Summer Lightning

by Cynthia Bailey Pratt

  Then she slid off the rock boneless in relief.

  The other men crowded into the opening behind him, swinging their lanterns and gabbling a mile a minute. Jeff picked up Edith’s limp, chilled form. Grouchy dancing around him, shivering from doggy happiness.

  “Let’s get her out of here,” Jeff said, gazing at her pale face, the lashes thick on her cheeks.

  “Say,” said Ozzie, picking up an unlit lantern from the floor. “How long do you reckon she’s been sitting in the dark?”

  “Dark?” Jeff asked as he moved toward the exit. “One of you must have knocked it over.”

  “Couldn’t be—this lantern’s cold.”

  Jeff looked down at her, a question in his mind that would never be asked. But he could have sworn he’d seen . . .

  “Wake up, now, Edith. Come on.” He patted her cheek with the back of his hand. She was chilled through.

  Her eye lids fluttered and lifted. “And they lived happily ever after,” she muttered.

  “That’s right.” Over his shoulder, he said, “Whiskey.”

  “No,” Edith said, pushing away the flask that appeared. “Don’t want to sing now.”

  “Have a little sip to warm you up. You’ve gotten kind of cold sitting down here and we need you to be able to walk.”

  “I can walk.” She pushed again at his hand, though lying against his chest was a blissful comfort after the cold rock. “I don’t need liquor, Jeff. Just the sunlight. It is still sunny somewhere, isn’t it?”

  Eager voices assured her that it was only about one o’clock in the afternoon. “Oh, good, just time for lunch,” Edith said. “I’m so hungry the rocks were starting to look tasty.”

  “Edith,” Jeff said softly. “You’ve got an hour’s walk ahead of you.” She looked so disappointed that the men began to pat their pockets to bring out their own supplies of portable food.

  “Here’s some beef jerky the lady can chew on.”

  “I got an apple—kind of wrinkly but I’m sure it’s good.”

  “Want some penny candy?”

  Feeling a little foolish for making an exhibition of herself in front of all these nice people, Edith tried to struggle up, her hand on Jeff’s shoulder. She was glad of his support, for her knees wobbled strangely. He didn’t take his hand off her— touching her waist, or her arm or her hand—throughout the entire journey upward.

  When they at last reached the fresh air, Edith hid her stinging eyes against his chest. She’d never seen anything more beautiful than the meadow and the fair in the summer sunshine.

  “No reason to cry now,” he said, tilting up her chin.

  Edith blinked in the light and the tears that ran down were hot against her cheeks. “It’s just ... I only now realize I might have died without ever telling you . . .”

  Jeff pulled her against him and kissed her cold lips. They heated quickly under his treatment. She threw her arms with abandon around his neck.

  “Tell me later,” he murmured as a cheer went up from the searchers. “Tell me every day for the rest of our lives.”

  Word spread quickly that she was safe and sound. The people of Richey began to surge up the hill as though needing the proof of their eyes before they’d believe it. Jeff and Edith heard from a dozen simultaneous tongues the story of how Sam had clobbered Sullivan, who was now in the hoosegow. But among all the smiling faces there were four they missed.

  Gary fought through the crowd. “I’m glad you’re alive,” he said to Edith and blushed.

  “Me, too. Where are the girls? And Sam?”

  “I don’t want you to worry about Sam. Doc says he’ll be fine if he stops laying into people. Miss Albans is looking after him.” He winked and looked knowing. “And the girls are at our place, having the time of their lives. They didn’t know anything about all this.” He looked around at the clay-streaked and tired men. His eyes lit on his adoptive father. “Lord-a-mercy, wait ‘til Mother sees you!”

  The massive Mr. Armstrong looked down over his shirt and pants, to the thick-coated shoes. Mournfully, he shook his head. “How the mighty are fallen. Look, boys, last one in the creek is a godless heathen!”

  With a shout, the searchers ran down the hill, scattering nervous women and excited children with their speed. Though it had been his challenge, Mr. Armstrong lingered a moment to speak with Jeff.

  “We’ll convene a committee about closing this cave off. It’s too dangerous,” He looked between the two of them and grinned. “I hope to see you in church mighty soon, my boy. Mighty soon.”

  As agile as any of his sons, Mr. Armstrong launched himself down the hill. Soon he’d passed the stragglers and was running in the thick of the pack.

  Alone with him and the crates of ice cream, now silting in milky puddles, Edith looked up at Jeff. “Do I have to wash in the creek before I’m allowed in the house?”

  She was so hungry that as soon as they drove away from the fairgrounds she dove into the picnic basket that some ladies gave her from the Methodist tent. Jeff shared the contents. But Edith noticed that he juggled the reins and the food so that he always had one hand on her. It was as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

  The house was strangely quiet when they got home. Jeff said, “I’ll start heating some water for your bath, Edith. Then I suggest you hop straight into bed.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I’m still frozen through.”

  About half an hour later, as the shadows began to grow, Edith slipped into her nicest nightgown. She sat down before the mirror and began to brush out her towel-dried hair. It was so wonderful to be warm and clean! Behind her in the mirror, the white bed looked inviting but a little lonely.

  When she awoke, the darkened room showed only a glimmer of moonlight through the translucent curtains. Faintly, she heard a footstep in the hall outside her door. She looked toward the sound and saw the white china knob of the door turn. A slice of light grew as the door opened. Soft as a whisper, Jeff called her name. “Are you awake, my dear?”

  Pleased, for a moment she didn’t think to answer. She heard him sigh and the creak as he began to close the door. “Yes, I’m awake.”

  He came back into the room, closer and closer, bearing a candle. “I thought ... in case you woke up and thought . . . since it’s dark now . . .”

  “That was very kind.” Edith sat up and looked up at him, knowing her eyes were filled with trust. She patted the mattress. “Don’t you want to sit down?”

  With a sigh that was nearly a groan, Jeff sat beside her. She put her hand in his. “Jeff, I think...” Her heart was too full to say easily all that she wanted to.

  “Yes, Edith?”

  “There’s a nice girl a Mrs. Rivers told me about. Twenty-one, three younger sisters, loves children. . .”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, I promised to find you a wife. And, as it seems Miss Albans has deserted you for your father, I still have a duty . . .”

  Jeff leaned down, his hands grasping the brass posts either side of her head. “Oh, yes, you do.”

  His kiss began as softly as a feather touch. Edith felt like a cat about to purr. She stretched up to entice him closer. Shamelessly, she put her arms around him and leaned into him, her breasts flattening against his chest.

  He caressed the back of her head firmly through the soft clinging cloud of her hair. He sought her eyes. “Edith, we can wait ‘til we’re married. I don’t want to rush you.”

  “I got very cold in the cave,” she answered, her deep blue eyes smoky. “I’m not warm yet. Warm me, Jeff.”

  He hadn’t known her full lips could take on such a beguiling curve. Taking them under his, he lifted her against him. As she closed her eyes, he laid her gently onto the mattress. The feel of her beneath him was enough to make him totally ready for her. But he reminded himself that this was her first time.

  Edith gave herself up to the feelings he unleashed with his touch. Her modesty seemed to have fled into the darkness when she’d th
ought she’d never see him again. She helped him slip free the tiny buttons that ran from the square beribboned neck of her gown to her stomach.

  When he parted the fabric to gaze with heated eyes at her breasts, Edith boldly flaunted them. She remembered the way he’d put his mouth there and wanted it again. Telling him so without words, she dragged his hands up to cup her. His thumbs brought her nipples to aching peaks while he plunged his tongue relentlessly into her mouth. She met him halfway, more than halfway, meeting his plunge with a thrust of her own.

  They rolled over and over, nearly to the edge of the bed. Her gown twisted around her waist, leaving her intimately open to his gaze. She brought her knees up together, to conceal herself, while a burning blush spread over her face and chest. Maybe she had kept a little modesty after all.

  “Edith,” Jeff said, dragging his attention from the curls so dark a red against the pure white skin of her thigh. “Edith . . . I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I’ve heard . . . whispers about it.”

  “Then you know. But I’ll do my best to make it right.” He kissed her, gently again, while his hand slipped down, stroking over her exposed hip and across her smooth, quivering stomach.

  “It’ll be good,” he promised in a ragged voice. “I’ll make it good for you.”

  Edith closed her eyes again, flinging her head back as a strange heat blossomed wherever his rough hands dragged. She moved restlessly, her leg rubbing on the sheet between his. But when he reached the springy curls between her thighs, she froze.

  “Don’t . . .”

  Instantly he withdrew his hand, returning to stroke the gleaming satin of her shoulder. He nibbled her neck, and scattered tender kisses over her neck and face. Edith reached for him, but he was always teasing, never lingering.

  Her lips burning for a taste of him, she dragged his head down to hers. Somehow her nightgown had come off, though who pushed it down to the end of the bed was unclear. As Jeff’s solid body centered over hers, Edith bit back a cry of pain.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think . . . you’ve got a broken button on that shirt.”

  Jeff squinted down at the blue chambray. “Maybe I should take it off then.”

  She nodded, biting her swollen lip. When he had it unbuttoned, she pushed it off his shoulders. She dared to comb her hand through the golden hairs that spread across his chest and downward. She followed the trail, felt his hard stomach muscles dance as he sucked in his breath. His eyes closed, and Edith realized how much pleasure she could give him. She found the knowledge as exciting as his touch.

  He clapped his hand over hers as it came perilously close to his belt buckle. “That’s enough.”

  “But, your buckle is cold. I can feel it on my stomach.”

  “Should I take it off?”

  “I think so. And you . . . might as well take off everything else too.” She couldn’t meet his eyes when she said that, though she watched him covertly under her lashes as he stood up and impatiently jerked his belt open.

  “You might as well look,” Jeff said. When she glanced at him with wondering eyes, her mouth fell open. Jeff forced himself to think cold thoughts as he knelt on the bed.

  Edith stared in open astonishment at the intimidating size of him. “What is that?”

  Jeff chuckled despite his desire. “That’s . . . hard to explain. Didn’t anyone tell you how a man and a woman come together?” She shook her head. “I’ll show you. But I’ve got to touch you.”

  She knew where he meant. “Will it feel like last time . . . in the buggy?”

  “Better. Much better.”

  He hadn’t lied. Edith couldn’t be frightened of what he thought of her when he found her ready. When he slid one finger between her legs, he said on a throbbing note, “Oh, God, you’re so perfect.”

  He moved his hands, weaving a spell that stole her heart and her senses. She couldn’t hold herself still, she had to move in concert with his wonderful hands. Hot words whispered in her ear urged her to give in fully to the sensations that promised to carry her off.

  If the first time he’d ever touched her she had felt lightning, now she felt a whirlwind rise. She cried aloud, but not with fear. When it ended, she was clinging to his shoulders, breathless and limp. She opened her eyes to see him smiling down at her with infinite tenderness. “I told you it’d be good.”

  Somehow it felt very natural to be naked together, though she had been told a lady never undressed except to bathe. Edith knew she was too thin, that her ribs still showed despite Sam’s cooking, yet she had no fear that Jeff found her anything but beautiful. He told her so repeatedly, as he touched and caressed every part of her body and urged her to do the same to him.

  His groans when she touched him made her withdraw at first for fear she was hurting him. But Jeff brought her hand back to press against the resilient, velvet flesh. “We don’t have to do another thing,” he promised raggedly. “We can stop right here.”

  “What else is there?” she asked. But she’d known the truth the moment he opened her with his hands.

  “I don’t want to rush you. . . .”

  “We’ve got until morning.” She bent her head and breathed across his flat nipple. Her dark hair tumbled forward to brush his sex and Edith smiled in delight when it leaped in response. Deliberately, she let the heavy locks curl and drift over him.

  The world turned upside down as she found herself on her back, her feet flat on the mattress. The tip of him demanded knowledge of all her secrets. She slid her hands along his slick back. “I want you to,” she whispered. “Please.”

  He pushed slowly, slowly, his forearms trembling with the strain of control. When she stiffened, frowning with distress, he stopped. “Do you want me to ... ?”

  “Go on,” she gasped. “It’s all right ... I think.” Her hands slipped down to cup his firm buttocks.

  Her tightness was almost too much. He wanted to plunge madly, to drive her over the edge and to fall with her. The hardest thing he’d ever done in his life was to continue to go slowly. But when Edith rose to meet him, the sensation was incredible. He lunged deeply, unable to stop now, though she caught back a cry that could only have been from pain.

  Incredibly, after a moment, she answered his rhythm with her own. He wasn’t in charge of this seduction, he realized, as the liquid warmth of her drove him wild. This was an act of pure creation, as they established together a new whole, a new identity. He heard her cries, now unmistakably of passion, mingle with his own roar of completion.

  When Jeff raised his head from the junction of her neck and shoulder, the first thing he saw was a single tear falling from the outside corner of her closed eye. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I couldn’t stop myself.”

  “I didn’t want you to.” She turned her head to look at him from inches away. Her eyes glowed with happiness. “I couldn’t have stood it if you had stopped.”

  They kissed playfully now, light nips and transient nibbles. After a minute though, Edith pushed lightly against his shoulder. “Are you going to be on top of me all night?”

  “Hmmm, it’s a thought.”

  “You’re heavy.”

  “You’re beautiful. But, I suppose, if we’re getting married tomorrow, I should let the bride get some sleep.” He rolled off her. She followed at once, to lie on her side, cuddled against his warm body.

  “You’ll sleep here?” she asked.

  “Well, it is my bed. But I don’t mind sharing.”

  “Big of you.”

  “Yes, it was.” He caught her hand against his chest when she would have playfully slapped. “This finger,” he said, touching the third one. “That’s where the ring goes.”

  “So I hear.”

  “You will like being married to me, won’t you?” he asked in sudden doubt.

  She counted on his fingers, “I’m not sassy, I’m not voluptuous—you do like women who are a little that way don’t you?—I haven’t any experience with children
. . . need I go on?”

  “No, you’re right. You’re absolutely wrong for me. What was I thinking?”

  Once again she tried to punish him, but he caught her hand. Rolling on his side, he carried it to his lips and began tenderly biting each sensitive pad in turn.

  “What could possibly make me change my mind and keep you around, Miss Parker?” he asked, as he moved her arm to lick into fire the ticklish nerves of her wrist.

  “I can’t think of a thing . . . Oh, unless . . .”

  “Unless?” His mouth was only an inch from hers. She could feel that he was ready to love her again. The warmth growing in her lower body told her that she too could revive quickly.

  Looking into his eyes, Edith said, “I love you. Is that reason enough?”

  “That’s the best reason in the world.”

  Epilogue

  The autumn night brought a fog with it. Cold, Edith began wriggling upright, preparing to haul herself out of the armchair in the parlor. Instantly, Jeff left his record keeping.

  “Here,” he said, offering her a hand. He had to pull hard to tug his highly pregnant wife to her feet. She playfully put her hands up to fend off his chest.

  She thanked him, trying to fasten her gaping blouse. “I hope Dr. Butler’s right and it won’t be long. Nothing fits decently anymore.”

  “I kind of like it,” Jeff said. He tilted his head to get the best view of her augmented bosom. “I know I can’t do much else right now, but . . .” His hand curved to steal inside her blouse and cup the warm breast within.

  Edith closed her eyes, savoring the momentary pleasure. “Stop,” she said, when he began to open the rest of the buttons. “I can’t remember whether I covered the milk pails.”

  “I’ll go,” he volunteered with a last gentle squeeze.

  “No, I need the air. Just let me get a shawl.”

  As had become usual during these last months, Edith and Jeff went together. The fog garlanded the yard with misty streamers. There was a promise of winter in the air. The quilts she’d received the year before as wedding gifts would be used tonight.