"You want to try?"
"Really?" she asked practically bounded up from her stool. "Um, sure," she tried for nonchalance, but he laughed harder so she knew she failed.
"Come over here and hold this," he instructed and put his arms around her from behind. She felt her lips part as his warm breath splayed over her cheek and neck as he said, "Put one hand here…and one hand here. Like that, good. Now, we're going to go up with a little push," he instructed it with his hands over hers as they leaned into the wood, shaving off a slice as they did so, "now back with no resistance. See?"
She nodded and wondered why she was the only one about to keel over from him touching her. Oh, that's right. He was faking it, as she should be doing. He seemed perfectly cool and calm as they continued to go back and forth, his back and legs pressed against her.
The radio changed to something slow, sultry. She almost groaned at the setting scene. Was this Ghost and she was Demi Moore? She needed to get out of this, put her head back on straight, and stop getting silly notions about having feelings for this man. But when she told her brain to push him off, her body refused. It was content and happy. It was…practically glowing under his touch.
She closed her eyes and prayed that God would not make her fall in love with this man.
* * *
Too late. It was way too late. Roger knew the second she was pressed against him that it was too late for him. He was a goner, a sap, a puppy begging for attention. He had been naïve to think that they could just pretend there wasn't something there crackling between them every day. She smelled so good - that strawberry shampoo he’d bought her - and her skin… He had to gulp to stop from smelling her hair right there in front of her. He was glad that his voice was steady at least.
This girl. This girl that was so beautiful inside and out was breaking him down. Breaking his defenses, his beliefs, his moods, his useless heart. He didn't know what was right anymore. Was it right if he really and truly loved her?
* * *
Amy felt him exhale into her hair and she braced herself to stop them, but the goose bumps spread rapidly down her arms making her shiver. That was when it stopped being playful, stopped being pretend, as they both stiffened. She waited for one of them to move.
It was Roger who stopped their hands and put the tool to the side. It was his hands that turned her to face him, it was his hands that took her face in them so gently and it was his breath that was heavy and laced with anxiety. She let her face tilt to look at him. She was tired of fighting it. If he was going to kiss her, she'd gladly accept it and deal with the consequences later.
She watched every tortured emotion play out on his face and for the first time Amy could remember, she felt violent. If his father had walked through the door at that moment she wasn't sure she could have contained herself. That man had scarred Roger so badly, he didn't even know how to act or respond. He didn't trust his own mind or judgment about anything. He second guessed everything. Like right now, Roger was over thinking what it would mean if he kissed her. He wasn't worried about whether Amy wanted to or not. She was pretty sure it was written all over her face. No, he was worried beyond that. He was worried about the future.
Amy licked her lips when they were too dry from her fast breaths. Roger's eyes changed. He looked like he was drowning. He inched forward and she closed her eyes. She felt his bottom lip barely touch her top one, but he stopped. With their noses pressed together, he waited and held steady right there. Eventually she opened her eyes to find him watching her. His eyes were wide open and she saw everything. He was fighting it, but he thought he was doing it for her. He didn't realize that she might be open to more…until right this second. He looked enlightened, scared out of his mind, and agonized.
"You want me to kiss you," he said and it was in no way a question.
"Roger-" she tried, but he was on a roll.
"Amy, no. No, no, no, please don't do this." She huffed at his words and started to pull away, but he held her still with his hands on her cheeks. "Amy," he sighed in agony, closing his eyes. "Don't make me fall in love with you." He opened his eyes. "I'm…not good for you. I'm not fixable."
"Roger, you're a good man-"
"No, I'm not. Good things don't come from evil things, Amy. I may be just a spawn, but I'm his spawn," he spat in anger. "Don’t you see? I'll ruin you."
She shook her head. "I wish more than anything that I could make you see that's not true. If it is true, then why won't you kiss me?"
"I can't," he pleaded. "I can't, Amy."
"Why? Say it!"
"Because I won't be able to stop kissing you once I start!" he yelled, his breathing loud. "The one time I let the evil in me take over it'll ruin you. You'll be mine and you'll be stuck here forever."
"I thought I was already stuck," she murmured as she looked at him.
He shook his head and started to speak, but the shop door opened. His father walked in with his uncle and Amy could have screamed at his timing. Could have screamed at him. And from the look on his face, he wasn't too happy about what he found.
Amy looked back up to Roger and saw his resolve. He knew there was about to be an altercation and he silently told Amy that it was all right. He started to remove his hands from her face, but she held him close by his shirt front. "Don't, Roger."
"Amy, go wait in the office," he said quietly. "It'll be ok."
This was it. This was her test. She could go back into the office, turn her eyes from this man and know what was happening, get his keys from the desk and get in his truck. She might even make it out of town.
But could she do that after everything that happened? No, Amy knew she couldn’t.
"Roger, no," she begged. "Let's just go. Me and you, we can go somewhere. We'll run."
His shocked expression held hope and promise, but that was all she could ask for at the time. She needed to let it soak in slowly. Roger would need some time. Time that they didn't have. She couldn’t push him, so she just prayed. When he set her away, putting himself between his father and her, she knew she wouldn't win this time. "Go, Amy. Please. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you." His eyes lit with some idea that she didn’t get, but quickly turned flat again. "Go. I don't want you to watch."
"Fight, Roger. It's not wrong to fight back!" she hissed low so that his father wouldn't hear.
"I…can't. Go," he ordered loud and harshly. She had to obey now that they could hear him. He would be in even more trouble if she didn't and they both knew it. She turned to heed his request and also to hide her welling eyes. This was so wrong. So, so wrong!
She sank into the desk chair, hearing their raised voices and jumped when someone came through the door. It was a man. He looked a little familiar to her. He asked where Roger was and she pointed to the shop. He eyed her curiously and went through the double doors. The voices quieted and a minute or so later Roger was coming out with the man. He looked at a few papers the man handed him and then his father and uncle came out. "We'll come see you another day, Rog," his uncle sneered. "You can bet on it."
Roger said nothing to either of them, just continued to look through the papers. When he found what he was looking for he told the man a total. The man paid the money leaving Roger and Amy standing awkwardly.
"I'm sorry," Roger finally said.
Amy looked at him. "What on earth could you possibly be sorry for today?"
"For being weak. I'm sorry that I…can't be…" he shook his head and left without another word. She sat down in the chair and waited for him to be done. It was a long work day and when he finally emerged from the shop, all sweaty and tired looking, he stopped as if surprised to see her still there.
He nodded his head to the door, waited for her to follow him and locked it behind them. He held her door open and made the quick drive home. Once inside he was restless. He paced and seemed to keep rubbing his face so she tried her best to ignore him and make dinner. On their last trip to town, she bought some tea. T
hough he had raised his brow questionably at her, he said nothing about it.
She made a pot for sweet tea. It wasn't to spite him, she just missed it. He was still pacing the linoleum when someone knocked on the door. Roger and Amy both stopped and looked at each other.
His father was back.
"Stay in the kitchen," he ordered and went to the door. He was slow and meticulous as he unlocked the door and unhooked the latch. She saw his shoulders sag in relief. "Alex. Hey, man."
"Hey, Rog. You uh, left these. You never came to pick them up." Alex held some papers in his hand out for Roger.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot. Sorry." He peeked back at her. "Lot on my mind, ya know?"
"Yeah, I imagine," Alex said and waved at her from the door way. "Hi, Amy."
She gulped and waved back. Why the heck was he talking to her? She turned back into the kitchen, hearing their chatter. She thought about the best thing to do and decided to get them both a glass of sweet tea.
Alex smiled and thanked her. Roger took it and watched her as she walked away. She tried to finish looking for something for dinner, but she couldn't stop making herself listen to Roger and Alex. Alex was asking him how things were going. Roger was telling him things were going great, but every time Alex tried to leave, Roger would stop him with a question.
Finally, he left and Roger made his way into the kitchen with both his and Alex's glasses of ice. He set them on the counter and looked at her. "I think Alex was checking up on me. Making sure that I hadn't beaten the hell out of you."
She jumped at his tone and his wording. He came at her slowly and grabbed her hand. "I'm making dinner," she protested as he dragged her away.
"No dinner," he answered and brought her to the front room. He looked at her and then pointedly looked at the door. Or…the door latch. It was unlocked. He looked back to her with resolve in his eyes. He pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair. One of his hands came to hold her face while the other rested on her back. He pulled back and leaned down to look her right in the eyes. "I wasn't pretending, Amy. I wasn’t faking anything with you. You…changed me. You are everything I see when I think about anything good, and I want to know that you'll stay that way." He pressed his forehead to hers. "All the things that have been done to me, I'm used to it, but you...you're every bit the angel that I always knew you were."
He let the hand on her cheek pull her closer. She closed her eyes knowing he was going to kiss her, he was confessing that he felt something, but he once again just sat there and breathed her in. He made a move, but it was to kiss her cheek, so, so close to her mouth. "Thank you, Amy, for showing me what kindness looks like."
She sighed and felt her insides begin to quake with tears. And when he turned to go, she knew exactly what he was doing.
He was letting her go.
Chapter 11
She watched his back as he went into his bedroom and closed the door. She stared at it for a long time before turning to look at the unlocked latch. It was a padlock type, the kind that you had to have a lock and key to lock it. It wasn’t an accident. He was telling her plainly to go.
She bit her lip and groaned as she let her mind run wild with ideas of her creeping through the trees a night, Roger being beaten to a pulp or worse for letting her go.
It didn't take much of that vision in her head - his lip bleeding, his mouth open in silent scream - to know what her answer was going to be.
She practically ran to his bedroom door, but slowed as she eased it open. He was on his side, facing away from her with his shoes still on. She kicked off her shoes, crawled onto the bed and put her arms around him from behind. She didn't know if he was asleep or not, but it didn't matter. She pressed close, actually loving the feel of his heartbeat through his shirt. She drifted off to sleep feeling happier than she had in a long, long time.
* * *
When she woke it wasn't a back, but a large chest she was snuggled into. She peeked up to find him watching her with a look she'd never seen on him before. She smiled and shrugged. His arm around her pulled her closer and he pressed his lips to her hair. The other hand moved to rest on her cheek and neck. Amy didn’t know how long they stayed that way, but she found herself smiling the whole time.
When she woke again, she was alone. She hurried from the bed and ran into the other room to find him going over some papers at the table. "Hey," he said with a smile.
"Hey," she answered almost out of breath. "Did you sleep all right?"
"Yeah, I kinda did," he said with a small smirk. "Thanks. Coffee's in the pot."
She nodded. She had no idea what any of this meant, but she was glad that he seemed to be in brighter spirits. She, however, felt like crap. She licked her too dry lips, grabbed a cup of coffee and then turned on the radio. Toby Keith's Beer For My Horses was playing and she laughed. "Is this ok?" she asked him.
"Mhhmm," he mumbled around his sip of coffee and then smiled. "You can do anything you want to around here, Amy. What's mine is yours."
"Great," she said softly. "Thank you."
"No, thank you," he replied sincerely. He stood and leaned his hip against the table edge. "How about we blow off work today, hmm?"
"That's fine. Great actually." She licked her lips once more. "I'm…feeling strange."
"Strange how?" he asked concerned. He went to stand in front of her with swift steps. "Are you all right? What's going on?"
"Just sick, maybe. I don't know."
"Well sit down," he said and took her arm to move her there. She almost laughed at his sudden concern. He felt her forehead. "You do feel a little warm. Let me see if I can find a thermometer."
Now she did laugh. "I am not five years old. I don't need a thermometer."
He grinned. "All right, fine. Let me at least get you a glass of juice." He took the coffee from the table and came back with a big glass of orange juice. "There. Now why don't you sit over here and we'll watch a movie or something."
"Actually," she said and took a gulp of the juice to appease him, "can we go for a ride?"
His brow creased in confusion, but then his face lit with a grin. "I can see right now that convertible is the only reason you stick around."
She laughed. "You caught me."
He held his hand out for her and she took is gladly. He grabbed his keys from the table where they'd been left all night in plain view and guided her to the car. He opened her door, set her inside and hopped over the door side to land in his seat. He put his sunglasses on and they were on their way.
The sun was bright and warm so she leaned her head back to just enjoy it. He reached over and took her hand, resting their entwined hands on her thigh. She didn't look up, but she smiled.
When it was lunch time he pulled into a little drive-thru deli shop. Amy, truthfully, was almost asleep. He took the food and drove back to the drive-in. She was so tired and the sun was so warm, but she managed to eat the BLT he got her. With her feet on the dash, her shoes off and the Styrofoam cup of sweet tea in her hand, she sat back and wondered what kinds of movies they played here. And if any kind of hanky-panky ever happened. She highly doubted it.
"Feeling better?" he asked. She looked over to see him reclined in his seat.
"Uh, yeah. Sure."
"You don't sound convinced."
"I'm just so tired, that's all." She leaned over and let her head rest on his shoulder. "Drive, why don’t you."
He chuckled and leaned his seat up, carefully so as not to dislodge her. "Yes, ma'am."
He drove around for a while. He took every dirt and back road he knew to give her the longest ride possible. When they'd spent as much time as they could, he drove home.
Home. Amy found herself becoming more acceptant of that word every day.
He pulled into the garage and helped her gently out of his side. She stood in the seat and he lifted her with ease and set her feet to the pavement. Once she was there, he kissed her forehead. She sighed with the gentleness of it, but he jerked back. "Y
ou're kinda hot."
She gave him her best smirk. He laughed and then laughed some more. "Come on, I'll get you something for it."
She followed him in and he set her on the couch. He came back with a bottle of pills and a glass of orange juice. He turned on the TV and flipped it to a home improvement channel. "You were watching this the other day. You like these shows?"
"My mom used to watch them a lot," she said as she swallowed the pills down. "It just reminds me of…her."
"You miss her," he said softly, but it wasn't a question.
She nodded. "Sure. She was…pretty awesome."
"Hmm." He put his hands on his hips. "Well, maybe one day I'll take you to see her."
She stopped. "What? How?"
"If we act normal long enough, they'll stop watching us so closely. People have taken short trips before. I'll just make up something for work and you'll just have to come with me." He smiled and looked at her hopefully. He was trying to please her and he wanted to see her smile.
So she did. "I'd love that. Thanks."
He nodded his head to indicate it was so and took his shoes off by the door before going into the kitchen. Amy leaned back, pulling her legs up to her chest and watched as a man told a lady that painting the kitchen pink would not help with the resale value. She smiled, thinking about what her mom would have said to that.
When she heard pots banging around, her curiosity got the best of her. She got up and peeked around the corner. He caught her instantly. "Couch, young lady."
"What are you doing in here?"
He looked at the stove and back to her, giving her a grin. "Straightening my hair."
"Ha, ha." She smiled and went to peek over in his pot. He turned her and pushed her with his arms around her back to the couch. He twisted her to him and touched her cheek, letting his thumb rub caresses.