Nan Ryan (34 page)

“I never felt so good in my life,” he said. Then Kurt sighed as she had sighed and pressed his lips to the silky golden hair which was pleasantly tickling his nose. His arms tightening slightly around her, he told her truthfully, “Earlier this afternoon I was thinking that I’d like to just lie here in this soft feather bed and look out at the white gallery and the jungle greenery and the wide blue bay beyond forever.”

He paused, drew a deep slow breath, and considered revealing that his wishful desires had also included having her here in his arms just the way she was now, her soft slim body pressed close to his, her clean hair tickling him, delighting him, dizzying him.

He thought better of it and said simply, “Forever. Just like this.”

Liking the feel of his warm chest gently vibrating beneath her cheek as he spoke, wishing just as he did that everything could go on “just like this forever,” Helen exhaled slowly. Then she inhaled deeply, savoring the clean, masculine scent that was so uniquely his own, and said, “It is quiet and peaceful here, isn’t it?”

The words were barely out of her mouth when the peace and quiet were shattered by the booming shouts of the approaching Jolly Grubbs and the excited squeals of Charlie as he ran to meet his beloved playmate.

Helen sprang away from Kurt as if she’d been cozying up to a red-hot stove. Kurt’s arms felt instantly empty. He silently cursed both Jolly and his son, selfishly wishing at that moment that neither of them existed.

In a flash Helen was off the bed and smoothing her hair and her skirts and at the same time anxiously stretching the rumpled sheet back down over Kurt’s legs and feet.

Frowning, she gestured impatiently to the discarded white nightshirt peeking out from under the stacked pillows.

“Hurry! Get your nightshirt on!” she snapped irritably.

“But Helen, it’s so hot and—”

“You heard me.” She sounded almost frantic and Kurt knew that the sweet, innocent closeness of a moment ago had already become a regretted, guilty episode to her.

Kurt had the nightshirt on and Helen was seated in a chair by the bed with an open book in her lap well before Jolly and Charlie entered the room. The singular sound the pair made clomping down the hall was explained as they entered the doorway.

Charlie, facing Jolly, his short arms wrapped around Jolly’s waist, was standing atop Jolly’s feet. Jolly was doing all the work, Charlie was getting a free ride, and laughing with delight.

Helen smiled, recalling how she used to ride her Grandpa Burke’s big feet the same way.

Nodding and smiling to Helen and Kurt, Jolly crossed the room. To Charlie, he said, “End of the line. All passengers off.” Charlie jumped down and Jolly shook his white head and exclaimed, “You’re growing like a toadstool!” Charlie nodded and stayed close to Jolly, hanging on his arm, happy to see him.

Helen was glad to see him too. Laying the book aside, she rose, hugged him, and said, “Where have you been? It’s been three days since you were here last and we were all worried about you.”

“Were you, now?” Jolly grinned, leaning over to shake Kurt’s good hand. “Well, that’s why I stayed away. Make you appreciate my company a little.”

“I ’preciate you, Jolly,” Charlie was quick to assure him.

“That’s my boy.” Jolly smiled, gave Charlie’s ear a gentle tug, and said, “Since you ’preciate me, how about running out to the well and getting me a big dipper full of cool water? I’m powerful thirsty.”

“Be right back!” Charlie shot from the room.

“Sit down, Jolly,” Helen said. “While Charlie’s getting the water I’ll cut you a big slice of chocolate cake. Fresh baked this afternoon. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great, hon, but hold on a minute.” Looking from her to Kurt, he said, “Ya’ll remember me talking about the big gumbo-cooking contest they have every year over in Bay Minette, don’t you?”

“I remember,” Kurt said, nodding. “Sure.”

Dear Lord
, Helen silently agonized. She’d forgotten all about the gumbo cook-off. When was it? Soon? Right away? Was that why Jolly was here? To see if Kurt would let him take Charlie to Bay Minette for the four day affair? What if Kurt said yes? What if the two of them were left here all alone?

“Gumbo-cooking contest?” she said, the words choking her. “I recall something about it. But as you can see”—she gestured to Kurt—“we won’t be going.” She held her breath.

“How you really feeling, son?” Jolly asked Kurt. “You okay? Doc Ledet say when you can get up?”

“I could be up now,” Kurt told him. “I should be up; I feel guilty about lying here as if I were helpless.”

“Helen”—Jolly looked at her—“the doc say when he’s coming out? When he means to let Kurt get up?”

“I expect Dr. Ledet either late this evening or tomorrow morning. But he won’t be letting Kurt get out of bed just yet.” She shook her head for emphasis. “And even if he did, a trip to Bay Minette anytime soon is out of the question.”

“For you two it is,” Jolly said, and smiled slyly. Ignoring Helen’s knitted brow, he turned to Kurt and said, “You do look like you’re feeling pretty good.”

“As good as new,” said Kurt, smiling.

“Mighty fine. I’m really glad to hear that.” Jolly moved closer. “Now, before the sprig gets back in here, I want to ask you something.”

“Fire away,” said Kurt, and Helen gritted her teeth, afraid she knew what Jolly was going to ask.

“I want your permission to take Charlie with me to Bay Minette. I’d watch him real close, you wouldn’t need to worry. The gumbo festival is just an excuse to get together. There’ll be a whole passel of younguns for him to play with.” Jolly paused and laid a weathered hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “Son, that little boy needs to be around children his age. It’s not right for him to never see anybody but the three of us, even if I am a big ole kid myself.” He chuckled.

“I know,” said Kurt, nodding, thoughtful. “We’ll see about it. When the time comes.”

“The time has come,” Jolly said flatly. “I leave for Bay Minette the day after tomorrow. The big, event begins on Friday. Sleep on it tonight if you must, but I’d really like to take him with me.” He looked to Helen. “It would be good for Charlie to go, don’t you think, Helen?”

“I suppose it would,” she said grudgingly, shooting Jolly a quick daggered look that said she’d like to strangle him.

Jolly wasn’t bothered by her obvious displeasure. Chuckling again, he turned back to Kurt. “Say yes now and Charlie and I will do up all the chores before we leave.”

Kurt looked from Jolly to Helen. He said, “Helen, it’s up to you. If you don’t feel that Charlie should go, then I won’t let him.”

“You’re his father,” she said noncommittally. Knowing in her heart the trip would be very good for Charlie, that he would love it, and would have a wonderful time, she added, “The decision is yours.” Again she held her breath.

“He can go,” Kurt told Jolly decisively. “Sure, he can go, and thanks for wanting to take him. That’s kind of you, my friend. He’ll have the time of his life.”

“That he will,” Jolly said, beaming. “And so will I.”

Charlie grew so excited when he heard the news, he could talk of nothing else. Hanging on to Jolly’s chair as Jolly devoured a huge piece of chocolate cake, he chattered like a magpie, asking question after question. Eager for the adventure to begin, he asked why they couldn’t leave right then, right that minute.

Jolly took the last bite of chocolate cake, released a loud sigh of satisfaction, complimented Helen on her baking, then told Charlie, “Because we have a lot to do before we leave.” He rose, set his empty plate on the night table, pointed a finger at Charlie, and said, “Get some shoes on, scamp, and we’ll get started on doing some of the chores.”

The little boy followed the elderly man around for the rest of the afternoon. First they checked the cistern. It was full to the brim with soft Alabama rainwater. Then Jolly said they’d best lay in plenty of kindling and firewood and Charlie laughed and said it was too hot for fires. Jolly explained that Helen or even Kurt might want to bathe, so they would need wood for heating cistern water. They filled the woodbox by the cold fireplace and then stacked more logs on the back porch.

They drew pail after pail of fresh well water and carried them into the kitchen so Helen wouldn’t have to do it. They milked Bessie—Charlie could actually get a few squirts of milk to come and he thought it a miracle. A funny miracle that made him laugh.

After a late supper and another piece of chocolate cake, Jolly went home. But he was back the next morning and he and Charlie went out to the vegetable garden and picked beans, peas, squash, okra, and tomatoes. Then they dug up onions and potatoes and stored them in the smokehouse. From the orchard they gathered ripe plums and golden pears and wine-red apples.

After that, they went “pecaning.” With a long willow pole over his shoulder, Jolly led Charlie to the pecan grove bordering the orchard, where he beat the tall, leafy limbs, causing pecans to rain down to the ground, where Charlie eagerly picked them up.

Together they worked throughout the day, doing all they could think of to help Helen out while they were away. Helen worked too. She did the laundry so that Charlie would have plenty of clean clothes for his trip. That afternoon she ironed the freshly washed clothes, then carefully folded and packed them in the new valise Kurt had bought the day of the fair.

Dr. Ledet showed up in the late afternoon, examined Kurt, and announced that he would allow him to get out of bed starting tomorrow. “Let me get up now,” Kurt begged, but the doctor refused. Tomorrow was soon enough, and even then he was to take it easy for a few days. Not overdo. Get lots of rest.

When the sun had set across the bay and the bullfrogs had started their evening clatter, Jolly sat on the broad front gallery, talking of the upcoming trip and peeling one of the apples they had brought from the orchard.

His brown eyes round, Charlie watched, amazed, as Jolly peeled the entire apple without a single break in the fruit’s wine-red skin. He cut slices of the apple with his knife, gave one to Charlie, had one himself. After a while he looked over at Helen where she sat rocking silently.

“You’re mighty quiet this evening, Helen, gal,” he said, grinning like a cherub. “Something troubling you?”

“Not a thing,” she said frostily, refusing to look at him.

“Well, I’m sure glad to hear that.” He cut another slice of apple. “Kinda seemed to me like you were sitting over there all puffed up and looking like an old wet hen.”

Helen ground her teeth. Then she looked at him, forced a smile, and said, “Why, you just couldn’t be more wrong. As you’re always saying, I’m ‘as happy as a pig in mud.’”

Jolly handed Charlie the last apple slice. “Believe it or not, child, that’s all I ever want you to be. Happy.” He rose from his chair. “Time I get home and get to bed.” He looked at Charlie. “I’ll be here at sunrise tomorrow. Anybody that’s not up and ready to go gets left behind.”

“I’ll be ready!” Charlie said anxiously, his eyes big. “Don’t leave without me!”

“All right,” said Jolly, “but you’d best turn in early tonight. We got a long ride ahead of us tomorrow.”

Chapter Thirty-eight

J
olly and a very excited Charlie set out early the next morning for Bay Minette, leaving Kurt and Helen alone on the farm. They would be alone for at least four days.

And nights.

Helen dreaded it. Kurt looked forward to it. Helen was afraid of what might happen. Kurt was afraid of what might never happen. Helen was afraid she would weaken and allow him to be her lover. Kurt was afraid she might not weaken and allow him to make love to her.

Throughout that long hot day, Helen did everything possible to avoid Kurt. She was ingenious at thinking of things she had to do and places she had to be. Places where Kurt was not likely to come. Places where he couldn’t find her.

Kurt missed her terribly. Since he’d been laid up, he had gotten used to having her in and out of his room all day, every day. He was half sorry that Doc Ledet had told him he could get out of bed.

Lost, lonely, Kurt roamed through the silent house and around the grounds looking for Helen. Yearning to see her smile. To hear her laugh. To have her say his name or touch him. He longed for the days just past when they had been so cozy and comfortable together. He wished those warm wonderful days hadn’t ended so abruptly.

Night finally came and with it the
real
agony.

For them both.

Pretending a weariness she didn’t actually feel, Helen said good night and retired to her room shortly after the sun went down. Carefully closing her bedroom door for the first time since Kurt and Charlie had moved up to the house, she leaned back against its solid hardness, wondering if she should search for the key and lock it.

She immediately shook her head at such utter foolishness. There was no reason to lock her door. Nor would she need to get down the pistol she had carefully unloaded and hidden in the top of the tall armoire so Charlie wouldn’t get hold of it. At the very beginning, Kurt had said, “I’m a Yankee, Mrs. Courtney, not an animal. Sleep with a gun if you wish, but you won’t need it to protect yourself. At least not from me.”

It was true. She hadn’t needed the gun. She wouldn’t need it tonight. Kurt Northway was not some dangerous beast who had been lying in wait for this opportunity to brutally attack her.

Sighing, Helen pushed away from the door. She wasn’t afraid of Kurt. Face it, she was afraid of herself. She was falling in love with Kurt Northway and because she was falling in love with him, she desired him. She wanted him physically. Wanted to be in his arms. Wanted him to make love to her.

Helen crossed the room, lifted the glass globe, lit the lamp on the night table, and sat down on her bed. She started unbuttoning the bodice of her faded gray work dress and couldn’t help wondering what it might be like if it were Kurt’s tanned hands that were unbuttoning the dress.

Helen shivered at the thought, sensing that Kurt would be the consummate lover. When they had danced on the moonlit gallery that hot night back in July, he had executed the steps with ease—exuding grace and confidence. And he had looked straight into her eyes as they danced, making her tingle from head to toe. Any man who was that sensual on the dance floor would surely be excitingly sensual in bed. There was about Kurt an easy self-assurance which intimated sexual maturity. No doubt, she mused, he also possessed the kind of emotional maturity necessary for an ideal romantic relationship.