polenta topped with shrimp and bacon bits. It was served with sautéed greens and was one of the best meals Westley had ever eaten.
“I didn’t know polenta was a popular food in the South,” Westley said.
“It’s not polenta, it’s grits. There’s a big difference.”
“Oh?”
; “Yes, grits are treated with lime to get the husks off and liberate the vitamin B. You get that tasty corn chip flavor and it’s more nutritious.”
“It’s certainly delicious.” Westley finished the last of his grits and eyed Sarah hopefully.
She laughed. “I’m afraid that’s all of it, but I made blackberry cobbler for dessert.”
Blackberry cobbler was a buttery pudding studded with flavorful deep purple berries. That was delicious too.
They sat out on the porch for an hour with glasses of iced tea, making desultory conversation and enjoying the day. Westley hadn’t felt so relaxed in—he couldn’t remember when he’d felt so relaxed. Even when he was out cruising the ocean on his yacht, he was usually making business plans. Running Braxton Industries demanded most of his attention, and he was usually glad to give it.
All the same, within the past couple of years he had assembled a good senior management team, so the company could run very well from day to day without him. That should have made him happy, but instead he felt aimless and adrift. The battles against corporate espionage had given purpose to his life again, but somewhere deep down he’d felt a little lost. Until he met Sarah.
Sarah put down her empty glass and stood up. “Welp, time to see how my garden fared while I was gone.”
Westley stood up as well. “I’d like to help, if I may. I don’t know anything about gardening, but I’m willing to learn.”
Sarah looked him up and down. “You might fit into some of Charlie’s old clothes. Come with me.”
Charlie had been a little larger through the middle than Westley (understandable, since he’d eaten Sarah’s cooking for so many years) and a little shorter. Westley was able to belt the jeans Sarah gave him to fit his waist, but they looked ridiculous since they ended just above his ankles.
Sarah took out her sewing shears and smiled wickedly at him. When she finished he was sporting a pair of knee-length cutoffs. His pale calves looked rather absurd, but he decided they would tan with time. He had to wear two pairs of socks with Charlie’s shoes, but they were comfortable enough. He topped it all off with one of his own undershirts, though.
Sarah gave him a big black-and-red checkered bandanna to complete the outfit. She tried to get him to wear it around his neck but he refused and stuck it in his pocket.
Out in the garden, Westley got a good look at the gate he’d glimpsed out of the car window. It was made of solid oak, the joinery done so well it looked like one unbroken piece of wood. He was able to see the details of it now, and what he saw was fascinating. The craftsmanship was superb—the twining plants and flowers clearly belonged to distinct species, some of which he could see inside the garden walls. And the imagery wasn’t confined to plant life.
There were little people hiding in amongst the vegetation. They were individuals, as well. Some looked completely human, others less so. Each little being had his, her, or its own particular facial features and expression. Some were wearing happy smiles. Some seemed sad. A few looked frightened.
“This gate is a remarkable piece of art.”
“It’s good, isn’t it? Fenton made it.”
“Really? He’s a young man of rare depth and talent.”
“Yup. We could see it when he painted that picture of Charlie. Tickled Charlie no end. He had to have it framed and displayed where everybody could see it.” Sarah blinked rapidly.
Westley put an arm around her waist and pulled her close. She leaned against him and let go of her sadness.
“Time to get to work,” she said. “I figure it’ll work best if you harvest and I weed. I’ll get a couple of baskets from the shed.”
She looked around and smiled. “Looks like Fenton and Arabella did a good job. They kept up with the harvesting, too. Zucchini can really get away from you if you let it.”
She showed him how to pick green beans and tomatoes, and gave him a small knife to slice through zucchini stems.
After that, there was a lot of stooping and pulling and slicing and putting things in baskets. He understood the need for the bandanna now. Sarah was digging small plants out of the soil with a garden implement.
Westley flicked off a small beetle that had landed on his arm. His back ached and his shirt was sticking to him, soaked with sweat. Some insect had bitten him on the ankle and the bite itched. Still, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction; he had harvested several baskets-full of food. Westley had never felt this close to the Earth before. He stood up straight and put his fists against the small of his back, twisting to and fro in an attempt to work out the knots.
Sarah smiled at him. “Looks like we’re done for the day.”
They went back into the house and had iced tea again, only this time the sugar felt like it was rejuvenating his body instead of making his pancreas beg for mercy. He stretched out his legs and noted dimly that they had dirt on them. The bite on his ankle presented itself for consideration but he decided it wasn’t worth the bother. Westley hadn’t felt this bone-tired in a long time. He made the effort to work out several times a week, but working in the hot sun had really drained him.
Sarah handed him a big glass of water. “Drink up. You need to replenish your fluids.”
They had sandwiches for dinner, made with slices of tomato, cucumber, and a flavorful, deep red ham that Sarah explained was hickory-smoked wild hog. He filed the information away for future reference, hoping he would be able find something similar in New York.
“I’ve been thinking,” Westley said, “Maybe Fenton would like to meet my niece. She runs a gallery in New York.”
Sarah smiled at him. “We’ll have to ask him. I don’t think he wants to run off to the big city.”
“He wouldn’t have to live there. He can easily ship his pieces to New York once he gets enough together for an exhibition.” Westley took a sip of iced tea. “I’d be interested in purchasing some of his stuff myself. His workmanship is superb.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the compliment.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, do you know why he included the, um…?
“The little people?” Sarah finished her bite of sandwich and grinned at him. “North Carolina’s chock-full of legends and sightings, all the way back to the time of the Cherokee.”
“Really? I thought they were mostly found in the Old World—Britain, Ireland, Europe and so on.”
“The Cherokee called them the Nunnehi or the Yunwi Tsunsdi'. They’re the people who live-” She shrugged. “-next to us.”
Westley raised an eyebrow.
“There’s a story from the late eighteen hundreds about people in white flying around Chimney Rock, up in the mountains. They say the whole town saw them.”
“Surely you don’t believe…?”
“I’ve seen things, heard things—certain places, certain times.” She grinned at him. “Come camping with me tomorrow.”
Westley tilted his head and looked at Sarah. He was disconcerted by the knowledge that she held this outré belief, but he knew her to be intelligent and sensible. The way she’d helped Karlee was nothing short of magical.
Magic wasn’t something he’d thought about before. You couldn’t find much of it in the corporate world. That was certain.
He smiled at Sarah. “I’d love to go camping with you tomorrow.”
That was certain too.
Chapter 9
The team from New York had arrived to start on the site inspections, so Westley didn’t really have any work to do until they submitted their reports. He reveled in his unaccustomed freedom, even if it only lasted until Sarah put him to work helping her can green beans. Besides, something about watching her bustle around the kitchen in her apron made his insides feel like he was going down in a fast elevator.
Sarah asked him if he minded trading vehicles with Fenton for the next couple of days. She pointed out that the Mercedes would have trouble on the unpaved roads where they were going. Westley agreed, his curiosity piqued.
Fenton came by and
they exchanged keys. The normally impassive young man couldn’t resist a delighted grin. “I’ll take good care of her, sir.”
“I’m sure you will.” Westley smiled at the boy. “I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you how much I admired Sarah’s gate. I’d be very interested in seeing more of your work. As a matter of fact, I have a niece who manages a gallery in New York. I suggest you show her your stuff.”
“I’ll give her a call, sir.”
Westley gave him his niece Arden’s number and clapped him on the shoulder. He hoped Fenton would wait until he was out of earshot before gunning the engine on the Mercedes. After seeing Fenton off, he ambled into the kitchen to make sure Sarah was packing lots of that wild boar ham for their trip.
“Where are we going?” Westley asked.
“Just outside of Murphy,” Sarah said. “About a six-hour drive, so we should get a move on if we want to get there before nightfall. We can have lunch on the way.”
Westley kissed the top of her head. “I’ll go pack.”
“I laid out some of Charlie’s old jackets and stuff for you. It can get chilly at night, even in summer.”
Westley hadn’t been camping since he was eleven years old. He’d gone with his Boy Scout troop to the Ocala National Forest in Florida and stayed overnight. As far as he could remember, he’d quite enjoyed it.
Their drive was an entirely pleasant one. They avoided the cities as much as possible and enjoyed the scenery, which became truly spectacular once they reached the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. The green, gently rolling hills were soothing to Westley’s soul.
Around one o’clock, they pulled over beside a magnificent mountain view and ate their lunch of sandwiches and fruit. Westley wondered if he’d ever get tired of that delicious ham and decided, on balance, probably not.
They reached their destination around four in the afternoon, when they turned off the main road. They drove several miles along a gravel path into the woods and Sarah asked him to pull over beside a gate in a barbed-wire fence. She opened it with a key and motioned to Westley to come on in before closing and locking the gate behind them.
