Liabilities (Balance Sheet 2) Page 12

  He took my hand before saying, “I can’t watch him touch you.”

  Letting go, I turned, wondering if I could give him what he asked. I hadn’t gotten two feet away when a voice rang out in the night. “Fire.” And then the bell from the schoolhouse rang. I looked back at Kalen, and we both turned to look in the sky to see the rising smoke.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A billow of black reached to mix with the grey clouds above. A chain of people were sending buckets of water from the pump to toss on the fire that threatened to get out of control.

  Sick with the thought that Mary’s house was lit with flames. I helped by bringing extra buckets from nearby houses to help stop this before this turned catastrophic. If the fire raged on, it was possible another house could start burning from an ember caught in a breeze and land in just the right spot.

  Kalen was helping by pumping the water. His impressive muscles worked the pump as if he was familiar with the task. Turner was closest to the fire tossing the water in the right spots to help. Everyone was here. Our community came together as one. But it was those two I saw.

  By faith and by all the helping hands, the fire was extinguished before the entire house went up. Dark had almost settled in when Mary, carrying her son, came to inspect the damage. Her husband Thomas was among the men that had been working hard to save their house.

  Mary’s lips trembled, and I went up and hugged her making sure not to squeeze my nephew. “His room,” Mary cried. “This is where his room is. What if he’d been in there?”

  The baby was still small and I suspected he still slept in a cradle in the room with his parents. Grief however was understandable, so I didn’t feel the need to make that point. “The damage isn’t bad. Mostly external. Thank goodness for a little rain overnight. The wood was moist and not prime for fire.”

  She nodded. “But who would have done this?”

  That was the question. There wasn’t faulty wiring to blame. There hadn’t been a lightning strike. The fireplace wasn’t on this side of the house. This had been deliberate.

  The answer came to me and I took off running. Mary called after me. “Where are you going?” There was no time to wait, no time to explain.

  My breathing was labored when I reached the house. I hadn’t run that fast or long in more years than I could count. My heart thudded in my chest. I heaved open the door with the last of my strength and realized my mistake. If Mike was here, I’d exhausted all my energy. I wouldn’t be help to anybody including Violet and myself.

  My older sister’s hair was a matted mess and covered her face. Her arm hung limply on the table. I cried out. She appeared dead and it would have killed me if she didn’t move. My voice made her stir. With difficulty, she lifted her head up from the table. Revealed through the strings of disheveled hair was a bloom of bruises visible in the fading light.

  “Vi, what happened?”

  When I came around the table, she hugged my waist and cried. Gently, I stroked her hair, pushing it back from her battered face.

  Two figures pushed through the front doors. Turner and Kalen must have seen me running from the scene and followed, if Turner hadn’t already come to the same conclusion.

  “Fuck,” Turner cursed getting an eyeful of parts of Violet’s face.

  Kalen’s fist connected with the wall. I heard the noise but hadn’t seen it. We all looked up at the rage in his face. “Where is the guy that did this, lass?”

  “Kalen, you can’t,” I pleaded. I remembered the brief conversation about how his father treated his mother. He’d been too young to protect his mother from his father’s hand. Seeing this would bring back those memories.

  “Can’t what? And I thought his name was Jeremy?” Turner questioned, looking between us. If he hadn’t figured it out by now, he was putting it all together.

  “Jeremy Kalen Brinner Glenn,” Kalen said not looking away from me. “And my father was an abuser. I vowed never to hit a woman nor sit back and watch any woman be victimized in that way ever again.”

  “Slow down,” Turner said, being he was the most level headed of us at the moment.

  Kalen ignored him. “If you won’t let me help her with him, then let’s leave now.”

  Turner’s head whipped around to face me. He had been watching Kalen talk. Now I saw hurt mar his face. “You’re leaving.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Kalen protested.

  A tiny voice came from the face pressed against my shirt. It was raspy and sounded dry. “He’s probably at the Brewster’s,” Violet said.

  “Who is that?” I asked out loud not really directing it anywhere. My sister needed water. I didn’t have time to appeal to Turner’s feelings and Kalen’s vengeance.

  “You wouldn’t remember. But their father was excommunicated for making Devil’s juice.”

  “Devil’s juice?”I questioned.

  “You know like Moonshine,” my sister croaked.

  My mouth rounded in an O. Looking at my sister, I knew I couldn’t stay still any longer. "I have to get something for Vi's face." I headed out the back door feeling the bite of tension leak through the room.

  I wasn't at all surprised when Turner followed me out back.

  "Where you planning on telling me?" his voice was filled with anguish that tormented me more than Violet's bruised face.

  "Yes," I pleaded, hoping he'd see the truth. "When I didn't see you all day, I came looking for you at your house. You were already gone. Then the fire."

  This discussion aside, I needed to get cold water on the rag I snagged before heading inside. There wasn't ice. The dry ice used in iceboxes if she had some would burn not sooth. I pumped and held the rag under the spout with difficulty until Turner came and gave me a hand.

  "You're leaving with him?"

  "Yes, but it's not what you think." A sob threatened but I managed to hold it back.

  He stood straight, the rag now sopping wet. "And what am I to think. That you lied to me, that your boyfriend showed up to collect you, and you’re leaving with him."

  "No," I pleaded.

  "That you lied about giving us a change." I stepped up to him determined to convince him of the truth. He beat me to the punch line. "Do you love him?"

  That stopped me dead. I couldn’t look at him. Lying wasn’t my strong suit. He didn’t wait for my answer seemingly to draw his own conclusion from my silence.

  "Do you love me?" he asked, voice tight.

  "Yes," but it came out as a whisper.

  "You can't have it both ways."

  "I know."

  The rag dripped unconcerned with the heavy conversation taking place. "We'll finish this later. But promise me you won’t run before we have a chance to talk."

  I nodded unwilling to say anymore. I'd hurt him and I didn't know how to fix it.

  We walked back inside and the first thing I noticed was Kalen wasn't there. Violet still sat at the table. She'd laid her head back down.

  "Where is Kalen?" I asked sharply.

  Violet sat up. I moved to clean off some of the dried blood from her face. “Ouch.”

  “Sorry,” I murmured. “Do you know where he went?” My tone wasn’t as frosty. She’d been through enough.

  Tuner stood watching, waiting for what Violet had to say.

  “I told him where I thought Mike might be.” Her voice was still raspy, and I remembered that I should have brought her something to drink. But her words chilled me. I met Turner’s eyes.

  “I’m on it. You both need to leave. Meet me back at my place.” He headed for the door.

  “What are you going to do?”

  For a second he halted and turned. “I’m going to stop your boyfriend from committing murder. Then I’m going to put Mike in a holding cell for the council to deal with his crimes.” Crimes plural.

  If he had set my sister’s house on fire, I wondered what else he was capable of. I thought of the convenient death of Mr. Fisher. Could he have killed him?

 
Turner left. The air that swept in was heavy with moisture. It hadn’t rained yet. But the promise was there.

  As my first order of business, I headed in the kitchen and found a jug of water in the warm refrigerator. I poured Vi a half goblet of water and brought it to her. While she drank, I spoke. “Like Turner said, we need to leave.”

  “Why? He won’t be back tonight.”

  I sat because I felt like a mother standing over her to chastise. Her face was puffy on one side. I took the cloth to clean the rest of the blood away while there was still a tiny bit of light left to see. She listed to the side like she might pass out. “You don’t know if he’ll come back or not.”

  The cloth must have hit a tender spot because she yanked back. “He won’t and it doesn’t matter, least of not to you. You’re leaving and I’m stuck with him.”

  “You’re not stuck. If you’d just told someone or been honest with Father or Turner, they would have handled it.” She kept out of my reach as I tried to clean her up.

  “And what?” she asked. “Where would I go? I couldn’t stay here. And I have no skills. What man would want me after ratting on my own husband?”

  “You have skills.”

  “Yeah, skills,” she said dryly.

  I rolled my eyes. “I certainly wasn’t talking about that. You can bake.”

  “Yeah, like that’s hard.”

  “I can’t bake.”

  “You can if you put some effort into it.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not going to argue with you. You’re going to pack a bag and come to New York with me.”

  Her one good eye widened. Then she moaned in pain as she slapped a hand over the puffy eye.

  “Father thinks it’s a good idea too. He’s offered to pay for you to go to baking school or cooking school, whatever they call it.”

  “No fooling?”

  My head rocked side to side.

  A faint hint of a smile grew on one side of her face. “So he’s the guy.”

  I sighed. I’d wondered when she would ask. “He’s the guy.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  It was without specific words, but I knew we were talking about my choice between the two men in my life. “I don’t know.” And I didn’t. I loved them both, and I couldn’t see life without either.

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere.”

  My vision turned to arrows. “What?”

  “Not right now. I need to rest and I don’t want anyone to see me looking like this.” She gestured drunkenly with her hands. But it wasn’t alcohol that caused her loopy movements. I hoped for a second that Kalen would kill him.

  “We can’t stay.” I pleaded.

  “I’m not going,” she said firmly and stood. “I’ll lie down. We can leave in an hour or so.”

  Understanding her shame, I thought I could give her that time. Most would still be out talking about the fire. There was no way we wouldn’t run into someone even if we took the back way. Many used those routes to head to their respective homes.

  “Fine, but you should pack first.”

  It was odd to get that are you crazy look from only one side of her face, but I understood.

  “And,” she gestured to the clothes she wore. “This outfit is probably all the rage in the city.”

  She had a point. “You’re right. I have extra clothes, and we can buy you some once we get there.”

  “Fine. I’m going to lie down.”

  I watched her retreat to her bedroom.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Self-preservation was high on my “to do” list. I found a skinning knife in the kitchen, and I lay down on what could be called the sofa. I’d already started a fire after bringing in more wood from outside. Just like my father said, it would rain. And rain hard it would. Just in the off chance we stayed here tonight, which wasn’t happening. I wanted to be prepared.

  All preparations made, I thought I had a little over a half an hour left to my agreed time to sit and figure out what I was going to do.

  Both men were men any woman would desire. Handsome and sensual, even though they were different, they possessed some of the same qualities.

  My love for Turner had stood the test of time. He was solid, and I could trust he’d never do anything to break my heart.

  Everything with Kalen was new and exciting. It was akin to the budding of first love. It held mysteries still left to unravel.

  When my eyes closed for only a second, I held the knife at the ready under the pillow I’d brought in from the room I’d been using. I thought I might know what I was going to do.

  With the thundering boom of lighting and assaulting rain, the door opened, letting a fierce wind in. A sloshing mass of a wet man stepped through the door and woke me up. Before the door closed on the man, I saw the pitch blackness behind him. I sat up and looked to my right to see the lump of my sister through her open bedroom door unmoved by the noise.

  The figure headed in her direction, and my grip on the knife was true. He looked in the room before shutting the door. When he turned to look at me with dark intense eyes, I knew my sister was fine but I was in danger.

  He stomped forward, the storm masking the noise of his footsteps. I rose, unwilling to be in a defenseless position when he faced me not a foot away.

  His beautiful face was plastered with wet hair. I was unable to stop my hand from pushing the limp strands from his face when he reached me. My hand cupped his cheek. Without words, my expression as seen through his eyes in the dancing light of the fire was sympathetic. He leaned into my touch.

  This man let everything pour out. In a helpless way he begged me silently to choose him. It broke the wall I’d erected around my emotions and carefully hidden heart.

  Sopping wet, I couldn’t be sure. But something said the rain that dripped down his face was mixed with tears. I stepped into him slowly. When we were flush, I stood on my toes and kissed first one cheek then the other. I tasted the unmistakably saltiness of tears. Mine fell in equal measure when I pressed my lips to his. My hands on either side of his face drew him closer. It didn’t matter that his wet clothes seeped and dampened mine.

  My fingers moved from his face down the hard plains of his chest and down to top of his pants. I tugged the offending article of clothing free of them. Droplets of water sprung out, and I managed with his help to get his shirt over his head.

  His hands reached around my neck and undid the tie. He parted the fabric, separating it to my shoulders freeing my arms. I stood exposed in my bra from the waist up as my skirt clung obstinately to my hips.

  During my turn, even as close as we were, I managed to undo the front flat of his pants. With one good push, they fell with the speed of gravity to hit the floor creating a puddle of fabric and water. At the same time he sprung free giving little doubt to his intentions and mine.

  His hand reached back up to my neck and his fingertips glided down the center of my back after he popped the clasp on my bra. Letting my arms loose, it fell to my feet. I shivered as much from his cool and damp fingers as the touch itself. He pushed my dress and my underwear down as one. It hit the floor without the splash.

  As a unit we took two steps back out from the clothing that had confined us moments before. His lips touched mine for the first time as our bodied melded together, and he continued to dance us back to step on the rug in front of the fire.

  My hands went to his shoulders and pressed down letting him know my objective. He surprised me by lifting me up. Hands urged my legs to wrap around his waist. I did just that, trapping his rock solid cock against my core to make exquisite pressure. It felt like in “T minus Ten” I would have lift off. Too much sexual tension had been building. We didn’t end up against the wall much to my dismay. Instead, he knelt with me still wrapped around him.

  When my back met the rough tread of the rug, I barely registered it. My arms wove around his neck drawing him in for a real kiss, the prelude to everything to come. He kissed me in a way that mad
e my legs relax giving him room to shove himself in me in the most delicious way.

  He, however, had different ideas. He trailed a dotted line of hot kisses to my collarbone only to continue to a breast. He suckled it making my back arch off the floor. He paid homage to the other one eliciting the same response. When his hands trailed down my sides along with more kissing and licking, I squirmed with the penetrating sensations.

  Pay dirt happened when he played tic-tac-toe down the center of my body. First was the capturing of my clit with his lips and a gentle nip with his teeth. Then his tongue thrust inside me, making me rise up on my elbows to look down at him. When his tongue flicked a little lower, my head fell back nearly cracking the floor. His fingers moved inside my core while his tongue continued to tease an area I wasn’t sure I’d make available to anyone else. I couldn’t think very well past the pleasure.

  His thumb teased that entrance, and my body grew wetter still. His tongue moved back as if eager to lap up all I had to offer. Just when I was about to call out and beg him to fill me with his length, I moaned out my orgasm. His fingers worked me in and out heightening my pleasure.

  When I could no longer hold myself up to watch this magnificent man’s magic, he rose up. Muscles cording with his movement as he crawled to place his diamond shaft at my opening. Slowly he pushed inside me.

  My cry was stifled by his kiss. Thankfully, the storm outside continued to rage on and provide the cover we needed. But neither one of us seemed to care that my sister could walk in on us.

  I tasted my orgasm on his tongue and that strangely wound me up again. I rocked my hips urging him forward, but he took his time. His eyes were tightly closed. Our kissing stopped as he seemed to be memorizing every inch of my insides.

  There was a bit of a pain when the tip of him hit the back end of me. He pulled back, not as slow, but not fast either, before he moved back in. It was like he was being careful, but I didn’t want or need that. I bucked my hips a couple of times before his eyes opened wide and he began moving in earnest. Rolling his hips, he dragged the tip of himself against something deep inside that made me thrash with pleasure.