She glanced up, clearly mortified they were even having this discussion. “Oh, of course.” She blew out a breath and paced furiously around the room. “Oh, shoot! Oh, dang!” She turned and faced him, placed her hands on her hips, and lifted her head, putting her cute little nose high in the air.
“Well then, I’ll just have to do it! Drop your pants and bend over.”
Chapter Six
You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.
“I can’t do this,” Christina announced, embarrassed beyond measure. She’d never seen, much less touched, a man’s private area before marrying Johnny, and she’d barely done so afterwards, allowing him to dictate what went on in the dark of their bedroom. She’d never had to consider such private things outside of her marriage bed, nor much in it, so it was too much to ask of her now.
She hadn’t even seen his butt like that! There was no way she was looking at Jack’s.
It wasn’t that she was a prude. Or maybe she was. It was hard to admit, even to herself, that she hadn’t enjoyed Johnny’s lovemaking. Each night, whenever he was home on leave, she’d made sure she was ready to accept him as she’d been counseled by her strict pastor father. She’d waited, with hope and dread, for Johnny in one of her many light cotton nightgowns, without panties, lying on her back in submission.
He’d always been in such a hurry. And for the most part it was all over very quickly. Once she’d learned she could apply lubricant before he joined her on the bed and her body had gotten used to the invasion, it had been pleasant enough. Some of the time. Others time were, as her mother had forewarned prior to her marriage, just meant to be endured.
She’d always done her part, to both please him, and in the hopes of having several children. Unfortunately they hadn’t had any luck conceiving after Lisa was born. She didn’t know if it was because Johnny had been less and less demanding of her in their bed, or if it just hadn’t been meant to be.
Though she hardly ever allowed herself to dwell on it, sex was one of the few things she really hadn’t missed at all, not before, when Johnny was off on a tour of duty, nor afterwards, when he went missing.
Sometimes it made her wonder what the fuss had been all about when she’d finally gotten to attend public school her senior year. Up to that point her mother had home-schooled her, and sex had never once been mentioned.
Public school had been an education of a whole other kind. Not that she’d ever participated, but other girls had talked endlessly about boys, and often to her fascinated embarrassment, about their body parts and what those girls had done with, and to, them.
She’d met Johnny there. He’d been tall, and so cute, and had made her feel things she hadn’t ever felt before. Had made her think of those things the other girls said, and her body had reacted, making her want to touch and be touched, so much so that she’d secretly touched herself one night in bed, manipulating her vaginal area until something a little painful and completely fantastic happened. She’d cried out, startled, then giggled as she’d rolled into a ball.
Her mother had come running into her room, took one look at her and smacked her hard. The following morning, a drizzly Sunday, she’d had to sit though her father’s service and listen to a sermon on the sins of the flesh. He’d glanced over at her pointedly several times throughout the sermon, and she was certain the entire congregation noticed to whom the sermon was directed. She’d been mortified. And had never touched herself again.
But she’d watched Johnny. Secretly coveted a fantasy about them together, him touching her like she’d touched herself that one time, making that same pain-filled pleasure happen again and again. She was ashamed to realize now that he’d become an obsession. She’d been demure, out of honest bashfulness, but she’d still watched him and wanted him nearly the entire school year, knowing full well the popular football player didn’t know she existed. Then four weeks before graduation, out of the blue, he’d turned his eyes on her, and the rest was like living in a cotton candy dream. He’d teased her, and touched her, though in mostly innocent ways. Finally he’d kissed her. It was her first, and she was head over hills in love.
Her parent’s hadn’t approved. Said his type didn’t belong with the daughter of a minister. And maybe that had been part of the attraction. She’d learned fairy quickly after starting school at Legend High that Johnny was a bad boy. That he had all kinds of experience with girls, girls who’d been more than happy to tell her either what a stud he was, or what a jerk he was, whenever she’d allowed her interest to show.
What had surprised her, after getting to know him, was she found that he wasn’t as bad as he’d allowed others to believe. He’d even liked the idea that she hadn’t had any experience with boys. And he’d asked her to marry him, much to her father’s horror, at a friend’s graduation party the night they got their high school diplomas. He told her he’d take care of her. That he was already enlisted with the Marines, fulfilling a dream he’d always had. That he was going to see the world and she’d get to see it with him.
She’d bought into the dream. Lock, stock, and barrel. She was going to get away from her strict parents. She was going to see the great big world outside of the dinky little town of Legend, Tennessee. She was going to have adventure and love and nothing was going to hold her down, and no one was going to smack her for a moment’s pleasure. The fantasy of physical love with a boy, the escapades they would have, the life of a grown-up, were going to be so perfect.
It hadn’t quite worked out that way. He’d gone off to basic training the morning after their wedding night, and came back larger and tougher than when he’d left. More than his size and demeanor had changed. He’d grown up in those weeks. The country boy had turned into a serious, focused man. A man who had been given a special place in the Marines since his years of hunting on the farm proved him a crack-pot shot.
He was assigned as a special-ops sniper. One of the guys that would be sent into a city or bunker to take out the sentinels that could, and often did, fire at the American or allied troops that had been sent there to free the people from a repressive regime, or protect American interests either directly or indirectly, in times of threat, or actual war.
As there were always wars, or the threat of war, Johnny had immediately left basic training for parts unknown, eventually winding up where the bulk of America’s troops converged in Middle East.
Other than the short leave-of-absences, he’d never really made it back home to Legend to live with the wife he’d installed on his family’s farm, nor with the daughter that resulted from their wedding night. By the time he went missing, he was a Sergeant, and the leader of a small group of men who had distinguished themselves, as Johnny had years before, with their shooting abilities.
“Christina?”
“Yes?” she asked, swallowing.
“Look. Maybe we could just give this some time. Christmas is in a couple of weeks. You need time to adjust to my being here and I have nothing but time. Tell me what you want. I’ll go. I’ll stay. I’ll do whatever you want. Just say the word.”
She looked at him, studying every feature, every nuance of a much older version of the boy she’d once idolized. In the end she really had no choice. If he was Johnny, she needed to give him a chance to recover his memory and tell her what he’d been doing all this time. If he wasn’t, she had nothing to lose. Lisa would be with her grandmother in Florida. People in town, those who might see him and wonder, would just have to wonder. She couldn’t turn him out. Not only because he might have once been the only man she’d ever loved, but because it was Christmas. For whatever reason, he’d found his way to her door, her daughter’s sweet but foolish dream in hand, and he had no recall of his identity. Only a mean woman would send such a man on his way.
Chapter Seven
Jack spent the better part of the next four days sleeping in the small office/guest room though his feet hung out over the futon’s thick mattress by a good twelve inches. The times he was aw
ake he worked with her, or for her, feeding the lazy chickens, and Mr. T, who had decided he liked Jack better than her. She could understand Mr. T’s affection as she too was rather enjoying Jack’s easy manner, helpfulness, and complementary nature. Not to mention the man was eye candy, smelled sinfully delicious, and nearly melted her knees every time he smiled at her.
Since Johnny’s disappearance she’d all but eliminated anything remotely farm-work related by leasing out her tobacco allotment, having a neighbor mow the fields in the summertime in exchange for the hay he’d feed his cattle over the winter months. She’d leased the remainder of the farm out to the same neighbor, knowing full well he was making a wonderful living while paying her very little for the use of her land.
She didn’t mind. With the land paid for, the utility bills minimal, and the income she still received as the wife of a missing soldier, Lisa’s and her needs were more than met. With Jack there, willing to cut and stack cords of wood, feed the few animals she still had, and be company that she thoroughly enjoyed, she was more content than she ever remembered being. The only things missing were his memory, her daughter, and a response to the growing attraction she felt for him.
Christina bit her bottom lip, wondering if she should wake him to get him to join her for dinner. He’d been napping since chopping wood for an hour following lunch. She knew he was still weak, but he was gaining strength daily, and hadn’t touched his cane since two days before. She’d already started the meal on the stove, and only had a second before she needed to return to the kitchen, but she was starting to worry about him. If he didn’t stop taking those pills, she was afraid he might become dependent on them.
She approached him slowly, trying to ignore the bare, heavily muscled chest and arms, the rippling stomach, and the thin stream of black hairs that ran from his navel down a long line to his low riding boxer shorts. At the hip, there was the beginning of a tattoo, but she would have to lower his underwear to get a look at it. That, of course, was out of the question.
Johnny hadn’t had any tattoos. At least not the last time she’d seen him disrobed. But that was a long time ago, and she was beginning to believe she may have been wrong about so much.
Clearing her throat loudly, she waited a beat, then cleared it again.
Nothing. The man was like the living dead.
“Jack?”
Still nothing.
“Jack?”
Frowning, she approached the open couch and tapped his shoulder with her index finger.
Nothing.
She tapped harder. “Jack!” she said, louder.
Blowing an exasperated breath which sent her bangs flying upward, Christina placed her hand smack-dab in the middle of that hard chest and shook. Before she knew what happened she felt a tug on her arm then she was flying over him, only to find herself under him, looking up into his face.
Jack blinked slowly several times, clearly befuddled and trying to wake up. “What? What happened?”
Christina couldn’t find her voice. Not only had his quick reaction stunned her, the hard erection poking her mound completely stole her tongue. Or so she thought. Until his was capturing it, taking it hostage, as he ground the evidence of his aroused sex against her.
There was no logical way she could explain what was happening to her as she kissed him back, even if her brain would start functioning again. He tasted so good. Being touched, touching, letting it all happen instead of analyzing why it was wrong to be doing what she was doing didn’t come into play. Primal urges, needs, desires that had never been a part of her before, surfaced to take over the woman she faced each morning in the mirror.
Jack released her suddenly, his eyes wide open, his mouth hanging as if in shock. He backed away awkwardly, nearly stumbling to his feet. “Oh, hell! I’m sorry.” Panting, he stared at her as she lay there, breathing equally as harshly, on the mattress. “I don’t know what to say.”
Christina licked her lips and pulled herself into a sitting position. She didn’t know what to say either. Needs, desires, had never been like that for her. Her mind had never allowed for thoughtless spontaneity. Her body had never turned on with a flick of a switch. Until now. She slowly moved to climb off his bed, still watching him, still wanting him.
What was happening to her? Who was she? Where was the woman who could barely tolerate the thought of being penetrated? The woman who still couldn’t touch herself again after all this time because of the shame she felt whenever such a thought formed? Now, all she wanted was that connection, that fulfillment, that… something that his actions had promised.
She swallowed hard as she made it to her feet. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
Off balance, she avoided him as she left the room, wondering what in the world just happened. Wondering if she’d be able to respond in the same way if it happened again. Surely not. Her fantasies had always been better that any reality, something she needed to remember. But it had felt so good, so different…
* * * *
Christina couldn’t help but slide repeated glances towards Jack as she fried the chicken breast and test-speared the boiling potatoes she planned to mash. He had stopped using the cane and seemed to be getting around pretty well, though there were times he grimaced when he wasn’t aware she was looking.
She studied him covertly as he set the table then carefully sliced the fresh apples she’d laid out. He’d removed the Velcro closed, hard plastic half-cast after chopping the wood, but was very careful now with his injured wrist as he sliced the fruit. Looking at him from across the room made her feel weird. Almost disconnected from herself. Like she was having an out of body experience.
He could have so easily passed as a slightly older version of the man she had promised to love ‘til death did them part. But there were things that just didn’t mesh, beyond the fact that she’d never reacted to Johnny like she’d reacted to Jack only moments before. Though that in itself was a difference of major proportions.
Jack’s black hair was longer than Johnny had ever allowed his to grow. Her husband hadn’t liked that the loose dark curls that formed when his hair was longer emphasized his Hispanic heritage, so he’d kept it cropped close to his head in school, then the military had all but shaved him bald thereafter. Something that had suited Johnny just fine.
She’d loved his dark looks, had indeed been attracted to him because of them, had even gotten a little pleasure from the fact that her “I’m not prejudiced” prejudiced father had sputtered over discussing their differences when he’d tried to dissuade her from marrying Johnny.
And she’d always envied that he had a perpetual all-over tan year-round. But not Johnny. He hadn’t made a big deal of it most of the time, but he’d avoided discussing his ancestry as if ashamed that way back when, a couple of generations before, his maternal great-grandmother had been a pretty little Puerto Rican named Amelia Maria. Something Christina had only learned when she was carrying Lisa and they were trying to come up with baby names. Johnny had only mentioned it then to let her know that their own daughter would have a simple American name. His attitude had annoyed her, on many levels, something she was only now remembering.
Christina frowned. She hadn’t allowed herself to think of the things about her husband that weren’t perfect since he went missing. Whether consciously or unconsciously, it seemed disrespectful to let her mind wander in negative directions when the man had died serving his country. But Jack’s presence, his looking so much like the man she hadn’t really been all that happy with—had in fact barely known—made her realize that the memories of Johnny, while not horrible, hadn’t deserved the pedestal she’d build for him in her imagination over the past couple of years.
There had been many things that had irritated her, now that she thought about it. Like his avoidance of Mexican restaurants because once in high school a waiter had approached him and addressed him in Spanish, assuming he’d understand. He hadn’t, and had been embarrassed and angry, telling her they would ne
ver go to another one. He hadn’t even cared that she loved Mexican food, and she hadn’t ever told him that she went to the one in town whenever he wasn’t home.
Memories that made her angry flooded her. Johnny had always dictated what she’d worn, who she associated with, how often she could have desert because he’d liked her thin body and didn’t want her gaining weight. He’d told her what to do and when to do it, much like her strict father had before her marriage, and now that she was taking a walk down memory lane, she realized that he’d treated her like a child more often than not.
It was startling to think suddenly that, in some ways, he’d been a bully. Dictating and expecting her to respond immediately and obediently to any and every thing he wanted. It was his way or no way. Which meant it had always been his way.
Though hurt at times, she’d kept her own council and her mouth closed and had done as she was told, telling herself it was more a reflection of his own insecurities rather than anything to do with her. But it still took a toll on her self-esteem, and had made her feel inadequate in so many ways, though she’d done just fine on her own when he was on a tour.
He’d once told her he wanted to be nothing more than just another American man. White. Middle class. Live the American dream without people seeing him as anything different. His attitude about his looks had confused her. He was handsome. Every girl she’d encountered back in school thought so, too. Even those who had thought him a jerk.
She’d always wondered why he’d felt slighted, as Legend was like the rest of the nation—a melting pot of citizens. And she’d never once seen him treated any differently. Not even her by father. Publicly, he’d made it clear, loud and clear, that they were too young to wed and barely knew each other. But her father had never had the guts to say anything to Johnny about the one thing that probably would have sent him packing before they could marry.
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