Absence of Grace (31 page)

“Second, I want to hear you made a real nice contribution to the rescue fund. What do you think, Mike? Couple thousand sound about right to you?”

“Yep. That’s the number I was thinking.” Mike nodded, looking thoughtful.

“Okay. Anything else? Gerrum, you got any conditions for our boy here before he gets him some dry clothes?”

“I think you’ve got it covered.” Anything he pushed would just make Elmer more resentful.

Rog reached down, grabbed Cantrell by the arm, and lifted him to his feet. “It occurs to me there’s one other thing. I’d sure like to hear an apology both to those of us did the searching as well as to Gerrum here. Sure hope that don’t require another dip in the drink.”

“No. Don’t got no call to do that. I’m sorry. Real sorry.”

No question, Elmer was telling the truth. He was sorry. But his sorry was all about being caught and punished.

“You get going then, before you shake the damn dock to pieces. Mighty careless of you, falling in that way.” Rog gave Elmer a little push and Cantrell scurried up the dock without looking back.

“Almost worth that twenty hours,” Rog said thoughtfully, watching Elmer go. Then he chuckled. “Can’t remember the last time something felt that good.”

Dinner seemed interminable, but Clen finally finished and stepped outside. Gerrum was sitting on the step next to Kody, scratching the old dog’s ears.

She pulled in a breath to steady herself and sat next to him. “Hello there.”

He turned his head and smiled. “Hello there, yourself.” He slid an arm around her, pulling her close.

So where had the feeling that danced through her all day gone? The anticipation of just this: being back in Gerrum’s arms. But in this moment, anticipation was replaced with uncertainty.

She dropped her head on his shoulder. “I’m kind of nervous about what comes next.” It was odd, though. She didn’t have any difficulty admitting it to Gerrum.

He removed his arm and took one of her hands between his. “Moving a bit too fast for you, is it?”

“Yes.” She breathed out in relief that he understood even if she couldn’t explain. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I haven’t had much experience with this sort of thing.”

“I know a way to fix that.”

“Just jump in, right? None of that toe-in-the-water stuff.”

He shook his head, still bent over her hand. “A toe in the water may be exactly what’s needed.” He looked up and held her gaze with his, his thumb gently smoothing over the inside of her wrist, making her breath catch. “There’s no need for us to rush, Clen.”

Her confidence seeped back. Determined, she pulled in another breath, stood, and held out a hand to him. “Come,” she commanded, not caring if everyone in Wrangell saw them.

When they reached his house and stepped inside, she turned to face him. “I want to know how we are together. Slow or fast.”

His lips curved and his eyes gleamed.

“So how about it, Gerrum Kirsey?” Her voice shook as did her knees, but she held herself still, waiting for his answer.

“Come here.”

He walked her into the living room, sat on the sofa, and pulled her onto his lap. Then he cupped her face with his hands and began kissing her in lingering exploration. Her nerves steadied and she settled comfortably against him, enjoying the touch of his lips. There was passion in Gerrum’s kisses that was all the more intriguing because it was held in careful check.

As they continued to kiss, Clen’s left brain insistently pushed its way into her awareness, eroding the certainty she’d begun to feel. She pulled back and took a deep breath.

“What is it, Clen?”

“We need to talk.” Words that were no easier to say than they’d ever been to hear. She slid off his lap, and he let her go but he kept his arm around her. “I think something important is happening here. At least it is for me. But I need you to know, sex isn’t a game for me.”

Gerrum shifted until he was facing her, but that made talking more difficult. She swallowed and stared at her hands. She’d clenched them without realizing it. “And, there are things we need to take care of before...well before...”

“We make love?”

Startled she glanced at him.

“That is what you’re talking about,” he said. “Isn’t it? Not just sex.”

She looked back at her hands which were still clenched. She stretched her fingers out, noticing the bare spot where her wedding ring used to be. “I was brought up to believe I shouldn’t have sex outside marriage. If I did, civilization might disintegrate. The seas run dry.” She shifted. “I didn’t believe it, of course, but something stuck. Because I never...I mean...you’ll think I’m a terrible prude, but I can’t...”

“Just hop into bed with anybody who comes along?”

“More or less.”

“And you’re wondering if I do?”

“I don’t think most men would turn down an opportunity for sex if the woman was halfway attractive.”

“You have a pretty low opinion of us.”

“Not without reason.”

It took a moment for her comment to register. “Your husband?”

She nodded.

“He was unfaithful?”

She nodded again.

“Then he was a blithering idiot.”

She blinked at his vehemence.

“I won’t tell you I’ve never slept with a woman, but I can tell you, I’ve never slept with one opportunistically. Women aren’t the only ones who believe in true love, Clen.”

“Still, look around at all the unhappy people who once thought they were in love.”

“And yet we keep taking a chance on loving,” Gerrum said. “Perhaps we’re designed to be optimists in even the most hopeless situations.”

“You think love is hopeless?”

“No. I think a life without love would be hopeless.” He touched her cheek. “You and I, Clen, we’re looking at the possibility of something amazing here. And sex is only part of it.”

“I wish I could just...”

“Shh, I know, Clen. It’s okay. Some of the best things take their sweet time.”

“You’re not just trying to make me feel better.”

“Of course I am, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“We also need to talk about...birth control.”

He smoothed the hair off her face. “Of course we do.”

“If I go on the pill, it will mean waiting.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“But you’re okay with it?”

“I’m okay with it.”

And when the waiting was finally over, Gerrum undressed Clen, giving it the same comprehensive attention he’d always given to kissing her. The contrast to Paul’s approach to sex couldn’t have been more stark. Paul, a main event kind of guy, never bothered much with caresses.

Clen pushed those thoughts aside and gave herself up to Gerrum, whom she wanted to touch in return. Following his example, she moved slowly and deliberately, removing his shirt and unsnapping his jeans. Clothed, he looked solid, weighty. Naked, that solidity was revealed as muscle and sinew.

Running her palms over his chest, she paused to check the beat of his heart and smiled to herself at its rapid pace that matched her own. She touched his cheek and ran a finger down his breastbone and across his abdomen, circling his belly button—an innie. Meeting his quiet gaze, her own passion surged and her doubts slipped away.

He lowered her to the bed and when he moved inside her, his rhythm deepened and quickened, filling her with a pulsation as steady as a heartbeat, as deep, dark, and lovely as a star-filled sky, until together they tipped over the top in a slow, delicious slide.

Afterward, she lay beside him, breathing deeply, smiling.

So that was what making love felt like.

Clen tucked herself into Gerrum’s heart and life as if there were an empty spot just waiting for her. He knew women thought they were the romantic ones, and it was probably true not many men cared about flowers, candlelight, and the other trappings that spelled romance for most women.

For him, the romance was in kissing Clen and rubbing his hand in her hair, feeling it spring soft and silky against the roughness of his palm. It was walking by the harbor on a clear night and holding her hand while they looked up to watch the stars come out one by one. It was looking into Clen’s eyes, like quiet waters, reflecting that light.

On one of her evenings off, as they cooked a meal together, Clen told him the story of how she went off to college wearing a frilly dress her mother picked out.

“I’ve never known anyone less suited to frills than you, my love.”

“I ditched it at the dinner stop, along with my name.”

“What’s the name you ditched?”

“Michelle Marie.”

“Hmm. Euphonious.”

She snorted. “It shows a complete lack of attention. Do I look like a Michelle Marie to you?”

“A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches.”

“Shakespeare?”

“Proverbs.”

“I didn’t know you were into quoting the Bible, Gerrum.”

“Not a Bible fan?” he asked, although it was clear she wasn’t from the distaste in her tone.

“Sorry. Unconscious reaction. What I’m not a fan of is religion.”

He started the burner under a skillet before he spoke again. He wanted to hear the story, but he knew not to push too hard. “That’s an interesting position.” Especially for someone who’d spent time in an abbey.

“About that quote,” she said. “One of many?”

“Not really. When I was six, a teacher wrote it out for me after she heard some kids teasing me about my name. It seemed to fit your situation.” At times like this he felt like he was walking on eggshells in conversations with Clen—maneuvering around an obstacle he couldn’t see but was clearly there.