Page 45 of Rainwater
With a satisfied smile, Ellie innocently opened the door to leave, unaware of the blow she’d just dealt him.
His throat constricted and he suddenly found things blurring the room.
He couldn’t answer, so he nodded. He didn’t raise his head until the door clicked shut. He didn’t know how much more he could take before he was broken completely in half. Maybe he had been wrong to come here and stir up her feelings for a father she’d never had. He was going to hurt her when he left and suddenly he couldn’t bear that.
Raw gut-clenching pain racked him and he rose from the chair and went to the easel near the window. He’d painted the forbidden picture again. He removed the white cloth he’d draped over it last night. Some of the paint had rubbed off onto it. He hadn’t slept, just painted at a frantic pace. Just looking at it was as painful as Ellie’s words. It was his fondest wish brought to life. Deliberately he picked up the knife lying on the table and made the first cut. It hurt physically. Each stroke burned in his heart, scarred his soul. But he didn’t stop until the destruction was complete. The destruction of his dream. And without dreams, there could be no hope.
Chapter
Nine
Lying here in the dark, hungering for Jennifer, wasn’t doing him a damn bit of good. He threw back the covers and got out of bed. He should have gotten on that bus. He would have been in San Antonio now—doing what, he didn’t know. Wandering aimlessly, hungering for Jennifer. He didn’t have the money or transportation. He needed this job as much as she needed him.
He picked up the picture of his mother and sister that he kept near his bed wherever he went. He looked into their faces and saw the haunted eyes of his mother and the wise old eyes of his sister. If only his mother had listened to him and left his father.If only. He put down the picture and pulled on his jeans. Barefoot, he exited his room, padded across the living room and opened the door. Stepping outside, he took in the crisp night air.
Ellie’s words seemed to hush around him like the soft promise of beauty in a woman’s smile, the sudden laughter of children and the sharp sound of a baby’s first cry. He wanted to reach out and take what she had so innocently offered him. To be her father would be a privilege, an honor, a blessing, but he couldn’t do it. He had failed too many people already.
His inability to save his mother and sister was just another failure in a long line of failures. Why was loving so difficult, he wondered. He stepped off the porch and headed toward the barn. The pungent scent of horses and hay greeted him as he stepped inside. He walked down the row of stalls until he got to the one with the mare, Limelight, was bedded down for the night. He draped his arms over the stall and spoke a soft word of beckoning. He’d made some progress with her. She was used to his voice and his scent. Even so, she approached cautiously and he knew how she felt.
He’d learned it was always better in any type of relationship to be cautious. Letting someone touch you was risky because touch was the first sensation he remembered hating. Touching hurt.
He closed his eyes, the silence of the barn ringing with his father’s vile curses and accusations—and the sound of a hand hitting already bruised and stinging flesh.
Without warning, warm, soft hands traveled over his back and wrapped around his waist. He jerked from the gentleness of the caress. Jennifer’s touch was like a salve to his soul, cooling the stinging pain of things that could never be. She was teaching him that touch could feel so good. Good enough to die for.
“So, did Ellie show you her picture?”
“Yes,” he whispered, not wanting to destroy the fragile peace that she had just woven around him, a buffer to the destruction that had him leaving his bed in the middle of the night.
“She’s drawing beautifully. Whatever you told her seems to have sunk in,” she said.
“I should have known you would know where she was.”
“I guess I’m too overprotective.”
“No, you’re not. Children are precious and need to be watched every second. It pays to be cautious.”
“Tell me why you hated your father,” Jennifer said after a few moments of silence, her arms still wrapped around his waist, her face against his back.
He’d never talked to anyone about his abusive father. His typical reaction had been to deny. He could remember the lies he’d told friends, doctors and teachers.I fell. OrI tripped. He used to break out in a cold sweat at the thought that anyone would find out he wasn’t from a normal family. Even now, as an adult whose father couldn’t hurt him anymore, he hesitated and agonized, still trapped in the dark nightmare.
As if sensing his distress, she kissed his back and her hands moved, stroking his ribs. He sighed, marveling at how soft her touch was, how good it felt to be caressed and held. The hunger that ate at him every day seemed to abruptly abate. He soaked up the essence of her, craving for more of her touch. “I don’t want to talk about him tonight, Jennifer.”
“I’ll help you to sleep if you want.”
“Jennifer, please,” he said in a begging tone that told her how close he was to the end of his endurance.
“I promise, Corey. I’ll just help you to sleep.”
He turned around and met her thickly lashed, tormented eyes. Sincere eyes, loving eyes, knowing eyes. Something broke within him, but instead of substance rushing out, something beautiful and strong rushed in and filled him up. His voice was hoarse and wry when he finally spoke, “No funny business.”
She smiled, a look coming over her face that was very much like Ellie’s sly expression. “Even if I promise to respect you in the morning?”
He laughed, a great wonderful bubbling inside of him. She returned his smile and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close in the warm, pungent barn. The heat of her seeped into his body, warming cold and lonely places—places he thought were out of reach from any human touch.
“I need that tonight, Jennifer. I need you,” he offered sincerely. “No pretenses or complications. I just need your touch.” He pulled away from her and looked into her face, the dim light throwing shadows across her delicate features. He never realized how much pleasure a human being could derive from a simple touch. He needed to feel her in his arms, to wrap her close and tight. The thought released the tension in him, diffused the bitter anger always seething below the surface, dissipated the restless energy that had him pacing in confusion.
She held such power in her small, delicate hands. He reached down and captured one, bringing it up into the light. He turned it over, studying the elegant fingers and soft skin. Gently he traced her life line and felt her shudder beneath his hands. He wanted to howl at the moon, so intense was the feeling her response evoked in him.
