A Grant County Collection (10 page)

Her silence obviously unnerved him. She saw his jaw work, and he stared somewhere over her shoulder.

Sara tried to face him, but he would not look at her. She traced her finger along his lips, smiling as she realized he had shaved for her. His skin was smooth, and she smelled his aftershave along with something like oatmeal.

He said, 'Tell me how you feel.'

Sara could not trust herself to answer. She kissed his jaw, then his neck. When he did not respond, she kissed the palm of his hand, knowing better than to tell him that was exactly where he held her.

Jeffrey put his hands on either side of her face, his eyes intense and unreadable. He gave her a long, sensual kiss as he pushed her back, and Sara felt herself melt to the floor. He cupped her breasts, using his tongue to bring out chills along her skin. Slowly, he started to work his way down, his breath a feathery kiss across her belly, then lower. He put his tongue inside of her, and Sara felt a momentary weightlessness as everything in her body focused on that one spot. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him up toward her, making him stop.

His voice was a hoarse whisper. 'What?'

She drew him closer, kissing him, tasting herself in his mouth. Nothing was rushed, but Sara felt the need for urgency as she fumbled with the zip on his jeans. He tried to help, but Sara told him, 'No,' relishing the weight of him in her hand.

'Inside me,' she said, biting his ear until a guttural sound caught in his throat. 'I want you inside me.'

'Christ,' he whispered, his body shaking as he tried to hold himself back. He reached for his pocket, trying to find a condom, but she pulled his attention sharply back to focus, guiding him inside her.

She arched up as he entered her. At first, he moved slowly, almost painfully so, until Sara's entire body was tense as a violin string. The muscles along his back were equally taut, and she could not help digging her nails in as she tried to pull him in deeper. Jeffrey kept the rhythm slow, watching her every move, tuning his body to hers so that several times she was taken to the edge, only to be gently brought back. Finally the rhythm increased, his hips grinding into hers, the weight of his body pressing her to the limit until the release forced her head back, her mouth open. He kissed her, stifling the sounds she made, even as his own body shuddered against hers.

'Sara,' he breathed into her ear, finally letting himself go.

She held him inside her, and he started kissing her again, slow and sensual, his hand stroking the side of her face like a cat. Her body pulsed with aftershocks, and she slid her arms around him, holding him close, kissing his lips, his face, his eyelids, until he finally rolled to his side, resting his weight on his elbow.

She let out a short breath, feeling her body slowly come down from the high. Her head was still swimming and she could not keep her eyes open no matter how hard she tried.

He stroked his fingers along her temple, touching her eyelids, her cheeks. 'I love the way your skin feels,' he said, letting his hand slide down her body.

She rested her hand on his, letting out a content sigh. She could stay like this all night – maybe even for the rest of her life. She felt closer to Jeffrey now than she had ever felt with a man in her life. Sara knew that she should be scared, should try to hold part of herself back, but right now all she could think to do was lie there and let him do whatever he liked.

His fingers found the scar on her left side, and he said, 'Tell me about this.'

Sara's mind reeled with white-hot panic, and she forced herself not to jerk away from him. 'Appendix,' she said, though the injury had come from a hunting knife.

He opened his mouth, and she was sure he would ask how she could be a doctor and not know that the appendix was on the right side, but what he said was, 'Did it burst?'

She nodded, hoping that would suffice. Lying was not a normal habit of Sara's, and she knew better than to invent a complicated story.

'How old were you?'

She shrugged, watching him watch his finger trace along the scar. The edge was jagged, far from the precision slice of a surgeon's scalpel. A serrated blade had made the cut as the knife was buried nearly to the hilt in her side.

'It's kind of sexy,' he told her, leaning down to kiss it.

Sara put her hand to the back of his head, staring up at the ceiling as the enormity of the lie began to sink in. This was just the beginning. If she ever wanted any kind of future with Jeffrey, she should tell him now before it was too late.

He brushed his lips across hers. 'I thought we'd get out early tomorrow.'

Her mouth opened, but instead of telling him the truth, she said, 'You don't want to say goodbye to your friends?'

He shrugged. 'We can call them when we get to Florida.'

'Crap.' Sara sat up, looking for a clock. 'What time is it?'

He tried to pull her back but Sara was too fast. She rifled through her suitcase, asking, 'Where's my watch?'

He folded his hands behind his head. 'Women don't need to wear watches.'

'Why is that?'

He gave a smug, deeply satisfied smile. 'There's a clock on the stove.'

'Very funny,' she said, throwing her brush at him. He caught it with one hand. 'I told my mother I'd call as soon as we got to Florida.'

'So call her tomorrow.'

Sara found her watch, cursing under her breath. 'It's past midnight. She'll be worried.'

'There's a phone in the kitchen.'

Her underwear was still wrapped around her ankle from where she had not quite managed to kick it off. Sara tried to look as graceful as possible as she pulled them back on, followed by her pajama bottoms.

'Hey,' he said.

She looked up, but he shook his head, indicating he had changed his mind.

She buttoned her shirt as she walked toward the door. Her hand was on the knob before she realized, 'It doesn't have a lock.'

He feigned surprise. 'Is that so?'

Sara walked into the hall and pulled the door to behind her. She felt her way along the wall, stopping when she remembered the dining room table. The nightlight did not illuminate much this far from the bathroom, and Sara used her hands to feel her way toward the kitchen. Outside the room, the smell of nicotine was even stronger than she had remembered. By sheer luck, she found the telephone on the wall by the refrigerator.

She dialed her parents' house collect, whispering her name when the operator asked, hoping she would not wake up Jeffrey's mother. The call was put through and the phone rang once before her father picked up.

'Sara?' Eddie said, his voice like a croak.

She leaned against the counter, relieved to hear him. 'Hey, Daddy.'

'Where the hell are you?'

'We stopped in Sylacauga.'

'What the hell is that?'

She started to explain, but he would not let her.

'It's past midnight,' he said, his tone sharp now that he realized she was okay. 'What the hell have you been doing? Your mother and I have been worried sick.'

She heard Cathy murmur something in the background, and Eddie said, 'I don't want to hear that bastard's name. She never used to call late before him.'

Sara braced herself for a tirade, but her mother managed to wrestle the phone from her father before he could get another word out.

'Baby?' Cathy sounded equally worried, and Sara felt guilty for how she had spent the last two hours when she could have taken two minutes to call her parents and let them know she was okay.

'I'm sorry I didn't call before,' Sara told her. 'We stopped in Sylacauga.'

'And that is?'

'A town,' Sara said, still not sure she was pronouncing it correctly. 'It's where Jeffrey grew up.'

'Oh,' Cathy said. Sara waited for more, but all her mother said was, 'Are you okay?'

'Yes,' Sara assured her. 'We had a nice time with his friends. They all went to school together. It's just like home, only smaller.'

'Is that so?'

Sara tried to decipher her tone, but could not. 'We're at his mother's now. I haven't met her yet, but I'm sure she's nice, too.'

'Well, let us know when you get to Florida tomorrow if you have the time.'

'Okay,' Sara answered, still unable to read her mother's tone. She wanted to tell her what had happened, what Jeffrey had said, but she did not have the courage. What's more, she did not want to be called a fool.

Cathy seemed to read nothing into Sara's hesitation. She said, 'Good night, then.'

Sara wished her the same, and hung up the phone before her father could get back on the line. She pressed her head back against the kitchen cabinet, wondering if she should call them again. As much as she hated her mother being in her business, Sara valued Cathy's opinion. Too much was happening right now. She needed to talk to someone about it.

A loud bump came from the dining room as someone fell against the table and a woman's voice growled a curse.

'Hello?' Sara said, trying not to surprise Jeffrey's mother.

'I know you're there,' she said, her voice raspy and cold. 'Jesus Christ,' she mumbled to herself, opening the refrigerator door. In the light, Sara saw a bent-over old woman with salt-and-pepper hair. Her face was wrinkled far beyond her years, and every line in her mouth seemed devoted to smoking a cigarette. She held one there now, ash hanging off the end.

May Tolliver pounded a bottle of gin onto the counter, took a long drag from her cigarette, then turned her attention on Sara. 'What do you do?' she asked, then gave a nasty chuckle. 'That is, other than fuck my son?'

Sara was so taken aback she began to stutter. 'I . . . I . . . d-don't . . .'

'Fancy doctor,' she said. 'Isn't that right?' The laugh came again, this time even nastier. 'He'll bring you down a peg or two. You think you're the first one? You think you're special?'

'I –'

'Don't lie to me,' the old woman barked. 'I can smell him on your cunt from here.'

Seconds later, Sara was in the street. She could not recall finding the key or opening the front door or even leaving the house. The only thing she knew was that she had to put as much distance between herself and Jeffrey's mother as she could. Never in her life had another woman spoken to her that way. Sara's face burned from the shame of it, and when she finally stopped under a street lamp to catch her breath, she found that tears were streaming down her cheeks.

'Shit,' she hissed as she turned in a full circle, trying to get her bearings. She had taken a left turn at least, but beyond that, Sara was completely unsure of her surroundings. She could not even recall the name of Jeffrey's street, let alone remember what his house looked like. A dog barked as she passed a yellow house with a white picket fence, and Sara felt a chill as she realized that she did not recognize the dog or the fence. To make matters worse, her feet were burning from the hot asphalt and mosquitoes had come out in force to feast on the idiot who was walking around alone, wearing nothing but a thin pair of cotton pajamas, in the middle of the night. She did not know why she cared about finding the house. Even if she made it back, Sara would sleep in the street before she went back in. Her only hope was to backtrack from Jeffrey's to find Nell and Possum's house. There was a magnetic key safe on the undercarriage of the BMW. Jeffrey could find his own ride to Grant. Sara did not care if she ever saw her clothes or suitcase again.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream cut through the night. Sara stopped mid-stride, tension filling the air like molasses. A car backfire sounded like gunshot, and adrenaline tensed every muscle in her body. In the distance, she could see a tall figure moving quickly toward her, and instinctively Sara turned, running away as fast as she could. Heavy footsteps pounded behind her, and she pumped her arms, her lungs nearly exploding in her chest as she pushed herself to get away.

'Sara,' Jeffrey called, his fingertips brushing against her back. She stopped so quickly that he smacked into her, knocking them both down. He managed to cushion the fall with his body, but her elbow was jarred against the pavement.

'What is wrong with you?' he demanded, jerking her up by the arm. He slapped grit off the side of her pajama leg. 'Did you scream?'

'Of course not,' she snapped, suddenly angrier with him than she had ever imagined herself capable. Why had he brought her here? What did he hope to accomplish?

'Just calm down,' he said, reaching out at if to soothe her.

She slapped away his hand. 'Don't touch me' was all she could say before the car backfired again. Though this time, Sara knew it was not a car. She had been to the firing range often enough to know the sound of a weapon being discharged.

Jeffrey cocked his head to the side as he tried to figure out from which direction the sound had come. Again, there was a single gunshot, and he turned away from her, saying, 'Stay here,' as he bolted down the road toward the yellow house with the picket fence.

Sara followed as best she could, going around the fence that Jeffrey had hurdled, using a worn path in someone's garden to get to the backyard of the yellow house. There was a bright flash of light as Jeffrey kicked in the back door, followed by another scream. He ran out seconds later, and all the lights seemed to turn on in the house at once.

'Sara!' Jeffrey yelled, waving her in. 'Hurry!'

She jogged toward him, feeling a sharp sting in the arch of her foot as she crossed the grass. There were pine needles and cones in the yard, and she tried to step as carefully as she could without slowing down.

Jeffrey grabbed her arm and pulled her the rest of the way into the house. The layout was similar to Possum's, with a long hallway down the center and the bedrooms on the right.

'Down there,' Jeffrey said, pushing her toward the hall. He picked up the kitchen phone, telling her, 'I'll call the police.'

Shock overcame Sara for a moment as she walked into the master bedroom.

The ceiling fan wobbled out of balance overhead, the blades making an awkward chopping sound. Jessie stood beside an open window, her mouth moving but no noise coming out. A shirtless man lay facedown on the floor by the bed. The right side of his head was blown off. Streaks of blood led to a short-nosed gun that looked as if it had been kicked away from the area near his left hand.