by S. N. Garza
I lean against her body as aftershocks quake our bodies. Hers trembling beneath me.
“Love you, Willow.”
It’s a little easier saying it when it’s just the two of us. And each time I say it, it gets easier. It feels natural.
Feels real.
Feels right.
Feels like home.
“Love you too, Gabriel.”
After we’ve caught our breath. I softly massage her hips as I pull out of her. Before I put us back together, I wrap my arms around her and pull her close.
“Say it again, baby.”
Her body molds into my frame, and she hums against me before she turns and fixes her gaze on mine. “I love you, Gabriel.”
I feel her words deep done in my bones. I cup her cheek and it’s like I have to close my eyes as I press my lips to hers. She’s the only thing in my world that feels right. When my lips are on hers, her body’s against mine, this must be what heaven is like.
I let go, and in slow motion, I open my eyes and the way she’s looking at me? Nothing feels as good as this. The way her eyes glaze just a bit like she’s about to swoon.
“I love how you look at me.”
“How do I look at you, Gus?”
“Like I’m everything to you.”
She bites her lip and a pretty blush rises on her cheeks. “You are. Just like I am to you.”
“You are, baby. Always.”
I step back, fix her clothes since she’s still in a daze, and after shoving my wet dick in my pants, I lift her in my arms and carry her to the passenger side.
“Ready to go back to the house?”
She turns her head towards me, her eyes heavy lidded and dreamy. “Mmmm-hmm.”
This time, when I lay her in bed, she’s out like a light. Part of me wants to wake her up, have her all over again, but then a calming sensation comes over me. I pull her in close, press a kiss to her temple before shoving my face in her neck and fall asleep to the sound of her soft, even breathing. And I know I finally found what I’ve been looking for all my life.
Twenty
Willow
I wake up, this internal clock telling me it’s time for chores. I look over to see Gabriel, on his stomach, the sheets down to his naked waist. A ripple of pleasure runs through me at the visual perfection before me.
I love waking up next to him. His jet-black hair hanging over his eye. The Saint Cross tattoo that always makes him look regal and I find myself in awe of him.
Then, I see his face, and sometimes he looks like a little boy. So cute and adorable in his sleep.
I slowly, quietly, slide out of the bed and get dressed. I pick up my boots by the door and make my way down the stairs, knowing everyone is probably still sound asleep. I always got up early on the weekends here. There was always something to do around the farm. When I pass the old organ Uncle Luke said had been in the family for years, I notice the photo album he kept for so many years. He liked developed photos… private eye thing, I guess. I pick it up, sit down on the bench and randomly open it to a page where I see myself and Uncle Luke on my fifteenth birthday. Peter was in the photo, but I see Uncle Luke ripped him out of it. The sweet gesture makes me laugh and I wonder if he’ll let me take the album back to Grifton Falls with me. I set it down on the coffee table and head outside. Pulling on my boots, I walk to the chicken coop to start the day.
I’m walking out of the chicken coop when I see Mr. Daniels, the Ranch Manager, walking into the barn. I follow him out there and when he sees me, he beams.
“Miss Willow, it’s so good to see ya, darlin’. Glad you could come home.”
“Me, too, Mr. Daniels. How they doing this year?”
“Oh, you know Good Ole Reliable. He’s done remarkably well this season. Sired two good colts this past year. You just missed them two weekends ago. And Miss Carrabelle won a few races. As have some of the others. We’ve been having a good year. Oh, darlin’. I remember when Jack would travel all over the place with the horses and win. Oh, you should have seen it. Winning the Triple Crown was the highlight of your daddy’s life. Until you came. Oh, he loved you and your momma something fierce. You know, up there in the hayloft, they’d—sorry. Shouldn’t get into private business, but they’d go up there and with the ceiling winda’, be able to watch the stars. And your momma would paint… that girl had made beautiful works of art. Those paintings you see up at the house? Hers.”
Whoa. I never knew that. She painted? Wow. I always wondered where I got the talent from. Not that I did much anymore. School and Gabriel filled a lot of my life.
“Go on up there, kiddo. She never finished her last piece. Maybe you can take it with you and finish it. I’ve seen yours too. You should take it with ya. Do what you think is best. Luke never goes up there anyway.”
He tips his Stetson and walks from the barn.
The hayloft huh? I look up and see the raggedy ladder that leads up to the small second floor. I look back and see that I’m all alone except for the horses. I take off the egg apron and step up to the ladder littered with webs. My heart beats wildly in my chest. I don’t know why I’m nervous. Even a little scared of what I am going to find.
With each step I take, I feel my body tingling. This overwhelming sensation builds inside and before I chicken out, I rush up the last few rungs and what do I see? A little haven, though dusty and the air feels stilted as if locked in place. Right in the middle is an easel, table, and chair. Against the wall are several sized canvases, all covered by sheets.
On the easel is a painting with a sheet covering it and several paints are on the table that look rotted out with an array of paintbrushes. Suddenly, I’m afraid to see what she’d been painting. I pick up the fan brush, and a memory comes rushing to me. When I was a little girl, she always encouraged me to paint and draw. To express myself in every way there was. I never knew she painted in this capacity. With big canvases, some are six feet by at least eight feet. With my heart up in my throat, I take the edge of the sheet and like a band-aide, I rip it up and over the canvas.
I feel… confused.
The painting is filled with dark, ominous yet sensual colors. Red, dark sienna, black. What was going through her mind when she started this? Mr. Daniels said she started it before they left that last time.
I go to the other works of art and peek at each one. There’s an underlying theme in each one. An old home surrounded by woods and a gate. Dark colors are in each one. They feel angry. Sad. Despotic. Unlike the woman I remember. What did my mother have to be depressed about? I thought she had been so happy. Uncle Luke said they were one of the happiest couples he’d ever known. So, how is this the same person?
I’d love to do as Mr. Daniels suggested, take the painting home and maybe add my own touch, but honestly, I think it should be left as is. There’s something deep and neurotic about the painting on the easel. The stark white of the rest of the canvas casts a light to the photo that probably would have been angry, dark, and depressing.
How is this the mother I remember? What would Uncle Luke say? He wasn’t living here before they died. Even though the ranch is part of the family, he’d been a cop in Houston. Lived in Houston. When they died, he dropped everything to be here with me. To raise me. This place looks untouched. He’s never been up here. Suddenly, I feel an onslaught of tears. These works of art are very different than the woman I believed my mother to be. Something was terribly wrong.
“Willow?”
Alann.
And suddenly, it’s like I shouldn’t be up here. This was a secret place for her. For them. It feels wrong and intrusive. I wipe my eyes. Take a deep breath. Not that it matters. A part of me is changed. Now, my mother isn’t the bright, shiny star I always thought she was. There’s so much more. I made her into this idol growing up. Always big, bright and bold. Those paintings? They don’t feel right.
“Willow?”
“Coming.”
“Where you at?”
“Up here.”
I get to the ladder and see Alann looking around like he’s entered the twilight zone.
“What’s up there?”
“A secret loft.” I can’t help but whisper.
“Gag me. Gabe’s not up there with you, is he?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Woot. Good. Don’t need to see his ass naked.”
Back on solid ground. Woot.
“Here in a small hick town, it’s nekkid. He looks pretty good naked.” I try to be funny even though something inside me shakes with trepidation.
He rolls his eyes and says, “Well, your uncle said you should come in and get ready for church. Y’all do know we don’t really do the church thing, right? And I’m sure he does. For you. He’s not my type.”
“Small towns, Alann. It’s just a part of life here. And the big, strong and silent type isn’t?”
“Silent? I guess he has his moments.”
I step back down onto solid ground and when I turn, Alann’s closer, looking around at the trophies and photos hanging on the wall. And it comes to me. “Alann, you’re minoring in art.” I wait for him to come to me, hands in his jeans pocket. His hair, down around his shoulders. I really like that.
“What is it, Will?”
“Would you go up there and check the canvases. Tell me what they feel like to you.”
His brows rise high and he asks, “Who painted them?”
“I’ll tell you when you come back down.”
“Is it why you have that forlorn look on your face? Why you look like you’ve been crying?”
“Kind of. I’m not sure how I feel right now.”
He puts a hand on my shoulder and gently squeezes. “Alright.” Then he kisses my temple before walking around me and to the rickety ladder.
I watch as he ascends the stairs and I go pick up my apron, check the eggs, and then tie the apron on, and wait. It feels like forever, but it’s only been a few minutes. I wonder what he makes of them. What he thinks of them. My hands fidget at my sides when I finally see his silhouette in the open space. I can’t read his expression from down here, but I just know something doesn’t feel right about those paintings. My chest tightens and my heart begins to race as he comes back down.
“Well?”
He gives me a brooding stare, places his hand on my shoulder, and asks, “Who painted those?”
“My mother.”
Eyes widening, he’s taken aback. “Wow. I thought she was a happy go lucky person. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Yeah. She was pretty adventurous from what I remember, and Uncle Luke told me she was vivacious.”
“Those look like she was hiding a lot of pain.”
“Right? That’s what I thought. I want to ask Uncle Luke, but I don’t want to bring up bad memories if he knows. But with all the dust and debris up there, it doesn’t look like he’s ever been up there. I know he told me they didn’t die well. And him and daddy were really close. I don’t want to—I don’t know. It’s all so confusing.”
“I get it. What are you going to do with them?”
“I don’t know. They don’t feel right to me. As if…,” I can’t help pausing, not really sure what I’m thinking.
“What, Willow?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t feel right taking them. Maybe if I understood them, but since I don’t, I think I’ll just leave them here for now. I don’t want to borrow trouble, ya know?”
“I got you, Will. Usually painting is a very personal thing. It can bring out the very best in people. Also, the very worst. The basest of human nature can be put on a canvas. All depends on how you interpret it. It’s all in the eye of the beholder, as some would say.”
I nod, not really knowing what else to say. It makes me sad knowing my mother had darkness inside of her somewhere. I wish I understood.
Naturally though, Alann finds a way to bring me back to reality and knows how to put a smile back on my face. “Come on, cowgirl. You look adorable, by the way. Like a real cow-poke.”
“I’m going to cow-poke you in the face, city-slicker.” We walk to the front of the barn and just as Alann open the hatch, I look back. There’s just a lone light up in my mother’s secret loft and I see the dust circulating the air. Almost stilted as if it’s locked in place. I don’t want to be in here any longer.
Alann nudges me gently and when I look back up to him, he air-smooches me and nods his head for us to go.
Rolling my eyes, I playfully shove him, walking past him, but he just comes up to my side, nudging me again. I push him and he nudges me a little harder. “Alann!”
With wide, innocent eyes he says, “Willow!”
“Ah!” Then I shove him and race to the back door, hoping the eggs don’t get cracked. I yank open the porch screen door and slam it closed. The run brought my heart rate up and this time, for a good reason. I feel exhilarated. A little better now that I’m away from the hayloft.
“You dirty, dirty little cheat.” Alann’s voice is full of laughter and I flip him off, turn and bounce off a big, broad, beautiful chest.
“Gabriel.” My fingers press into his naked chest, and my gaze sweeps over him. Oh, my. He looks so good in an unbuttoned, long-sleeve shirt, jeans and he’s barefoot. Something about seeing him like this, with bare feet, makes him look—God, why is his bare feet making me feel so hot all of a sudden?. A sigh leaves my lips and following back up, I see his crotch flex—oh, sweet mother of God—and let my gaze travel back up until I’m locked in his stare.
His eyes are hot on mine and I feel it all the way down to my toes and heat spreads between my legs.
“Morning, fairy-girl. I missed you in the bed this morning.”
“Sorry. Habit. I used to get up pretty early and fetch the eggs.”
He takes a step back, looks me over and he reaches behind me, pulling the apron loose and hands it to Alann. “Give this to Luke, would you, Alann?” Gabriel’s eyes stay on mine and I feel his dark stare penetrate every pore, waking every cell in my body.
“There isn’t any time for nooky. Her uncle says church starts in an hour.”
“We’ll be ready.”
“Whatever.” Alann’s voice gets drowned out as he walks inside the house.
Now it’s just Gabriel and me and another sigh sweeps through me.
I love how he looks at me. “You look good, Willow. I could just eat you up.”
“I’m sure you can, but he’s right. There’s not much time and I’d like to not be a sweaty mess.”
“My little cowgirl.” His hand takes hold of my braid and tugs. “Fine. Come on, then.”
We get inside and Alann and Uncle Luke stop what they’re talking about, and a part of me feels like they’re discussing me. There’s something in Alann’s gaze that makes me want to ask what’s wrong, but he gives me a small smile and walks to the Keurig. Uncle Luke’s jaw is pretty tight, but he just gives me a small smile and turns to the window, definitely not saying anything. That’s okay. Uncle Luke and I have made our peace and whatever it bugging him, he’ll tell me in his own time and when he’s ready.
“I’m gonna go get ready.”
I leave Gabriel’s arms and just as I take a step, a sharp smack lands on my behind, making me jump a foot in the air.
I turn around red-faced and glare at Gabriel. “Honestly. Good thing we’re going to church, you heathen!”
He snorts and gives me a wink before beginning to button up his shirt. I walk away in a huff, but I love how he’s becoming playful and sweet.
Twenty-one
Willow
Church was a different scene for both Gabriel and Alann. They looked uncomfortable but when they bowed their heads, I couldn’t help but peek up at Gabriel, only to find his mouth moving. Was he praying? It brought a smile to my face.
When we get back to the house, we eat lunch and I remember the photo album.
“Uncle Luke, is it okay if I take the photo album by the organ?”
“Yea
h, Willow-Tree. Your mom started it back when she got pregnant with you and the last picture is from the first day you were at GFU. It’s yours, honey. I just added photos as you grew.”
“Our last game is Thursday. Will you be able to come?”
Uncle Luke’s smile goes wide. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
We talk a little more when we decide it’s time to head back to Grifton Falls. Uncle Luke and Alann follow us outside and I can’t help but jump into Uncle Luke’s arms, hugging him tight.
“I’m gonna miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, Willow-Tree. But I’ll be there Thursday and maybe I can come for the weekend. I’ll see how my schedule goes this week.”
“Thank you. I love you, Uncle Luke.”
“Love you right back, kiddo.”
With another long hug, I let him go and I know I can’t help the tears glistening in my eyes. I love being home. I love the fresh air. The horses. The people. The sameness. But I also can’t wait to get back to Grifton Falls where I feel like it’s my home, too.
“You gonna follow us, Alann?”
“I’ll make it back tonight. Longer I’m gone and all that.”
Gabriel puts a hand on Alann’s shoulder, squeezes and says, “If anyone gives you shit, I got your back, Worsch.”
Alann’s eyes rise high, surprised. Then he snorts, “You’re so fucking pussy whipped, Saint.”
I gasp and Gabriel turns red, but it’s Uncle Luke who reacts. He smacks Alann on the back of his head.
“That’s my niece you’re referring to, Alann.”
Alann grins, looks my uncle up and down before rolling his eyes and turning to me, with a raised brow. Baiting me. And I can’t help but tease Gabriel. “He so is, Alann. Wrapped around my finger.”
Growling, Gabriel bends and heaves me over his shoulder. I laugh, and he smacks my behind.
“Gabriel! I didn’t get to hug Alann!” Growling, he turns back but doesn’t set me down. Instead, he just twists and Alann is right there, rolling his eyes, giving me a droll look.
