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But as I hold her close, wrapping my arms around her, lips against her forehead, keeping her safe and warm, I realize. Fuck yeah. Yeah, I can. Because that’s exactly where these feelings are headed.
Her and me. Forever.
I wrap her up and I keep her close. I smooth her hair. All this talk of her being impure, her being bad, her having the Devil inside her, it’s fucking crazy to me. She’s as pure a thing as I’ve ever been near.
Holding her to me, it centers me. It makes this clear and plain. If she’s the light, then I’m the dark. But for the first time in all my life, I don’t want to hide. Yeah, I still fucking hate myself for what I’ve done and who I am. But I want to be better. Now. For her.
“How about I make you some breakfast, Little Red. And then there’s someone I need you to meet.”
chapterseven
Marin
Hand in hand,we walk through the woods, following a path that runs along a little stream and past a mud-slicked meadow. The weather man Grandpa listens to was wrong about the big storm because the sun is peeking out and the chill is being chased away by the sunshine, but Davis said it’s still a treacherous walk. I’m wearing the big red rubber boots and my dress and the jacket feeling completely natural and beautiful out here.
His hand engulfs mine, giving me support and warmth. His firm hold makes me feel safe and protected. Every now and then, he squeezes my hand and looks at me. Like he’s trying to make sure I’m okay.
And I am. His silent attention makes me feel precious.
As we reach a footbridge at the brook, he helps me across; every bit the chivalrous gentleman. In the middle of nature, his body isn’t radiating tension, his jaw muscles are relaxed, almost like he may smile. He seems at home here. Familiar with the forest.
“Is this all your land?” I ask.
He glances at me and nods. “Yeah. Inherited it from a grandfather I never knew. I walk at night a lot. Saw the light in the cabin and knew someone was trespassing.”
I smile up at him in the rare sunshine. “You sure know how to treat criminals that violate your property rights. Beat them into submission with that weapon of mass destruction you have.”
Now he really smiles, and it’s beautiful. I haven’t seen him smile much. And it warms me as much as the sunshine itself and a little ball of tension settles in my belly wondering if he’s going to delve more into why I was in that cabin. My flimsy explanation about being left by friends won’t hold up and when he finds out who I am and why I was there…I push it away. I’m Mountain Marin now and I’ll survive whatever happens.
We continue along the path, talking about everything and nothing then round a little bend. Up ahead, there’s a house with a center front peak that points toward the clouds and two shorter ones on each side. It’s like a mash up of the Tudor style houses in the fancy old neighborhoods in town and a Swiss chalet. It’s funky but classic and there’s a warm glow in the windows that makes me feel like it’s a safe place. Pines and tall oaks hug the perimeter making it feel walled off with the autumn leaves falling like fire-colored snowflakes onto the dark roof. Dreamy.
“Is that your house?”
“Yeah,” he sighs, causing my attention to shift to his broad chest. “And there’s someone I want you to meet in there.”
“Have you always lived here? I think it would be just the best thing to grow up someplace like this.”
Davis shakes his head, then drops his chin for a moment before answering. “No, I wish. First part of my life I grew up in a tin can. This? This place…was a like a lottery win from a grandfather I never really knew. Every day I wake up and look around, making sure it wasn’t a dream. I never want to leave here. Never.” His voice hardens along with the square angle of his beard-covered jawline.
“I’d never want to leave either. Do you, you know, share your life with someone?” That question catches in my throat. He asked me if I was with anyone but I didn’t ask him if there was a girlfriend or a wife in his stable. “Someone special, I mean.”
But, why would he bring me here, telling me he wants me to meet them and holding my hand if there was?
“That’s a dumb question. Sorry,” I blurt on a tight smile before he can answer.
He stalls, tugging at my arm as I step forward, spinning me around. “What happened back there…” he starts, clearing his throat, the tendons in his neck tight as his chest puffs up making the buttons on his flannel shirt strain. “I haven’t done that in a long fucking time and never felt like that when I did. So, first…” He pinches my cheeks with his other hand, holding my eyes to his. “There are no dumb questions. You ask me anything, anytime, got it? In fact, if you don’t ask me something you wanted to know and I find out?” He exhales on a low growl. “I’ll turn that perky little ass of yours over my knee to remind you that everything you think, you need and want, it’s your job to bring it to me.”
If he wasn’t holding my mouth in his hand, my jaw would be on the forest floor but I manage a quick nod as he runs his tongue over his lips on a little like sexy snarl before he continues.
“Second, just to answer yournotdumb question, no girlfriends, no wives. But, I don’t live alone—"
The sound of a voice calling from down the driveway cuts him off and Davis turns us back toward the house.
A woman probably in her late forties with wild red hair piled on top of her head and bright red lipstick is standing there waving like crazy. She’s wearing what looks like carton scrubs, like in the pediatrician’s office Grandpa took me for check-ups and when I was sick.
She stands on the porch with her hands on her hips as we approach. “Jesus and Johnny Cash,there you are,Mr. Ray!”
The mention of Jesus makes my heart drop. My feet stop on their own accord and I squeeze Davis’ hand. His hazel eyes fall on me, searching and protective. “That’s Janie. But don’t worry. She’s big on Johnny Cash. Not so much on Jesus.”
