Maker of Footprints

by Sheila Turner Johnston

  She smiled into his eyes and shook her head. “I haven’t the words.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  He laid her down on top of the quilt on her narrow bed. “There’s room for two. Cuddled up. But I think your teddy bear will have to sleep on the floor.”

  “He’ll cope.”

  She rolled onto her side, aware and careless of the robe that parted over her legs. There was languor in her voice and body. Since the brief fire downstairs, Paul’s actions had slowed, as if he knew he must take care, take time. He lay beside her and pulled her to him gently, wrapping her in his warm body, folding her into the length of himself. It was like coming home. She felt a sigh escape him and drift through her hair. “Oh, Jenna,” he breathed. He moved slightly to kiss the top of her head and his arms tightened further. “Jenna, Jenna, Jenna.”

  He was a new country, a man far beyond the borders of her hopes and dreams. This time she would keep him. If this is the only way to have him, then this is the way it shall be. While he lay contented, for the moment at peace, it was she who began to move. Tentatively she ran her hand down his side, feeling the curves and hollows of his body. Her fingers seemed twice alive, to his reactions and to her own pleasure in this cocoon of time and space. There was no other world.

  She smiled against his chest as she felt her power again. He stirred and his own hands began to explore, gently at first, sensitive to her innocence. His arms slid beneath her robe and it became a barrier not to be borne. He tugged it from her shoulders and she arched her back to help him slide it from her and push it to the floor. In one smooth movement he rose on one elbow and folded his palm round her newly bare breast. His touch was light and sure. She covered his fingers with her own, smiling into his eyes, her lids heavy. His breath brushed her cheek as he lowered his head to kiss her. Into her ear he whispered, “I think you’re a scarlet woman after all.”

  There was no part of her that he did not want to know. She offered herself with a freedom that she had not known she possessed, because this was Paul, the other part of her mind and soul. Beneath his hands and lips, her skin became a conflagration of sensation. Once, he lingered as his mouth slid along the silk of her stomach. She could not bear his hesitation. As his eyes flicked to her face, she wound her fingers through his hair. His lips curved against her skin and he travelled on, the tiny dark hairs on his face only heightening the fire, covering her in the maleness of him. She felt his breath, heard words, murmured and warm. It was something about flying. Then she stopped thinking any more.

  He paused only once more. She moved beneath him of her own accord, knowing only that she was not yet satisfied. She wanted him closer, closer still. He took his weight on his arms, stilled, searched her face, silently asked a question. Answered, he moved rapidly and then she was flying indeed, beyond any boundary she had ever known.

  He held her while she slept. With her he could forget for a time; be blissful, and absent from his griefs. Her hair and body smelled of almonds. His smile became a gentle kiss above her brow. He was the one who was supposed to turn over and go to sleep!

  Everything he had ever wanted was in his arms. Did it matter that there was need as well? So many women had taken from him. They said, “Give me,” and for a time he was happy to oblige. But he had been faithful to Dianne, despite temptation. Then it had all died. All his desire, all his senses, were consumed in imbibing the world in which he still lived.

  Jenna had woven herself into the fabric of his mind so intricately that he was unable to unravel her from it. He traced the edge of her ear through a veil of fine hair. She was part of this, part of him and desire – no, much more than that – flared again. Jenna was as generous with her body as she was with her gentle, quiet mind. For the first time, this had been perfect, a communion of pleasure. He moved slightly and she smiled in her sleep and gripped him closer – and he exulted in the knowledge that he was the first man to have touched her this way. She would always be first his. Eternity could not take that away.

  What would she do in life? Where would she go? Would she marry? With a sting of loss and jealousy, he knew that she probably would. It was too much. Unconsciousness was stealing over him like a strong drug and he welcomed it. Just as blackness began to drop its curtain, he felt blood trickle onto his upper lip and drop slowly onto Jenna’s hair. It triggered a guilt that thundered through him with a force that made him shake.

  I should not have done this. I should not have done this to her.

  And then the curtain fell.

  31

  JENNA WOKE IN the dark and had no idea how long she had slept. She was lying in her own bed, close to the side against the wall, looking at her own ceiling, seeing the familiar strip of street light above the curtains. The light just filtered to the edge of the dressing table and touched the chain of a pendant she had dropped there earlier.

  But everything had changed. She squirmed onto her side in the tiny sliver of space that Paul had left her. He was on his stomach with his face turned towards her, his arm across her waist. He was very still as she leaned over to kiss him lightly. She put her hand on his shoulder and tilted her head to watch him. Sometimes dreams do become real. He was here, in her bed, almost filling it. His warm body and steady breathing transformed this room forever in her mind.

  Now it was cold. Carefully she wriggled down to the end of the bed and stood. Her feet landed on her discarded robe and she put it on, grateful now of its heat. Her slippers could be anywhere. She felt her way round the bed to the door and tripped over the teddy bear on the rug. In the bathroom, she examined her face by the light above the mirror. Did she look any different? She smiled into the mirror and brushed her hair back. Something sticky clung to her fingers as they threaded through her hair. She held her fingers up to the light. It was blood.

  In the weak light, she turned her head and combed her fingers through her hair again, feeling slight dampness above her left ear. It was definitely blood. Frowning, she rinsed her fingers and held the strand of hair under the running tap to clean it. There was no sign of a cut on her temple. She towelled the patch of wet hair.

  Paul was still asleep on his stomach. There was a small torch in the bedside table. She felt for it and knocked a book to the floor with a thud. Still he did not stir. The small beam of light showed two dark patches on the pillow under his head. She looked closer. He had had a nosebleed! Jenna giggled. So that’s what I did to his blood pressure!

  When she had hauled the quilt from Luke’s bed and spread it over Paul, she dropped her robe again, then crawled up beside him from the foot of the bed and quietly slipped under the cover. With some tissues, she mopped at the dark patches then spread tissue over them. His body was so still as she wound herself round him again. She wanted him to wake. She wanted him to love her again. She began to ache with the thought and her hands roamed across his skin, learning the map of his being, the frame of the soul inside him.

  She woke again to his movements in the dark. He was raised on one elbow, looking down into her face. Delighted, she reached for him, then stopped as he spoke. Hoarse and urgent, he whispered, “Save me, Jenna.”

  She pulled him to her and hugged him. “You’re dreaming.”

  His breath brushed her neck. “I’m not.”

  She chuckled. “If you’re awake, let’s not waste time talking.”

  He moved so swiftly he left her breathless. Exultant, she matched him in swift passion. I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you! He spared her nothing this time, no gentleness, no slow stirring of the fire. Impatient with the narrow bed, he threw the quilt to the floor and pulled her down with him. She drowned in luxurious, sensuous delight, her eyes closed, her lips swollen, her head thrown back. He cupped her head with one palm, tilted her face to his and kissed her deep and long. His voice was the only thing she heard in the night. It stood out as if spread on silence, for nothing else mattered enough to hear.

  “I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m sorry
.”

  She tried to reply but couldn’t. She couldn’t even wonder. Not yet.

  The phone was ringing, the landline downstairs. Jenna raised her head and realised she was on the floor, between the bed and the dressing table, almost on top of Paul. His leg was twined round hers and his head was pillowed in a fold of the quilt. A darkened trace of blood stained his cheek. Despite the strident ringing, she watched him stirring, almost fragile in sleep, eyes flickering beneath his lids. Her lips curved. He was beautiful. He would hate the description but she could think of no better one – the dark-and-pale face, the smooth stomach… She struggled from the tangle of clothes and limbs. The clock on her bedside table said five past ten. The light diffused from the curtain’s edge was now daylight. She dragged her robe behind her, feeling the cold of morning slipping across her skin as she skipped down the stairs.

  It was Dianne.

  She sounded bright, but behind her words of greeting there was tension. Jenna draped the robe round her shoulders as her mind raced. Dianne’s husband was lying naked on her floor upstairs.

  “Silly really,” said Dianne, “but Paul’s mother told me he hadn’t been in touch for a while. Adam says he hasn’t heard from him either. So I just thought I’d check with you.”

  Jenna played for time. “You’re in touch with Adam?”

  “Yes. He called here to see Daddy. I thought he was coming to see me because I wasn’t well, but Daddy and he talked business for absolutely boring ages.” Momentarily sidetracked, her voice became conspiratorial. “By the way, I think he’s single again.

  Rachel’s gone off with someone else. They were only over here a few weeks. Bizarre. Poor old Adam looked a bit moochy. So you might get him back again. If you wanted to, of course,” she added as an afterthought.

  “Sorry you haven’t been well.”

  “No.” There was a pause. “A bit horrid actually. I had a miscarriage. Ghastly business, but I’m getting over it now.”

  Jenna gripped the edge of the cupboard. “A miscarriage? I’m so sorry.”

  “These things happen and all that.”

  “But you didn’t want children.” Jenna squeezed her eyes shut. What a crass thing to say!

  “No, I didn’t. Hated the thought. But it’s funny. I think… Knowing he was there…” Her voice trailed off. “Anyway, how’s your brother? Adam said he’d had an accident or something.”

  “He’s getting better.”

  “Oh jolly good. Anyway, if you run into Paul will you let me know?”

  “Sure.”

  On the way up the stairs, Jenna yanked the belt of her robe tight. She stopped in the doorway, leaned against the wall. Paul was sitting on the floor with his back propped against the bed. His head was turned to the door as she came in.

  “You heard?” Jenna said.

  “Yes.” The quilt was wrapped round his legs. He looked wary.

  “Why didn’t you tell me Dianne was pregnant?”

  “I didn’t know until last weekend.”

  She nodded slowly, putting pieces together. “When you went AWOL. Because she lost it?”

  He rose so quickly he startled her. “She didn’t lose it – she threw it away!”

  Jenna took a step back from his suddenly angry face. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean she’s a bitch and a liar.”

  He was changing again, changing from the magical lover of only hours before. Just as suddenly, his fury died and he sat heavily on the bed. He propped his elbows on his knees and knotted his fingers in his hair. Before he dropped his head, Jenna saw the bleakness of the night before swimming back into his eyes. He dropped his hands and looked up at her.

  “She had an abortion. She killed my child.”

  Oh, God! Jenna’s mind reeled from shock. She couldn’t go to him, but neither could she leave him. Caught, she sank cross-legged to the floor. There was a long silence while so many feelings swirled inside her. Paul stayed silent, waiting. When she began to speak she thought he probably knew what her first question was going to be.

  “When…?”

  He leaned forward and reached for her hand. She snatched it away.

  “Jenna, I haven’t touched her since Christmas. I told you. It was over then. It was finished before then.” He spread his hands, pleading. “I threw my ring away in front of you.”

  While she digested this, he stood and made for the door. He stopped for a moment, seemed disorientated. He put both his hands over his face, his eyes tight shut. Jenna was about to speak when he touched the top of her head briefly.

  “I’m going to make a phone call. I’ll have to use your phone.”

  His voice came up the stairs. He was ringing his mother. “Oh, you know me. I always turn up again. Yes… sure… Yes, I’ll call in soon… We’ll catch up then… I know. Sorry.”

  The conversation was short and Jenna could imagine Hazel’s relief, which would manifest itself as a scolding. She was the only person from whom Paul Shepherd would take a scolding.

  “Well?” she asked when he returned, staying crouched with her back to him.

  “Well what?” he said.

  “Aren’t you going to ring Dianne too?”

  “No.”

  “But what do I say to her?” She twisted to look up at him, upset and puzzled. “She asked me to let her know. Do you want me to lie to her?”

  He dropped to his heels behind her. Her senses skipped and danced all over again at his nearness. “If you like. I don’t care.” His hands came round under her arms, under her breasts, pulling her to her feet. He held her back against his body for a moment. Her bones became like liquid as he bent his lips to her ear. “Let’s not lose this, Jenna. Let’s not spoil it. I don’t want to go back out there yet. I want to stay here, with you. For ever and ever.” There was almost a sob in his last words. Then he turned her around. That was it. That was all he had to do.

  With the passion and amazement of a new convert she welcomed him. He raised himself on his arms and she held his head, his hair gripped in her fingers. There was moisture on his lashes. As his movements became stronger, thought dissolved into sensation and she discarded guilt and goodness as chaff from another world.

  He was restless again. The passion and the peace had both dissolved. She found him standing in the sitting room, half-dressed now, arms folded across his bare chest, looking out at the street. Jenna came up behind him.

  “What will the neighbours think? A bare-chested man standing at my window. You realise my reputation is in tatters?”

  He turned round and she raised her arms, made a noose round his neck and leaned against him. The hollows between his ribs were a little deeper than they should be.

  “Just as well the sitting room is all they can see.” His answer was automatic, humourless. He unhooked her arms and held her away from him, both her hands held in his. “Rachel has left Adam again.”

  “Dianne told me. I’m not surprised.”

  “Neither am I. Rachel likes the chase, not the capture. She’s like a cat tossing a mouse.” Paul gazed at her for a moment, his head cocked. Then, “He’s been asking about you. How you are. If you’re seeing anyone.”

  Jenna’s eyebrows rose. “Really? What did you say?”

  “He asked my mother. She said she didn’t think you were. She says he’s talking about trying to get transferred back here. I think he’s raised her hopes that you and Adam might get together again.”

  She shrugged. “So?”

  “Don’t go back to him.”

  She was so shocked she was speechless. She dropped to the sofa. “I could be offended at that, Paul.” She spread her hands. “What was last night? A one night stand?”

  He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. She stiffened, not mollified. “No, no, no!” It was a fierce cry and he gripped her so tightly she had to relax or be hurt. “You don’t understand.”

  She pushed at his chest, tried to pull away to look at his face. “No, I don’t understand! Make me un
derstand! What had happened at your house? Why was there an album of photographs of me torn on the floor? Why did you disappear? Why are you saying all these odd things?”

  He pulled her back to his shoulder and dropped his chin onto the top of her head, stroking, stroking, stroking her hair. “Ssssh. All in good time. You and I have a lot still to say to each other.”

  “Lots and lots and lots.”

  “Shouldn’t you be in a library or something?”

  “I’ve dropped out. I’m not going back.”

  The stroking stopped abruptly. “What! Why?”

  “Because of you. I didn’t want to stay here without you. So I decided to move to Scotland and start again; try to forget you.” She looked up, mischief in her eyes. “You’ve made that impossible now! You could always come with me.”

  He shook his head slowly. “No, I can’t.”

  She snuggled closer. “Well, I don’t mind now anyway. Wherever you go, I’m coming with you.”

  His fingers were still playing with her hair. “No, you can’t, Jenna.”

  She drew away and put space between them. “Will you stop talking in riddles? You’re annoying me.”

  “Think in riddles,” he flashed, suddenly impatient.

  She was so sensitive to him her soul must have been visible in her eyes for he moved swiftly to bring her to her feet and hug her. “I’m sorry. I’m a grumpy old bastard.”

  “No wonder Dianne left you.” The words fell like a dropped boulder. Oh, God, why did I bring that name up again? She backed away, gave a short laugh. The thought of Dianne and what she had done wasn’t going to spoil this. “Now I’m sorry.”

  “Like you said. There’s a lot to talk about.” He turned his back and walked to the hall. She followed him and was alarmed to see him slipping his coat round his bare shoulders.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to go out. I have to go. I have to.” It was as if he were convincing himself.

  She made herself stay at the door of the room. “But you’ll be back? We haven’t eaten yet. It’s brunchtime.”

  The buttons of his coat were still open as he scooped her into his body like a lost child just found. His voice trembled through his skin as her cheek pressed against him. “Never doubt me, Jenna.” Almost fumbling, he pulled her head up urgently and kissed her until her breath was gone. “I’ll be back and then you’ll have to trust me…” he kissed her again “… and stay with me…” and again “… and never leave me alone…” and again “… but most of all, you’ll have to forgive me.”