Coming Back (10 page)

Christie

Dean looked nervous, and had since he picked me up.  I hoped my dad hadn’t gone all ‘what are your intentions with my daughter’ on him and although Dean didn’t go into details about what exactly they
had
been talking about, he assured me it wasn’t that.

Still, nothing I did seemed to put him completely at ease.  It was kind of strange for me to be in the role of trying to cheer somebody up again.  Strange but good, as if I was pulling my own emotional weight in some way.

I smiled when Dean pulled up to another spot just as beautiful as King’s favorite ball-chasing clearing, even better if you liked views of a lake, which I did.  He pulled the handbrake on and I rubbed his leg.

“Where is everybody?  I would have thought a bunch of people would have wanted to get out of the house today.”

“This part is actually private property, an old friend of my parents.  Not sure if you saw the sign on that gate on the way in, but it said that trespassers would be fed to the dogs, and it’s normally closed.  We’ve got the place to ourselves all the livelong day.”

“Oh, wow.  Friends in all the right places,” I said.

Dean swallowed hard and gave me a weak smile.  “Let’s unpack.”

Dean exited his door and headed to the back while I stepped out and opened the rear door for King, who leaped out and began smelling everything.  I joined Dean by the trunk and accepted the picture-perfect picnic basket from him and let him pile a picnic blanket on top of it.

“Pick a spot.  Not too far from the car,” he added, eyeing something in the trunk like a rectangular box wrapped in muddy old sheets.

Dean took a deep breath and heaved it out, muscles bulging with the strain as I gave him a quizzical look.  I slowly led the way towards a nice flat area, still unsure about what exactly he was doing.

“I hope that’s not your attempt at baking a cake,” I said.

“Can’t talk, back broken,” he said through gritted teeth as he tottered after me.

I set the basket down and Dean dropped whatever it was he was carrying with a grunt of relief.  It hit the soft ground with a thud, and Dean put his hands on the small of his back and leaned backwards.

“OK, I give up.  What is it?” I asked.

“Just a second.”

Dean went back to the car and retrieved something else from the trunk before slamming it shut.  On his way back I thought it was just a stick, but when he was closer, I saw it was actually a sledgehammer he was holding near the head with the handle pointing forward.

“Here,” he said, holding the handle towards me.

“Oh… Kay,” I said, reaching out.

When I had a good grip and Dean let go, the hammer promptly swung down and almost slammed into my foot.  It was a lot heavier than I expected.

Dean knelt down and began opening the mystery object from its makeshift wrapping paper, yanking and ripping the old sheets where he needed to.  The first glimpse I caught of it, I could see it was made of stone, marble or granite or something, but when he unfolded the last piece of covering and exposed the words, all the blood drained from my face and I went so numb that I lost grip of the sledgehammer completely, the handle falling harmlessly to the side.

Christabelle Jayne

Beloved Daughter, Sister and Friend

1988 – 2012

Taken Unjustly

I thought I was going to faint, the terror couldn’t have been more palpable if I had woken up in the middle of the night with somebody holding this grave marker over my head and about to crush me.  My eyes were fixed on it as if it were a snake that would bite me if I didn’t, and I could feel a vague tingling sensation all over my skin through the numbness.

My heart boomed in my ears and the sound of my breath seemed to come from a long way away.  Wherever it was really coming from, none of the oxygen got to me and I didn’t even notice that Dean had stood up and was holding my hand.

“Christie?  Christie?”

He reached up with his other hand and shook me by my shoulder, his arm breaking my line of sight to that symbol of my death.  I looked up at him.

“Why?  Why would you do this?  Cover it up.  Take it away.  I don’t want to look at it, I can’t.”

I didn’t really care why he did it, all I wanted was for it to go away like everything else that had hurt me.  After so many steps forward, this felt like a giant leap back pulled by an elastic rope tied around my waist.  Worse than that, it felt like betrayal too.

“Yes, you can.  You can do more than that.  You can smash it into tiny little pieces, because it’s not even real.  It’s got no power over you.  You’re Christabelle Jayne,
the
Christabelle Jayne from Warfields, and I love you. 
Nobody
does that to you.”

Dean paused for a moment and I realized he wasn’t just holding my hand, he’d put the handle of the sledgehammer back into my grip.  The numbness started fading away, taking the thundering panic of my heartbeat with it.  I looked into his eyes, centering myself there, feeling that deep love he’d harbored for me as if it was literally flowing into my body through his hands.

“You told me something a while ago.  You said you felt like you were alive.  If you’re alive, then what the hell do you need with this?  Do it, Christie. 
Do it!
  Tear it
down
!”

Dean stood back, and in the distance I could see that even King had stopped his inspection of our surroundings to watch.  I looked down and saw that hammer, my knuckles white on the long handle, and I pulled it up, struggling until I had it over my shoulder.  It was impossibly heavy.

My determination faltered.  I thought about everything that had happened, how big and scary the world had ended up being, how insignificant I’d been in the face of all that evil, how helpless to stop my life from slipping away.

“I can’t do it.  I’m too small.”

Dean shook his head.  “You’re not small.  You’ve
never
been small.  You’re big.”

The way he said it, the way he looked at me, left me in no doubt that he believed it.  I lifted the sledgehammer off my shoulder and tried to aim it at the memorial slab.

How much my own strength added to the swing was dubious.  Its sheer weight brought it down with a fair amount of force already.  By sheer luck, the business end of the hammer came down right on ‘2012’, sending a small chip of stone flying and leaving the number illegible.

I gaped at it for longer than a reasonable person would have.  It was just a little piece of stone that had been moved from one place to another, but it felt like so much more.

Never in a million years of Sundays would I have ever dared to go to Warfields cemetery and do anything like this.  Somebody probably would have removed the grave marker when they remembered, but somehow I didn’t think that would have felt like this.

I had literally removed the end of my life from the record.  It was set in stone, but I changed it.  It was a weak swing, sure, but it was powerful because
I
did it.

Suddenly, the world seemed smaller, more manageable.  Or maybe I felt bigger.  Either way, the sledgehammer came up a lot easier this second time and then came down with a lot more force, the metal ringing on the stone with satisfying volume.

“That’s it, Christie!  Go! 
Go
!”

Dean was cheering me on better than I ever had when he played football.  Again and again I hit the stone plaque, sending little bits of it skittering off in all directions.

“What’s the matter, Christie?  Got nothing to say?  It’s OK to be angry about what happened to you!  Let it go!”

“I
want
… my life…
back!
”

I yelled at the grave marker, defying its power.  Every swing of the sledgehammer turned my voice into a strained shriek of anger and sadness all rolled into one.

“Go, Christie!”

“It’s not…
fair
!”  I screamed.

“Break it!  Break it!”

“I’m Christie…
fucking
… Jayne and you can’t kill…
me!  You can’t kill me!  You can’t kill me, you fuck!
”

“
YES
!”

Dean was pumping the air with both fists and it was a few more swings before I realized I’d broken the damn thing clean in half.  I didn’t stop.  I kept swinging, the curse words flowing from my mouth thick and fast enough to drown a sailor.  Dean or King, maybe both, howled in triumph and by the time I ran out of steam, I was laughing like a lunatic.

I flung the sledgehammer as far away as I could and looked at the remains of my own headstone, which had been reduced to little more than gravel.  Then I fell over backwards, exhausted but still laughing.

A calm washed over me when I caught my breath and I looked up at the blue sky with a soul that felt almost as clear as that cloudless expanse, a blank canvas for something better than pain and heartache to be written on.

After the cacophony, the wind through the grass was barely distinguishable from silence.  It was a peaceful place again.

Dean knelt on one knee next to me.  “I bet that worked up an appetite,” he said.

I nodded and smiled, reaching up around his neck when he leaned down to kiss me.  His lips pressed against mine and by the time they parted I was breathless again, my breasts heaving just under him.

“I love you, Christie.  I always have.”

I gulped, feeling the first paint stroke on that blank canvas like a buzzing ball of excitement in my chest.

“I love you too, Dean.”

Dean closed his eyes and seemed to savor the sound of those words for a moment, then looked at me again, unrestrained joy etched on his face.

“Set out the picnic then.  I’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you going now?”  I asked.

“I’ve got to find my sledgehammer.”

I tried to apologize, but I couldn’t get the words out because I was laughing too much.

Christie

I was tingling with excitement, aching from the exertion of obliterating my memorial slab, satisfied from the tasty picnic lunch and, most importantly, I was in love.  The food may have sated my hunger, but I wanted more of Dean.  I stole a glance at him as he drove us back to his place and bit my bottom lip.

The butterflies in my stomach made me look away again after only a few seconds.  This was a special day, Dean had already made sure of that.  No matter what else happened, I’d remember it until the moment I died.

It wasn’t over yet though.  The way Dean treated me, like a princess, had been chipping away at my inhibitions for months and the more I looked at him, the more my desire to share our love in a more… physical way grew.

He’d held my hand, he’d cradled my head as we kissed.  I wanted to feel those hands touch me everywhere, to give as much of myself to him as he wanted to take.

I wondered if he could feel that sexual tension, like static in the air, the way I could.  Maybe he could, we drove the whole way hardly saying a word and unpacked the car that way too.  Every look, every glance was charged with that energy, silent like before a storm.

King was given his dinner outside and Dean closed the door behind him before washing his hands.  I leaned against the edge of the counter, gripping it almost as if I was holding myself back, as he dried off.

When he turned to look at me, I had no doubt that some of the same thoughts I had were also crossing his mind.  Maybe his love always had that undercurrent of lust but I couldn’t let myself see it, couldn’t let myself believe it.  But it was there, right here, right now.

Dean took a step towards me and I wet my lips, feeling those butterflies make my heartbeat speed up.  He took another step and I almost whimpered in anticipation, with desperate
wanting
.

With one last step, I felt his leg move between mine as he pressed close, pinning me between himself and the counter.  My breasts pressed against him, and then the rest of my body as I finally let go of my death grip and reached up to wrap my arms around his neck.

His hands lightly touched my hips and his fingers found the bottom of my shirt, sliding upwards and pushing it out of the way until he was touching my bare skin, his thumbs stroking my midriff and sending electric shivers cascading through my body and his fingers at the sides of my lower back.

We’d kissed before, but now everything was taking on new and deeper meaning, and I felt my lips quiver as I rose up on the tips of my toes and our bodies rubbed tantalizingly together.  His grip on my waist firmed when our lips touched and I couldn’t hold back that whimper a second time, which came out as a quiet moan in the midst of our kiss.

When our mouths parted, I opened my eyes in time to see Dean open his.  I let go of his neck and held my arms straight up.  He took the hint and pulled my shirt up over my head and off, dropping it on the floor.

His hands trailed down the outsides of my arms and moved to my back as I lowered them, the tips of his fingers moving so slowly and deliberately.  He pulled me against him for a moment, watching the way my breasts pressed on his torso, bulging over the cups of my bra.

I looked down at the view he was enjoying and then up into his eyes with a mischievous smile.  Dean met my gaze with a hungry look and then his eyes dropped again as he found the clasp on my bra strap.

If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that Dean liked what he saw when he looked at me, more than anybody I’d ever been with.  It was more than a little empowering, it made me feel so unashamedly
sexy
I could have torn
his
clothes off right then and there, but I held back, savoring the sensation of being unwrapped like a present he’d waited his whole life for.

The release of my bra strap was an immense relief.  I breathed deeply, feeling the cool air on my skin under the now loose garment.  Dean’s hands moved back to my shoulders and pulled the straps down my arms.

He breathed a sigh of appreciation when my bra joined my shirt on the floor, and I moaned in return when his hands found their way to my exposed mounds, kneading and lifting them as my nipples poked into his palms.  I grabbed the edge of the counter again to brace myself, pushing my chest out against his grip all the more firmly.

For an instant before he pulled away, I could feel the unmistakable evidence of his own arousal prodding against my belly.  I wasn’t sure what he was doing for a second, but he quickly showed me when he reached around under my ass and pulled me up into the air so my legs wrapped around him and that bulge was far more intimately positioned.

“Come with me,” he said as I secured my arms around his neck and he began to carry me towards his bedroom.

“Was I speeding, officer?” I asked.

Dean smirked and then kissed me as he walked, carrying me as if I weighed nothing at all.  He let me down on my feet beside his bed and I pushed his shirt up and off as he had done for me, revealing that chiseled physique I’d had hints of through his clothes before.

I felt his biceps, his pecs, and ran my fingers over his abs like a xylophone as he hooked his thumbs into my pants and underwear and began tugging down one side and then the other until he had to kneel to continue removing them.

His hot breath tickled my thigh as I lifted first one foot and then the other to let him remove my last stiches of clothing.  I could sense his eyes roaming over my naked body for the first time, almost like they were gentle fingertips themselves, exploring me everywhere.

As he stood again, the actual fingertips of one hand glided up one inner thigh, passing a mere fraction of an inch to the left of my exposed sex.  A jolt of lust from between my legs made me gasp.  I reached out with both hands, seeking that tantalizing bulge that had pressed against me a few minutes ago, and found what I was looking for.

“I want to feel every last inch of you, Christie,” Dean said barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” I breathed back.

Dean moved forward and I had no choice but to sit on the bed.  There was nowhere else to go.  He reached down and guided my feet up on the mattress before gently pushing down on my shoulders until I was lying down.

“Lie on your front.” Dean reached into the bedside table and pulled something out.

“What is that?”

“Massage oil.”

“How convenient,” I teased.

After all the heavy lifting today, my muscles were sore enough that I wasn’t about to turn down a massage.  I rolled over and turned to look at him, flicking my hair out of the way so I could see better.

Dean mounted the bed and straddled my lower legs.  I watched him as he moved until he was right behind me and it was uncomfortable to crane my neck.  I closed my eyes.

I kept him in my mind, imagining every movement that I could feel.  The sound of the top being screwed off the little bottle preceded the sensation of a slightly cold liquid being slowly dripped between my shoulder blades.

My breath caught at the first drop, and I shivered deliciously at each one that followed.  He drizzled the oil all over my back, even on the curves of my ass and my upper thighs, and a wonderfully sensual and subtle aroma began the unwinding of muscles that I hoped his hands would finish.

Droplets of the sweet-smelling liquid tickled my skin as they sought lower ground, coming together at my lower back or disappearing around my sides.  Oh so clearly I felt the trails that went between my legs, lightly brushing past my most intimate area just as Dean’s fingers had.

Untouched by a loving man for so long, it seemed Dean was going to make these last few moments a wonderful teasing torture.  I couldn’t help but smile when I felt him lean over and heard the little ‘clunk’ of the bottle being set down.

Starting low, near the biggest reservoir of massage oil, the heels of his hands slid firmly up my back, eliciting a couple cracks and pops from my vertebrae.  I sighed heavily at the release and quivered when he reached the top and his fingers trailed lightly down my sides before repeating the motion several times.

By the time he’d been through an impressive routine, including using his knuckles along my spine and the tips of his fingers along my ribcage, I was in heaven and feeling so good.  I winced and sucked air in through my teeth when he moved his attentions down to the cheeks of my ass.  Who knew that destroying the relic of your own death would be such a good workout for
those
muscles?

I was putty in his hands when I felt the mattress shift under me, and I opened my eyes to see him stand and remove his pants.  My eyes widened when he stood naked before me, and I felt my first flutter of nerves mixed in with the excited anticipation since we returned to his house.

He returned to the bed and we moved together as I rolled over and he positioned himself between my legs.  My heart beat wildly in my chest, seeing him kneel over me like that.  His manhood stood to attention against the backdrop of his muscular torso like some kind of sex god, and I gulped.

“G-gentle,” I said.

Dean nodded and reached out for my hand, bringing it to his stiff rod.  I quivered with another electric jolt from between my legs that traversed my body and made my toes curl with lustful wanting.

“Put me in.”

He leaned over me and I felt him, so thick and hard, in my hand.  Slowly but relentlessly, he pushed forward and I guided his length just where I wanted it.

I bit my bottom lip so hard I feared I might draw blood and squeezed my eyes shut as the feel of him inside me burned with pain like it was my first time, but he was as gentle as he promised and it wasn’t long before my body remembered the steps to this dance too, the primal joy and ecstasy of it.

Promises were hard to keep after a while as we took our pleasure from each other’s bodies.  I found myself occasionally on top, feeling like a wild woman, and sometimes under him, feeling all his power shaking me like a ragdoll.

Nothing in the world existed except pure pleasure, and that was fine by me.  I wanted to prolong that feeling until I passed out from exhaustion and found an eager accomplice in Dean.