After a while we took off our shirts and Joan turned around, wrapping her arms and legs around me, so she could sit on my lap facing me. We inspected every inch of each other’s upper bodies.
It had started to rain slightly and we could hear thunder in the distance, which only increased the romance of the moment. Joan told me her older sister had told her how to give a guy a hand job.
“Do you want me to do it for you?” she asked.
I wasn’t too sure, but since she couldn’t get pregnant from a hand job, I thought, what the heck. I undid my belt and unbuttoned the top button of my shorts then Joan lowered my zipper and slid her hand onto me.
Hello—did that feel great.
I had done it myself any number of times, but this, this was far superior. With a little guidance from me, she was able to complete the act. Unfortunately, the act was now flowing down her belly, but she just giggled, grabbed her shirt, and with a casual swipe it was gone.
“Thank you. Thank you,” I said.
She smiled. “Thank you for letting me.”
“What about you? Don’t you want me to do the same for you?”
She looked at me for a bit, and then, grinning, she nodded her head and opened her shorts. She guided my hand to the place she wanted me to touch. “There. Just move your fingers a little bit sideways when you touch me there. Yes, just like that.” She moaned a couple of times and then began kissing me. After a while she held me tightly while her beautiful body convulsed against me.
Afterwards, we held each other, talking and listening to the increasing sound of the thunder as it came closer. We decided to go to bed, and as I walked up the stairs behind her to help, I noticed her ankle seemed much better.
At the top of the stairs Joan turned to me. “Thunder frightens me, so I think we should sleep together.”
Now who could possibly argue with Joan’s incredible logic? Not I.
She slid into bed facing me and gave me a long kiss goodnight. Lying on my side, I pulled the big blankets over us as Joan turned away and pushed herself up against me. I wrapped my arm around her waist, but she pulled it up until I was cupping her breast.
“Hold me this way,” she insisted. I fell asleep listening to the crackle of the dying fire and the sound of Joan’s gentle breathing. We slept the whole night curled around each other.
The next morning we went to the shooting range so I could begin teaching her how to use firearms.
“Next time, I’ll save you,” she insisted.
Joan was an excellent student and did exactly what I taught her. She followed every bit of safety advice, to the letter. As a result, she did well and we had a lot of fun. On the drive back to the cabin she told me she couldn’t wait to go shooting again.
After lunch we decided to head out for a brief hike around the property so Joan put on tall hunting boots to protect her ankle. As soon as we left the cabin, a few clouds appeared. They were a relief from the intense heat the sun generated during the previous day’s cloudless sky.
We spent a few hours hiking into heavily forested areas, listening to the bird calls and the sound of the wind in the tops of the evergreens. On our return the clouds thickened as we approached our temporary home. The cabin was only a couple of hundred yards away when I felt something strike the top of my head. I looked behind to see if Joan had thrown something but she was bent over studying wildflowers, not looking in my direction.
I reached up to my head and realized I had been hit with a rain drop. I looked to the west and saw a wall of water was coming at us. Pointing at the rain, I yelled to Joan to head for the cabin. With her sore ankle she couldn’t run. Sheets of acorn-sized raindrops fell on us. When the first drops hit the dirt road, the dirt puffed up into the air as if I had thrown a rock at it. Within a few seconds the dust was turned to sticky mud. In addition, the temperature dropped quickly. By the time we arrived back to the cabin, we were completely soaked and shivering.
Once inside, I quickly built a fire and Joan closed the drapes on the front windows so we could undress and warm ourselves in front of the fireplace. I carefully removed the large boot from Joan’s sore ankle. She arranged all our wet clothes in front of the fire to dry. I brought us some towels and we took turns toweling off each other.
We tried to embrace but Joan couldn’t get her hips against mine as my excitement was in the way. She pushed it down slightly and slid it between her legs without it being inside her. She whispered in my ear. “My mom had me start on the pill last month so I would be ready for college life. We can go all the way without my getting pregnant.”
As she was sliding her hips up and back on my sensitive part, I once again discovered I couldn’t find any reason to argue with her brilliant logic. We decided I would sit on the big rug in front of the fireplace and Joan would sit on my lap facing me. With Joan on top, she could control how fast she wanted to take me inside her. As she slowly lowered herself onto me, she had an uncomfortable look on her face.
“If it hurts too much, we should stop.”
“No! It hurts like hell, but it feels so much better than it hurts.”
We stayed still for a while with me completely inside her and then we slowly started to move. I knew enough about sex to know to wait for her to finish first, but knowing and doing are two different things. Instead of concentrating on what we were doing, I tried to stay calm by thinking about the throw-out bearing we were going to repair on my buddy’s hot rod. Then I tried doing addition in my head...then long division...then multiplying polynomials. For heaven’s sake, if someone could see inside my head they would have thought I was competing in a math contest, not participating in the world’s most beautiful act with one of the world’s most beautiful women!
I was just starting to simplify complex fractions when Joan’s breathing became faster and her body started to shudder. I felt her muscles tightening on me. Feeling her body’s signal, I finished.
“My lord,” she said. “You made me feel…so…that was beautiful.”
We held each other for quite a while and then took a warm shower together.
We dressed and returned to the warmth of the fireplace to read. I was on the floor on my side. After reading for a while Joan put a pillow on my hip, wrapped her arms around my legs, and fell asleep. She woke after a couple of hours, and smiling at me, said we should make dinner.
She prepared radiatori pasta while I chopped Roma tomatoes, crushed a clove of garlic, and shredded fresh mozzarella. Joan tossed them together with the warm pasta. She added the fresh basil and dried oregano we purchased from the farmer’s market. Joan prepared the pasta so it retained enough warmth to melt the mozzarella, gently warm the tomatoes, and bring out the fragrant aroma of the garlic and herbs. She also sautéed zucchini flowers in butter and olive oil. Next she poured a small amount of rosemary infused olive oil over each plate of pasta.
After eating some of each, I said, “Now I know the meaning of the phrase—food for the gods.” Her sparkling blue eyes stared at me for a bit while she maintained a blank expression. Tears were formed in her eyes. Just as I was thinking she was upset with me, she jumped up, came over, and kissed me.
She sat on my lap and told me, “I feel so good and secure when you’re with me, when your arms are holding me, and especially when you’re inside me.”
I was young then and didn’t understand the depth of feeling she had for me. I did know for the first time, when Joan’s life was at stake, I had the knowledge and practiced ability to protect her. That gave me more joy than almost anything else in my young life.
Over the next few days we did many of the touristy things in the Lake Chelan area. We went down to the lake for swimming and boating, and we explored the many unique stores. We interspersed those activities with hurried rushes back to the cabin to “help each other,” as we began to call making love. And we laughed, teased, and read to each other. We debated politics, the merits of the Vietnam War, pollution control, and topics of the day. I am sure the cabin,
if it still exists, continues to ring with the sound of Joan’s melodious laughter.
On Friday morning we slept in, packed a picnic lunch, and hiked to a nearby mountain top. We ate on a grassy knoll overlooking the wide valley with a beautiful mountain range in the distance. Late in the afternoon we headed back to the cabin for more reading, debating, and laughing.
As it was Friday, we prepared to celebrate the Sabbath. We both showered and put on the traditional Israeli attire of white shorts and shirts. Always thoughtful, Joan brought Sabbath candles from home for us. I brought out the little prayer books my family used on Friday nights. Joan recited the blessing for lighting the candles. She was radiant. The glow from the candles illuminated her hands, as she held them covering her face while she chanted the blessing.
We wished each other a “Good Shabbos” then embraced. I held up a glass of wine…really grape juice—and recited the blessing over the “fruit of the vine.” We each took a sip.
Joan placed a pitcher of water at the kitchen sink so we could do the ritual washing of our hands prior to her blessing the Challah she baked for us. We sang Shalom Aleichem, which means “Peace Unto You”, then sat down to the oregano chicken dinner we had prepared.
All of our young years, we complained about going to synagogue, how boring it was, never seeing the significance of the Sabbath. But the first time we’re alone together, we both wanted to honor the Sabbath and celebrate it properly. That first Sabbath we celebrated as a couple, would cement a connection between us which would last through our separation during our college years and my army years.
On Saturday we spent the day studying, reading, and “taking care of” each other. Saturday evening we went into town for dinner at a restaurant, went for a walk along the lake, and then headed back up the mountain.
Early Sunday morning we went through the cabin and cleaned it up one last time. As we drove away, I glanced in my rear-view mirror and felt a twinge of sadness because the cabin had returned to being an empty wooden structure instead of being our love and laughter filled temporary home.
The ride home was as beautiful as the ride out, but the closer Joan and I were to our homes, the quieter we became.
“Back to our real lives,” I said.
“I know. You’re going to school in Florida and I’m going to school in Wisconsin.”
“Maybe we should write. I think this has been the best time I’ve ever experienced.”
She didn’t reply. I was quiet for a while and then asked her, “Do you believe in Bashert?”
“I didn’t before, but now I’m beginning to wonder. I can’t stop feeling we’re meant to be together. If we are, the Lord will put us together again.” She kissed my cheek.
I quickly drove away after I dropped her off at her parents’ house so she wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. A week later, I was on my way to Florida.
Chapter Three ~ Joan’s Struggles
At school in Wisconsin, Joan made many new friends—bright people, most of whom were excited to be there, and who looked forward to the educational opportunities ahead of them.
Tommy was the son of a Nobel Prize winning physicist. He was intelligent, about five feet tall, somewhat chubby, and usually drunk on weekends. He’d asked her out a number of times but she’d always turned him down. Joan wasn’t interested in someone who was so shallow he thought of heavy drinking as a manly accomplishment.
She was on her second date with a guy from one of her art classes. He was easy to spend time with. They had just met up with some of Joan’s dorm-mates and their friends at a dance club.
They hadn’t been there long when she heard a voice say, “Hey Joan. You bitch! You go out with him, but won’t go out with me?”
It was Tommy and he was drunk to the point he was wobbling as he approached. She glanced at him and turned back to her date. Tommy grabbed her arm, spun her around, and slapped her.
Her cheek stung from the blow. Joan stepped back and realized her date was backing up quicker than she was. Tommy came toward her again with fury in his eyes, but Joan replaced it with a look of surprise and pain as she threw a fist into his midsection knocking the wind out of him, just the way her dad taught her.
A couple of bouncers arrived and asked if she was okay. She told them she was. They moved a thoroughly chastened Tommy through the crowd and out the front door without his feet ever touching the ground.
With one hand rubbing her cheek, she turned to her date. “Were you just going to stand there while he hit me again?”
“I am a non-violent person. I know violence only begets more violence.”
“What if he had attacked you? Would you have resisted?”
“I would not have resisted physically but I can passively resist any man.”
At that moment, Joan couldn’t even remember what she had seen in this fellow in the first place. “I realized some time ago you had a big ass, but it’s only now I’ve realized you do your thinking with that part of your anatomy.” She turned and walked away, leaving him surrounded by his friends who were trying to stifle their laughter.
Joan and her roommate decided they’d had enough social interaction for the evening and walked back to their dorm together. Joan didn’t really mind not having a boyfriend because she was still living in the glow Meyer and she had created during their week at the cabin.
As the glow faded, however, she started to feel lonely. A few weeks winter session started, she received a message to call her grandmother, Esther.
This can’t be good news, she thought. She called her grandmother.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this Joan, your parents and sister Golda, were in a terrible car accident. They’re all in terrible shape. They were hit by a drunk driver who ran a stop sign. I have a plane ticket waiting for you at the airport, so get there as quickly as you can.”
“I’ll leave now, Grandma.” This can’t be happening. Events like this happen to other people—not to my family.
Joan quickly packed a bag. As she rode to the airport, she must have been crying as the cab driver repeatedly asked her if she was all right. Truthfully, she was experiencing such emotional turmoil, Joan was lucky to know up from down.
“I just need to get to the airport,” she kept telling the driver.
She whimpered waiting for her flight and she cried her way across the country. During a stopover in Denver, she called her grandma.
“How are they doing, Grandma?”
“Just come home, Joan. I’ll meet you at the airport,” she replied with an exhausted tone in her voice. “I love you, dear.”
Her grandma was right. Joan didn’t really want to hear dreadful news over the phone, especially being so far away. She wondered if someone died.
What if my mom was gone? She and her mom had huge fights over the summer. After Joan arrived home from her trip to Lake Chelan, her mother nagged happy Joan concerning her relationship with Meyer.
“When he goes to college, he’s going to major in mathematics. What kind of a living does a math teacher make?”
“He’s the kindest boy I know and makes me happy.”
Her mother screamed, “Are you crazy? Kind doesn’t pay the bills.”
The argument escalated and they’d ended up saying awful things to each other—terrible things a mother and daughter should never say. If anything happened to her now, Joan would never have the chance to apologize for her disgusting behavior.
What if my dad was gone? Her father was the light of Joan’s life. When things became bad at home between Joan, her sister and her mother, he would patiently talk to them until they put their relationships back together. He understood how Meyer made Joan feel.
Joan knew this because it was her father who had convinced her mother, reluctantly, to agree to let her go to the cabin with Meyer.
What if my sister was gone? Her sister, Golda, had just become engaged to a wonderful man. It can’t end this way for her.
What if both my parents were gone? The
y recently purchased a retirement home in Arizona and were counting the days until they could spend the rest of their lives in the warm Arizona sunshine.
Joan pushed the thought of losing all three of them out of her mind as it was simply too painful to contemplate.
As she stepped off the plane, she looked for her grandmother. Instead, Meyer’s parents, the Minkowski’s, were waiting for her. Mr. Minkowski had a stoic look expression and Mrs. Minkowski had red eyes and tears streaming down her cheeks. As Joan walked up to them, her whole body started trembling.
Mr. Minkowski spoke first. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this. Your dad died at the scene of the accident and your mom died a few hours ago.” His voice sounded tight and controlled. “Your sister is in critical condition. The doctors don’t know if she will survive the next twenty-four hours.”
“No!” Joan screamed. “Don’t tell me that. This can’t be happening.” She started sobbing uncontrollably. Her whole body was shaking and she could feel her legs getting weak. The room started to spin.
Mr. Minkowski grabbed her just as she was collapsing. He and his wife helped her over to a bench and sat with her until the airport stopped spinning.
“We have to go over to the other side of the airport and pick up someone else,” Mr. Minkowski said.
She hardly heard him, becoming numb. Joan walked between them, each holding one of her arms as they walked her out to their car. Her legs heavy, each step was difficult.
They drove to the side of the airport where the private jets landed. A small jet was just parking on the apron in front of the Aviation Services building. Mr. Minkowski left the car and walked over to the plane. The clam shell door opened and Meyer ambled out.
He talked to his dad for a moment and glanced at the car.
Joan slid out of the car, ran over to Meyer, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He put both of his arms around her and held her tightly as she began sobbing again.
As Meyer sat in the car Joan held him as tight as she possibly could. She thought that if she could just hold him tight enough, then she would be able to dissipate the overwhelming pain.
Finding a Soul Mate (Meant to be Together Book 1) Page 3
