He heard her breath catch in her throat and watched as her eyelids lowered. "I can't tell you how many times I've thought of touching you like this." He swept his hand over her breast, his thumb catching the nub of her nipple. "How many times I've thought of kissing you like this."
He covered her mouth with a hunger he thought he had left behind long ago. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but instead, when they were both breathless, he drew his mouth over her chin, down the length of her slender neck and over the thin fabric of her tank top. He slid his hand beneath her shirt and heard her moan softly as his fingertips found her nipple. He pushed the shirt up further and lowered his mouth to her breast.
She stroked the back of his head, ran her fingers through his short cropped hair. "Noah," she whispered. "Noah, I've missed you so much. Missed this so much..."
"Missed you so much," he repeated.
Once again, they were gazing into each other's eyes. He couldn't get enough of her eyes... her eyes on him, filled with tears and what had to be some form of the love they had once shared.
Rachel moved beneath him, lifting her hips with urgency, molding them to his. Any fear he might have harbored that he would not physically be able to make love to her drifted from his thoughts. That was the past. The alcohol. The depression he only now was beginning to realize he had been suffering from.
He grasped the hem of her top and pulled it over her head, letting it drift over the side of the bed. Next, she raised her hips, allowing him to slip down her panties. His boxers joined her clothes on the floor.
Noah entwined his fingers with hers and she raised her hands over her head until he was pushing them into the pillow. He covered her face, her throat, her breasts with kisses.
"I've waited so long, Noah," she breathed closing her eyes. "Missed you so much..."
Fingers intertwined, she raised her hips to meet his and he slipped inside her. She gasped and he studied her beautiful face for a moment, wishing he could still time. But her urgency was contagious. He couldn't hold back. They fell and rose again and again, meeting each other in that ageless dance that had always been so perfect. So right between them.
Noah had never made love to another woman and he knew as he lowered his body over Rachel's, taking her fully, that he would never bring another woman to his bed. No matter what happened after today, she was his one true love.
He tried to make the moment last, but the sounds of her moans drove him deeper. Faster. She pulled her hands from his and dug her fingernails into his bare shoulders.
He breathed deeply, trying to think of anything except her beautiful body beneath his. The scent of her clean hair. The sound of her voice. But the pleasure that coursed through him was too strong. Their need too great.
Rachel cried out, her body tensing, her hips arching against his and he pushed into her again and again, seeking the release only she could give him. "Rachel," he moaned.
"Noah..."
Later, after they made love and Rachel was cuddled in Noah's arm, her back pressed against his chest, she listened to the sound of his steady breathing as he drifted off to sleep, and she prayed fervently to God that He would help them make their family whole again. That whatever evil lurked beyond the house, human or otherwise, they would have the courage to fight it together.
Chapter 26
When Noah woke in the morning to the sound of clinking dishes and Mrs. Santori fussing with the dog in Spanish, he put out his arm for Rachel. The moment he did it, he remembered she was gone. Just before dawn, she'd slipped out of bed, pulling on her panties and T-shirt, and kissed him one last time before returning to her own bedroom. All she had said was something about being confused enough herself and not wanting to confuse Mallory.
Noah quickly showered, dressed, and arrived in the kitchen in time for Mrs. Santori's homemade waffles. Rachel had already showered, had dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, and was leaning over Mallory, cutting up a waffle for her. "Want coffee, hon?" she asked him.
It took a moment for it to register in his mind that she was talking to him. "Um, I'll get it." He spotted her cup on the table. "Need a refill?" He gave Mattie's shoulder a squeeze as he passed him, sitting at the table, eating. "Hey, buddy."
"Please." Rachel looked up, knife and fork in hand, and smiled. "I definitely need the kick this morning. I don't feel like I got a bit of sleep last night."
Noah turned away to avoid making eye contact with her. When he'd heard Rachel's voice in the kitchen, he'd almost been afraid to come out of the bathroom. He'd feared that she would call him outside to tell him the previous night had been a mistake or, worse, that she would pretend it hadn't happened at all. He was thrilled that she was obviously acknowledging their lovemaking, even teasing him about it, but the idea also scared him. If he truly wanted Rachel back, it would mean taking a great deal of responsibility, not just for the past but for their future. It would mean being certain he would never drink again, being certain he could be the man she deserved... the man only a short few weeks ago he had feared was gone forever.
"Día hermosa," Mrs. Santori remarked, watching the exchange between Noah and Rachel as she poured a scoop of batter into the electric waffle iron. "Lovely day."
Noah didn't know exactly when Consuelo had changed her attitude concerning him, but sometime in the last few weeks she had gone from scowling disapprovingly at him to making him his favorite dishes. Rachel had said last night that he had changed since his return home. The housekeeper must have seen it too.
"It is a beautiful day." He flashed her a grin as he filled two cups with hot coffee. "So what have you two ladies planned for today?" He carried the mugs to the table and sat down at his place, looking to Rachel and Mallory.
Rachel handed the knife and fork to her daughter and took her chair, accepting the mug he slid across the table to her. "The rows need to be mowed between the Pinot trellises. I thought I'd do that before it got too hot and free up Mateo to continue tying those stray vines in the Delaware field. It's amazing how a little rain can make the vines grow so fast." She sipped her coffee.
He stabbed two waffles from the serving plate in the middle of the table and dropped them on his plate. "How about you, Miss Mallory? What do you plan to do today?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Pway."
"Play," he repeated, emphasizing the diphthong. "That sounds like fun. Wish I could play."
"You can play with me and Mattie, if you want." She licked strawberry jam from the corner of her mouth. "Mama said we could run in the sprinkler if I don't wear my cowboy boots again."
He looked to Rachel, fighting a grin. "She did, did she?" He turned to Mattie. "And how about you? You going to play in the sprinkler today?"
Mattie kept his gaze focused on his plate.
Noah met Rachel's gaze. "Maybe while I'm at the hospital getting those tests tomorrow I'll see if they have any referral programs. See what we can do about making one of the appointments we talked about."
Rachel used her fork to take a waffle from the serving plate, still looking into Noah's eyes. Thank you. She moved her lips without speaking aloud.
You're welcome he mouthed, and then he turned back to Mattie and Mallory. "My appointment's early tomorrow. Josh is taking me. When I get home, how about if we do something fun like go to the beach?"
"Go to the beach," Mallory squealed. "Me and Mattie love the beach, only Mama never has time to take us."
Noah passed Rachel the syrup. "I think we'll just have to make her take the time, then, won't we?"
She stuck her tongue out at him, but as she took the syrup from his hand, she caressed one of his fingers with one of hers.
He smiled.
"More waffles?" Mrs. Santori carried another plate to the table.
"I think we have enough, Consuelo, thanks." Rachel poured syrup over her waffle.
Noah hadn't gotten two forkfuls in his mouth when he heard a vehicle coming up the driveway. Recognizing the pickup, Chester gave a half-hearted bark f
rom the front porch. "Gotta go." He pushed another piece of waffle into his mouth as he rose out of the chair. "I already put gas in the mower last night, but there's an extra can in the garage if you need it," he told Rachel, washing the waffle down with a gulp of coffee.
"Thanks for breakfast, Consuelo." He walked around the table, headed for the door. "See you all later." On impulse, he leaned over Rachel and kissed her on the mouth.
Mallory gave a squeal, dropped her fork on her plate, and covered her face with sticky hands. Mattie lowered his head so far that his forehead was almost in his plate.
"Bye," Noah whispered.
"Bye," Rachel answered.
Noah walked out of the kitchen whistling.
* * *
"No, I don't have an appointment," Delilah told Cora Watkins, who sat behind a desk in St. Paul's office. "I was hoping Father Hailey would have a moment for me anyway."
Cora glanced nervously at the closed door to the priest's office. "Father Hailey likes people to make appointments. He's not like Father Gibson. Father Hailey likes order in his life."
"I'm sure he does." Delilah studied a series of photographs of St. Paul's building and grounds displayed on the wall. The first, by the look of the cars in the background, was a very old one. Late twenties, early thirties. Successive photos showed, as years passed, the changes in the structure of the church and the additions made. "Could you see if he has a minute, Miss Cora?" Delilah pressed. "I promise I won't be long."
Cora rose from behind her desk and hurried to the door, tapped and let herself in, closing it behind her. Delilah heard voices behind the door, Cora's and Father Hailey's. He didn't sound pleased. Cora came out a second later.
"He has an appointment in fifteen minutes."
"Not a problem." Delilah glanced back at the photographs, pointing at one in particular. "Is that Joshua Troyer?"
Cora moved closer, lifting her glasses on a jeweled chain to her eyes. "Is indeed. That was the year we had the new air conditioning put in. He moved some walls for us, made room in the basement for the new unit, and helped put in the new air ducts." She pointed over her desk to an intake vent.
Delilah nodded, the wheels of her mind turning. She wondered if voices could be heard through the air ducts. "And this man?" She pointed to an earlier photograph showing an extension being added to the stone wall that encircled the church and the surrounding graveyard. The large, burly man wearing overalls and standing beside the wall, holding up a mason's trowel, looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place the face with a name in the town.
"Oh, that's Jack McConnell."
The name, too, sounded familiar, but Delilah still couldn't place it.
"Mattie McConnell's father," Cora told her, seeming excited to be able to inform someone of something they didn't know. "He fell off a ladder while trying to replace some shingles on the roof after a storm, broke his neck."
"And when was that?"
"Hmmm, let's see. Can't remember what year, but Father Gibson was already here."
"What an awful tragedy," Delilah murmured.
"Terrible tragedy. Left that retarded boy of his all alone. We had no choice, the congregation, but to take up the care for him. Father Gibson did a lot, of course, but we all supported him financially. Cora and I always saw he had a nice sweater at Christmas." She frowned. "Of course, he would never wear it, not even on Sundays to play the organ."
"So Mattie grew up here?"
"Lived here his entire wretched life. Jack was from Stephen Kill. Everybody thought he'd make something of himself. Went off to college on a football scholarship back in the days when boys didn't do that. Must have got some poor girl pregnant, though, because a short time later he was back, beggin' the church for a job as a handyman, carrying that retarded boy of his under his arm." She shook her head. "Loved that boy something fierce, he did."
"And you never knew who Mattie's mother was?"
"Jack kept to himself after he came back. Never was the same man he'd been before he left. We dated, you know, Jack and I. He was a good-looking boy, in those days. Some thought he'd ask me to marry him." Her mouth twitched. "'Course, then he started runnin' with Alice."
Delilah couldn't help but notice the change in the pitch of Cora's voice. Was that bitterness she heard? "So you grew up here in Stephen Kill?" She wondered how Cora and Alice had become such good friends if Cora was still holding the grudge she sounded like she was holding against Alice.
"My whole life." She stood taller, bringing her hands together. "Clara and I were raised in that house on Oak Street. Our papa was the postman. He built the house himself, he and his brothers."
"You seem to be close friends with Alice Crupp," she said, still curious about Cora's relationship with Alice. "Did she grow up on Oak Street too?"
"Certainly not." She took on a superior tone in her voice. "Her father rented a farm on the edge of town, close to Gibson's. He was a no-good drunk. After Alice's mother left them, Alice began to miss a lot of school. We... lost touch. Later we heard she'd run off and got married, but when she came back to town years later, all she said was that she'd worked in Washington as a secretary. She never married." Cora seemed to be thinking out loud now, barely aware of Delilah's presence. "It always seemed a shame to me—"
"Miss Watkins," Father Hailey interrupted from his office doorway.
"I'm sure Sergeant Swift doesn't have time for a complete history of each of our parishioners."
Delilah shifted her attention from the church secretary to the priest. "Thank you so much for seeing me, Father Hailey. I apologize for not calling ahead of time."
"No apology necessary." He linked his hands. "Won't you come in?"
Delilah entered the office and waited for the priest to close the door behind her. Her gaze settled on the intake vent above the large desk, and she wondered where the floor vents were.
"Please, have a seat." He indicated a chair as he walked around her, slipping in behind his desk.
"No, thank you. Really. This will only take a minute." She wandered to the bookshelves she'd noticed weeks ago when she'd come to his office with Snowden. "This is just a routine visit. It's silly for me to even be here, but if I'm not thorough"—she flashed him a cute, southern girl grin—"my boss will have my hide."
"Yes, Chief Calloway can be a stickler for procedures and rules, can't he?" Father Hailey offered a thin smile.
Delilah rested a finger on one of the books on the shelf. It was a narrative on the Gospel of Luke. "May I?"
"Certainly." He cleared his throat.
"I've always been a fan of Luke."
"Most women are."
She opened the book, glancing over the cover at him. "I'm following up on purchases made at Burton's Hardware in the last few weeks. Did you buy a hatchet?"
"No, no, I don't believe I did." He reached for a book on his desk, slid it over a few inches, and straightened it.
"Oh, that's right. You didn't buy it. You asked Miss Watkins to get it for you." She met his gaze over the book.
"Oh, that hatchet. Yes, yes, I suppose I did."
She slid the book back into its place and moved along the shelf, closer toward him. "Could I ask why you, or rather, your secretary, purchased it?"
"Yes, certainly." He hesitated, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Exactly why are you asking, Sergeant Swift?"
She lifted a shoulder, running her finger along the spine of several books. "Just routine police work."
"Was the Newtons' son murdered with a hatchet?"
"We don't know yet what was used in the homicide." She drew her hand along the spines of several different versions of the Bible—New Revised Version, New American Standard, New International. Her favorite was the good old King James version. She'd been milk-fed on it since she was an infant.
She slid the King James Bible from its place.
"It was all those pesky branches." Father Hailey rose suddenly from his chair.
There was something in his tone of v
oice that made her glance over at him. He looked pale.
"Pesky branches?"
"On the elm tree in the parking lot. Tree limbs and branches hanging right over my parking space." He gestured stiffly. "If I've asked our maintenance man, Mr. James, once I've asked him a dozen times to please cut those branches back. They scratch my car and... and they leave sap on the hood." He pressed both palms to his desk. "Sap isn't good for the paint on a car, Sergeant."
His answer and the way it was delivered were so bizarre that she couldn't help but believe him. She wasn't sure what she stepped into, but obviously the man had issues with his car and this Mr. James. She opened the timeworn leather cover of the Bible in her hand and began to flip through the pages.
"You're welcome to... to see it. To take it, if need be," Father Hailey went on. "I'll cooperate in any way I can, of course. Anything to catch this monster."
"We're not confiscating the—" Delilah halted midsentence, glancing down at the page of the Bible in her hand. For a moment, she thought for sure she was mistaken. The Bible was obviously old... pages tear in old books.
But this page of the Old Testament was not torn. Someone had neatly cut a verse from it....
* * *
"So how were the tests?" Rachel asked, seated beside Noah on a towel, dressed in a skimpy red bikini.
After Noah had returned home at one, Rachel had given Consuelo the rest of the day off and they had packed up and come to the state park to enjoy the sunshine and the surf for a few hours. When everyone got too hot and too sandy, they thought they'd take Mattie and Mallory up on the boardwalk for a while. Maybe they'd let Mallory ride a few rides in Funland and they would have pizza for dinner at Grotto's.
"Tests were fine." Noah shrugged. He had a serious farmer's tan going that Rachel had been teasing him about since he pulled off his T-shirt—tanned face and neck and arms below the elbows with lily white chest and legs. "You know, boring like medical tests are."
Unspoken Fear Page 31
