The Haunting of Ashton David (8 page)

“What?” He whispered.

“Your muscles are so defined. You’ve changed.”

“Do you not like it?”

Her fingers explored his pectorals. “I saw you chopping wood in the rain and again when you slaughtered the cow. You took your clothes off and your body is so masculine that my mouth went dry, just like it did now.”

Ashton growled. She’d always had a way with words, even when she was younger. “You were watching me? Stalking perhaps?” He teased her with his smile.

“I wasn’t trying to, but I was gardening and I heard you.”

“And here I thought I was all alone.” He kissed her lips.

“Ash, you’ll never have to be alone again. If you want me, I’ll be here.”

“I want you, but my father is trying to keep us apart.”

Her brow furrowed as a perplexed look overtook her features. He smoothed with a finger between her eyes. “It’s a conversation for another day.”

“I want to take your pants off.” She pulled at his belt buckle.

“That doesn’t seem fair. I want to take your pants off.”

“How about we take our pants off at the same time?” Her cocked brow waited for his answer.

“Deal.” He removed his belt. “One … two … three … go.”

They took in each other’s nakedness and she started to giggle—the sound so foreign he gasped from not having heard it in years. At his behavior she quit laughing—her dimples disappeared. “No, don’t stop. I love your giggles.” He pulled her to his chest.

“You’re not wearing underwear.”

“I’m not in the habit.” He smiled.

“Hmm, even in jeans.”

“Nope.”

She smiled and looked shyly down, her cheeks blooming red. “I like that.”

She however wore a pair of delicate lace panties that matched her bra exquisitely. “So”—he coughed—”I’m completely naked yet you’re still in your panties and bra.”

“Yes, I am. What are you going to do about it?”

He kissed behind her ear, and then sucked her earlobe. “I’m going to unwrap you.”

His arm slid up to the clasp of her bra behind her back, but he was using his injured shoulder and a ripple of pain coursed through him, causing him to groan. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, looking at him with worried eyes. “It’s nothing.”
How lame was he?

“You’re in pain.”

“I’m not. How could I be with you laid out before me in your underwear?” He smiled through a grimace, but she caught it.

Standing, she pulled him to the couch.
Yes, he was still very naked
.

“I’ll be fine. I want to do this with you.”

“Oh we’re going to do it, just in a different way.”

He smiled. “All of my pain just evaporated.”

She stood before him at the couch. He was so prepared for what she had to offer that he was achingly hard—a detail that she hadn’t missed as evidenced by her smirk and the blush across her cheeks.

Her hands went behind her back, and then she slid her bra down her arms, exposing herself to his view. Full raspberry-tipped breasts graced the air before him. She was beautiful and he longed to touch her.

“Come here.” His voice was raw and gruffer sounding than he’d intended, but she complied, straddling him on the couch.

His hands reverently closed around her breasts. He leaned forward to place kisses on her curves. “You are so beautiful. You always were, but now your curves are enough to hypnotize a man.”

“I’m glad you like them because there are many.” She bestowed her dimpled smile on him.

She stood and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. Inhaling, she slid them down. With her long graceful neck and torso she was a swan-like beauty standing before him.

“Turn around.” He was dying for more and had been waiting patiently for the chance to see her bare backside.

She turned slowly and he was rewarded with a view so incredible it was enough to fill his eyes with moisture. He blinked it away in a flash, but it had been put there when he realized he was home. “You’ve given so much to me.” He pulled her back to straddle his lap. “Your grace, your forgiveness. I want to do something for you.”

“That’s not why I did those things.”

“I know, but I need to give you something. It’s really not a selfless gesture so don’t get excited.”

“What is it?”

“I just want to make a commitment to you here, now. A commitment I should have made ten years ago. I want to live in a world where your face is the last thing I see at night and the first thing I see when I wake up.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want to be with you forever.”

“I want that too.”

He pulled her close. “I just wanted to make that commitment before touching you.”

His fingers found the juncture between her legs, intent to work her to climax so that she’d be comfortable during their lovemaking. It didn’t take long and if he already thought she was something that thought was magnified tenfold when her eyes turned to flowing honey and her pink lips opened to accommodate the moans she made. As she was climaxing she reached for his erection and positioned herself to take him.

When he entered her he was truly home. All of her goodness and patience was shared with him. The torment and all of the anger fell away and there was only the love they had for one another left to share between them.

***

Harmony collapsed on Ashton’s chest, spent from the efforts of her exertion. She’d wanted him in this way for more than ten years. Their connection was primal, cellular—two bodies starved for one another for so long. The connection they made was visceral.

Both of them reeled from the emotion they’d just experienced. She rested her forehead against his, both of them breathing the same air as they recovered together. When finally she moved to pull away, he grasped her upper arms tenderly.

“I. Love. You.”

“I’ve waited so long to hear those words from your lips.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I’d wait another ten years for you.”

He shook his head. “You won’t have to. I need to explain something to you.”

“What?”

“I guess it would be better if I show you. We’ll have to go into the main house.” His eyes turned wide and his gaze erratic, unfocused.

“Hey.” She placed her palm on his jaw. “I’m not leaving you. Whatever it is, we’ll tackle it together.”

He nodded.

They walked back to the main house hand in hand, sharing smiles and kisses every few feet.

“Are you hungry?” She asked.

“I am.”

“I could cook something.”

“I’d like that. I love your BLT sandwiches.”

They stepped to the porch. “One BLT sandwich coming right up.”

She advanced toward the door, Turning back to see that he was following, she was overcome with sorrow at what she saw. He’d done a one-hundred-eighty- degree turn. His face was hard. He’d aged ten years in the amount of time it had taken to walk the few paces across the porch. His grave demeanor was evidenced in his defeated body language too.

“I think I’ll take it out here if you don’t mind.”

She gathered his hands in hers. “Sit with me in the kitchen while I cook.” She pulled him along and he let her.

She prepared peppermint tea and placed a cup in his hands. She waited until he sipped before she began preparations on the sandwiches.

Deep in concentration so as not to be popped by hot bacon, she was startled to hear his grave voice lacking intonation close to her ear.

“He’s here.”

She whirled around. “Who?”

“My father.”

She stood stark straight at his words. His father had been dead for over ten years. She pulled the pan from the burner and let it rest before following behind him down the hallway.

“Ashton?”

He wouldn’t turn around so she followed him quietly into the den. He sat on the old worn leather couch with his head in his hands, pulling at his hair so hard that pieces of it fell to the ground.

Kneeling between his legs, she looked up into his tormented face. “Ashton?”

His wide green eyes pleaded for her to save him. “What is it?”

“He’s not happy.” He rubbed his eyes with his palms. His voice was pained.

“What’s he saying?”

“He smells you on me. I’ve desecrated his memory. He doesn’t want us to be together because your father filed the report.” A painful grimace had his hands clutching his ears. “That song, he won’t quit playing that song. Over and over, louder and louder.”

She didn’t know what to do so she relied on instinct. Playing a jazz artist on the CD player, she then pulled Ashton out of his defensive position on the couch. They swayed to the music, dancing. Cheek to cheek she said, “Tell him you’re happy.” She remembered his father—had good memories of him. He’d been a good dad to his children and a close friend of her father’s.

“Tell him I love you and that you love me.”

They danced, his hold on her almost painful. The way he’d lost his mother had been tragic, but to then lose his father in the same year was devastating. After being charged with vehicular manslaughter and sentenced for the murder of his wife and the driver of the other car, Mr. David hung himself while in prison. Ashton had been only seventeen.

“Tell him you plan to live at peace. You can do that here, while you take care of his legacy, or you can live elsewhere.”

Harmony didn’t believe in ghosts per se, but she did believe Ashton was extremely tormented by the horrific events leading to the deaths of his mother and father.

They danced to another song, and then another before he began to get restless.

“Hungry?”

“Yeah.”

She pulled him by the hand back into the kitchen and sat him at the counter, bestowing a kiss to his lips before pulling items from the fridge to prepare his dinner.

She held the warm teakettle over his abandoned bowl from earlier. “Tea?”

“Please.”

She filled the cup while watching tendrils of steam curl around the edge.

“Thank you for caring for me.”

“I’ll expect this same level of treatment from you one day when I have the icky wicked flu or something equally awful.”

His hand covered hers. “I’ll be there.”

She smiled. “I believe you.”

***

After dinner they curled up on his bed to watch a movie.

“What do you want to watch?” He asked.

“Do you have The Breakfast Club?”

He chuckled, “You know I do.”

“Great! Cue it up. I’m going to go get something.”

“Hurry back.”

He wasn’t throwing out the automatic phrase haphazardly. He appeared anxious to be left alone in his room for even a moment.

“I’ll be back in a flash. Get the movie started.” As she exited she sang
Don’t You (Forget About Me)
and continued to sing as she made her way down the hall and into the kitchen.

She returned to the room with a spoon and a carton of Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie.

“Where’d you go?”

She held the carton in the air. “Check it out.”

“Ben and Jerry’s—my favorite. Where’s yours?” His corny joke made her giggle.

“I thought we’d share it—one spoon.” She smiled suggestively.

“Even better.”

They watched the movie, devouring the entire pint of ice cream, bite by bite using the shared spoon. He seemed to enjoy having her feed him as much as she enjoyed watching his lips close around the spoon as he took a bite.

After the movie, he started to talk, revealing exactly how the memories of his father tormented him on a nightly basis.

“The music comes and I hate that voice—that gravely, broken voice, singing
Hallelujah
. It was my father’s favorite song. His hauntings became more aggressive when you started to care for me. The song plays in a nonstop loop and gets louder until I go insane. I swear to you I unplugged the CD player and the song still played.

“Sometimes I go out on the porch to escape it. One day I had my headphones on, listening to the Libertines. The song ended and what do you think played next?”

She listened with rapt attention. “Hallelujah?”

He nodded. “I don’t have that song in my library. Why would I? I hate it.” He shuddered. “God, I can still remember it. I only thought it was bad when it filtered through the house. It was much more intense when delivered directly to my eardrums.”

His eyes held her gaze. “Look at this ceiling.” He gestured with his finger, but wouldn’t look up “His bedroom is directly above this one—they share the fireplace. Sometimes I hear him walking around, the floor creaking under his weight, just like when he was alive.”

Ashton looked down at his hands “The night of the accident he kept laughing. Even after mom had died. He laughed and laughed. It was sickening to listen to. He was out of control—drunk and under the influence of pot.” He shook his head. “I still can’t get the sound of his laughter out of my head. On the nights he paces, he laughs just as he did on that night.”

He shrugged. “I guess he wants to be avenged. What he did was wrong and three people died. How can I avenge him for that?”

“You can’t.”

“I don’t want to. I should be the one haunting him. I begged him to let me take the wheel. But he’d just driven that Suburban off the showroom floor and wasn’t about to let me drive it home.”

Harmony tried to be strong while he recounted his story, but the pain and emotion with which he told it affected her deeply and the tears began to fall, but he was there to kiss them away. “I’m sorry I’ve made you cry again.”

They went down to rest their heads on his pillow and fell asleep on their sides, facing one another, hands laced.

***

The laughter was so harsh, so soulless that he feared being touched by it, lest he also lose his soul.

“Mom?”

His father’s laughter was close.

“You were always my favorite one.”

“Mom?”

“I love you, Ashton.”

“Mom!”

His oxygen was consumed by the dry, lifeless cackles of his father. Blackness was the only thing that existed. He couldn’t reach the air—he lay gasping like a fish out of water.

A feather touch on his cheek centered him in the black abyss.