My Kind Of Crazy (20 page)

“No, you’re not defenseless. Not with your blue eyes and
blonde hair. I thought you would have been married by now, Anastasia
D’Salvatore.” I roll my eyes at his girly tone and realize that he’s mocking
Mrs. Evans.

“You heard that?”

“Oh yes, I heard that and much more. But Anastasia?” I look
up at his deadly serious expression. “I’m crazy, you know. Bat shit crazy. Mrs.
Evans and the entire town are going to wonder what someone like you is doing
with someone like me. They’ll talk. It could get ugly. They’ll say things like,
‘I don’t understand how you can live in that house when-‘, and it’ll be about
me this time.” A smile plays across my face as I lean back into my pillows and
tug his face down to mine. He has to stand and twist at an odd angle, but it’s
worth it.

“Haven’t you heard?” I ask him quietly, and he looks down at
me quizzically. “I’m bat shit crazy, too. Why, I live in a house where someone
was murdered! And now I’ll be living in a house with some crazy bastard who
hears
voices
!” I snicker into a kiss until it gets serious. Chief
Robertson returns with his coffee, but I hear his boots squeak as he turns on
his heel and walks right back out of the room.

She’s the worst kind of patient.

Anastasia D’Salvatore is worse than her father when he
almost broke his foot and had to stay in bed for three days. It’s only been
twenty four hours since she returned from the hospital, and she’s attempting to
lift her laptop so that she can get to work. I don’t know how she intends to
type, but I suppose she hasn’t thought that far along.

I step into the room and grab the laptop before she drops it
and starts crying like she did when she dropped the pickle jar yesterday, and
it splattered all over her. She didn’t cry when I helped her in the shower, at
least, not the kind of crying with tears. I smile at the memory, and she takes
it the wrong way. I was wrong. She’s not grumpy when she’s injured. She’s
downright almost insufferable!

“Don’t you dare laugh at me Jonah Quinton! I’ll pummel you
with my good fist in your sleep. You’ll see!” An eye roll would only get me
into more trouble, so I keep it to myself and flip open the lid for her. She
sits down ungracefully into the kitchen table chair and starts clicking away
like a madwoman.

I don’t know what she’s worried about. Between the two of
us, we have enough to rebuild the barn much larger, and enough money to build a
rancher. She doesn’t want a house with stairs. And she wants another dog. I
just want to be able to make her happy for a very long time.

I’m not the type of guy to pop the question right away, but
in a few months I think I’ll have my feet wet enough in the water of the
relationship to feel comfortable doing it. Besides, a guy needs a few months to
get his life in order before he can go ring shopping. I hear the clanging of
tools outside and sigh as I look down at her.

“Are you going to behave yourself while I help out the
guys?” If she could spit like a cat, she might. Her blue eyes are stormy as
they narrow, and her lips form a thin line as she stares at me.

“I’m perfectly fine. Go outside and muck around with your
tools and wood, Jonah. Or I’ll be forced to play the ‘Jonah’s gone crazy’
card.” My own eyes narrow as I quirk my lip up into a crooked grin. I’ve found
this one makes her shiver and melt in ways that makes me want to ignore the
fact that her arm is in a sling.

“Oh, I’ll play with my wood alright, D’Salvatore. You want
to watch?” She picks up a pen as if she’s going to throw it at me, and I duck
as I make it to the entrance to the bedroom on the first floor. This week is
the barn project, next week the house will be started. I’ll help out on that as
much as I can, too. Then I’ll start planning for next year’s crops.

I head back outside and pick up a hammer to start where I
left off. This barn will have twelve stalls, a conveyor belt to help with
cleaning, and a loft for storage. I’m planning on having a horse just for shits
and giggles, and maybe a few sheep. I’ll need something that will produce some
of my fertilizer for the organic corn crops I’ll be growing. I’ve heard organic
is in demand now.

Later that evening, I help Anastasia out of her button up
blouse. She figured out at the hospital that button ups are a lot easier than a
shirt that has to be slipped over the head. Then I slide it off her shoulders
and can’t help my admiration for her flawless body. To me it’s flawless.
Someone else might see the scars, but I see the beauty of a woman’s strength
and passion when I look at Anastasia standing before me.

Her cheeks flush at my obvious inspection of her breasts and
her flat stomach. I help her out of the sling and the shirt sleeve before I do
something irrational, and then I put her arm back up into the sling. She still
has stitches underneath a thin layer of bandaging. They won’t be removed for
another seven days. The ones they had to use on the inside will dissolve on
their own.

“You’re staring,” she whispers self-consciously, and I run
the flat of my palm up from her lower abdomen all the way to her breasts. I
love how they feel soft and heavy in my hands as I tease her into submission.

“I am.” I admit to her, nuzzling her nose until she tilts
her head up so that her lips meet mine. Our breaths mingle, and I try to
breathe through my nose so that I can make the kiss last forever, but we both
have to come up for air.

My right hand moves down as I continue to tease her left
breast with my free hand, and I unsnap the jeans with one flick of my fingers.
Just that movement makes her knees weak, and I have to move away from her
breasts to pull her pants down, along with the pink, lace panties that I helped
her put on after her shower.

Her left hand buries into my short hair and grips tight when
I gently part her legs and run my tongue along the insides of her thighs. The
taste of Anastasia is sweet and salty all at once. I kiss her everywhere but the
one spot that I know will bring her to climax, and then I stand up with the
entire length of my body against hers. I pick her up with my hands on her
bottom, and she wraps her free arm around my neck.

I’m careful not to jostle her bad arm in her sling as I set
her on the bed. Then I gently unwrap her legs from my waist with the smile that
I reserve for her, and I kiss each one of the tiny, pebbly, hard peaks before I
trail my tongue down to her inner thighs. When I’m pretty sure that she can’t
take it anymore, I reach up one hand to play with her nipple, use a finger to
stroke her on the inside, and circle my tongue around her nub until she bucks
against me hard.

I ride the orgasm with her for over half a minute before she
starts priming for another. I could play with her like this for hours on end,
but the doctor did remind me that she needs rest.
She’ll rest really well
tonight if I make her exhausted before bed.
That’s not Tom anymore. That’s
me. It’s been six days since I’ve seen or heard from Tom, and I hope that I can
keep the peace as long as I take my medication.

I switch hands and tease her other nipple while I coax her
into another orgasm, and this time I hold her hips down with my hand until
she’s crying out my name. When I’ve finally satisfied the need to hear her say
my name over and over again, and her fingers are limp in my hair, I pull off my
own pants and slip on a condom. It’s not that I don’t trust her, but I don’t
want little ones running around the house while we’re not married.

Careful of her arm, I position myself overtop of her and
tease her nipples a few times more with my mouth. Just as she’s on the verge of
another climax, I push into her so that I can feel just how much she likes my
touch. Our mouths collide as my hips crush down on hers, and my rhythm remains
steady. I have to take it easy while her arm is healing, but as soon as that
sling is off and she’s feeling better, I’ll show her everything she’ll ever
want to know.

My back arches as my face buries into her neck on her good
side and she calls out to God and me through several different intervals as I
stroke in a little faster each time I pull out. The friction of my hips pushing
against hers and the way her good hand scratches along my back makes me shiver.
I hold out for as long as I can until she’s lying under me breathless and
panting as I spill into her. I almost collapse onto her afterwards, but as the
last second I remember her bad arm and roll to the side.

Her skin is flushed pink, and her lips are swollen from the
rough kisses. I brush some her hair back from her forehead with a shaking hand,
and marvel at how soft it is between my fingers. “You’re so beautiful,” I
whisper without thinking. Anastasia chuckles as she turns her face to me, and I
see her eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Really? With the scars, the craziness, and to top it all
off, my useless arm?” I lean over and kiss her bad arm, and then I kiss all
along her chest until I’m almost at her nipples again. Her skin is salty from
her sweat and warm against my lips.

“Do you still like me even though I’m insane? Certifiably.”
She smiles and rolls over, careful of her arm and kisses the tip of my nose.

“That’s just my kind of crazy, Jonah Quinton, the
certifiable kind.” I look at her with my eyebrow quirked at an odd angle and
one corner of my lips quirked. After that, there aren’t very many words again
for over another hour. Then we’re too exhausted for conversation, and I believe
she’ll sleep like the dead tonight.

She hisses as the therapist moves her arm up and down
gently. Today is the day she gets to take the sling off and start physical
therapy. There are a lot of tiny movements that are supposed to lead up to
miraculous results in three months. Anastasia doesn’t believe the man, but I
remind her every night that it took me weeks to be normal on my medication.
Besides, she was
shot
. That is a lot to come back from.

“Now, I want you to do fifteen repetitions of this once a
day. It will keep the muscles loose and lax for our next session in four days.”
She groans with disappointment, and I cross my arms over my chest as I glare at
her. She’s very intolerable.

As we get into the car, I hear her grumbling about having to
wait even longer for her arm to work right.

“You know, if you want to get some good exercise, you could
pull on something.” She slaps me on the upper arm playfully, but I see a smile
tugging at her lips. We haven’t gone to see that movie, but unbeknownst to her,
we’re going to see it now. I don’t care if she’s in a sports bra with a
sweatshirt overtop and a pair of yoga pants. She looks more beautiful to me
this way than any other way, except for naked.

“Ugh, I just want to be able to pick up a glass with my
right hand again!” I take her left one in mine as I hit the gas pedal when the
light turns green. I raise a few fingers as we pass by Chief Robertson’s squad
car on the side of the road, and he raises his hand in greeting with a smile.

Henry Cooper is being charged for kidnapping, assault,
destruction of evidence, and a slew of other misdemeanors along with federal
crimes that will keep him in jail for a long time. One day he
will
get
out, when he’s an old man, and I’ll be waiting on the other side of those bars
to enact my own justice. Anastasia seems to think he’ll be dead before then
because he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut in prison, but just in case the
criminals in their don’t get to him first, I’ll be waiting.

“Where are we going?” I glance over at her and try to loosen
the grip I have on the steering wheel. I don’t want to think about Henry Cooper
anymore.

“The movies. I figured we’d celebrate you getting your arm
out of the sling. Don’t worry, I’ll hold the popcorn.” Her signature eye roll
makes me smile, and I turn into the parking lot for the theatre. I’m true to my
word. I hold the popcorn.

I step out into the dewy grass of midsummer and raise my
face to the sunshine. Norman brushes against my legs as he leaps past me into
the yard with his tail swishing wildly. It’s heartbreaking at moments like this
when he reminds me of May, and then he rolls in the deer shit by the new barn.
He’s nine months old, and he’s driving me insane, certifiably.

This morning marks the one year anniversary that I found
Jonah Quinton lying on my father’s farmhouse front lawn naked. My lips quirk up
at the corners as I remember that day, and how afraid I was of what the people
in town would think of me. Since I’ve lived a year here as an adult, I’ve found
out that a lot of the people in town are just as crazy as me or worse. So I fit
in quite well here.

The sound of hammering reaches my ears, and Norman takes off
like a streak of lightning across the lawn with a few gummy turds still stuck
in his fur. I raise both my hands above my head as I stretch, and glance down
at the scar from the bullet through my shoulder almost a year ago. Sometimes
during bad weather, the arm will throb with the ghost of the pain I felt when I
was shot. But I’ve regained full use of it.

My ankles brush against the top of the grass as I walk
across the lawn to the barn, and peek my head in the door to see what Jonah is
up to. It looks like he’s still attempting to repair one of the stalls that the
stallion he bought three weeks ago kicked down. The horse is feisty, but Jonah
is hell-bent on understanding what makes that beast tick. I just like to tickle
behind his ears when he feels like behaving.

“Norman rolled in the deer dung again!” I call out to Jonah,
and I hear his grunt of frustration. He doesn’t sound surprised. There must be
something about dogs on this farm that like to roll in any type of feces they
can find. I make sure to keep Norman out of the stallion’s pasture as much as I
can.

“I’ll hose him down before lunch.” Jonah calls back to me,
and I tiptoe through the barn in my flip flops to see how he’s coming along.
The corn is growing nicely, and he’s already talking to a few suppliers that
might want to buy.

“Are you sure you’re going to be up for dinner tonight?”
He’s been promising to cook tonight for weeks now, but I’m not sure that he’ll
feel like it after all this work in the barn. Jonah peeks his head up above the
stall door and smiles at me as he puts his chin on his arms.

“I’ll be up for dinner, and much, much more.” The twinkle in
his eyes makes me suspicious. He’s had this look for over a month now, and it
makes me feel like there is some inside joke I’m missing. I shrug a shoulder
and don’t believe him, but I let him have his illusions. After he comes in,
he’ll ask me to order something from in town, and we’ll pick it up. That’s how
it usually goes on days like this.

“Alright, if you say so. I’m going to get back to work.” The
door to the stall slowly opens, and the twinkle in his eyes gets a little
brighter as he stalks towards me. “What are you doing?” I look at him warily
and start to back away, but it’s too late. Jonah pulls me up into his arms like
I’m a bride being taken over the threshold, and he carries me up into the
hayloft.

“You.” He responds to my question with a cheesy grin, and I
forget about getting back to work. Who could remember anything with a man like
Jonah pulling off his shirt to reveal his hard muscles? He’s bulked up since he
started farming, and I rather like the change.

“What about Norman?” I ask breathily as he pulls my earlobe
between his teeth.

“Norman is fine. He’s probably chasing Rudy around the farm
like a nut already.” After he pulls off my tank top, I forget all about the
fact that Rudy is a one thousand pound mustang and Norman is a sixty five pound
pup yet. Who knew rolling around in the hay could be so fun?

It’s quarter past seven, and I’m tapping my foot impatiently
on the floor as I try to dive into a book on my new eBook reading device. I can
smell the steaks cooking, and I know that they’re going to be medium rare, my
favorite. I wonder if he’s doing this because it’s been exactly a year since I
met him, or if there is something else special he has planned. My mouth waters
and my stomach grumbles.

I’m not supposed to know what’s cooking, but steaks have a
distinct scent.

My hair fans out behind me as I flop back onto the pillows
and let the kindle rest beside me, still in my hand. I hum as I stare at the
ceiling, and I try to control my mouth watering so that I don’t look as bad as
the dog when he’s being fed. Just as I think I cannot take it anymore, I hear
the sound of footsteps getting closer to the room. I hold my breath, and the
door opens.

“Okay, I think I have everything ready.” I sit up with
enthusiasm and walk to the kitchen behind him in bare feet. He’s wearing
nothing but socks, so I assume I don’t need to be wearing shoes for this
occasion.

I’m suspicious when I see the flickering light from the
kitchen, and my suspicions are confirmed as I slip through the doorway. The
kitchen has been transformed into a scene from a fine dining restaurant.
Candles adorn the table along with a white tablecloth. He must have bought that
sometime because I don’t remember it. Other candles are placed around the
kitchen to light the entire room with flickering luminescence.

I no longer harbor the thought that this
might
be a special
occasion for Jonah. He is definitely celebrating something here. I’m seated at
the table by my chef, my waiter, and my live-in boyfriend. I smile as I see
that he remembered where the fork and knife go. He put the glasses on the wrong
side, but I won’t tell him that.

“Voila! Dinner is barely cooked steaks with mashed golden
Yukon potatoes, and a side of red beet salad.” I quirk an eyebrow at the salad,
and wonder if he realizes he’s supposed to serve that first. I’m too starved to
say anything, and I’m not that nitpicky out loud.

“Thanks, so where’d you learn how to make the salad?” I
flick my eyes to the counter when he does, and see my trusty laptop sitting
with the lid down. “Ah, good old Google.”

We eat in silence for a few minutes as if neither one of us
know what to say. I tell him the salad is delicious. He responds appropriately
with a thank you. The dog sniffs my foot and gives me a very wet kiss between
the toes. I feel as if the tension in the room is growing to a palpable amount.
My plate is whisked away to the sink, and desert is removed from the fridge.

My mouth waters at the lemon meringue cupcake in front of me
and I unwrap it slowly. Jonah is sitting with a glaringly nervous face, and I
pull the cupcake away from my mouth right before I’m about to take a big bite
out of it. My eyes narrow and I tilt my head at a questioning angle, but he’s
not budging.

“You’re not going to eat yours?” He’s staring at my hands,
and I feel a little weirded out. Has Jonah finally lost his marbles for good?

“Yeah, yeah I’m going to eat mine. Sorry, just spaced for a
second.” He grabs his cupcake and downs it in three bites. I mumble something
about poor manners and conveniently forget that I was going to do the same to
mine earlier. I help him clean up desert, and I’m about to head back to the
room when he lays a hand on my shoulder and spins me around.

“I’m sorry. I meant to do this at the table. I just didn’t
know how to say it. I’m not really gifted with words I guess.” He cups the back
of my head gently and brings my mouth up to his. The kiss is gentle, hesitant,
and I can almost taste his fear. It’s then that I feel the bulge in his pants,
and it’s not the kind I’m used to feeling.

Jonah pulls away from me and leads me back to my chair. He
sits me down in it and paces in front of me a few times with both his hands
running through his short, dark hair. I see the flash of nervous energy in his
stormy, gray blue eyes and wonder what has him so riled up. I also wonder what
is in his pocket that is square, small-
Oh shit!

Just as I’m about to lose my nerve as the knowledge flashes
through my mind, Jonah stops pacing and kneels down in front of me on one knee.
He takes my left hand in his and starts to talk, but I’m barely hearing what
he’s saying. Something about the fact that we’ve made it through a year together,
and he wants to make it through a lifetime. He’s talking about a wedding, a
family, and a commitment that is much more than just a ring on my finger. It’s
a tying of the souls.

My breaths are coming fast and short as he pulls the box
from his pocket, and when he opens it I stop breathing. I don’t know how long I
sit there on the chair with my breath held and my eyes growing misty. It’s long
enough that I’m probably red in the face, and Jonah looks worried about my
response.

“I can get another ring,” He says, unsure. I feel my bottom
lip tremble, and then I begin to chuckle with a watery sound.

“Oh God, I don’t care about the ring! I mean it’s beautiful,
absolutely stunning. You spent too much on it! How much did you spend? Oh God-”
I cut myself off before I can say anything else that is stupid and racing
through my mind. Jonah swallows as he tries for small smile, and I finally look
at his eyes.

Deep therein the sea of blue and gray, I see his calm
resolve. Jonah Quinton wants to spend the rest of his life with me, and in that
split second moment I forget all about the fears of having a family and what
could possibly go wrong. I want him, in more way than one.

“Yeah, I mean yes!” Norman is upset by our strange behavior
and gives us both an odd glance before he leaves the kitchen. The poor dog
didn’t get scraps tonight, and he’ll repay me for that by rolling in the
largest pile of dung he can find tomorrow morning. God I love that dog, and the
man who hoses him off every day.

Jonah’s fingers are steady as he pulls the ring from the box
and slips it on my left ring finger. I feel the weight of it settle on my skin
and marvel at how right it feels. I won’t be wearing this while I’m working in
the barn with Jonah, but I will keep it with me at all times. It’s a reminder
of the fact that I’m going to marry the man I love more than anything in this
world.

“You’re crazy.” I tell him as I stare at the ring. He grins
at me as it flashes in the light of the candles. The tiny diamonds are like a
million stars lighting up the sky.

“I’m you’re kind of crazy, right?” I smile at our code for
‘I love you’, and lean down to kiss him until my lips hurt and my chest is
tight from not breathing. We don’t make it to the bedroom for another couple of
hours, but we’re already consummating the marriage before it even begins.

Three days later, we’re standing in the kitchen of the cabin
with my father’s ashes in a tiny urn. It’s amazing how a one hundred and sixty
five pound man can be reduced to just a few pounds of ashes. My finger traces
the rim of the urn and the ring flashes in the sunlight. I’ve already explained
to my dead father that I’m now engaged to the man he tried to keep me from.
Maybe he just knew that Jonah wasn’t ready for something like this yet.

My breath catches in my throat when I think about the fact
that he won’t be at my wedding to walk me down the aisle. But he’ll be with me
in my heart, and that’s what matters. Jonah’s hands slide over my shoulders,
and he kneads some of the tension away. I’ve had these ashes for a while, and
now it’s time to spread them where my father loved it best.

He built this cabin for himself as a retreat from everyday
farm life. It seems fitting that he should be spread on his favorite piece of
this property. I pick up the urn in both my hands and follow Jonah out of the
cabin.

I sit down on the brand new bench that we brought up along
with the urn, and hold the small, ceramic object in my hands for a long time.
Jonah doesn’t interrupt my thoughts at all as we sit. I wonder if he’s thinking
about all the good times with my father, and about the fact that his mother
loved my father. He came clean about that yesterday, and I wasn’t shocked by
the confession. My father would not keep company with a woman like he did with
Jonah’s mother without falling for her.

My eyes are free of tears when I finally open up the urn,
stand, and walk around the cabin as I tip the ashes out. Jonah is still sitting
on the bench when my circle is complete, and I sit next to him as we watch a
burst of wind take the ashes away. My father’s essence will be spread through
this property within the next hour, but I’ll always think of this beautiful
spot when I think about him.

I glance up at Jonah’s face to see tears streaking down his
face silently, and I wipe them away with my fingers. I’ve never seen him cry
over my father’s death, and I have a feeling this moment makes it all too real
for him. He smiles at me and brings my fingers to his lips as he kisses them,
and we sit in silence for another hour before we make our way back home.

The nightmare is finally over, and we have the rest our
lives ahead of us.