Dunaway's Crossing (18 page)

Bea Dot shivered and pulled her coat collar tight around her neck. Though the afternoon sun still shone overhead, it hardly penetrated the shade of the pine woods. After walking almost an hour, she still couldn’t chase away the chill from her bones. She hefted the burlap bag, half-full of pinecones and sticks, over her shoulder. As she plodded over the moist pinestraw-covered ground, briars tugged at her skirt and coat hem. She picked up a pinecone here and there, disappointed to find only a few, and most of them soggy from recent rains. The sticks she’d put in the bag poked at her shoulder.

So that she wouldn’t lose her way, she kept the lake’s edge in sight, intending to follow it back to the store. She’d walked only a short distance farther when she found Will’s grandparents’ abandoned cabin. Her heart ached as she recalled the last time she saw him, and it pounded heavily at the memory of his arms around her. She loosened her grip on her collar as she made her way toward the slightly ajar cabin door.

Pushing it wide open, she peered inside, her eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness. The one-room structure smelled earthy and damp, the air inside slightly cooler than outdoors. She stepped in, treading lightly to avoid tripping. Her foot found an old wooden crate, which she absently shoved aside with her heel. A rustle in the darkness sent a chill up her spine until she remembered the barn owl that had frightened her on her last visit. Smiling at the memory of her girlish screams, she shook off the creepy crawl in her backbone as she turned to exit the cabin.

At a slight tapping, she stopped. Had she really heard it, or did her mind play tricks on her? After a moment of silence, the tapping arose again, slowly, methodically, like a lazy dog’s footsteps. But wouldn’t a dog have barked?

A growl froze her. That was no dog. Where had she heard that noise before? Then a yowl jarred her memory of the bobcat she and Netta watched through the window several nights ago. At a second yowl, Bea Dot turned and stooped, feeling for the crate she’d shoved with her foot. Fortunately, she found it close by and heaved it toward the noise before turning to bolt from the cabin, her skin tingling with the electricity of fear.

As she lunged at the door, she tripped on the cabin’s threshold and fell facedown in the pinestraw. Pressing her palms into the briars, she pushed herself up, and turned just as the cat leapt through the doorway. It landed on her chest, sinking its claws in her shoulders as it screeched at her with rotten breath. Operating on pure instinct, Bea Dot pulled her knees under the cat and managed to push it off her with her feet. It howled as it hit the cabin’s side, and in the moment it took to right itself, Bea Dot jumped to her feet to flee.

But the cat pounced after Bea Dot had taken only two or three steps. With a deafening feline growl, the animal clung to her back, pushing Bea Dot to the ground. Pain pierced her shoulders.

She squeezed her eyes shut and fisted her hands, pressing the briars farther into her skin as she attempted to rise to her hands and knees. All the while she braced for a bite, but instead of bearing the puncture of teeth or claws, she heard a screech as the cat’s weight lifted off her back. Another squall, this one weaker, was followed by silence, then a thud, and Bea Dot opened her eyes to find Will Dunaway clutching a bloody knife and stepping over the furry mound.

She pushed herself up to her knees and shakily tried to stand. Will bounded to her side, dropped the knife, and helped her up. “Are you all right?” Panic shook his voice. Without waiting for a reply, he turned her around, checking her back and neck for bite marks. She felt his hand rub her coat where the cat had ripped it.

“Lord,” he whispered before turning her to face him again. “I’ve got to get you back to the house. It didn’t bite you, did it?”

Still shocked, Bea Dot shook her head, her shoulders burning where the cat’s claws dug into her skin through her coat. She opened her shaking hands, revealing the thorns stuck in her palms, but she could hardly pull them out with her entire body quaking so violently.

“No, let me do that,” Will said, pulling a bandana from his back pants pocket. Gently, he pulled out one thorn, then another. Bea Dot winced each time he did so, but when he was finished, he pressed the bandana against one palm and then closed the other hand on top of it, pressing both hands inside his.

Bea Dot stared at the blood underneath his fingernails and in the wrinkles of his knuckles.

“You’re going to be all right,” he said, before pushing a curl away from her face and behind her ear.

As she gazed into his worried green eyes, the shaking subsided a bit, but then her chin quivered, and just as the tears poured down her cheeks, her knees gave way. Will caught her and pulled her to him with one arm around her waist and the other cradling her head as she rested it against his chest. She gripped the back of his coat as she released the shock, the fear, and the relief of his arrival. He held her several minutes, waiting out Bea Dot’s catharsis. She looked up into his eyes and said, “I have never been so glad to see you.”

As if on cue, their mouths found each other, and upon that connection, Bea Dot’s fear and shock gave way to the warmth of his lips against hers. She stood on her toes and reached her arms over his shoulders, crossing them behind his neck. She was aware only of him, of his strong arms around her, his fingers in her hair, his scent of woods and leather and soap, his clean-shaven skin, and his pulse throbbing against her finger, which rested just under his jaw. When he pulled away for a quick breath, she reached up farther and pulled him to her again, unwilling to part from him just yet. Just as instinctively as the kiss began, it ended with him gazing down at her, letting her commit those irresistible green eyes to memory.

“You have perfect timing,” she said.

He huffed a small, shy laugh and examined his shoes for a second before pulling her to him again.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered into the top of her head. He kissed her there before checking her hands to see if the bleeding had stopped. He kissed her palm, then picked up his knife, wiped the blood on his pants, and said, “Wait here just a second.”

He walked to the water’s edge and rinsed off his knife and hands, drying them with his bandana. Then he put the knife back in his boot. After returning to her, he took a quick look around before asking, “What were you using to carry your pinecones?”

Pointing to the cabin, Bea Dot said, “A burlap bag. It’s in there.”

Will went inside, stooping just at the door to pick up Bea Dot’s sack. Outside, he held it by its bottom and shook out the soggy sticks and pinecones. Then he stuffed the bobcat in the bag and hefted the load over his shoulder.

“You’re going to keep that thing?” Bea Dot asked, bewildered.

“Dinner,” he replied.

Bea Dot’s jaw dropped as her eyebrows disappeared under her dark curls.

Will chuckled before explaining, “I’m just teasing you. I thought Thaddeus Taylor might want the hide.”

“Oh,” Bea Dot said, exhaling with relief.

“I’ll leave it here if you don’t want me to bring it,” he offered.

“No,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

“Can you walk home?”

“Of course,” she said, and the two set off toward the house.
Home
, he’d said. She liked the sound of that word.

C
hapter 18

W
ith a frustrated sigh, Bea Dot rolled over in her small bed, knowing she’d be awake to see the sun rise. Though exhausted, her back and shoulders, achy from the bobcat attack and burning from the claw marks, refused to give her a moment’s rest.

But her soreness paled in comparison to her troubling thoughts. How many times in her mind had she relived that kiss? Just the thought of it sent Bea Dot’s heart thumping like a stick on a picket fence. Ben’s sloppy, drunken kisses repulsed her, made her wonder why her friends ever dreamed of marriage. How strange that the one man who had kissed her soberly left her feeling intoxicated. And like whiskey, having more of him complicated her already-muddled life. She’d certainly opened a can of crawly worms, but good heavens, that kiss might have been worth it.

Could she possibly leave Ben for Will? She’d heard of wives divorcing their husbands, but those women hailed from New York or Chicago. The papers always portrayed them as amoral harlots, selfishly abandoning their families. Divorces were taboo in the South, even in Atlanta. If she moved to Pineview with Will, she’d be an outcast, likely even damaging Netta and Ralph’s reputation.

Of course, in Savannah, news of a divorce from Ben would spread faster than influenza. What’s more, she wouldn’t put it past Ben to spread the truth—or what he believed to be the truth—about her failed pregnancy. If she left Ben, how would the scandal affect Aunt Lavinia and Uncle David?

Sighing, Bea Dot had to agree with Netta’s advice. Although she wished she could ignore her marital strife indefinitely, she couldn’t continue a romantic liaison with Will until she’d settled matters at home.

She shook her head, refusing to get ahead of herself. She and Will had only kissed twice. Their romance was too new for contemplating marriage.
Get some sleep
, she told herself before punching her pillow and lying back down.

Across the room, Netta sighed and rolled over. Within seconds her snoring resumed. Bea Dot rolled her eyes in the darkness. Another reason she’d never get to sleep. Pushing herself to a sitting position, she winced as the scratches on her shoulders tore at her, as if the cat had left its claws inside her skin. She reached behind her and dabbed her fingertips on the sticky lines of her wounds. She must be bleeding again.

Quietly slipping out of her bed, Bea Dot padded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where she lit a kerosene lamp before adding more wood to the stove. She put a pot of water on to heat while she found a clean rag and the rest of the bandages.

Netta’s snores rumbled softly in the other room as Bea Dot stood before the stove, waiting for the water to heat, all the while still thinking of Will. He might feel as conflicted as she did. When he had brought her back to the house, he had treated her as he usually did, like Netta Coolidge’s visiting cousin. And knowing Netta’s concerns about her fondness for Will, Bea Dot hoped her own charade was just as convincing. When she’d politely thanked Will for his heroism, she’d had to combat her urge to embrace him one more time. Will had told Netta the story of the bobcat, and he assured her that it had not bitten, only scratched Bea Dot’s shoulders and back. Most of the cuts on her hands and face came from the briars and twigs when she tripped and fell. After the explanation, he’d left Bea Dot’s care to Netta, going outside to sharpen the axe and split logs.

Bea Dot dipped her finger in the water. Hot, but not boiling. Just right. She unbuttoned her nightgown, carefully removing her arms from the sleeves without pulling on her wounds. She stood naked from the waist up as she untied her bandages and then dipped the rag in the water. Extending her arm over the opposite shoulder as she had in the bed, she tried to dab the angry claw mark. When she examined the wet rag, it showed a few spots of blood, but she couldn’t tell how much good her process was doing.

“Let me help you.”

Bea Dot flinched at Will’s soft voice behind her and instinctively raised her arms to cover her bare breasts, even though her back was to him. Her first visceral reaction was defensive alarm—her usual stance when Ben approached. Embarrassment warmed her now more than the stove, but to replace her nightgown, she’d have to drop her arms. As his light steps neared, she kept her back to him, listening the same way she’d listened cautiously to the tapping of the bobcat’s claws on the cabin floor. But then Will placed his hands gently on her shoulders and ran them down her arms. He reached around and held out his palm. “Hand me the rag,” he whispered.

Chin tucked into her chest, she quickly dropped the cloth into his hand, then recrossed her arms against her front. Her heart pounded like a scared rabbit’s. When he stepped away, she turned her head to see him open a cupboard and pull out a glass bottle. He blotted some of its contents on the rag before saying, “This is going to sting a bit.”

The tonic roused the wound with a sharp sting, making Bea Dot gasp and draw her hand to her mouth. Biting her lip, she struggled not to voice her pain. The wound throbbed as the medicine did its work. Will tossed the rag on the table and put his warm hands back on Bea Dot’s arms.

“I’m sorry that hurt you,” he murmured. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and exhaled slowly, realizing she’d tensed herself unnecessarily. Will was not Ben.

Will laid a soft kiss just above the offending wound. “It’ll feel much better in a few minutes.”

Bea Dot breathed in deeply, this time not from the pain, but from the exhilaration of feeling his lips against her bare skin. He kissed her softly on the back of her neck, then on its side, then just behind her ear. “Is this all right?” he asked.

She relaxed more, her heart swelling at being asked permission, but her nerves pulsating with exhilaration. When he nibbled at her earlobe, he reached around her torso and cupped her breast. She felt guarded at first, but only momentarily. Desire for Will subdued her hesitation, and she turned to face him. He put her face in his hands and bent to kiss her deeply, urgently, as if he’d never have the chance to do so again.

He pressed her against him, accidentally brushing his hand against the wound he’d so carefully tended. To Bea Dot’s surprise, instead of smarting, the claw mark felt numb from the medication. With relief, Bea Dot ran her fingers through Will’s hair and held the back of his head as she caressed his lips with her own.

At a grumble from the next room, Will pulled away from her, just far enough that she could look into his eyes. Their depths revealed a wildness, a hunger, she’d never before seen.

“What’s that?” he whispered.

“Netta,” she explained. “We might wake her.”

In one swift motion, Will lifted Bea Dot in his arms. “Take the light,” he told her, and she grasped the handle of the kerosene lamp with one hand while she wrapped her other arm around his neck. As Will carried her into his storage room, the sleeves of her nightgown dangled beneath her. The room smelled of gunpowder, pepper, and leather. Burying her face under his jaw, she took in his earthy scent.

Will first carried Bea Dot to the far wall, where she hung the lantern on a hook. After crossing to his pallet, he knelt and laid her there. The lamplight flickered over her pale skin.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

Bea Dot nodded, her nerves rendering her speechless. Both eager to and afraid of lying with a man, she wondered what she should do. Until now, sex was something done to her. Would it be the same when done with her?

Will must have noticed her tension because he stroked her cheek with his forefinger. “Your skin is like silk,” he whispered. He nuzzled her neck, and she relaxed at the sound of his inhalation. Straightening, he put his finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “Don’t worry.” He must have read her mind. “I won’t hurt you. If you want me to stop, just say the word.”

She nodded, still cautious, but grateful for his sensitivity. But in spite of her trepidation, stopping was the last thing Bea Dot wanted.

He pulled her nightgown over her hips and legs and tossed it behind them as he gazed at her body. “My stars, you are so beautiful.”

Bea Dot’s mouth twitched into a weak smile. No one had ever spoken to her that way before. She began to shiver, partly from cold but mostly from nerves. She stiffened at this intimate stage fright.

He unbuttoned his shirt, then lay next to her. Though she loved the sensation of his skin against hers, she felt lost. What should she do now? Her lips found his, and to her relief, he grasped her hand and pulled her arm around his bare waist as he maneuvered over her. Fear and uncertainty combined with her pent-up affection for him, and a new sensation—an urgency of sorts—swelled within her.

Will raised himself on his elbows and looked down into her eyes. She knew the intensity in them mirrored her own. “I can’t believe I’m finally lying here with you,” he whispered to her. “All the while I was in Pineview, I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

Bea Dot’s heart soared at his words, his feelings alleviating her fear. She smiled and combed her fingers through the hair on his chest. “I’ve missed you too,” she whispered. After a pause, she added, “I think I want to do this. You’ll think I’m silly, but I don’t really know . . .”

How could she articulate her trepidation?

“We’ll go slow,” he said. Then he rolled to his side and unfastened his belt and pants. Bea Dot helped tug them over his legs, which fascinated her with their lean muscles.

For the next few minutes he lay next to her, holding her, caressing her, until her skittishness subsided.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asked.

She nodded, and he rolled on top of her, easing himself into her. The pleasure of the erotic experience blended perfectly with her adoration for him. Finally, she understood the joy of making love.

Afterward, she lay tucked in the crook of his arm, her head on his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles with her index finger. His lean body intrigued her. She’d had no idea a man’s physique could be so alluring. As her hand surveyed his rib cage, it found a long dimple in the skin. She examined it manually until she realized she’d found a scar. Will’s hand covered hers and squeezed it gently.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked.

He shook his head silently, but she knew the sensitivity she’d found ran deeper than flesh.

“The war?”

Will nodded, then uttered a quiet “Yes.”

Bea Dot didn’t pry, fully understanding the need to lock some memories away to move beyond them. Instead, she kissed him sweetly on the lips and said, “I’m glad you’re home and here with me.”

Will turned to face her. He lifted her hand to his face and kissed her palm, still punctured from briars. “Then be with me always.”

Her insides flipped. She hadn’t expected a proposal. She bit her lip as she stroked his tousled hair, wanting nothing more than to stay with him in this moment. But a pang of reluctance held her back as she remembered all the questions she’d mulled over earlier. Did they have to make this decision now? Unsure how to reply, she reached her face toward his and kissed him, breathing in the scent of him, trying to commit it to memory.

He returned the kiss at first but then pulled away and regarded her solemnly. “Is that how you’re going to answer me? With a kiss?”

Bea Dot tried to make light of the question, raising her eyebrows as she spoke. “Don’t you like it?”

“Very much. I hope to get more, but I don’t know if a kiss means yes or no.”

Now Bea Dot pressed her lips in ambivalence. As she grasped for the right words, Will continued.

“Do you love me, Bea Dot? Or do you just want me?”

“How could you ask that?” Her eyes widened in surprise. If he only knew what a huge leap of trust she’d just taken, he wouldn’t question her feelings.

“Because you haven’t said one way or the other. I love you. I’m sure of it. But if you don’t feel the same way, it’s best you tell me now.”

“Of course I love you, Will. I wish I could marry you tomorrow, but I’m already someone else’s wife.” And that was only part of the problem.

“I know,” he replied, still holding her hand, stroking her fingers with his thumb. “But you don’t have children, so maybe your husband would agree to a divorce.”

“I wish it were that easy.” Bea Dot sighed and sat up, drawing her knees to her chest. She shivered in the chilly darkness. “But it’s more complicated than that. There’s . . . there’s so much you don’t know.” What if he found out about her past? Would he still feel the same way? Would she be able to keep the truth from him for the rest of her life?

Will draped a blanket over her back, then rubbed his palm over the scratchy fabric. “The day you came to Pineview . . . ,” he began. After a pause, he added, “He’d hurt you, hadn’t he?”

Was she that transparent? Her face burned with shame. She wrapped her arms around her knees and placed her forehead on her kneecaps.

Will kept his head close to hers as he spoke. “Netta constantly asks about Ralph. You’ve never uttered a word about your husband. It’s not hard to put two and two together.”

With her face still to her knees, she held her palm up, tacitly asking Will to drop the subject. Instead, he took her hand in his and kissed it.