“I never thought about how much courage it must have taken just to live up here in these mountains back when you were raising your children,” mused Geneva.
“It still takes courage, child. A high mountain is about the pertiest thing on God’s earth, but it’s a hard thing to live on, too. Ye gotta make plenty of sacrifices to do it, but I ain’t complainin’. I’d rather see me a perty spring rain or a stand o’ dogwoods in bloom than a shoppin’ mall any day. If ye ask me, it takes a lack of good sense to live down in a town somewheres.” After she had rocked silently for a while, she glanced back up at Geneva.
“What are yew adon’ up? Ye’d better git ye some sleep. Yer folks will be here afore long, and ye’ll be plumb beat afore ye git home. Why don’t ye git on back to bed.”
“I can’t sleep,” Geneva sighed. “I suppose I could, though, if I could shake this headache. Do you have any aspirin?”
“No, I ain’t got no aspirin, but I kin make ye some tea that’ll put ye right down. I give it to Ike when his teeth get to hurtin’ ‘im, and he says it does make a world o’ difference.”
She rose slowly, handing the baby to Geneva, and moved into the kitchen off the main room. Soon she returned, handing Geneva a steaming cup. “Well, I’m plumb out ‘o willerbark tea. Chap cleaned me out of most of my herbs and took ‘em up to his cabin. But here’s somethin’ that might make ye sleepy. At least ye won’t mind yer hurt so much. Now, I’m jist gonna put this here child down,” she said, taking Genny back into her arms. “I reckon she’ll let her mama git some sleep afore she starts hollerin’ fer her titty.” She paused to stroke the down on the child’s head and chuckled silently. “I kin tell thisun’s gonna be a feisty one. She’ll have a mind of her own, that’s fer sure.” Bending her head, she brushed her withered cheek against the soft baby flesh, then she straightened and smiled at Geneva. “Good night, honey. I’m gonna git me some shut-eye, too.”
Alone, Geneva sipped her tea. It was sweet and minty and it held another flavor she could not quite place: faintly familiar, yet odd. But as she sipped, the cup cradled in her hands and warming her, she felt herself relaxing. She rocked and hummed to herself and thought about babies, the miracle of the whole process. She wondered how long it would be before motherhood overtook her with that supreme intensity she had seen in Rachel tonight. It was both awful and wonderful, how Rachel had been overwhelmed by this force of Life, how she had both succumbed to it and had worked with it to bring new, separate human beings into the world. It was bigger than anything, bigger than Love, even. It gave her pause.
Before long she began to feel a little dizzy, and although Lenora had promised her sleep, she felt herself growing more awake and just a little excited, definitely giddy. She rose, shaking her head, and moved out onto the porch. Although the coolness prickled her flesh through the threadbare, once-flannel nightgown, she felt no desire to return to the warmth and safety of the house; she felt more like running into the forest to find something to challenge.
A light shone from the barn. Geneva imagined her body softening, rising, transforming into something like a luna moth, compelled to the light that split the black night and gilded the ground at her feet. She drifted toward it, singing a little song, sometimes skipping a little as she walked. When she reached the open door, she stopped, watching wide-eyed at the beautiful scene before her.
Howard Knight was grooming the horses, talking in a sweet murmur to them, rubbing and brushing their coats to a high gloss. He had stripped to the waist, but he still wore the jeans he had doused while saving Jimmy Lee. As Geneva watched, she saw the smooth muscles ripple in his back and arms. His coppery skin glowed like reflected fire; his black hair caught the playful light, absorbed it, then threw it back in iridescent detail, as coal sets free the shimmering rainbow. Geneva clutched the door and stared unabashedly.
“Ooooh,” she said.
Howard turned, smiling at her without missing a stroke of the rhythmic brushing. “Howdy. I expected yew to be asleep by now. Them babies all right?”
“They are fine,” Geneva replied emphatically, watching the muscles in the horses shoulders, the rippling in Howard’s. Suddenly, she wanted to touch them, to see if the skin was as smooth as it looked, the muscles as hard. Like one sleepwalking, she glided toward him, her hand outstretched. His back was turned. She touched his shoulder, then ran her hand down the long arm, her fingertips tingling from the contact of flesh. Howard froze in mid-stroke. Geneva placed her other hand on the other shoulder and began the same long, slow caress. She began humming.
Howard dropped his brush, standing tense and solid, like the hart that senses danger, then he turned to face her, so puzzled in expression that Geneva had to giggle. She loved the naughty, shapeless thoughts tangling her brain, and then, as if to feed those thoughts, to give them body and shape, she placed all ten fingertips on his pectoral muscles and began another slow, downward stroke. His chest was completely smooth and hairless. It smelled of horse and hay and looked like fine leather. Geneva had never been so fascinated with skin before. She couldn’t stop touching it.
“You don’t have any hair on your chest,” she marveled.
“My mama was a Cherokee,” he replied, his breath coming in a single, short gasp as Geneva leaned forward and nibbled at his nipple. The impulse to kiss him washed over her like a warm rain, and the world slowed, then stopped while she delighted in the complete, absorbing logic of this moment. She surely would kiss him. Indeed, there was nothing more important to do in the world but kiss him. She turned her face to his and moved in, sliding her arms around his broad, smooth, brown back, gazing up into his eyes. Howard’s face had altered; the countenance of the tall, fierce man who had faced her earlier that evening had blurred into a soft boyishness, his eyes had become full of wonder, confusion, and—oh, yes!—delight. Geneva felt his vulnerability and found it particularly attractive. She kissed him once and sighed, then, with half-closed eyes, she licked his lips and began to nibble each one between her teeth and the tip of her tongue. He swallowed hard, then suddenly stiffened again. Taking her shoulders in his hands, he looked closely into her face.
“Miss Geneva, did my grammaw give yew anything to drink by any chance?”
“Just some tea, you beautiful, tan, smooth, man. She was straining forward, trying to kiss him again. The barn smelled warm and horsy. Pleasure was oozing from every pore, every follicle. She rolled her head around and looked at Howard coyly, drunkenly.
His eyes lost their softness and began shifting around, as if he were looking for some means of escape. He licked his lips nervously. “Oh, Miss Geneva, I think you’d maybe better git on back to the house. I got me a feelin’ that in the mornin’ yew may think twice about what you’re adon’ right now.”
“Don’t be silly, Howard,” she laughed. “I mean, Hard. Zat your name? Hard? Well, are you?” She threw back her head, delighted, and laughed a long time at the pun. Shakespeare would have loved it! “Are you, huh, huh? Can I see?”
With the speed of a striking cobra, she grabbed the waistband of his jeans, yanked him toward her, and before he could comprehend the meaning of her actions, had flipped open the snap. Howard took a faltering step backward, hands clamped over his belly button, but Geneva was too quick for him. Leaping again, she yanked a hand aside, and had unzipped his pants before he, in his confused state, could jerk away from her.
He gave up trying to fend her off and turned to run. Geneva was after him, by this time howling with laughter. “Are you, Hard, are you? Let me see! I won’t hurt you! Just let me see!”
Around the barn they went, Howard trying to talk sensibly, Geneva in hot pursuit and laughing so hard she kept falling down. But each time she fell, she lunged for him, and would have caught him if he had not managed to sidestep her. Finally, he scrambled up the ladder into the hayloft. She didn’t waste a second before she was up behind him, but she hesitated when he, grabbing the ladder, pushed it forward so that Geneva hung suspended halfway up, balan
ced only by the strength of the desperate man’s arm.
“Aw, Haaaarrrrd,” she whined. “Let me up. I’ll be good, I promise. I was just foolin’ around. You can trust me.”
“Miss Geneva, I want ye to git back down this here ladder. You don’t know whatcher doin’. You’ve done got aholt of somma Mam-maw’s hemp tea, and it’s made yew dizzier’n a June bug on a string. Not to mention crazy. Now git on back down.”
Geneva was climbing up. “Whatcha gonna do, Hard? Beat me off with a handful of hay?”
“Git down, I said. Miss Geneva, please don’t come up here. Please ma’am,” he pleaded. “I like ye a lot, but yer askeerin’ the shit outta me. I don’t know what ta do with ye.”
“You don’t have to do a thing with me, Hard. I just want you to take your pants off and let me look at you. Are you this smooth all over? You got nice, warm, brown skin like this all over? Are you hard? I just wanna see.”
“Oh, Lord God, Miss Geneva. Don’t ye take another step. Oh, shiiiiutt.” She had topped the ladder and leaped at him, just a millisecond before he released the ladder and dodged her. He turned to run, but she tackled him as smoothly as if she had practiced the move on a professional field, flying low and grabbing him around the knees. He was bigger and considerably stronger than she was, but he was able to break away only enough to trip himself up again, and down he went, over the side of the loft, onto the floor below.
Geneva rode him down, thrilled by the short flight with her arms wrapped around his warm, wet body. But when they landed, she recoiled momentarily as she felt a hard, sharp pain shoot up her arm from her recently injured elbow.
She caught her breath, writhing for a moment before she managed to force the pain aside and pull a cloak of dignity around her shoulders. She sat up as regally as she possibly could. Howard was out cold, lying spread-eagle on his back, his eyes half closed and rolled back into his head.
“Good grief, Howard,” she sniffed. “I never saw anybody so prissy in my life. I just wanted to take a look at you. You think I’m trying to rape you or something?” She felt like scolding him. “Besides, don’t you know that a gentleman always complies with a lady’s request?” This thought struck her as funny somehow, but she masked her giggles with the sternest expression she could muster. “Now I have to do this myself!”
Panting with the effort, Geneva yanked at his sodden jeans until she had partially relieved him of them. Standing slowly, cradling her hurting arm, she looked down at him and shook her head seriously. “Nope. Not hard. But not bad.” She turned, walked back to the house, and climbed into bed.
She awoke a few hours later with the morning mist wafting into her consciousness. Coming from somewhere nearby was an irritating sound—insistent, repetitive, “Whaaa, whaa, whaa, whaaa, whaaa, whaaa, whaaa.” And then there was a second voice added to the first so that there was a chorus of “whaa whaaas.” Geneva rolled over and caught her breath sharply, grimacing as she became aware of a searing pain radiating from her elbow.
Rachel and Wayne were on their knees in the floor, picking up two little bundles. After a moment of a dazed searching through her fogged brain, Geneva remembered…
Everything.
Especially the part about how she hurt her elbow. A white-hot, urgent need to disappear engulfed her. Her first impulse was to grab her clothes and flee on foot down the mountain. If she started immediately, she could reach a road before night and hitch a ride into town. Rachel and Wayne could stay until they were ready to drive back home, but Geneva needed out now. She hoped to make it back to the farm, but if she got lost in the woods and was eaten by a bear, that would be an okay alternative. Anything other than face Howard Knight this morning.
“Good morning, Geneva,” came Rachel’s voice, sunny with happiness. “Can you believe it? We made it through the night with no major mishaps.” Geneva suppressed a groan.
“Wayne has declared all three of us perfectly fine, and now he’s ready to look you over. We thought we’d let you sleep as long as you could. Want him to check out that cut on your head now?”
The groan surfaced loudly.
“Oh, darling, does it hurt? Wayne didn’t want to take off the bandage until you were awake. Of course, I never really noticed it, but Lenora says you’ll probably need stitches.” She smiled as if she suddenly remembered a delightful secret and climbed back into bed. “I feel pretty good, considering, and the babies have all ten toes and fingers.” She stopped to beam at the baby in her arms before she added, “and it’s clear they’re both geniuses. That Lenora ain’t a bad midwife.” Geneva narrowed her eyes at the genius child sucking at Rachel’s full, round breast. Rachel, pleased beyond definition, turned to her husband with a look radiant with love. Wayne sat beside her and held the second baby to the other breast so that the two could suckle simultaneously.
The whole scene was disgusting. Rachel was unabashedly baring her whole torso to everybody in the room without an ounce of modesty, looking like a love-sick calf at the very man she had vowed to kill just hours ago. Geneva quietly wondered how long postpartum insanity generally lasted.
Rachel turned to her sister, “Oh, Geneva, I forgot to get water. Hurry and get me some. Nursing makes me as dry as sand.”
Not moving, Geneva glared at her. Why can’t Wayne get it? He’s already up.”
“Silly, he can’t let go of little Lenora. It would be cruel to make the poor thing break away now, and I haven’t figured out how to do this with both of them. Now hurry. I’m dying!”
“I’m going,” Geneva muttered, easing her sore body out of the bed, then scurrying, once her bare feet hit the cold pine boards. Lenora stood in the kitchen, frying ham in an enormous iron skillet. Geneva grabbed a glass, explaining her errand. Lenora nodded.
“Breakfast’ll be ready in a minit. I got ye some clothes laid out on the cheer in thar. Yew got vomit, river mud, blood, an’ everthang else on the clothes yew had on. Yew an’ yer sister kin jist wear ‘em on home. Now hurry. This ham’s about done.”
Geneva thanked her, feeling suddenly starved in the ham-scented atmosphere, and remembering that she had not eaten since lunch yesterday, she decided she could at least stay for breakfast. But her determination wavered as she passed the window and glimpsed Howard out in the yard. She ducked her head and hurried to the bedroom.
“Breakfast is about ready, so I’ll bring you a plate in here, and I’ll eat with you so you won’t get lonesome,” she said as she handed Rachel the water.
“Oh, I can get up. I’m starved, and I’m looking forward to breakfast with these good people. Aren’t they wonderful the way they came to our rescue last night? I owe them plenty. And Geneva,” she warned, “I hope you can get down off your high horse and be a little nicer to Howard than you were last night. You are not too good to show him the same friendliness he showed us.”
Geneva smiled weakly. “I got a lot friendlier later on,” she said, glancing out the window again. Howard was wearing a shirt this morning, she noticed. And a belt.
“Well, I hope so. Now at breakfast, be sure to be nice to him. It’s obvious he likes you. Don’t be a snob.”
After the babies finished their breakfast, Wayne left them alone so they could dress. Gaynell had had the foresight to send some clothing, so they did not have to take further advantage of Lenora’s generosity. By the time their hostess had called them to breakfast, Geneva was feeling somewhat less hungry than she had earlier, possibly because she had eaten most of her fingernails between then and now. Nevertheless, she meekly found a place at the table and sat down as the men came into the house.
Throughout the meal, Rachel, Wayne, Ike, Jimmy Lee, and Lenora chatted like old friends, but Geneva and Howard each kept their heads down, mechanically forking food into their mouths. Geneva’s cheeks were flaming, but once she glanced discreetly at Howard and saw that his face looked as hot as hers. She felt so sorry for him that she looked more directly at him and smiled tentatively. He smiled back, then after a moment, looked d
own again, hiding his mouth with his hand.
Without warning, a tickle rose up from the pit of Geneva’s stomach, now warmed and comforted by the ham and biscuits, and when the tickle reached her throat, she coughed and squirmed in her chair. Howard glanced at her, then away again, rubbing his mouth vigorously. His face flushed again; his shoulders shook while Geneva battled with the sure feeling that she could not conquer the giggles rising like bright balloons from her belly. Suddenly, Howard pushed back his chair and hurried out of the room while Geneva fought for control by placing a slab of butter on her biscuit. She wanted to run, too, to rush out into the cool morning and throw her head back and laugh into the trees until the tears streamed down her cheeks, but she breathed deeply and focused on controlling the rising, bubbling tickle and found contentment in the knowledge that she would be able to get through the day.
Immediately after breakfast, Wayne insisted on checking Geneva’s head injury, but when he discovered that Jimmy Lee had been knocked unconscious for a time, he thought he’d better see to his scalp first.
“It’s not too bad, Jimmy Lee. Not deep, but you might want some stitches so it will heal faster. You’ve got a big bump here that probably caused you to pass out. You breathing okay now? Any dizziness?”
Jimmy Lee shook his head vigorously. “I don’t reckon I need no sewin’ up,” he insisted. I been cut worsern’ this before.” He gave Geneva a strange, shy look. “This here lady saved my life. I’d be pleased if ye’d quit fussin’ over me and take kere ‘o her.”
“Good Lord, Geneva,” commented Wayne when he took off the bandage that Lenora had put on Geneva’s forehead the night before. This really is a nasty cut. There’s no doubt that you’ll have to have stitches. If you don’t, you’ll have an ugly scar.”
The Women of Jacob’s Mountain Boxed Set Page 15
