Second Chances (11 page)

I didn't intend to fall back asleep, but the next thing I knew Blythe was slipping under the covers, curling his arms around me and drawing me against his chest. The room was glowing with morning sun and I murmured gladly as he encased me in his warmth, settling his chin against my left shoulder.

“Morning,” he said softly against my hair. He added, “Don't worry, I guess Mom's out for breakfast with Rich.”

I turned in his arms, getting mine securely around him. From a few inches away I smiled into his eyes and then snuggled in close. He kissed my collarbone, smoothing my hair back to do so, then ran his palms down my back and hauled my hips even closer to his.

“I like your hair,” I told him, my lips on his neck.

“I was hoping you'd mess it up,” he said, his hands moving lower.

I was wearing a long t-shirt but nothing else; I had never been able to sleep in pants or underwear of any kind. Fortunately there hadn't been a fire or any other sort of calamity that had forced Christy and me from our beds last night. Blythe discovered this and made a sound deep in his throat. I shivered and busied my own hands with his zipper.

“I can't believe this,” he muttered, slightly breathless as I slipped down his jeans and stoked all along the length of him.

“What?” I asked, my heart thrusting as he maneuvered swiftly out of his t-shirt and underwear and then moved above me on the mattress; I curved my thighs around his hips.

He clarified, “The second time we get to make love in an actual bed and it's the one in my old room.” He grinned at me then and I pulled him back to me, almost roughly, needing him so much I could hardly breathe. He responded with a deep kiss, bracing above me on one forearm while he slid the other hand over my belly and cupped me, low. He made another throaty sound, whispering against my lips, “You feel so good.” But in the next instant his voice sounded tortured as he added, “Wait. I don't have a condom with me.”

“It's okay,” I reassured, breathless.

He struggled to compose himself enough to respond, “Are you sure?”

“Just don't come inside me,” I told him, and he kissed me again, taking my bottom lip lightly in his teeth, stroking it with his tongue. I moaned and pressed against him, begging him with my hips, but still he held back. I was impressed by his self-control; sweat was beginning to form on my temples and between my breasts.

“I won't,” he promised. His eyes were so intent and true upon mine. “But if I do ever get you pregnant, I would be so happy.”

My heart took up an even faster pace, pressed against his strong, naked chest. How sweet of him, how in character to say such a thing at this moment. I was so in love with him that my entire body seemed to be resonating to a new frequency with the energy of it.

“Me too, sweetheart,” I told him back.

He bent and kissed me again, with all his incredible passion. He rolled us to one side, settling me between his strong, hairy thighs. He murmured, “You're so soft, and wet…”

“Blythe,” I pleaded against his lips, and I felt him grin before kissing me, at last shifting us so that he was back above me, his wide shoulders arched like wings above my own. I gasped as he slid deep and then took up a steady rhythm, twining my legs around his hips. He'd never been inside me without a condom and I loved how it felt with the last barrier between us removed. I watched his face in something like awe; his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted as he moved hard within me. I held him as tight as I could.

“Don't stop,” I murmured, overcome.

He slowed his pace. I could feel his heart thundering, matching mine.

“Don't stop yet,” I whispered once more, lightly biting the side of his neck.

He moaned in response and I pulled his lips back to mine. Minutes later I could barely recall my name and when Bly again took my bottom lip into his mouth I shuddered with the force of an orgasm, finally taking him over the edge. He gasped out my name and then pulled out not a moment too soon.

“I'm sorry,” he said some time later, as we drifted back to reality locked in each other's arms.

I lifted my head slightly and asked, “About what?”

He grinned sleepily and said, “Coming on your stomach.”

I giggled, muffling the sound against his chest.

“It was so good to feel you against my skin,” he said then, his fingers moving lazily through my loose hair.

“It was,” I agreed. And then I felt that fierce well of possessiveness overtake me yet again. “I love you,” I told him, and his arms tightened around me. I wanted to stay here with him, in this moment, and the Elvis song was suddenly in my mind, absurd by totally accurate: “Make the World Go Away.”

“Joelle,” he murmured back. “My sweet girl. I don't deserve your love, but I'm taking it anyway. God, I love you.”

“You deserve it,” I scolded him. “Don't say that.”

At that very moment the front door of the trailer opened. Despite the fact that the bedroom door was still firmly closed, I froze.

But seconds later Christy's voice carried through the space. She called, “Junior, I know you're in there, so there's no use pretending otherwise.”

I felt a wave of giggles coming on; I was known to have terrible timing when it came to laughter. Bly lifted his eyebrows and then called back, totally composed, “Wouldn't dream of it. Did you bring us any breakfast?”

Christy laughed and called back, “No, but I've got some coffee.”

A half an hour later I emerged from the shower and could tell immediately that the good-natured banter that had been going on when I'd entered the bathroom was over. I couldn't pinpoint the exact difference, but I could sense the tension even though I wasn't in the room. And then from outside, where he must certainly be standing on the porch, I could hear the muted sound of Blythe in a one-sided conversation, obviously on the phone.

I combed my hair and brushed my teeth in a hurry, meeting my own concerned gaze in the mirror as I applied a quick layer of mascara. I dressed in denim cut-offs and a green tank top, the one that Bly said matched my eyes. Shit, and I was running out of clean clothes; it was a stupid thing to think about right now but my mind needed distraction. And then I heard Blythe coming back inside and I flew out of the bathroom, my hair loose and damp over my shoulders.

“What is it?” I asked him, keeping my voice steady with effort.

He looked somber. His eyes held mine but there was no hint of a smile around his mouth. I thought of how we'd made love not even an hour ago and my heart pitched hard against my breastbone. I felt almost ill with vulnerability; his eyes told me he felt the same. Christy appeared in the arch between the rooms, drying a glass with a bright pink hand towel.

“Bly?” she pressed.

“Well, we have a court date at 11:00,” he said, looking over at his mother, his deep voice steady despite the agony that was just beneath the words.

“Okay, that's good, get it done,” Christy said. “Rich, did you hear that?”

“I did,” Rich answered from the kitchen. “And I'll bring you.”

Christy turned and moved back to the sink, where Rich was running water into the coffeepot. I moved into Blythe's arms then, where he wrapped me close and rested his chin on my head. After a moment he said, low, “You smell so good, Joelle.”

In response I squeezed him all the more tightly. I said, “I'll come too.”

I felt him stiffen slightly at my words and drew back to see his face. He smoothed my hair with both hands. His blue-gray eyes poured into mine.

“You don't have to do that,” he said, and the tone in his deep voice implored me to understand.

“I'll do whatever you want,” I whispered, my palms pressed against his strong, solid back. “Blythe, whatever you need.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. He said, “I just need you. That's all.”

It was
already after 10:00. Bly had changed into khakis and a dress shirt. I'd never seen him dressed so formally and it did things to my insides. His hair was impeccable, despite my having messed it up quite effectively earlier. I ended up staying at the trailer with Christy; though I longed to accompany them, to go downtown to the courthouse and listen to every word, I could tell that Blythe was reluctant to put me through that. So I stayed behind and then Christy had to go into work anyway. By 12:30 I was like a pinball inside of rattling machine, and just as useful at the moment.

Blythe had kissed me good-bye with a promise to call as soon as he could. He was strung with tension and my heart ached for him. Rich too had hugged me tightly, whispering, “It'll be all right, sweetie.” I wanted to believe him so badly.

I called Jillian. It was lunch rush and she would be in the middle of it and probably too busy to pick up, so I was doubly grateful when she answered with, “I was just thinking about you.”

“Are you busy, Jills?” I asked, settling onto the lone chair on the little porch; it was already scorching outside, dusty and dry and oven-like, but I was under the awning and couldn't bear to hang out in the stuffy trailer.

“Not yet. What's going on? You have that sound in your voice,” my sister said. She was over a thousand miles away but I could see her perfectly, her close-cropped blond hair and fingernails polished with some odd color, like lime green, her familiar eyes as blue as August afternoons and fields of blooming chicory. God, I missed her.

“Jillian,” I sobbed out, before losing it completely. I held her voice against my ear for strength as I cried and cried, pressing my face against my fisted left hand, uncaring that the neighbors were no doubt speculating what the hell.

“Jo, it's all right,” she said again and again.

And at last I calmed and was able to say back, “I know, Jills…I'm just so…shook up.”

“Where's Blythe?”

“Rich took him to his court date,” I said, and sighed, my insides all shuddery. I continued, my words pouring like water from a kettle, “He's supposed to call me when he's done. We made love this morning and I'm so scared it'll be the last time I'll ever touch him. Oh God, Jilly, I don't know why I feel this way, so afraid…”

“You've been through a lot in the past few days, that's why,” she told me. “Joelle, get a hold of yourself. You're just fine, and Bly loves you and he'll be just fine. Jesus.”

I giggled a little, scraping tears from my cheeks with my free hand. “What a great motivational speaker you'd make.”

“Thanks,” she responded drily.

“Do you think I'm pregnant?” I asked next.

Jillian paused for a moment; I could practically see her face as she considered my words. At last she said, “No, you're not.”

I let out another huge sigh, slightly disappointed, and then asked, “How's everything back home?”

“Good, actually. But Jackie has been hanging out here almost constantly. It's starting to get on my second-to-last nerve. And to top it off Justin has been getting very buddy-buddy with him. Last night I was all like, ‘Don't you have a job back in Chicago?'”

“You'd think they used to be friends or something,” I teased. “And you know it's good for the girls to see him. They won't for a while after he heads back.”

“He said he's got some time off,” Jillian went on. “And Tish and Ruthann have been enjoying his company, at least. And Mom, for God's sake. He could always charm the pants off her.”

I giggled. “She always fell under his spell. Like I should talk, I guess.”

“Yeah, but you were a teenager.”

“What about Milla?”

“Well, she's been avoiding everyone lately. Noah goes back to school in a few weeks and she's worried about Jackie confronting him. The little prick hasn't been back to see us out here, that's for sure. Who'd have thought an Utley would be such a jerk?”

“Has Jackson talked any more about going to their place?”

“Not to me, anyway. He's out fishing with Clint, Tish and Ruthie right now. I'll have Camille call you later,” Jillian promised.

“Okay, and thanks for being there,” I told her.

“Gimme a break,” Jillian said back. “I gotta go, it's getting busy. Call when you know what's up.”

“I will,” I told her.

I actually fell asleep on the porch,
my feet propped on a Styrofoam cooler Christy had left outside. If Jillian hadn't just confirmed to me that I wasn't pregnant, I would have been more than a little suspicious. It was blazing hot and my throat was dry when I snapped awake, realizing that my phone was buzzing with an incoming call. I saw that it was Rich. I sat up straight too quickly and was instantly dizzy; my feet hit the porch floor with a dull thunk. I cleared my throat and answered, “Hello?”

“Joelle,” came Rich's voice and I froze, already knowing something wasn't right. He rushed on into my silence, saying, “Jo, honey, I'm calling you for Blythe right now, because he can't. He got sentenced to 30 days. His parole officer said we shouldn't worry and that he was actually suspecting that it would be more, so this isn't the bad news you're thinking.”

My heart was pulverizing my ribs. I tried twice to draw a full breath before demanding, “Where is he? Rich, where is he right now?”

“Well, they're booking him right now. He's got to go straight to the jail since he received a sentence. It's 30 days, no bail. Otherwise I'd be bringing him home with me.”

“Fuck,” I said, tears stinging into my eyes and nose. But I wouldn't act like this right now. I wouldn't think about how I'd have to go back to Landon without him. Because I couldn't stay here that long, even if my heart was ripping apart just imagining having to leave him behind.
And in a jail cell
.
Oh Blythe, Blythe…oh sweetheart
.

“Can I see him?” I was on my feet, unable to continue holding still.
Oh please let me be able to see him. Oh please
…

“I would think so,” Rich said. “I'll come and get you, okay?”

It was
over an hour before we were allowed to see him, at the government center in Brandt. I was told I had five minutes as an officer led me to a small room in the depths of the building, where he knocked briefly and pushed open the door.

He was in an orange jumpsuit and he was cuffed. My darling Blythe, who'd held me in those hands just a few hours ago, who'd told me how happy he'd be if our lovemaking resulted in a baby, was cuffed like a dangerous criminal. I was furious, and wanted to break down and weep uncontrollably, especially when I noticed that his beautiful eyes carried the aftermath of tears. He'd been alone in here, and he'd cried, and I wanted to shoot out the walls and take him away, never to return to this shithole place. I had never felt so helpless.

“Baby,” I said to him, my voice cracking a little. Normally it was an endearment he used for me. The officer who had led the way left the room on soundless shoes and eased the door almost closed.

“Joelle, I'm so sorry,” he said then, his voice full of gravel, as though he'd been shouting at the top of his lungs, and I made a sound of protest. He got immediately to his feet but I felt a little intimidated by this place and the fact that he hadn't moved towards me. But I pushed that away and was beside him in an instant. I reached up and took his face in my hands. My heart ached as he closed his eyes and fresh tears leaked over his cheeks. He turned his face against my right palm and then bent towards me, moving his arms over my head as best he could with both hands forcibly joined at the wrists. I clung to him, his hard, hale body beneath that hateful orange cloth.

“Don't you dare be sorry,” I said, tipping my chin to look up at his face. His eyes were tortured as he looked down at me, red-rimmed. It killed me to see his tears.

“I thought I'd get the sentence waived,” he went on, his voice rough. “Dale said I should be glad it's only a month for violating parole, but I still thought I'd get off without more jail time. I'm so sorry. Sweetheart, I'm so sorry.”

“Baby, don't be sorry,” I told him again, tracing my fingers over his eyebrows, his straight long nose, the cleft in his chin, like a blind person feeling a face for the first time. “It's going to be just fine. It's just a month. But I have to drive home before you'll be out.” My insides seized at the thought.

“I understand,” he said, pulling me tighter within the ring of his arms.

“I'll come back at the end of the month and then you're coming home with me,” I told him fiercely. He sounded so defeated that it made my heart clench up. “No ifs ands or buts.”

He managed a half-smile. “I knew Rich would pull through and get you here before they take me away. I told you earlier that I don't deserve you. I love you so much, Joelle, it hurts.”

Panicky birds were flocking in my gut but I couldn't let him see that. I gripped his jaw in my hands and looked deeply into his eyes, the better to imprint my words upon him. “I'll be here when you get out. Can you call me? How does it work in here?”

“Once a week.”

“Then I'll live for those four days.”

“I miss you already,” he said, his throat hoarse. “I'm so happy we made love this morning.”

“You just wait ‘til you get out,” I told him, trying for some teasing.

“Come back to me,” he said, low, and now tears were spilling over my face.

“I will,” I told him. “And I'll be with you the whole time you're in here, just like you'll be with me.” I touched my heart, and then kissed his chest, pressing my lips to the steady beat beneath them.

A knock on the door made me jump and his arms were like iron, holding and protecting me.

“Joelle,” he implored. My heart thumped painfully.

He kissed me hard and I clung to him, terrified now that it was time to go. My bravado had been spent. We broke the kiss just as the door swung inward. Blythe clutched me extra tightly for a last moment before moving his arms and I was forced to step back.

“I'll be back before you know it,” I said, my voice trembling now. I bit down on my lip to stave off the tears.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes intense on mine, and I could tell he was keeping his deep voice steady with extreme effort.

“I love you, too,” I told him, and though it was just about the toughest thing I've ever had to do, I made myself turn and walk away.

Out under
the sunny, late-afternoon sky I clung to Rich, sobbing as he patted my back.

“Jo, it's just a month, honey,” he said again and again. “It's just a month.”

“But I'll have to…go home…without him,” I wailed. “I can't, Rich…I can't leave him here…”

“Your girls need you,” he reminded me gently. “And you'll come back. You two have a love I've never seen the likes of, Jo, and it's going to be all right.”

I finally reduced myself to shaking sighs, so grateful for his solid, comforting presence. I said, “Rich, I wish you were my dad, I really do.”

“Aw, Jo,” he said, gruffly, and kissed my cheek before drawing away. His brown eyes beneath bushy white eyebrows were so kind. “Your mother would have a lot to say about that.”

I laughed and sniffled at the same time, knuckling under my eyes.

“We better go tell Christy what's going on,” Rich said then. “Come on. Do you want an ice cream or anything?”

I was about to say no, but then thought better. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

An hour later we sat around a high top at Bob's Bowl, Bob himself joining us. He let Christy have the rest of the day free in light of everything, and she was on her second draft beer, her eyes red, though she was past crying and in the angry phase now.

“I just can't believe they used those police reports as a character reference,” she said again. Rich had explained that part of what landed Bly in jail this time were the two separate reports involving fights: the first with Christy's ex-boyfriend Ron and the second with Jackson. Despite the fact that no formal charges had been filed from either, apparently the officers doing the reporting had not been kind and this morning's presiding judge had not been forgiving.

“They made him seem so violent,” Rich said. “Especially the one last spring. Bly used a weapon?”

Christy cringed a little and said, “Yes, he hit Ron with the lid from the grill. It's just that he's so strong, he doesn't think when he's upset.” She looked over at me and reached for my hand again, asking for the fourth or fifth time, “How are you doing, honey?”

I squeezed her fingers and replied, “Better. I was pretty angry before. But I'm trying to remind myself that it's just 30 days.” Although it seemed like 10 times that. But I didn't voice that thought and instead added, “I'll come back when he gets out. I have to head back to Minnesota soon though, my girls…”

“I know,” she said. “Don't you worry about Bly. I'll go see him all the time. He won't be far, just over in Oklahoma City.”

“I wish I could stay here,” I told her, though I knew I couldn't.

“I know,” she said again. “He understands, honey, don't you worry.”

I looked at Rich then, almost afraid to ask, “What about when he gets out? Will he be able to leave Oklahoma?”

“We'll ask Dale,” Rich assured me.

“He's a damn lucky fella to have you so worried about him,” Bob commented then and winked at me.

“I love him,” I said simply.

Bob laughed and tugged on his beard, further increasing his similarity to Dodge back home. He said, “Well, then Junior's luckier than I thought.”

I would
leave with the morning; there seemed to be no point in staying now, though as I lay in Blythe's bed that night, curled around my aching heart, I could hardly tolerate the thought. It wasn't that I was trying to be melodramatic; the fear I'd cried out to Jillian earlier in the day was still coiled within my stomach like a living thing. I rolled to my other side and likewise turned my thoughts to this morning, back to making love with Blythe in this same space, holding him as deeply within myself as I could, both in my body and my heart. I still marveled that he had affected me like this, that we had fallen so hard in love. But it had happened and I wasn't letting it go. Not ever.

Rich had taken care of calling Mom, and I had talked to all three girls earlier, and then Jillian, Ellen, and finally Jillian again. I decided that I'd leave in the morning, and turned restlessly, feeling too hot under the covers, almost claustrophobic. I hated that I couldn't call Blythe, couldn't even hear his voice. I felt sick that he was probably in Oklahoma City by now, in the correctional facility there where he would serve the 30 days. No doubt he was hurting and aching as much as I was right now; I thought about every terrible prison movie or television show I'd seen. Would the guards be cruel to him? I pictured their mean, beady little eyes, nightsticks poised in hands. What if someone stabbed him with an improvised blade? Didn't that kind of thing happen in those places?
Oh God
.

Joelle, stop it,
I told myself firmly, wrapping my arms around my belly and squeezing, forcing a deep breath and then another. I was being foolish thinking the worst. My thoughts turned to Blythe telling me how he still felt like a criminal, a loser, for having done time. I would have to do everything I could to negate those ideas he harbored, once and for all. Once I got him home with me and back into my arms.

Soon, soon, soon
, I promised myself.
What's a month? You'll go back to Landon and get the girls ready for school, and help at Shore Leave, and get Camille through this morning sickness, and it'll be into September before you even know
.

And at last I drifted to sleep.

Christy and
I hugged good-bye under a low, gray sullen sky the next morning. She drew back and kissed my cheek, then handed me my travel mug, which she'd filled with piping hot coffee. Rich was still at Arrowhead Motel, where he would stay for at least another week.

“Thanks,” I told her. “I'll be back in a month.”

“You've got his address?”

“Yes, in pocket right here,” I told her, patting my hip. “I'll write him all the time and he said he could call once a week.”

“It'll be collect,” she warned.

“That's okay, I would pay any amount just to hear his voice right now,” I said truthfully. “And you'll visit him?”

“As much as I can,” she told me, and I climbed into my car. She added, “Drive safe, Joelle.”

“I will,” I said back. I rolled down the window and waved to her as she curled her arms around herself and then raised her palm in farewell.

And I left Oklahoma behind.