Until Tomorrow

by Abbie Williams

  Out under the night sky, Marshall yelled for the dogs. When they raced up to us, wiggling with pure joy at the attention, he made them sit and then said in a no-nonsense tone, “Guys, you watch over Ruthann tonight. I’m trusting you. If anything happens to her, if she gets so much as a splinter, I’m holding you all personally responsible.” All four of them listened avidly, their eyes bright in the moonlight, tongues hanging as they panted. He informed them, “This woman is my sweet angel and I’m dying to touch her right now, truly dying, you guys, to kiss her soft mouth and taste her, and feel her hands in my hair and her breasts against my chest…”

  I had already started giggling at this heartfelt speech, while the dogs continued watching him, absolutely rapt with attention.

  Marshall went on addressing them, “I respect that we’re taking things slow. Maybe you guys don’t believe me, but I promise I do. However, that doesn’t change the fact that I want to touch her so much that I actually am in some physical pain right now, but I am courting this woman and I have resolved to keep from caressing her beautiful angel face and her sweet, luscious, curvy body until I am begged to do so…oh Jesus…”

  “Marshall,” I chastised, laughing too hard to even flick him.

  He kept talking to the dogs, concluding, “And so I’ll say good-night and force myself to leave, and remind you all again to watch over her with your lives. I’m dead-fucking-serious, guys.”

  He looked at me then and he was so handsome and sweetly adorable, teasing me and yet completely serious at the same time. Still giggling, even as my blood rushed hot at his words, I stood on tiptoe and hugged him as hard as I could. He crushed me close and then I kissed his chin and drew away, saying, “Thank you for the compliments, by the way.”

  “I’m shaking again,” he said. “Thank you for the hug. And the kiss. That will help me through the night.” He drew a deep breath and said, “Until tomorrow, then.”

  “Good-night,” I whispered, as he headed for his truck.

  Marshall opened the driver’s side door and said, “Make sure you get in all right. I won’t head out until you do.”

  I unlocked the door with no trouble and went inside (along with four excitedly-wiggling dogs), clicking on the light above the stove; its particular tint and the sight of the couch made my stomach woozy with wanting him, with vivid remembrance of what we’d done right there last night.

  Willpower, Ruthann.

  I went back to the screen door and blew him a kiss.

  A half an hour later I was curled up on the couch in my own pajama pants and one of my M. RAWLEY t-shirts (Marshall had gifted me with about a half-dozen of them, at my request), squeaky-clean from a shower. I knew I could have slept in my sister and Case’s bed, but I wanted to be on the couch, where I was inundated with the sense of Marshall. I pressed both hands to my lower belly as I thought of him and what had happened between us. What would happen between us in the future.

  You’re here!

  You did something brave and listened to your own heart for once.

  As much as I still felt guilty, there was a ribbon of exhilaration running through me that I could not deny.

  “I want to touch him, too,” I confessed to the dogs, three of whom were lying on the living room rug, panting, while the fourth, Bender, sprawled on the kitchen floor. But even Bender’s huge head lifted, as though curious, at my words. Because I had their attention I said, “Marshall Augustus Rawley. Isn’t that a wonderful name, you guys? We’re courting. Isn’t that romantic? What do you think he’s doing right now? I wish I was in the guest room at their house. I know I’m the one who wants to take things slow, but I still wish that I was close enough that he could come to me right now.”

  My phone was in my hand before I could blink. I knew I could not be so fickle as to text Marshall that I wanted him to come back to the trailer immediately (even though I knew he would and that we would be naked and wrapped together in probably less than five minutes) so instead I scrolled to his name and the number he’d given me earlier, my heart going weightless at just the sight of both, and texted, I can’t wait for tomorrow.

  I’m glad. You’re not the only one, he responded less than a minute later, and I smiled, wide and warm, curling up with the phone.

  The dogs are keeping me company. They said to tell you hi.

  Remind them they better be protecting you or else, he texted back.

  They are. I wish you were with me, I dared to write.

  I wish so too.

  But thank you for understanding everything.

  You know I understand. I can’t help wanting to touch you but I am capable of holding back. At least a little.

  I wrote, XOXOXOXO.

  He texted, XXXX. And you know right where.

  I shivered hard, teasing back, Kisses or hugs? Which is which?

  X = kisses. X marks the spot. XXXXX.

  I love your kisses, I wrote, smiling.

  I’m the happiest man alive, he responded, and I imagined him reaching over to the nearest wooden surface to knock his knuckles upon it.

  You’re the evilest man alive.

  Is evilest a word?

  It is now!

  Will you do something for me?

  I will, I wrote, trembling as I imagined the look in his gray eyes.

  Take your hand and touch your soft sweet lips and think of me.

  He knew just how to arouse me, just how to stimulate every last nerve ending in the most amazing way; I clearly discerned that he was leaving it uncertain exactly which lips he meant, and I shivered and pressed my fingertips to my mouth. I would touch another part of myself later.

  I wrote back, I can’t stop thinking about you.

  He wrote back instantly, I’m so glad. And likewise.

  I called him then, needing to hear his voice. He answered right after the first ring, saying, “I was just about to call you.”

  “I’m lying here on the couch and thinking of everything that’s happened today,” I told him.

  “I’m sitting on the back porch and wishing we were stargazing together. It’s so beautiful out. Tomorrow night we’ll do a little stargazing.” He paused and said softly, “It’s been a hell of a day for you, hasn’t it? And we didn’t really get a chance to talk alone since dinner. You said you talked to Liam. How did that go?”

  I sensed his concern for me, the careful way he asked these questions. I said, “He was shocked. And he was sad, Marshall, I can’t deny that. He was so sad, and I hate that. It’s my punishment, I suppose, to know that I hurt him. That hurts me. I mean, I’m not fishing for sympathy, it just does.”

  “I know, angel, I didn’t think that at all. I wish it didn’t have to be that way, I really do,” he said.

  “I’ve known for a long time that Liam and I should go our separate ways,” I said, lying flat on the couch and propping my bare feet on the back. “I first knew back when he started talking about marriage and instead of feeling elated I felt empty. But everyone expected us to get married – his mom has called me her daughter-in-law for the past year, just joking with me, but I knew she figured that eventually I would be.” I sighed and reflected, “That’s the down side of small towns. People have expectations of you that are hard to shake.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” he said. “Families do the same thing. Your family is one of the most loving I know, and they still have a view of you that isn’t totally accurate. I can see that.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I love them all so much, and I know they love me, but they don’t completely see me. I mean, I’m sure I don’t see them exactly as they are, either.”

  “That’s a good point,” he said. “You kinda get into a role in your family. Like in mine, we pick on each other so much that I forget that my brothers are grown men, good, decent men who have adult concerns. I just tend to see the same guys who I’ve fought with and beat on, and who’ve beat on me my entire life.”

  “I love being around your family,” I said. “I
love watching you and your brothers. I can tell you’d fight to the last breath for each other, no matter how you act. And your dad. He loves your mom so much, even still.”

  “He does,” Marshall agreed softly. “When he was talking about courting her this evening, you can tell that in his mind it’s like yesterday. He lets himself be content with the memories of her, and he won’t move on. It’s not healthy, but I get it. She was the one for him, the only one.”

  My heart beat hard and hot. I said softly, “I’d like to see a picture of her. I feel like I know her a little, from what you’ve said. Oh Marshall, I’m so sorry you guys lost her. You were all so young.”

  “It’ll never completely stop hurting,” he said. “But at least I was old enough that I can remember her pretty well. Wy was so young, he doesn’t have the memories of her that we do. She was part of my life until I was nearly an adult, and I will forever be grateful for that. I had her for eighteen years.”

  “It’s so good to talk to you,” I told him intently. “I love flirting with you, and teasing you, but just to talk…”

  “And know that I can be serious?” he replied, and I could tell he was smiling a little, just from the sound of his voice.

  “I knew you could be serious,” I explained, desperately wanting him to understand, “And it’s what I need right now. But I also love that you tease me, that you…play with me. I’m not up on some pedestal with you.”

  “It doesn’t mean I don’t worship the ground at your feet,” he said. “Because I do. But I know what you mean. I’ll treat you like a woman. And a lady. And a sweet angel. You are all of those things, and so much more.”

  “Marshall,” I whispered, overcome with emotion.

  “I’m right here,” he said, low and intently, and my belly went woozy again, fluttery and hot, thrilling at the sound of his voice, at the words he spoke to me.

  “I’m so glad,” I whispered. I was rubbing Mutt’s head with my free hand, and Bender was apparently jealous, as he took that moment to lumber onto the couch with me.

  “Ooooof,” I groaned, as he stepped on my bladder with an enormous paw. I told Marshall, “Bender just climbed on top of me. I think he thinks he’s smaller than he is.”

  Marshall said, “He’s a lover. He’ll manipulate you into petting him all night. Jesus, now I’m jealous as hell…”

  “Oh man, here comes Howler,” I said, giggling. I scolded, “No, down!”

  The dogs all sprang to sudden alert, noses lifted to sniff at the air, startling me. I sat up at once, as an absolute frenzy of barking made Marshall say sharply, “What is it? Ruthann, what’s wrong?”

  I sprang to my feet and peered out the screen door, to see a car approaching. Then I realized and said, “It’s all right. It’s Tish, driving up.”

  “Jesus,” he breathed. “I’m about having a heart attack. I’m halfway to the truck. But it’s just Tish?”

  “Yes, she’s parking right now. I’m surprised she didn’t call.” I let the dogs out, and they mobbed my sister as she parked beside Case’s truck and climbed from her Honda.

  “I’ll let you go then,” Marshall said. “I’ll see you in the morning, angel.”

  I smiled as I said softly, “Marshall Augustus. Good-night, sweetheart.” I was overwhelmed by the desire to lavish upon him every tender endearment I knew.

  He sounded every bit as giddy as he marveled, “You called me ‘sweetheart.’ My knees just went weak. You think I’m kidding, but I’m not.”

  Tish saw me in the door and called, “Hi Ruthie! Get off the phone, I have to talk to you!”

  I told Marshall, “Until tomorrow, then.”

  “I’m counting the seconds,” he said.

  Tish bent down, letting the dogs lick her face. She called over, “I’m sorry I didn’t call! I was so excited to get home.”

  I jogged to her and she stood up to hug me. Rocking side to side, we clung for a minute, until Tish said, with awe in her voice, “Holy shit. Look at that.”

  She was facing the barn and even in the dark it was impressive. The work that had been done over the week was a testament to the love of the Rawleys and other people who cared deeply about Case and my sister. I smiled in joy. Admittedly, a very large portion of my joy came from my conversation with Marshall, but still. I said, “Isn’t it great?”

  Tish started sobbing then, catching me off guard. She was not a crier, and I pulled her right back into my arms. She clung tightly to me, repeating, “I can’t believe it, I just can’t believe it…”

  “We’ve been working hard,” I said, smoothing her short dark hair. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Tish gathered herself with effort, using her knuckles to dry her face. She said, still choked up, “I have such a horrible picture in my mind, Ruthie, of that night. Of our barn burning and Case running back in there…”

  “Get rid of that picture,” I said as firmly as I could manage. “Let it go away forever.”

  She whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here. So glad.”

  “Me too, you don’t even know,” I said. “Can I help you carry anything inside?”

  “No, I don’t have much. I’m going back right away in the morning, but I just wanted to come home and shower and change, and grab Case some new clothes. And Mutt and Tiny are here, you sweeties,” and she hugged them to her again, crouching down. “And Bender and Howler? Hi, guys. Protection, right?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Marshall brought them over when he dropped me off a little while ago.”

  Tish said, teasing me with the speculation in her voice, “I see you’re wearing one of his t-shirts too. Hmmmm.”

  I was glad for the dark, as it camouflaged my red-hot cheeks. I said, “We’re taking things slowly.”

  “Uh-huh,” Tish said, still teasing. She added, “I don’t know if that will help. I mean, the way Marshall looks at you is probably enough to get you pregnant anyway.”

  “Tish,” I scolded.

  She showered and changed, after marveling at the spotless appearance of her place, and then we sat at the kitchen table, the glass jar of wildflowers on the table between our hands.

  “I can’t talk long, I’m about to collapse,” my sister said. “When do you start work?”

  “Al said I could this Wednesday,” I explained. “He’s so great. I was at the law office today. I met Mary. She calls you ‘Patty’?”

  Tish giggled. “I’ve never corrected her. It just seems impolite.”

  “She promised to show me the ropes. And Al’s little rental apartment is just above Trudy’s Diner. He showed it to me today and it’s tiny, but I already love it. It’s all mine. Do you realize that I’ve never had my own space? It’s exciting.”

  “I felt that way about my place at Stone Creek, when I first got here,” Tish said.

  “Hey,” I said then, and Tish’s gaze sharpened at the change in my tone. “Tell me one thing. Do you think whoever set fire to the barn will be back? Or will take more drastic measures?”

  Her lips twisted with a combination of concern and determination. She said, “If I don’t stop taking business away from Capital Overland, I have to assume the answer to that is ‘yes.’ But Ruthie…”

  “What is it?” I asked intently, alarmed to see tears again creating a sheen upon her deep-blue eyes; it was such an unusual sight. I thought of what Marshall and I had talked about, about not seeing your family members for who they actually were.

  “God, I told Camille this just the other day,” Tish said, choking back a sob with a great deal of effort. She went on, the fire of conviction in her voice, “I know that Derrick Yancy is responsible. I know that he paid someone to start that fire, and I know he did so because he somehow suspected, somehow guessed, that Case would be the one to run in there and save our animals. That there was a good chance that Case would die and that I would be left without him. Oh God, Ruthie, and that’s what would have happened if I hadn’t run back in there…”

  “We’ll figure this out, I swear
,” I told her, clutching her hands on the tabletop. “That’s part of why I’m here.”

  “Camille gave me a couple of old letters before they left, and I haven’t had a chance to read them yet, even though I’ve been dying to,” Tish said. “I don’t know if they’ll help, but it’s a place to start…”

  “You mean the ones Una Spicer wrote to Malcolm Carter?” I interrupted. “I was just talking about those with her, at the Carters’ house the other night.”

  “They’re right here in my purse,” Tish said, reaching to extract several pieces of paper, pressed carefully between the pages of a cookbook. She explained, “Camille didn’t want them to get ruined.”

  “These are from…1882,” I said, peering at the date as Tish gently unfolded the first letter. I breathed, “Wow. Look at that handwriting – it’s so perfect. But so faded.”

  “These are from Cole’s mother to Malcolm,” Tish said. “Case was Cole in another life, I’m certain of it.” Just as Marshall and I had been talking about: all of our lives interconnecting in ways I was only beginning to understand. Tish said, “I want to see if she mentions Cole. You look at this one,” and placed it before me on the table, grabbing a second letter and scanning it almost frantically.

  I carefully smoothed the old, yellowed paper with a sense of reverence; it was dated Sunday, May 14, 1882. I read, Dearest Malcolm, We received your latest letter with feelings of great relief.

  “What a treasure these are. And I’m looking for Cole’s name,” I told Tish softly. For a second I could almost see Una Spicer, long graying hair that came loose from a bun on the back of her head, tipping forward to write this letter, pausing in the middle of a sentence because her neck was aching. She rolled her head side to side and resumed writing.

  The same cold arrow which had shot up my spine earlier today fired again, with even more force. I reeled a little.

  Tish’s eyes narrowed and she said with big-sisterly concern, “Ruthie, you’re so pale. You’ve had a long day. There will be time for this tomorrow…”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted, my eyes caught by a particular word further down the page; it took me a moment to realize in what context Una was using it as I read, I harbor so much concern for the marshal. I have from the first. He is a kind and capable man, but there is a deep chasm of sadness in him. He strikes me as so lonely and I find it terribly disconcerting how closely he resembles Miles. Every evening he plays that old fiddle Henry lent him, there in the Howards’ tavern, and I find it so haunting –