“Damn it, Linnet! I don’t want anythin’ to—” He stopped because she was looking at him so strangely. She carefully set the mug down, then began to laugh, laugh in such a way as he’d never seen an adult do before. Her mouth opened wide, and her whole body began to shake. He stared in fascination as her legs turned rubbery and she collapsed on the floor, her laughter filling the air, her legs helplessly entangled in the long skirt. She held her stomach, tears rolling down her face.
“Linnet, why are you laughing? All I said was I didn’t want to eat any more and you wouldn’t even let me finish that.”
But Linnet couldn’t explain; she had no extra breath. Damn it, Linnet! Sweet, musical words. He was going to get well! He was going to be Devon again. Nothing else could have convinced her that he was going to recover.
Devon just stared at her and began to find her laughter infectious. He grinned. “You are the beatinest woman. I don’t guess I’ll ever understand you.”
Phetna returned with Miranda and looked at the two of them, Devon smiling and Linnet rolling on the floor in a mass of skirts, her face covered with tears.
“She’s gone plumb crazy,” Devon said.
Miranda didn’t care why her mother was so happy, only that she was. She ran and jumped on top of her and the two of them rolled together, Linnet tickling her daughter mercilessly, the child kicking and screaming with delight.
“Here, boy, drink this ’fore it gets cold,” Phetna said.
Devon watched his daughter and Linnet with interest, never really having seen her so abandoned before, and drank all of the hot, thick broth.
Finally Linnet lay back on the wooden floor, her sides heaving and exhausted from the romp. Miranda still wanted to play, but she held her away. “I’m afraid I’m too tired for more, Miranda.” Finally the child subsided beside her mother, content to lie close to her.
“You two plan to stay there all night?” Phetna asked from her lofty position above them. “That boy o’ yourn needs some help gettin’ back to bed and I’m afraid I’m too feeble to give him much help.”
“I doubt that,” Linnet said as she sat up and looked at Devon.
He gave her a very solemn look and turned the mug upside down to show it was completely empty.
She smiled at him. “Please don’t do anything else. I’m sure my stomach will be sore tomorrow as it is.”
Devon was very serious. “I’ll rub it for you.”
Linnet’s face turned red and she distinctly heard Phetna snicker. She stood before him. “Put your arm around my shoulders and I’ll support you. Just be careful of your feet.”
As he stood, the quilt fell away and he made a grab for it, then let it fall. He grinned at her wickedly. “I forgot there ain’t nothin’ about me you ain’t seen—and handled—many times.”
“Devon!” Linnet felt her entire body turn red, even her ears and her toes. She gave a furtive look to Miranda.
“I thought you said you didn’t raise no young’un who’d—what’d you say?—get upset at the sight of a man’s bare behind.”
Linnet couldn’t answer, and when Devon stretched out, face down on the mattress, she tossed a sheet over him, not looking at him. She grabbed a piece of cloth from across the top of her sewing basket.
“What you doin’, girl?” Phetna asked, her voice betraying her laughter.
“I think the serpent has just appeared in the Garden of Eden, and Adam will now get his fig leaf.” She held up the cut and burned pants that Devon had worn the night of the fire. “They’ll have to do until I can make new ones.” She still avoided Devon’s eyes.
Chapter Nineteen
BUTCH GATHER LEANED BACK IN THE CHAIR, his hands clasped over his enormous stomach. “If you ask me, we got a real problem on our hands. Now I don’t wanta be the one casts the first stone, but there’s more people in this than just me. I mean, we got young kids involved in this. I can’t help thinkin’ about what sins she musta done been tellin’ our young’uns.
“As for me, I’m wanting to do somethin’ about this. You all know me, I ain’t one to set when there’s a job to be done.”
The other people in the store agreed with him.
“And then there’s the burned woman,” Jule said. “I know you all remember the time she let the Willises die. It always did seem funny to me. They was doin’ all right ’til she come. And somethin’ else bothers me, and that’s the way that woman looks. Now I ask you, could any normal person live through a fire like that? Could anybody what didn’t have a line with Satan last through a fire like that?”
They were silent, staring at Jule and she began to become excited at the attention directed toward her.
“Now this is the way I figure it: none of us can stand bein’ near the burned woman, and rightly so, bein’ good Christians, yet we never knew why we didn’t like her. But then there was somethin’ inside us told us to stay away from her and I think it was our knowin’, inside like, what’s good and what’s bad.
“And ’member when that English girl come to Spring Lick? Oh, we tried, all of us did, but none of us could like her. And why, I ask you? What was there about her that caused all of us Christians to stay away from her?”
She paused, and her body began to shake with the pleasure of having everyone listen to her. “There’s somethin’ born into Christians that makes ’em know evil, feel it, and all of us knew somethin’ was wrong from the start.”
They all stood quietly, and Jule looked from one to the other.
Butch spoke again. “Jule said it for all of us, and now what’re we gonna do about it?”
No one spoke for a moment, and then Ova seemed to have an idea. “You know who I feel for in all this? That young’un. That poor little girl. They got her bewitched, are trainin’ her to follow in their ways.”
“Ova’s right!” Jule said. “What we oughta do is take that little girl away from them witches and raise her ourselves. It’d be a fight all her life to keep the devil out of her, but it’d be our duty.”
“Mmm,” Butch murmured. “You ladies are right. Now all we gotta do is decide what to do with ’em, the two women and the man.” His little eyes gleamed as he had some thoughts on what to do with the younger woman.
“Lynna, come sit beside me.”
“Devon, I have work to do.”
“What if I told you my back hurt a lot and I think you could ease the pain?”
She put her knitting in her lap. “Does it and can I?”
“Lord! I can’t remember what it’s like not to be in pain and, yes, you could help me.”
They were alone in the cabin and, although she knew it was a ruse, she went to sit beside him and studied the wounds that were gradually beginning to heal.
“Could you eat something?”
He rolled his eyes at her. “Please, no more food.” He whispered something she couldn’t hear, and so she leaned closer to his mouth. He kissed her ear and she began to pull away, but her threw one arm around her waist. “Don’t go away, Lynna, please. I just been thinkin’ and I wanta talk to you.”
“About what?” she asked stiffly.
He pulled her closer beside him, his face buried in her neck, his arm about her waist, one leg thrown over her thighs. She struggled to get away from him but even as weak as he was she couldn’t match his strength.
“I been thinkin’ about that night we made Miranda.”
She pushed against him earnestly, all the time realizing she didn’t want to leave him.
“Just let me talk to you, Lynna, what harm can there be in that? Remember the night we spent together? No, don’t move away. I promise not to do anything but talk. What can I do when I’m burned like this?”
She lay still under his arm, telling herself to move away from him, unable to make her body obey her mind’s commands.
“You know where I’d like to be?” he whispered in her ear. “I’d like to be on a mountain top, in a little cabin with you. There’d be a stack of firewood and lots of food a
nd you know what the first thing I’d do would be?”
She didn’t answer.
“I’d burn all your clothes, every stitch. I’d watch you walkin’, and look at your skin, at the way you bounce in the right places, the way you’re all soft and jiggly. Then when I’d watched you for hours, maybe days, I’d pick you up and put you on the bed.”
He looked at her, her eyes closed, her mouth parted, soft and warm, the edges of her little teeth showing. “I’d kneel at your feet and enclose them in my hands, your tiny little feet, run my fingers between your toes. I’d look at the color of you, your cream-white skin next to mine, oak and walnut or maybe you’re pine since you’re so soft and I’m so…” He chuckled low in his throat.
“I’d run my hands over your ankles and onto your calves, the little calves that I’ve watched so many times, watched when you lift your skirts and run, throwin’ one foot in. Your knees, the tiny bones, the little carvings, and then your thighs, ah yes, your thighs. How I’d like to touch them, love them, the firm outside and the inside! The inside where you’re so soft, like a jewel box that holds something so precious.
“Then my fingertips would touch your hip bones and my thumbs? What would my thumbs do? They would entwine themselves in the soft mat of silk, the dark curls pulling at them, teasing them. I’d touch the hole in your belly and by then my mouth wouldn’t be able to wait any longer. I’d run my teeth along that little hole, nipping you, touching you with my tongue.
“At your waist I’d squeeze so hard my hands would overlap and I’d make you open your eyes. They’d be the color of the whiskey the traders bring me from England, kind of gold but deeper than that and they’d look at me, Lynna, they’d shine only for me.”
His teeth ran along her neck. “I’d touch your ribs, so little, like a bird’s really, and then, mmm, your breasts. The sweetness of them. I’d go slow, real slow, touching only the fat part at the sides, running each of my fingers one by one over the soft juiciness of them, and slowly, so slowly I might make you cry, I’d touch the little pink tips.
“Lynna,” he whispered. “Lynna.” He touched his lips to hers, softly, but she put her hands in his hair and pulled him roughly to her, crushing their mouths together, drinking, dying of thirst, choking, drowning.
She rolled next to him, both on their sides and her body arched to his and she clutched his firm buttocks and pulled him closer to her, painfully, her body crying for his. His hand twisted in her hair, pulling her head back to a breaking curve and their passion was a fierce, red-orange thing.
The door to the cabin slammed open, hitting the wall, causing a break in the spell. Linnet turned, her breath still held, not functioning as she saw no one there and knew that the wind had blown it open.
She became a person again and ran to close it but stood a moment with her face in the cool spring air, calming herself, wondering at such an emotion that she had experienced only once before.
Devon unbuttoned his pants and adjusted himself to relieve the pressure he felt, then turned on his stomach, not looking at Linnet, surprised by the violence of his own feelings.
Linnet ran from the cabin, wanting to be in the air to clear her head.
“Linnet!”
She heard Nettie’s voice and she was all at once very happy to see her friend. “Nettie, I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” They clasped hands.
“How is he?” Nettie asked.
“He’s…he’s…” Linnet bent her head in embarrassment.
“I take it he’s recovering all right,” Nettie said, eyes twinkling.
Linnet had to laugh. “I believe you could say he was more than recovered.”
“Good. Let’s walk a bit. I got a pot of indigo settin’ in the barn, but it’ll let me rest a minute. Linnet, I’m worried about this town.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just too quiet, and this mornin’ ever’body was over at Butch’s store for the longest time. Rebekah said she saw some people comin’ and they was smilin’. People in this town smile, and I worry.”
“I’m sure they were discussing what a disgrace I am to the community, how I taught their children immoral ways, as if I ever taught them anything.”
“No, I think it’s more than that, and it’s not knowin’ that scares me. Rebekah wanted to spy on them, and I told her no, but I’m thinkin’ about lettin’ her more and more.”
“Nettie! Please don’t make Rebekah do something like that. I’m sure that as soon as I leave—”
“Leave!” Nettie cut in. “You ain’t meanin’ to leave, are you?”
Linnet looked at her in surprise. “Yes, I will go away. I’ll go back to Sweetbriar.”
“With your man,” Nettie stated flatly.
Linnet smiled. “Yes, with my man. He’s not perfect, Nettie, it seems we’ve never gotten along well, that we’ve always fought, but there are also so many things I love about him.” She looked ahead dreamily to the edge of the woods. “He always helps people. He complains about it but he always helps them and he accepts people for what they are, whether they’re white, Indian, rich or poor. He never lets wealth or color influence him. And he’s brave. He risked his life to save me and he didn’t even know my name. And on the trail back—”
Nettie’s laugh cut her off. “Sounds to me like he’s about ready to leave this earth to join the angels, he’s so good.”
“Oh no!” Linnet was quick to keep her friend from thinking that. “He’s very human. Half the time he’s angry with me, he snaps at Gaylon and Doll all the time and—”
“Linnet!” Nettie laughed and her friend joined her.
“I guess I do go on. I’m afraid I’ve been in Kentucky too long. A year ago I would never have told anyone what I felt about anything. Nanny always said it was better to keep things inside, then the world couldn’t hurt you since they didn’t know your secrets.”
Nettie patted her friend’s arm. “You got to stay in Spring Lick long enough to tell me about Nanny and about all the time you lived in England, but right now I got to turn that wool. Maybe you’ll help me spin it.”
“I will if I can,” Linnet answered honestly, their eyes locked together.
“I’m still gonna have Rebekah keep watch, and if I hear anythin’, I’ll let you know.”
“I’m not worried. The people here are gossips, no more.”
“You got more faith in ’em than I have.” Nettie turned toward her house and the friends parted.
Linnet looked at her own cabin and when she saw Phetna and Miranda enter, she followed.
“Here, boy,” Phetna was saying, “A girl brought these to you, said they was on your horse.” The scarred woman held out a beaded pair of moccasins. “They’ll protect your feet some.”
Devon gave a brilliant smile to Phetna, and Linnet was amused to see her turn away, almost as if she were a young, blushing girl.
“I thank you kindly, Miss Phetna.”
“Not Miss—,” Phetna began but stopped.
Linnet walked past both of them and began peeling potatoes. “Phetna knew your father, Devon,” she said, hardly able to look into his eyes, remembering too clearly his words and lips near hers an hour ago.
“I heard somethin’ like that, but my memory of…of most things,” he arched one eyebrow at Linnet and she looked away, “is hazy. You knew him in North Carolina?”
Phetna sat down in a chair and stared at Devon. “You shore look like him. I wouldn’t aknowed you wasn’t him if somebody hadn’t told me.”
“Cord looks like him too,” Linnet said as she handed Miranda a piece of raw potato. “They move differently and they’re built differently, but there’s a resemblance.”
“Who’s Cord?”
When Linnet looked up and saw Devon’s face, she realized what she had said. To her it had been something she had known so long that she had forgotten that Devon had no idea Cord was his half-brother. “I…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” She stood and dumped the potato pee
lings in the slop jar that she kept for Nettie’s pigs.
“Linnet!” His voice was low. “I want you to explain what you just said.”
She sat down on the bench and told them Cord’s story, the story of how Cord and Devon were brothers. When she finished, Devon’s eyes were closed.
“What a fool,” he said quietly.
“Slade?” Phetna asked, obviously ready to do battle in defense of Slade’s good name.
“No, Cord was the fool.” He opened his eyes. “My pa woulda loved him, woulda taken him in if he’d known Cord was his. Pa always hated the loss of Kevin, my twin brother. There wasn’t a wagon train or even a man on horseback who rode east who didn’t take a letter back to Kevin and his ma.”
Linnet noticed how he did not claim ownership of his own mother.
“Pa used to say that they was gonna come back to him someday. Cord coulda helped Pa.”
Linnet watched him and heard the love he held for his father in his voice. Devon was only interested in what Cord could have done for Slade.
“Cord woulda been different if he had shared my pa.”
Linnet smiled. “Speaking of fathers, do you realize you’re one yourself?”
Devon looked down at Miranda as she sat on the floor playing with the black and white kitten. “It’s hard for me to think of. She’s just so little and…Miranda, can I see the kitten?”
Miranda looked up, startled to hear her name from the man who slept on her mother’s bed and got so much attention. She stood and looked at him, two pairs of blue eyes studying each other. He held out his hand to her, and she looked at it but backed away to hide against Phetna’s skirt. But she smiled at her father.
“I like her, Linnet. She’s pretty.”
“I’m glad you like her,” Linnet said sarcastically. “I’d hate to have to return her to where she came from.”
Phetna snorted, half laughed, and Devon grinned at her. “Ain’t she the sharpest tongued woman you ever met?”