At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories) - By Barbara Bretton Page 0,83
drunk on her scent, on the silky wet feel of her hair between his fingers, of the sounds she made when he touched her. She had always been so joyous, so responsive, so eager to give and receive pleasure as if it were a sacrament of the flesh. All of those sweetly carnal memories flooded his heart as he touched and kissed and tasted her. She was the other half of his soul. Time had changed nothing at all. He wasn't free of her, not even close. She was there inside his head, his heart, his blood, where she had been from the very beginning, where she would always be and he hated her for the power she still held over him.
He deepened the kiss, drawing her very breath into his soul. He cupped her face between his hands and memorized every plane and angle, the short straight nose, the generous mouth, the warm intelligent brown eyes glittering now with desire and then he remembered a note left propped on the kitchen table with the words "Goodbye" scrawled at the bottom and the anger and pain was as fresh and cutting now as it had been eight long years ago.
Cold water couldn't have worked any better.
He sat back against his seat and clutched the steering wheel. He was breathing hard.
She adjusted her jacket and smoothed her hair. Her hands were trembling.
They didn't say another word until he dropped her off at the front door of her father's house and then the only word they said was goodbye.
Chapter Thirteen
Noah let her off at the top of the driveway, as close to Gramma Del's front door as possible. He offered to see her inside but she refused. He lingered in the driveway and he didn't begin rolling back down toward the street until she turned and motioned that it was okay for him to leave. A gentleman to the end.
At least she hadn't bumped into Ben or Laquita. She felt too exposed right now, too vulnerable, to make small talk. All she wanted to do was slip into Gramma Del's cottage unnoticed and try to make sense of the fact that the boy she loved was now a man with a child.
Unfortunately she wasn't fast enough because the side door of her father's house opened and Laquita stepped outside.
"Knee or ankle?" Laquita asked, falling into step with her.
"Ankle." Gracie made a face. "A sprain. I'm a chronic klutz."
"Lean on me," Laquita said. "A little ice, a little elevation, and you'll be good as new."
"That's what I was thinking."
"That's right." Laquita looked up at her. "You're a vet. So, tell me, what do you do when an Irish setter sprains her ankle?"
"I'll let you know when it happens," Gracie said
Laquita pushed open the door to Gramma Del's cabin and they stepped inside. Pyewacket strolled toward them with the world-weary air of one to the manner born. "That can't be Sam!"
"This is Pyewacket. Sam died five years ago." Now there was a conversation stopper for you. Nothing like talking about dead pets with your new stepmother.
Laquita motioned toward the chair. "Take off that wet jacket, then sit down and put your foot up on the coffee table while I get some ice."
"Funny," said Gracie as she shrugged out of her jacket, "but I don't remember you being this bossy when we were in school."
"Really?" Laquita walked back into the room carrying a large bag of mixed vegetables. "I don't remember you being so klutzy."
Gracie laughed even though she sensed maybe the slightest edge to Laquita's innocent words. Then again, she might have been guilty of that herself.
"No ice," Laquita said, kneeling down in front of Gracie. "This'll have to do."
Gracie jumped as the bag of vegetables touched her skin. "It would be easier to go out and play in the snow."
"Assuming we had snow The weather's been unnaturally warm. I can't remember ever reaching Thanksgiving week without snow." Laquita claimed the corner of the sofa next to Gracie then Pye claimed Laquita.
Traitor, thought Gracie. Fair-weather friend.
"So was that Noah's car I saw backing out of the driveway?" Laquita absently stroked behind Pye's ear with the finesse of a woman who was accustomed to cats. Pye looked like he was in heaven.
Gracie nodded. "He found me sitting on the curb and gave me a lift home."
"You should've asked him in. I have some cookies for Sophie."
"You know Sophie?"
Laquita lifted her left pant leg and pointed toward a fading bruise on her shin. "I know Sophie."