Liabilities (Balance Sheet 2) Read online

  Never will I let you go, he commanded. His lips changed directions just as he maneuvered me from my side to my back. With expert hands, he pushed my thighs apart and feasted on me as if I tasted of ambrosia.

  The chatter of birds and not the sounds of honking horns and hurled curse words woke me. Not that inside Lizzy’s apartment, I would have heard such things. But once out on the sidewalk in busy Manhattan, it was more commonplace than not.

  Here, there was a gentle peace. The light spread through the single window like a beacon warning me it was much too late for my slumber. The sun was far enough in the sky to warn me that, had I been an active member of the community, I would be very late for morning chores.

  The most disturbing thing was where my fingers on my right hand were. They had found my center. I couldn’t have been more grateful that I was alone in the room and prayed that I hadn’t moaned or called out during the night. My dreams had been vivid in every way. I couldn’t help but agree with my father that staying here was not a good idea.

  With my bladder protesting, I rose to my feet. I’d had to go last night, but didn’t want to visit the outhouse in total dark. Living without inside plumbing was going to take longer to get used to.

  The house was empty when I stepped into the great room. The afghans that had been knitted by my mother rested over the side of the sofas. A plate of fruit and cheese rested on the table. Things weren’t left out by mistake. You would be inviting critters of all kinds to break bread with you if they got wind of it. Thus I knew my mother left the food for me. Most likely, it wasn’t the breakfast she’d made for the family. I could smell the remnants of that. Unsure when I would rise for the day, she had, I was certain, left things that would not fester during the day.

  The growl in my tummy was persistent, but not as much as the pressure in my bladder. I walked out the back door and several yards to the wooden structure. Opening the door, I appreciated my family’s use of natural bacteria and other things sprinkled down the hole that rested beneath the seat. It broke down the waste left behind keeping the smell to a dull yuck. It was almost odd to find a roll of toilet paper in such a place that felt so foreign after a few years gone by. Some conveniences were still used even though invented in modern times.

  When walking back, I caught sight of the shower stall that was attached to the back of the house where a well pump was shared with a hand pump inside the kitchen. So an outdoor shower was in my future. Our house did boast one extra tiny room in the house. It held a tub. I believe it was a gift from my father to my mother when he built the house. However, with no inside plumbing, it was a pain to use. Buckets of hot water had to be brought in to fill it. In the winter, we did use it more, not wanting to brave the elements outside.

  By mid-afternoon, Turner found me using the laundry bucket to rub my sisters’ dresses against a washboard. The day was warm the sun high. My aching arms had forgotten such manual use. I wanted to sink into the wash basin and dose myself with the water as my earlier shower felt like a waste of precious time. I was working on the last dress and craved another bath before my family got home from their chores of the day. However, I knew the water would be warm from the sun and, for the first time in many years, I desired a very cold shower.

  Holding my hand up to block the sunlight, I looked at Turner who had arrived and also appeared to have been working hard this day. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  It was then I noticed the picnic basket he carried. Getting to my feet, I rung out the last of the dresses and strolled over to the clothesline. Pinning the garment, I let my shoulders sag as my arms felt as if they couldn’t carry one more thing. My forbidden clothing that I’d hung to dry yesterday was safely tucked in the truck of my car having made a special trip before I began chores. A breeze lifted the dresses like ghostly apparitions surrounding me.

  A chuckled came close to my ear. “Let’s take a walk.” He found me behind our house. The makeshift backyard was comprised of fields and fields of crop land beyond the outhouse. We lived on the outskirts of town closer to the entrance. Our family’s primary means of contribution to the community was farming. However, my parents weren’t out there. They were most likely in the building where we kept harvested goods or at the market, selling our extra wares to the populous that craved organically grown crops. It was our primary business and brought much needed revenue to the community to pay government taxes and buy supplies and goods we couldn’t harvest, grow or obtain lawfully from our own lands.

  Dead on my feet, I let Turner drag me to the front of my house and deep into the trees towards the creek. On the spot where I’d disrobed a day before, we sat on a spread quilt, and he pulled out meat and bread.

  With his fingers he offered me a nibble of meat. It was tender with a burst of flavor. I opened my mouth to praise him but his hand came up with another offering. The bread was slightly sweet but rich and buttery too. My tongue snaked across his fingers as he glided them out of my mouth. His eyes met mine and I could feel the tension rebuilding between us. As much as I felt it, I also didn’t want to jump into anything. Kalen was hovering in the back of my mind. After swallowing, I asked, “Who cooked this?”

  With a wolfish grin, Turner said, “I did.”

  That surprised me. “Since when did you become such a great cook?” The Turner I knew was raised in a traditional male role in this community of ours. Thus, cooking would never be his chore.

  “Since becoming a bachelor.”

  Because I was one of the reasons he still remained unmarried, it made the moment awkward.

  “It’s okay, Bails. It took me a while to get over your leaving, but I guess I understand. I just wish you would have told me before you fled.”

  That hadn’t been one of my finer moments. Rehashing our previous conversation, I said, “I was afraid if you asked me to stay, I would.” It wasn’t an excuse, just my reason.

  With patient eyes, he watched me for a second. “Would you do it again?”

  It was a good question. Had spending over three years of my life in a wasted relationship with Scott been worth it? I hadn’t really loved him. I stayed with him out of some sense of duty and honor to my family for my perceived sins. Then again, had I not been with Scott, I may have never met Kalen that fateful night. Would I go back and stay with Turner? One thing was for sure. I knew I would have been happy.

  “No, not the same way,” I said honestly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  His smile said he didn’t entirely believe me. But he reached in the basket to pull something else out. Out came a palm-sized strawberry tart, my favorite. Delight filled me. I hadn’t had one of these in ages. “Your mother?”

  He nodded, and I took the proffered desert from his hand with relish. I bit into it like a woman possessed. It tasted like heaven. And I might have moaned out loud, because Turner laughed.

  “There are more,” he teased.

  I slapped at his arm playfully careful not to drop the last bit of tart.

  “I swear,” he said.

  Somewhere in the middle of lunch, we found that casualness between us. It was easy to be friends again, transported to a time and place when we had no cares about are future.

  For the second day in a row, I stood near the drop off into the cool blue below. Sticky and hot from my workout with the laundry this morning, I pulled off my garments. I dove into the water before my best friend could speak.

  Surfacing, I brushed the few tendrils of hair off my face that had escaped my bun from the force of my splash. Just when I looked up to see what Turner was doing, I was given the full force of his cannon ball in my face, up my nose and in my mouth.

  Laughing and gasping, I shoved water on him like a thunderstorm of drops when he surfaced. That led to more afternoon antics. And we ended up where we always did in the tiny space against the earthy wall hidden from view. He caged me in like a tiger on the hunt and I let him. My breaths were ragged before he even touched me. He ha
d never been the shy one. But he also never pushed. We eyed each other waiting for one of us to make a move.

  That problem was solved when my father stood on the cliff above and called out my name. I couldn’t see him just as he couldn’t see us. However, the heap of clothing and picnic would be reason enough for him to think we were there. That was also true especially if someone saw us heading in this direction. As if I was still fourteen and under his thumb, I found myself answering his call with a Yes, Father, and swimming toward the bank to get my clothes.

  By the time I’d made my way up and to our makeshift picnic, my stoic father was gone. He hadn’t had to say that he wanted to speak with me. His coming had been words enough.

  Turner had just made it up to the top, dripping wet, when I gave him a quick pursuing glance. There was no mistaking his thoughts the way he ogled my wet form, just like I couldn’t ignore his attractiveness. I’d been lucky that long ago that he’d chosen me. I didn’t fully understand why he hadn’t yet settled down. Before my libido could get the better of me, I headed off. There was no need for words. Turner understood our world and knew that when my father spoke, it was marching orders.

  I hurried through the trees, pushing my damp hair back as it dripped down my back. We hadn’t planned on swimming, thus I had nothing to dry off with. When I broke through the tree line, my father stood with a few other important looking men I recognized. My bursting through the brush gave notice to the threesome as I stumbled to a stop not wanting to embarrass my father. No doubt my dress was wet in places giving away what I’d been up to.

  A few more quiet words were said before the other two men departed. My father gave me the once over with disapproval. He still had a way of making me feel like a school girl.

  With purposeful steps, he strode over to me. His first words stung me. “Bailey, stop messing with the boy. You’ll only confuse him.”

  Instead, I was confused. When I opened my mouth to protest, my father held up a hand. “Turner deserves better than to believe you’ll be with him this time. We both know you aren’t staying. I suggest you leave him be so he may find another.”

  My tongue had been set free long ago once I ventured out on my own. And now it spoke over my brain’s protest. “Father, I would never…”

  He pressed me with a stare that would stop a raging bull. Immediately, my tongue halted.

  “Tonight is the monthly council meeting,” he said. “As long as you are here you might as well be an asset to this community. Use that fancy degree we paid for and prepare the books for an accounting at sundown.”

  It would have been easy to mention that scholarships and grants had funded most of my college. And I could have asked why Betty hadn’t prepared for this meeting as she surely was fully aware of the schedule and duties in my stead. In fact, I’d only taken over for her after she apprenticed me. Once I left, the duty fell back on her. Again she served double duty as school mistress and bookkeeper.

  However, none of that mattered. My father had spoken. There was no choice for me other than to comply. I didn’t resent it because I’d come here and knew what my responsibilities would be. I was eating the community’s food and using other supplies. It was everyone’s duty to contribute however they could. So I nodded, and my father walked off towards the center of town.

  I stood for only another minute in time to see Turner come through the brush. My father was right. I couldn’t lead him on until I knew what I wanted. I turned from him and headed in the direction of the school house.

  Chapter Five

  Walking back into the office that day was odd. My arrival in town was circulating and creating a buzz. Kids of all ages turned when I opened the door. The one room served as preschool, elementary, middle and high school. Right then most desks were filled with teens. It appeared there were fewer really younger ones these days. Things were changing and many weren’t staying in the community when they came of age.

  Betty, my old teacher, sat at her desk with a red pencil in her hand. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled back in a severe bun like the rest of the women, including me. She was the only one that didn’t look up at my entrance. My sister Mary spoke to a group of students and barely gave me a glance. She was a teacher’s assistant apprenticing to take over. It appeared her dream was coming true. What my eye latched onto was the bundle swaddled around her. My sister was the first of us to bear fruit of the baby boy kind.

  It had been in my plan since yesterday to go and greet, hug and kiss my nephew, but Mary had been busy each time I saw her. Not to mention, Turner had distracted me. At the moment, I had a lot to do before sundown. After the meeting, I would make it a point to speak to her, if I didn’t see her before then. Plus, according to my father’s edict, I would be staying at her house. So, I gave her a small wave and smile, before heading into the office to so the work. Betty would be thrilled not to have to deal with the books and lesson plans as well.

  As I worked, my mind drifted to Kalen. He consumed my thoughts so much that when I turned in my seat to reach for a book on the floor, my dress shifted to rub across my breast. Fantasies of him sparked to life. He had awakened something in me. And my need was constant. In my head, I could hear him call out the word lass, before his tongue flicked over my hardened nipples. It took all my willpower not to touch myself no matter that the door had closed me in. And the phone beckoned me as I thought about phone sex with the man. When he’d gone out of town not too long ago, we indulged ourselves in that activity every night. Just a few buttons pressed, and his voice could take care of the fire that stoked in me.

  Moving my head side to side, I shook the thoughts away. I had a job to do. Kalen had most likely already moved on. He hadn’t called me lass or even sweetheart when I’d spoken to him yesterday. I’d been Bailey. When was the last time he used my given name? His words of love before we’d parted had probably been to soften the blow that we had to stop seeing each other. And he hadn’t made an attempt to fight for me. So, again, I pushed thoughts of him away and got back to work.

  The sun was setting when I closed the ledger. I picked up the handwritten accounting of where the community stood with cash and what was expected to come in and out of the bank account for the things that were known. In the time given, I couldn’t complete a full audit of the books. I focused on confirming the bank statements and invoices to be paid and incoming receipts for small grocers that paid on account.

  I was so busy when my sister popped her head in. I could only give her a quick hug and take a peek at the baby who still slept before she was on her way. Then I was back nose deep in numbers and ledgers. I didn’t let the briefness of our visit bother me. I would be spending my nights with her and her husband. I would have plenty of it to catch up with her later.

  My stomach rumbled as I left the school house and headed to the town square where everyone would be gathered. There would be a meeting with the elders of our clan before one of them would speak to the community as a whole to discuss the needs and welfare of our existence. This was something routinely done and as with all traditions around here, I didn’t expect that anything had changed in the last few years I’d been gone.

  My stomach continued its warpath as I made my way to the square. Silently, I promised it a feast. On these occasions the food would be plentiful. Every family brought a dish for the pot luck. There would be more than enough to choose from. As an added bonus, dinner would be served in the town hall but eaten outside if the weather permitted.

  Spotting my father, I headed in his direction with a folder of the information he needed to start the elders’ meetings. The sun was just visible on the horizon. Thankfully, I wasn’t late. When he spotted me, it was the first time since I arrived back home I saw approval on his face.

  Before I could reach him, I was stopped by Turner stepping into my path. I hadn’t told him the task my father had put me on, and he hadn’t come after me. He didn’t know that I needed to get this information into my father’s hands before I could b
reathe again. The need to please Father was like a pressing weight I didn’t think I’d ever overcome.

  “Are you running from me, Bails?” Turner asked. He didn’t give me time to answer. “Because it feels like you keep running away from me. I’m starting to wonder if something’s wrong with me.”

  “No,” I said softly, closing my eyes to the emotion that hit me every time I was near him. “I just have to get these numbers to my father.” I raised the folder as proof.

  He nodded and stepped out of my way. I gave Turner a smile before I found a scowl on my father’s face. I sighed, because I was starting to wonder if a hotel would have been a better hiding place than coming home.

  It was a long time before I saw Turner again that night. I was pulled into a yawn worthy elder meeting to give a verbal accounting of the books. There were a lot of nods and several questions. Luckily, I’d spent the night before going through the ledgers and could answer most of their questions. That had been a stroke of luck. After I had been sent away, my father gave me strict instructions to help the other women in the food line, dishing out plates.

  The chattering women were more than happy to put me to work.

  My mother smiled and commented, “You look a little thin,” while others looked curious.

  The only response I offered was to hold up the plate I was adding a side dish too. With a waiting line, no one had time to comment more or ask about my reappearance in town.

  My feet felt like weighted blocks were attached to them by the time everyone had been served. Finally, I was able to make my own plate and head to the table where my older sister Violet sat with an unfamiliar man.

  Seated at the end of a long table, they were curiously left with plenty of seats in between them and another group who sat at the other end. She was all but isolated with only the man who I assumed was her husband. I made a mental note to find out what that was all about. Our community generally didn’t openly shun people. And the way people walked by without speaking to them told a story that I needed to hear.