Snowed (20 page)

“Sure. Manicotti, linguine, calamari
—
all the important words.”

She hesitated. “James...why did you tell me this?”

“You know why.”

She nodded, feeling her throat constricting. With this revelation he’d bared his soul to her...trusted her...taken the first step. Now she knew that their relationship was untainted by the specter of incest. Love between them was possible. But would he want her
—could
he want her
—
the “real” daughter of the man who’d caused him and his family so much misery?

She squeezed her eyes shut. He cradled her icy hands in his large, warm ones. He whispered her name.

“This is so difficult,” she murmured.

“I know.” He lifted her hands and placed a kiss on her knuckles. His eyes glowed with devotion. “I love you, Leah.”

“I love you, too, James.”

His grip on her fingers intensified and his eyes closed for an instant. He’d never heard those words from her before. “Trust me,” he said. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”

She tried to yank her hands from his grasp, but he held fast, locking his gaze with hers. She took a deep, shuddering breath. “We’re both orphans, James.” His features darkened as wary bewilderment replaced his smile. “Annie wasn’t...wasn’t my sister. She was my mother.”

Some of the color left his face as the magnitude of her disclosure began to sink in. She tried to continue, but a tide of anguish welled up within her, closing off her throat and stinging her eyes. She’d never had to talk about it before, never had to say the words.

Without thinking, she jumped up and bolted from the restaurant, leaving him to toss some cash onto the table and charge out after her. He caught up with her as she was fumbling for the car’s remote entry button with fingers that shook uncontrollably.

He took the key ring from her. “I’ll drive.”

She fought the tears that choked her. “Damn it. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry for her anymore.”

“Get in the car, Leah.” Gently he led her around to the passenger side.

He slid behind the wheel, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as she composed herself, and started driving. Not in the direction of the airport, but she didn’t think he cared at that point. As they approached a railroad grade crossing, the flashing red lights and ringing bells told them a freight train was approaching. They stopped at the tracks as the red and white crossing gate swung down. She knew they’d be stuck there for several minutes
—
some of these trains were eighty cars long.

Finally he spoke. “Annie would’ve been only...” He let the thought trail off, obviously unable to accept what simple arithmetic would seem to indicate.

“Fifteen. She was fifteen when I was born.” She closed her eyes, trying to find the strength to relate the next part.

She never got the chance as a startled oath erupted from his throat at the same instant the diesel locomotive charged past the windshield, whistle blaring, followed by the first of dozens of freight cars. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his face rigid with shock. He seized her arm in a brutal grip.

“My father...?” he rasped.

“James
—
”

“What did my father do to Annie?”

She swallowed hard. “He wasn’t your father. James, please...” She tried to wrench her arm out of his grasp.

He released her and tore out of the car, slamming the door and pounding the hood with his fist. She flinched as the car shook under his blows. She let herself out to stand at a distance, watching him. Other cars were lining up behind theirs as a string of tankers and boxcars rumbled by a few feet away. The ground quaked under their feet.

He was breathing hard, his body as taut as a wound spring. His face was a mask of pure unadulterated rage. Had she made a mistake telling him about Annie?

He stared at her across the roof of the car. It seemed an eternity before he spoke. “You’re his daughter.”

She forced herself to hold his fierce gaze. “Yes.”

His expression never softened. Her entire body tensed, as if anticipating an attack. At length he seemed to become aware of the line of cars waiting behind them, filled with curious eyes, and of the train thundering by. “Get in,” he ordered.

They slid into the car next to each other, both staring out the windshield at the seemingly endless freight train. He closed the windows and turned on the air conditioner, which helped block out some of the noise.

“Tell me what happened.” James’s voice was tight and carefully controlled.

Leah licked her lips, cleared her throat. “There isn’t much to tell. As I understand it, your fath
—
I mean, Mr. Bradburn...” She hesitated.

“He raped Annie.”

“Yes. Apparently it went on for some time. He threatened to kill Merl and Douglas if she said anything. When she got pregnant, he kicked them out. There was nothing they could do. Annie
—
” Her voice cracked. “Annie died in childbirth.”

He was silent, and at length she turned to look at him. His head was tilted back against the headrest, his eyes closed. The sparkle of moisture at the corners of his eyes betrayed the depth of his pain. He scrubbed at his face and ran his fingers through his hair, obviously struggling to regain control of his emotions.

He said, “I wouldn’t have thought that even Dad...” A vein throbbed in his temple. “I would’ve killed him if I’d known,” he said so softly, she had to strain to hear. She didn’t doubt the sincerity of his words. “Did you know he was dead when you went up to New York?”

Why won’t he look at me?
she asked herself. Could he possibly think she went up there for some sort of reunion with the old man? “No. All I wanted was to confront him. About what he did. That’s all. I guess I didn’t do my homework. I was surprised when you showed up instead of him.”

Finally he turned to her. “You must’ve thought you were my half sister.” When she nodded, he said, “That explains a lot.”

“And then you said you were adopted.”

“Well, I guess I allowed you to believe I was, anyway. That’s the closest I ever came to revealing the truth to anyone.”

“And by the time I learned from Mary that you weren’t
—
”

“Aha! Mary.”

“
—
it was too late. I mean, we were already, um...”

“Lovers,” he supplied.

“You can imagine how I felt, thinking I’d fallen in love with my half brother.”

The last freight car finally rolled past and the crossing gate rose. He put the car in drive and they continued on their way.

“That was the day you left me,” he said.

“Yes.”

“The things I thought about you...” His tortured eyes sought out hers. “Why in God’s name didn’t you tell me, Leah?”

“What good would it have done for us both to suffer?”

He sighed. “Always the responsible one. What you must’ve been going through
—
alone. Thinking we’d committed incest.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “Well, I guess it could’ve been worse. You could’ve emulated Oedipus and put your eyes out.”

“Now, there’s a cheerful thought. By the way, do you have any idea where we are?”

“Haven’t the foggiest.” He pulled over to the side of the two-lane road surrounded by factories and vacant lots. He hauled her into his arms and whispered raggedly, “Take me home, Leah.” He pressed urgent kisses on her eyelids, her cheeks, her mouth. “I need you. We need each other. Take me home.”

“Little Rock is two, three hours away,” she said, dizzy with relief, feeling a shiver race through her as he kissed her ear. “What about the airport?”

“Forget it. You’re not getting rid of me again. Besides, the airport is totally unsuitable for what I have in mind. Just point me in the right direction.”

She pointed toward the rear windshield. He kissed her soundly and swung the car around.

“I like your decorating style
—
Early Hot and Spicy.” James was examining a wall in Leah’s living room crowded with images of red and green chili peppers of every variety. Modern lithographs shared the space with antique framed botanicals. There was even an ultrarealistic oil painting
—
a still life of vegetables, including a string of dried red peppers.

“If you want to try the real thing, I have a few dozen jars and cans and bottles and bags of the stuff in the kitchen. Plus some from Mama’s garden that I dried.”

“No, thanks. You’ll never convince this Yankee that pain is a flavor.”

“You just don’t know what’s good.” She tried to repress a yawn. It was early evening, and she and James had just arrived at her apartment. They’d talked during the long drive
—
sharing themselves, and their past, with each other in a way that, until that day, she would never have thought possible. She was both exhilarated and mentally exhausted by the events of the last few hours.

He smiled and took her in his arms. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep on me. Maybe I should tuck you in, read you a bedtime story or something.”

“‘Or something,’ please.” She allowed herself a naughty grin.

A chuckle rose from deep in his chest, vibrating her, warming her to her toes. He glanced around to get his bearings, then began edging her backward toward the bedroom door. His breath tickled her neck. “That better be your bedroom we’re heading for. If we end up in the broom closet, I’ll still ravish you, but it might be a bit cramped.”

The need to touch him was overpowering. She slipped her hands under his polo shirt and let her fingers trail through the hair on his chest, reacquainting herself with the contours of his body. Impatiently he yanked off the shirt and devoted his attention to the row of tiny buttons at the front of her dress, all the while backing her toward the bedroom.

“I’ve wanted to do this all day,” he growled.

“I’ve wanted to do this for two months.”

“That goes without saying.” He grasped her bottom and lifted her as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. His insistent arousal prodded the juncture of her thighs. She framed his face in her hands and touched her lips to his, lightly at first, then voraciously, feeling his answering hunger in the thrust of his hips as he pulled her forcefully against him.

“Do you think it’ll be this good when we’re married?” he asked.

“What?”

He laid her back on the bed and finished unbuttoning her dress. “You don’t think I’ll let you get away from me again?” he asked.

“But, James
—
”

He silenced her with his mouth, easing the dress off her arms until she lay under him in only her bra and panties. She kicked off her sandals. His tongue teased her lips and entered her mouth, reverently, searchingly, as if eager to relearn the feel of her, the taste of her. A warm glow suffused her and she responded without reservation, arching against him, meeting his questing tongue with her own, exploring the muscles of his back and buttocks with eager hands until he broke off with a groan.

“The ballroom, I think,” he said, moving sinuously against her in a way that made it difficult to concentrate on his words.

“The ballroom...?”

“For the wedding. We’ll have it in the ballroom.”

“James...”

He leaned on his palms and looked down at her. “What is it now? I’m warning you, woman, my poor old ticker can only take one or two mind-boggling revelations per day. After that it seizes up.”

She smiled, more in love than she would have thought possible. “It’s nothing like that. No more shockers.”

He pinned her arms against the patchwork quilt covering the bed, flicking the tip of his tongue teasingly over her lips, causing her to squirm as she tried to capture it. She let out a frustrated whimper as his busy fingers probed the front seam of her bra. “Don’t tell me marriage has never entered your mind.”

“Well, as romantic as your proposal is
—
” she enjoyed his boyishly sheepish grin “
—
there are some practical considera
—
”

“How do you get this thing open?” He tugged impatiently on her bra.

“This one hooks in back.”

He growled in earnest now, mumbling something about women’s underthings as he rolled her over on top of him and fumbled with the fastening.

“James, there are practical prob
—
”

“Hah!” He released the bra catch and divested her of the flimsy garment in a flash, proudly sending it sailing toward a corner. “Practical problems, eh?” He pulled the elastic band off the end of her braid, then threaded his fingers over her scalp and down through her hair, loosening it until it flowed over her back in a red-gold curtain.

His hands slid down her back, his touch warm...firm...possessive. She couldn’t help leaning into the delicious pressure, the movement causing her breasts to become the next target of his proficient fingers.

“James...” she whispered, her eyes closing as his long fingers stroked her, his palms gently teasing the exquisitely sensitive tips. She opened her eyes and saw him watching the play of his bronze hands on her pale skin, his gaze as hungry as she’d ever seen it. She became acutely aware of her own body’s response
—
she felt engorged, ravenous, slick with wanting.

Leah curled her fingers into his chest hair and gently tugged, then let one hand drift slowly toward his zipper. She stroked him through his jeans, playing with the tantalizing contours of his erection until his breathing became ragged and he twisted upward toward her touch.

Finally she slid down and pressed a heated kiss where his rock-hard penis strained against his jeans, molding her mouth to the shape of him, lightly scraping the ridge with her teeth. An involuntary moan escaped her throat, sending a hot vibration through the fabric. He bucked under her. His fingers tightened on her scalp. “Leah,” he whispered as she unzipped the jeans, “you’re killing me.”

She removed his sneakers, then peeled off his jeans and underwear in one motion. Before he had a chance to pull her down beside him, she pressed him back into the mattress and demonstrated just how much she’d missed him. She surrendered to two months of longing as her hands and mouth explored the body that had been so long denied her.