Mary didn’t seem to notice, just stayed in place. Above her, Thomas took control. He moved in easier, pumping in and out with more power than before.
Her face contorted in agony, but her cries were all pleasure. She opened her eyes, staring deep into his. None of the usual happiness showed, only dark, intense satisfaction. She threw her head back, her screams joining in with Thomas’s curses from above. Paul closed his eyes, the deepness of her pleasure, pleasure he and Thomas gave together, reaffirming what he’d known all along. This is what they were made to do—pleasure this woman and spend the rest of their lives loving her.
* * * *
They’d exhausted her, but she couldn’t sleep. Mary sat up in bed where Thomas and Paul snored loudly. She took it as a compliment, even if she’d have preferred to have one awake to talk to her. She checked the clock. It was barely nine o’clock, no wonder she couldn’t sleep. They’d skipped dinner in favor of bed. The plate of cheese and crackers hadn’t lasted past the afterglow when she’d clung to Paul and shivered through lingering orgasm.
She scooted out of bed, the friction against her sore pussy and ass delicious and well deserved. She’d remember what they did together for days and couldn’t wait to try it again.
She pulled on her nighty and added a long robe before padding to the kitchen. She didn’t exactly feel shy, but after the bed play, the added layers of intimacy brought a certain softness the robe comforted. She found an apple in the crisper and nibbled it, considering her options. There was television, or ledgers to work on, but neither appealed. She grabbed a book from Thomas’s collection and took a blanket from the bed. Neither man noticed.
She settled on the sofa, but stood again at the sound of an approaching vehicle. So early on a work evening might mean Paul would be called away to the ranch. She scurried from her comfortable spot and threw on her dress from earlier. She tied a ribbon in her hair, hoping to look presentable if she had to sweetly tell a hand or patron to call the next day.
She checked the window again and her heart froze. Helen had returned. She stopped her car and turned off the engine. Mary watched as she took a few obvious deep breaths in the driver’s seat, as if trying to calm herself. The snoring from behind her gave Mary pause. This was her chance to talk woman to woman with Helen, maybe find common ground.
Mary slipped on her shoes and stepped outside, closing the door behind her. Helen looked over with hate in her eyes.
“You.” Helen pushed out of the car.
“Yes, me. And I’m staying. I want us to come to some sort of agreement,” she said, hoping to sound reasonable.
“Agreement? There will be no agreement. You will leave, and you will take only what you came with. A slutty thing like you, I can assume you’re a thief too.”
There would be no common ground. Mary stood straighter, but let the insults roll over her, though really they soaked deep, killing part of her with their harshness.
“I’m not leaving,” Mary said. “Paul and Thomas are my husbands. I love them, and we’re a family. You are welcome to be part of it too.”
“I would never!” She marched forward and stopped just short of Mary. “If you ever proposition me… You belong in the depths of hell.”
Helen smacked Mary across the face and would have continued, but Mary dodged out of the way. Her heart raced. She’d never been struck, not ever in her entire life. Helen screeched, her anger taking away her judgment, throwing her off balance and to the ground.
Mary looked at her, still stunned at being hit and now at having Helen at her mercy. She could kick the other woman, do something to return the pain she’d caused. Helen cringed away, as if she expected it, but Mary shook her head and opened the door to the cabin.
She stepped through and closed the door behind her, locking it as well. She sank to the floor. Her cheek throbbed with heat, but Mary figured Helen could have hit her harder. She didn’t think it would bruise, hoped it wouldn’t. The car outside started again, sending gravel flying as Helen drove away. Her gaze shot to the bed where Thomas and Paul continued sleeping, unfazed by the events outside.
Tears trickled down her face and Mary let them for a while. Her heart had never felt so heavy. Helen would never be the mother she’d hoped for when she gave up her own. She’d hoped that even though she couldn’t have her mother, maybe Thomas and Paul’s would love her. Wouldn’t happen.
She wiped away the tears, but stayed on the floor, staring off into the corner. At least Thomas and Paul hadn’t had to witness the altercation and they wouldn’t hear about it from her. Not ever.
Chapter 13
Someone’s ass needed a chewing and Paul couldn’t wait to do it. He stepped out of his office to find the truck still in the parking place, loaded with hay, no Amory. His phone rang and he knew it was the buyer in Geneva most likely pissed. If he had to hand deliver it and take some off the top to make amends, he would.
He grabbed the keys and headed for the road. As he passed the cabin he backtracked inside. Mary had asked about using the truck before he left that morning, but he thought he’d need it. No longer. He could run his other errands in the work truck so she could do whatever she needed to.
“Hey, Mar?” He stepped inside, expecting to find her working on the books or in the kitchen.
She jumped up from the table, immediately giving him her back. “Yes? Did you need something?” she asked.
He closed the door behind him. “You doing all right, darlin’?”
The night before had been intense, more so than anything he’d ever experienced, so he could only imagine what it felt like on her end. She’d seemed quiet and reserved that morning, but he hoped she was just thoughtful about the experience, not negative or regretful.
“I’m fine, thanks.” She ran water into the coffee pot, still not looking at him. “What can I help you with?”
He settled his hands on her shoulders. “I wanted to let you know you could use the truck. I have to run to Geneva to deliver some hay and then I’m going to do a few errands. If you want to get groceries or whatever, the truck is yours.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Thanks.” Her shoulders tightened to rocks.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighed. “Nothing really. PMS I think. I’ve felt grumpy all morning.”
Girl crap. He’d never had to deal with girl crap, but with a wife he’d make up for lost time. “Okay. Do you, ah, need anything?”
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes pink from tears, but a smile on her face. “Oh? Like what?”
He groaned. “Come on, Mary, I’m trying to be nice.”
She patted his arm. “Yes, you are, and I shouldn’t tease you. I’ll get what I need today and I’ll try to shake my grumps.”
Her smirk confirmed he didn’t hide his relief well, but at least he hadn’t made things worse. He pulled out his wallet and handed her the last two twenties he had until he cashed the check for the hay.
She frowned at the cash. “I have grocery money.”
“Yeah, well, take this too for anything else you need.” His cheeks burned and he hoped she didn’t ask for him to expound because he really didn’t want to.
She took the money and smiled at him. “You’re sweet. How about I get the ingredients for cookies?”
“That sounds great. Hey, I have an old ice cream maker in the barn. We could clean it up and make some this weekend if you get cream and salt.”
She wrapped him in a warm hug and rested her head on his chest. This PMS stuff was a breeze.
* * * *
Mary didn’t like sneaking around, but she deliberately waited until Paul and Thomas were away before she headed to the barn. She crept through Paul’s office door and locked it behind her. The cluttered space suited her man with too much on his plate, but she’d save cleaning for a day when she had a clear head.
The mix of amazing and heartbreak made her mind spin. Combining her love of her men with the rejection from their mother fought in her mind and s
he needed to talk with someone who loved her.
She picked up the phone and dialed for her aunt. She hoped she called early enough to catch her before or after chores. The phone rang. She chewed her pinky nail, knowing she only had a few minutes. Neither she nor Aunt Marcy could afford a big collect call bill, but holding silent much longer would cost more.
The operator spoke, the echo on the line worse until Aunt Marcy’s voice came through loud and clear.
“Mary girl, it’s about time you called. How is life in the mountains?”
“It’s interesting.” Her eyes burned at the familiar voice. She’d needed it more than she thought. “I love them, they love me. Their mother hates me.”
“Of course she does. You’re not only taking one of her sons, you’re taking both. Your mother used to complain about your father’s mother being hard on her. It’s just part of the process.”
Her heart ached at the mention of her mother. So often her mother crossed her mind, more now than ever. She had a hundred questions, amazing experiences to share.
“What else is going on?” Aunt Marcy asked. “You wouldn’t call just to be quiet.”
“Some things are so good…why does the rest have to be ugly?”
“I wish I could give you an easy answer, sunshine. Being different is easier than it’s ever been, but that doesn’t mean the challenges don’t hurt. You know you can come home, right?”
Mary flicked a tear off her nose. She didn’t want to waste their minutes on tears. “I know. I want to stay. I really do.”
“Of course you do. I have faith. You’ll make it work and you’ll have fun doing it. I might curse you a little when I’m picking watermelons on my own, but I still want you to be happy.”
The loving response encouraged more tears, but Mary forced them aside. “I really appreciate that. You’re welcome up here, you know. There’s plenty of room.”
“I’m content being the crazy lesbian hippy of Colorado, thank you very much. But I’ll be up for a visit this winter after things settle down. Wouldn’t want to infringe on the newlyweds.”
“How’s the farm?”
The mundane, normal conversation helped settle Mary and aligned her confidence. This was what she’d needed, a dollop of common sense and love. Marcy never disappointed. When Mary hung up, the tasks ahead didn’t loom so daunting. She looked at the phone, a long set aside desire rearing its head. She checked the clock. She still had plenty of time to get to town.
The familiar numbers, set to heart in her youth, easily turned on the rotary dial. She nibbled her lip until the operator answered. She gave her father’s name and number and even offered for reverse charges. Rapid ringing matched her racing heart. She hadn’t attempted to call since her eighteenth birthday. That day her mother explained it was better they not talk again. Mary didn’t know the full reason, but had often wondered if her father had been looking for her with the hopes of pulling her back into the community. Or maybe the separation was as painful to her mother as it was to Mary. Whatever the reason, they hadn’t spoke in years.
“I’m sorry, miss, there is no answer. Would you like to try again later?”
Mary coughed through the tightness in her throat. “Um, yes, I’ll call another time. Thank you.”
She set the phone gently in its cradle and rested her face on her hands. Like everything else, life played the carrot and stick. Encouragement from Marcy, silence from her mother. Mary pushed to her feet. Sitting in misery accomplished nothing. If her mind insisted on running in circles, the least she could do was use the time to shop and bake.
With renewed determination, she headed for town. The long drive through thick forest and rich pasture land renewed her energy. She ticked off her list, adding chocolate and ice cream if she could find it. Comfort food could only help.
She pulled up to the grocery store and reached for her purse. Cold sweat broke out on both palms as her fingers curled around the door handle. As she sat in the parking lot, Mary realized she’d never truly understood fear. The aversion to heights and hairy spiders was nothing. She’d kiss a spider while dangling from a cliff if it meant skipping the store and never having to see anyone who knew her story ever again.
A light knock came at the passenger side of the truck. She managed not to scream, but just barely. She turned to find an unfamiliar man peering through the window. She leaned over and unrolled it a crack.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“You’re Paul Paraby’s wife, right?”
She steeled herself, not sure what her honest answer would illicit. “Yes, I am.”
“The name’s Mike Gale. If you’re looking for a new third, you let me know.”
The blood drained from her face. She’d pictured other things, condemnation and anger, but not…this. Her mouth opened and closed twice, but she didn’t know what to say.
“Paul knows how to get a hold of me.” His gaze lingered on her chest before he winked. “A hot little thing like you would sure as hell warm the winter night.”
He tapped the truck top twice and walked away. Mary couldn’t find a reply, too horrified, too embarrassed, too…ashamed. The forward fellow got into a truck a few vehicles over and winked again. She had to get away from him. She hurried out of the truck and kept her head down, avoiding any interaction with the creepy man she hoped never to encounter again.
Did all the men think like he did? That she was some slut willing to welcome another man in her bed? Well, she would welcome Duane.
She groaned as she pulled open the door. She couldn’t wait to get back to the cabin.
The few times Mary had been to the grocery store the aisles had been empty of people. This time, on par with the rest of her week, only two carts sat empty for her to use. She took one and stanchly avoided eye contact. She hurried to the vegetables, grabbing the first things she saw before moving on to dairy. The milk spot was empty, but she wouldn’t ask for it. Oh no. She pulled out butter and grabbed two dozen eggs instead.
Focusing on the groceries, she managed to miss everything else. After five minutes and nearly half her list she began to relax. She’d made it this far without issue, so most likely this town was like her mother’s. They were willing to ignore what they didn’t understand or care for as long as it didn’t make a fuss. The jerk in the parking lot was not the norm.
She turned down the cereal aisle and chanced a look up. Sam crouched over a pallet of cereal. He stood and smiled when he saw her. “Hi there, Mary. Nice to see you today. Can I help you with anything? We’re busier than normal what with so many family reunions and such going on in the last days of summer, so I’m out of a few things on the shelves, but have it in stock in the back.”
She grabbed a carton of oatmeal. “I’m finding what I need, but thanks.”
“All right, you let me know if that changes.”
Maybe they didn’t care. Mary headed to the next aisle for baking supplies. She’d stock up and spend the next few days making goodies for her men to make up for the emotional mess she’d been lately. Maybe she’d been right on the PMS fib she’d told Paul. A little chocolate would go a long way in improving her mood. She chose a few bags of chocolate chips and evaporated milk. The humidity had dropped enough to make fudge too. She could do a test run for her holiday baking.
“You have a lot of nerve coming in here.” Gerty’s harsh voice jarred her from her selections. “Get out. We don’t sell to whores.”
Mary had seen this coming—Gerty was the one she’d dreaded seeing most. She was the only person in town Mary had gotten to know to any extent. Her opinion mattered because Mary cared about her. The scorn and disgust in her green eyes slammed her heart.
“You sure you want to do that, Gerty?” Mary asked. She wanted to crawl into the corner and cry, but she had a spine. “My money is as good as anyone else’s.”
“That might be so, but I don’t have to worry about catching some horrible VD from handling Mrs. Gale’s money.” Gerty grabbed the cart and
jerked it out of Mary’s grasp. “Now get out of here.”
Angry and hurt, Mary took the cart back and pointed it toward the front. “I’ll buy my things and then I’ll go. This is a free country, isn’t it?”
The clip of Gerty’s shoes against the hard floor told Mary the other woman followed. Like the night before when Helen took after her, Mary readied herself for a fight, only this time she didn’t need Gerty’s approval, not like she’d wanted Helen’s.
Gerty grabbed her shoulder and whipped her around, hand already raised. Getting used to violence, though she didn’t care for it, Mary devised to give as good as she got. She refused to be a victim. Gerty wouldn’t respect it. No Montana woman would.
Mary jerked back, dodging the bulk of Gerty’s hit. The other woman swore and wound up to go again, but Mary pushed her, sending her to the floor. Gerty screeched and cursed, but Mary didn’t care. All the festering hurt surged to the surface as anger. She couldn’t and never would hurt Helen, not intentionally, but this near stranger who set out to attack her deserved back what she dished out.
Sam hurried around the corner and grabbed Gerty off the floor. He held her as she continued cursing Mary.
“Gert, quit, you’re upsetting the customers,” he hissed, and shot Mary a shaky smile. “I’m real sorry about this.”
Seeing her fight put on hold, the fire in Mary’s anger eased as well. “Yeah, me too.”
She left the groceries in the cart and kept her face down as she ran to the door. Other people had surely heard the insults, the accusations…everything. She blindly jumped into the truck and put it into gear.
The drive from town lingered in a scary blur as Mary stomped into the house. She should have known going to Morris would be a nightmare, but for a moment, she’d thought it would be like her mother and the sisterwives. People would stare at them. Once in a great while someone stopped them or quoted Bible verses, but for the most part, people ignored them.
Mary collapsed at the tiny kitchen table and pulled her hair so hard her eyes watered. So much hate filled her. She’d wanted to slam Gerty. Damn Sam for interfering. If she’d gotten the chance to defend herself and get her aggressions out, she would probably feel a hell of a lot better.
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