by Sharon Sala
The September air was cool as they walked across the parking lot to the car, a reminder that winter wouldn’t be far behind. Trey helped her into the car, and when he reached in to buckle her up, he felt her breath on his cheek. He shuddered, thinking how close he’d come to losing her.
“Okay?” he asked, testing the seat belt to make sure it wasn’t rubbing against her shoulder wounds.
“Yes, it’s fine.”
The drive home was quiet. Dallas dozed, exhausted by the day and the dinner, but it was a good tired.
The headlights of the car revealed brief glimpses of the passing scenery: a quick image of a deer leaping across the road; a fox slipping through weeds along the ditch; a skunk waddling along the verge of the road.
Trey drove with caution, knowing how fast a wreck could happen on a rural road from colliding with an animal. He saw a brief flash of lightning off to the west and wondered if the building storm would come this far. When he took the turn off the blacktop onto the gravel road leading up to the farm, Dallas woke and sat up.
“We’re already home?”
The fact that she thought of him and home in the same breath made him smile.
“Yes, we are, and this was the best evening I’ve had in a long, long time. Thank you.”
“Thank you for the wonderful meal,” she said. And then she, too, saw the lightning. “Ooh, is it supposed to rain?”
“I don’t know,” Trey said. “Haven’t seen news or weather all day, but we’ll find out soon enough.”
He parked, then got out and ran around to help her into the house.
Dallas looked up at him and smiled, and then glanced over his shoulder. Her smile slipped.
“There are those lights on the mountain again,” she said, pointing.
Trey turned to look, judging where they were in conjunction with her property.
“I don’t think they’re on your side of the property line.”
“I know, but they’re not far off. I can’t hear hounds. Are they running hounds?”
“Not that I can hear, but I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. There’s nothing up on the whole side of the mountain but trees.”
“True. I guess I’m just paranoid. Someone killed Dad for a reason. Otis said he was coming into big money. I can’t help wondering if there’s a connection between the two things.”
“We’ll figure this out, but for now, let’s go in. The night air is chilly,” he said.
Dallas led the way, unlocked the door and went in, turning lights on as she moved from room to room, leaving Trey to lock up behind her.
He went to change clothes and then headed into the kitchen to make coffee. He could hear Dallas banging around in her room and guessed she was changing clothes, as well. He wanted her to love him enough to stay this time. He wanted to mean more to her than her dreams of fame and glory. But he knew he might be wanting more than she was ever going to give.
And so he stood in a house as familiar to him as the one he’d grown up in, remembering the dreams they’d had when they were young, and reminding himself that that was then and this was now.
Dallas couldn’t hear him anywhere and wondered if he’d gone outside, or if her hearing was fading out again. A little uneasy, she walked down the hall, through the living room into the kitchen, and caught him unaware.
Her first thought was what a handsome man he’d turned out to be. And then she looked at his face and it broke her heart. He was staring at the floor with a look of such sadness, and knowing it was because of her was almost too much to bear.
“Don’t,” she said.
Trey looked up. “I didn’t hear you,” he said, noticing that she was barefoot.
She started to cry, and felt like that was all she’d done since the day she’d got the phone call from Trey about her dad.
Trey ran over to hold her, one hand on her shoulder, the other beneath her chin. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? What can I do?”
The tears came faster.
“I hurt you. All you do is give, and all I do is take. I hate myself. I hate what I did. I’m sorry, Trey. I’m sorry. I was so damned selfish, and I can’t bear it anymore.”
He groaned and wrapped his arms around her.
“I wish to God you weren’t hurt. The one thing we had going for us was how good we were together. I want to make love to you again, without promises, without expectations, until you beg me to stop and then beg me for more.”
Dallas was shaking. “And I want you, too, Trey. I remember how it was. I want that magic again, the kind that happens when we make love.”
He swung her off her feet and into his arms, and then carried her down the hall to her bedroom without saying a word, turning lights off as he went.
The room was dark, lit only by a small night-light. He kicked the door shut as he carried her inside, and then gently stood her up and stripped her with the precision of a master. It wasn’t until she felt the slight chill of the room against her skin that she realized she was naked as the day she’d been born. He was faster at this than he used to be, and better. She wouldn’t think of how many women he’d had to undress to increase his expertise. Like he’d said, she didn’t have the right to ask.
By the time he took off his clothes she was shaking. Everything about him seemed exaggerated from what she remembered, but time can turn a grown man into a beautiful sight to behold, and that was what the six years, four months, three weeks and two days had done for Trey. His shoulders were massive. His belly was washboard-hard, and there was a scar on his side that hadn’t been there before.
Trey was hard, and he was ready, but the bandage on her shoulder was daunting. He laid her down, then slid into bed beside her, thinking her skin smelled like flowers. No, maybe that was her hair. He wanted to drown in the scent and die in her arms, so he kissed her like he meant it, waiting for the catch in her breath and then the groan. When he heard it, he knew he was home.
He kissed the back of her ear and then ran his tongue along the curve of her chin, murmuring softly against her ear. “Don’t move. Tonight I make love to you.”
Dallas sighed. She’d had this dream so many nights in Charleston she could hardly believe this was real. Don’t move? She could barely breathe.
Trey stayed true to his word. He used every dream he’d had of her for inspiration, touching her body, then her heart, bringing her to a climax with his tongue, then his hands. Then, when she was still gasping for breath, he slid his rock-hard penis between her legs and sent her flying.
He caught the scream coming up her throat with a soul-sucking kiss that made the world spin. He’d turned her on in ways she never knew existed, pushing and shoving her senses all the way to a peak just shy of climax, and then dropping her back to the bottom—only to do it again. By the fourth time she was in such sensual torment that she was begging him to stop. So he did, leaving her trembling with an ache that wouldn’t ebb.
“I ache... I need... Oh, my God, I want this...”
His hands were on either side of her head, bracing his body as he hovered above her, his knee between her legs as he waited for her to beg.
“What do you need?”
She sobbed. “You, I need you.”
He lowered his head until their mouths were so close he could feel the heat coming off her body.
“And what do you want, Dallas Ann?”
She sighed. Check and checkmate. She was done.
“You. I want you,” she whispered, and closed her eyes, waiting for the release he’d kept just out of reach.
And then all of a sudden he was inside her, and in four hard driving thrusts he’d pulled her back into the game and set her on fire. The climax came without warning. One moment her whole body was throbbing, her nerves humming like a stretched-too-tight wire, and then it hit.
The wash of heat that went through her was a flash fire, spreading in one overwhelming rush. She went from unable to move to weightless, grabbing on to his arms to keep from fl
oating away, then followed the pulsing tremors back to an aftershock that made her lose her breath.
Trey knew her body. He knew how she ticked. And so he watched, waiting for that telling moment when her eyes lost focus. It took every ounce of self-control he had to keep from losing it, waiting, waiting, and all the while he kept thinking, Come on, baby, let it go. Let it go.
And when she did, he went with her.
* * *
Dallas fell asleep twice, and both times Trey woke her up making love. She would laugh and reach for him, and each time he would gently push her back, unwilling for her to suffer one moment of pain. Then he would play her body like an instrument until he wiped the smile off her face.
It was daybreak when she woke again. After their night of lovemaking, the sight of Trey standing naked before the window shouldn’t have turned her on, but it did. She thought of all the years she’d lived without this man in her life and knew she couldn’t face another six years, four months, three weeks and two days without him. Whatever it took, she had to find a way to be productive and happy in his world, because he would never fit into hers.
“Trey?”
He turned around.
She was sitting up in bed with her kiss-swollen lips and her sleepy eyes, completely nude, with sleep-tousled hair, and she looked as happy as he’d ever seen a woman look.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
She crawled out of bed, still favoring her wounded shoulder, and walked into his outstretched arms.
“Good morning, magic man. I don’t think I ever thanked you for dinner last night.”
He threw back his head, and laughed and laughed until she began to giggle, but when he didn’t stop, she finally poked him in the belly.
“It wasn’t that funny,” she said.
Still chuckling, Trey grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips.
“Yes, ma’am, it was. I nearly killed myself last night for your pleasure, and you thanked me for dinner.”
She shrugged. “I thought it would be a bit gauche to just thank you for rearranging my molecules.”
He was still grinning when he picked her up in his arms and took her back to bed.
“You can’t possibly have any more tricks up your sleeves,” she said.
“As you can see, I have no sleeves, no sleeves at all. But I do have tricks.” He crawled on top of her, straddling her legs, and swooped down to steal a kiss. “Plenty of tricks,” he said softly, and stole another kiss. “Magic tricks for the lady in my life.”
“I love you, Trey Jakes. So much it makes me hurt.”
The smile slid off his face. “I love you, too, baby. Forever and ever.”
Ignoring the pull in her shoulder, she cupped his face with both hands. The bristle of black whiskers was rough against the palms of her hands, tough like him. Even though she didn’t deserve it, the trust on his face was just like the first time they’d made love, everlasting like the man himself.
Very few people got a second chance at anything. That she was getting a second chance at love seemed like a miracle, and the best gift she could give him in return was to wipe away all doubt.
“I promise before God and the love my parents had for each other that I will never leave you again.”
Trey flinched as if he’d been slapped. He hadn’t seen that coming. And then her face blurred and the words wouldn’t come.
“Oh, my God, you’re going to make me cry again,” she said.
He sat up and pulled her across his lap, then buried his face against her neck.
“Six years, four months, three weeks and two days. Thank you, Jesus,” he whispered.
They held each other while they cried.
* * *
Trey went to work late with a smile on his face and a mental note to stop by the jewelry store. He had an engagement ring to buy.
Back at the farm, with the chores done and still feeling somewhat incapacitated, Dallas was at loose ends. For lack of anything else to do, she got her laptop from her luggage, set it on the kitchen table and plugged it in, guessing it would need a charge.
She checked her email and, horrified by the number of unanswered messages, started going through them, deleting some, answering others.
An hour later she got up to make herself something to drink, then stepped out on the back porch as she waited for the coffee to brew.
Out of habit, she glanced toward the mountain, and as she did, she saw a flash of light, like sunlight reflecting off something metal. It was in the same area where she’d been seeing the night lights, and she tried to figure out what it might be. That was government land, part of a wildlife preserve, with rules against hunting and camping, not that people always paid attention to them. She didn’t hear gunshots or hunting dogs, but she couldn’t assume there weren’t any. Her hearing was getting better, but it still wasn’t as acute as it had been. She watched for a bit longer and then went back into the house, guessing her coffee would be ready.
She had just poured herself a cup and was heading back to her laptop when the home phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hello. May I speak to Dick Phillips, please?”
It took Dallas a moment to be able to say the words. “I’m sorry, but my father is dead. Who’s calling?”
The gasp of shock was unmistakable. “No! Oh, no! I am so sorry for your loss. Uh...my name is Marsh Webster. I spoke to him ten days ago about the sale. I wonder if you would be willing to honor the deal we had.”
Breath caught in the back of Dallas’s throat. She was about to find out about the big money deal, she just knew it.
“What deal is that, Mr. Webster?”
“I buy ginseng. He’d promised his whole crop to me.”
Dallas flashed on that old book in her dad’s bedroom, the one she’d assumed was nothing but a family heirloom.
“I didn’t know he was growing ginseng. Do you know if he was in business with someone else?”
“Not that I know of, why?”
“Because he was murdered, and we don’t know why.”
“Oh, my Lord! That’s terrible.”
“Did he ever say where the crop was planted?”
“Not specifically, but from a couple of things he said, I took it to be up on the mountain behind the house.”
“Was there a lot of it? Enough that it would be worth a lot of money?”
“Well, of course I told him I’d have to judge the quality for myself, and he was going to sell green rather than dry it himself. But he said it hadn’t been dug in probably forty or fifty years, back in his grandfather’s time. He also said I needed to bring a bag full of money.”
“From what he told you, what kind of money were you preparing to pay?” she asked.
“Anywhere from eighty thousand to a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“You’re not serious?” Dallas said, and dropped into the nearest chair in disbelief.
“Oh, yes, ma’am. Completely.”
“Dear Lord. What does ginseng go for per pound?”
“Wild ginseng, green-dug with good roots, and anywhere from ten to forty years old with a neck anywhere from one to four inches long, will bring two hundred and fifty to five hundred dollars a pound.”
“Dear God.”
“Yes, ma’am. And the same, dried, can bring eight hundred to twelve hundred dollars a pound. But drying it is tricky and time-consuming, and you can lose the whole crop if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Her thoughts were in free fall. “If I can find the patch and get the crop dug, you’ll still buy it?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I want to caution you. If you don’t know what you’re doing, you can ruin the plants. Dig them up whole, shake off the dirt, but don’t wash off the roots or they’ll rot, and store them in covered plastic boxes in a dark, cool place that’s anywhere between thirty-five and thirty-eight degrees, and avoid freezing them.”
Dallas thought of the egg cooler and the big plastic boxes, and kep
t making mental notes as he talked.
“And one other thing,” he said. “The leaves are valuable, too. I’ll buy them, as well. Do you know what they look like?”
“Yes. I grew up here. I’ve seen plenty growing wild.”
“So those little red berries are seeds. When you dig up a root, plant a seed back in the hole. It ensures new growth for future harvests. If you’re uncertain about anything, look it up on Google. The information online is good enough. I’ll give you my number. When you’ve got the crop dug, give me a call. I’ll be in the area until October 1.”
Dallas wrote down his information, and when she hung up, she was shaking. She’d seen those plastic boxes countless times and hadn’t understood. Still in shock over what she’d learned, she got up from the table and went outside.
The sun in the east, moving on its eternal westward arc, cast long morning shadows from the trees onto the ground. She looked up at the mountain, stunned that the money to save the farm was growing wild beneath the ground.
The hair rose on the back of her neck; she was in awe of the enormity of what she’d learned. Something her ancestors had established when they’d first come upon this land was not only still here but was proving paramount to keeping the land in the family. Emotion welled. All this time the answer had been right in front of her.
“Oh, Daddy, you did it, didn’t you? You weren’t going to lose the farm. You had already figured out a way to save it, and I’m going to make sure it happens your way. Yes, I could have bailed you out, but you were a prideful man, and I won’t take that away from you, ever. Future generations will learn what you went through, because I won’t let them forget.”
She went back inside, turned on the laptop and looked up harvesting ginseng on Google, and then began to take notes.
She thought about calling Trey and then changed her mind. There wasn’t a lot to tell until she found the ginseng, which meant a trip up the mountain. But the memory of the feral dog was still painfully fresh, so she loaded the shotgun before she got a trowel and an old pillowcase to put roots in, should she find the patch to dig, and changed her shoes. The day was sunny, but the wind was brisk. Up on the mountain beneath the trees it would most likely be chilly, so she added a jacket.
