Without You Here (11 page)

She relaxed enough to rest her head on his shoulder. The tears had stopped. He took her hand and led her back inside. There was music coming from the kitchen. Grammy was bobbing her head to her Best of REO Speedwagon CD. Aunt Diane and Aunt Cecily were belting out the chorus of "Take It On The Run," while chopping vegetables.

"Old people music," Blake said to Ettie. She seemed to have perked up and was halfway smiling at the kitchen scene.

"It's classic rock," said Aunt Diane. "We are not old."

Uncle Stan came in with a tray full of barbecued chicken. He set it on the counter and swept his wife into a dance, joining in the singing. Ettie laughed. She turned to him. "I love this song!" She was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Grandpa Charles came in, then, and took a moment to adjust to the scene. Then he grinned and held out his hand to Ettie. She ran to him and he danced her around the dining room. Blake smiled. This is how it should be, with Ettie here. But he felt a pang in his chest, too. His mother should be here. Anytime these spontaneous family singing sessions happened, his dad had always had to drag her along. But once she got started, she always had so much fun.

Blake felt tears sting his eyes. He leaned against the wall and watched Grandpa Charles, now dancing with Ettie and Grammy. He looked over at Wyatt. It was no surprise that he was missing the same person Blake was missing. Wyatt leaned on the island counter with his head down and his eyes squeezed shut. Blake went over and hesitantly put his hand on Wyatt's back. He was fully expecting to be shoved away, as had happened so often over the past couple of years. But Wyatt stood up and put his arm around Blake's shoulders. He pulled him close, kissed him on the forehead, and ruffled his hair.

Blake was startled by how much the gesture meant to him. Wyatt pulled away, but kept his arm on Blake's shoulder. It felt good. He tried to remember the last time he'd gotten a hug from his dad.

"Grampy's gonna steal your woman," Wyatt said.

Blake chuckled. Ettie spun away from Grampy and stumbled toward the island, rosy cheeked and beaming. "Dance with me!" she said, over the loud music. Her eyes were on Wyatt when she said it, but they bounced quickly to Blake. "Blake. Dance with me, Blake!"

So he did and had a pretty good time. He generally preferred to sit on the side and watch while people had fun. But if he was going to get her back, he had to be willing to be silly with her.

Two more songs went by and then it was time to start setting the table. Which cleared out most of the room. Grammy, Aunt Diane, and Wyatt usually did this chore. Blake dragged Ettie out to the back porch and was dismayed to see she'd grown solemn again. This was so not like her. He led her to the swing. "Did you meet Jesse's and Alex's girlfriends?"

She nodded and swung her feet, which couldn't reach the floor. They'd set the swing too high so that almost none of the women in the family could touch the ground.

"They're nice girls, huh?" Blake said. "You think you could be friends?"

She shrugged. "They're cool."

"I don't know how serious Alex is about Candy. But Jesse and Stacy are hearing wedding bells. Don't tell anyone, but he told me he's been doing some ring shopping."

She smiled. "That's really exciting. I love weddings."

"Yeah, well, if you make friends with her, maybe she'll let you be a bridesmaid."

Grammy came out, then, and bee-lined for them. She leaned back on the porch rail in front of them. "I was thinking, maybe you two would be more comfortable staying here rather than at your dad's house."

Blake looked at Ettie and then back to Grammy. "Thanks, Grammy, but we'll be fine at Dad's. I want her to see my old room and—“ 

"I'd like to stay here," Ettie said. "You stay at your dad's. I'll stay here. Since we're just friends, now."

Blake closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He hadn't wanted the whole world to know. He'd thought they could still sleep in the same room and keep their personal problems private.

"Just friends?" Grammy asked.

"We broke up," Ettie said. "Just now. But I'm staying the weekend until my friend can come get me on Sunday. So I would really appreciate your hospitality."

"Of course, dear," Grammy said. "Would you go help Wyatt and Diane set the table? I'd like a moment alone with Blake."

"Sure." Ettie hopped up and skipped inside like she hadn't a care in the world.

Grammy took her spot on the swing. "What's going on?"

Blake groaned. "I don't know. She's been weird since we got here."

"So she broke up with you?"

"I've lost track of how many times she's broken up with me. But this time it feels serious. Lauren can't come get her until Sunday, so I talked her into giving me the weekend; see if I can't convince her to stay. I told her I'd take her riding tomorrow. Do you think we could have dinner, all of us together again tomorrow?"

Grammy beamed. "I'm sure something can be arranged."

"Maybe if I can get her to relax, she'll open up to me about what's bothering her."

Grammy kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see if I can get her to talk. Might help having a woman to talk to."

"Thanks. I really don't want to lose her."

"I can see why. She's a delightful girl. Such zest and eccentricity."

Funny she should pick out two of the attributes Blake liked least in Ettie. They rose and began gathering everyone inside for dinner.

CHAPTER TEN

I can't believe how much I loved that family. It sucked so bad knowing I couldn't be a part. They were so close. And so loving. Even Cecily, Wyatt's sister, who acted pretty prudish and judgmental, was still ultimately accepting of everyone else's flaws and mistakes. They had spontaneous sing-alongs and they cooked and cleaned together. They all cared so much for Wyatt, I was happy about that. He deserved to be loved and cared for.

Dinner was loud and messy. There was a lot of banter from the grown-ups towards the kids about how it was time to start producing grandchildren. Blake had jabbed my side with an elbow at that. I shot him a glare and he backed off. I would not be having children with Blake. Ever.

Everyone talked over everyone else and after dinner, Stan and Cecily did dishes while Charles and Cecily's husband, Rick, cleared the table. I noticed this was the group who'd been absent during dinner prep. So everyone seemed to take turns and pitch in. I wondered what it would have been like to grow up in a family like this.

Blake whisked me outside into the balmy, spring air. There were clouds out over the horizon. A rainstorm was in our future. But for now, the sun still shone, though dimming as the evening progressed.

Wyatt sat on the porch steps, his back to the rails, picking out a song quietly on a guitar. God, he looked beautiful. I stood at the top of the steps and hugged the post while Blake settled into a rocking chair. I watched Wyatt play. He didn't look up at me. I didn't want him to.

"I've always wanted to learn," I mused aloud.

Wyatt did look up then. Then he nodded toward his son. "Blake plays. You should have him teach you."

“You never told me you could play guitar,” I said.

Blake shrugged. "It's nothing, really. I can't even read music or anything."

Figured. Probably one of the most interesting things I'd learned about him, and he thought it was nothing. It didn't matter, though. I wanted Wyatt to teach me, not Blake. I wanted Wyatt's arms around me, his cheek resting against my ear, while he showed me how to position my fingers and strum the chords. I watched his hands and couldn't help remembering how those hands had felt on me.

Everyone else filtered outside. Jesse came out with a banjo in one hand and a fiddle in the other. "Here, Uncle Wyatt," he said, handing him the banjo. "I wanna show-off for my girl."

Wyatt smiled and traded the banjo for the guitar. Jesse pulled up an old stump and sat at the foot of the steps. He nodded at the pretty brunette he'd brought home with him, Stacy. "Come sit at my feet, Sweetie, and I'll serenade you." She giggled and blushed and sat on the ground next to him with her feet curled up under her skirt.

Wyatt was tuning up the banjo. Stan had confiscated the guitar.

"We all play guitar," Blake explained. "But Dad's the only one any good on banjo. And Jesse's the only one good on fiddle."

Stan had taken up position in a folding chair down at the base of the steps.

"Let's do Salt Creek, Uncle Wyatt," Jesse said.

Wyatt nodded without looking up and started the song. Jesse jumped in with his fiddle.

It was amazing fun listening to the music and clapping along. After their first two songs, which were mainly played so that Jesse could show off, Liza called for a waltz so that she could dance with her husband. Wyatt switched back to guitar and he and Jesse played a couple of waltzes while everyone with a partner danced in the yard. Then Wyatt did Amazing Grace alone on the guitar...this was apparently Amberlee's favorite version of the song. He looked terribly sad, playing it.

The evening darkened long before I was ready to give it up. Jesse and his girlfriend went home. And then the rest of Stan and Diane's family. Cecily and her husband took their leave. Blake went out to his car and got my bags.

"Let me show you to your room, dear," Liza said. She led me upstairs. There was a simple, full-sized four-poster bed with a tattered blue quilt on top; a shelf of books in the corner; some photos on top of a chest of drawers. I sat on the edge of the bed. Closed my eyes and just knew. "This was Wyatt's room, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Liza, surprised and delighted. "How did you know?"

"It just...feels like him in here."

I stared ahead and then realized there was silence coming from Liza. I turned and saw her staring hard at me. And then Blake came in with my bags and effectively ended the moment. Liza disappeared.

Blake brought me into his arms. I was very careful not to hug him back. "I wish you'd change your mind," he said. "I think we can share a bed, Ettie. We've shared a bed as friends."

"Every time we've done that we ended up having sex."

"I know," Blake said.

I pushed away from him and gave him a stern look. "I don't want that, Blake."

He deflated some. "I know. It's fine. Just...come over tomorrow. I want you to see where I grew up."

"That sounds fun."

"And tomorrow...riding, okay?"

I nodded again. And then thankfully, he left. I crossed the room to the dormer window, which looked out over the front yard and driveway. I watched Blake drive away and then went over to the bed, sat on the edge, and lay back. I closed my eyes and just tried to empty my mind and relax my body.

"You're spending the night in my bed?" His voice was so deep and low. I wished I could bathe in it.

He leaned in the doorway looking about as miserable as a human being could look.

"Blake and I broke up," I said.

"Mom told me. I can take you back home in the morning if you don't want to spend all weekend."

"That would be fine with me," she said. "I promised Blake I'd stay until Sunday. But maybe you can convince him it would be better for me to leave."

"I'll try."

I sat up and patted the bed next to me. His jaw tensed and his eyes darkened. I suddenly regretted my little gesture. I might burn alive in the heat of the look he was giving me. He was all anger and pain and lust. He stepped inside, closed and locked the door. "Mom and Dad are out watering the garden and putting the chickens up. We've got ten minutes."

He crossed the room and I jumped up and met him halfway. We wasted no time tearing out of our clothes, and in under a minute I was on my back in his old bed. We had no protection and I didn't care. I might never have this chance with him again. I needed this. Needed him. It was a shock when he entered me. And then it was an immense source of pleasure and comfort. I moaned, awash in ecstasy. I drank in his kisses and met him thrust for thrust. My orgasm came before his; it built slowly and lasted a long time, warming me with slow, thick waves of pleasure. And then he tensed and shuddered inside of me. His muscles immediately relaxed, after, and he collapsed on top of me.

The whole event had only lasted a few minutes, but it meant so much to me that it could have been forever. He was kissing me again, tenderly on the lips and all over my face. I tried so hard not to cry, but a few tears seeped out anyway. He pulled back and smiled down at me. He wiped the tears away with his thumb.

"Those don't mean anything," I whispered.

"You're just an emotional lover."

"Yeah." I smiled sadly. It was a mirror of his own expression.

He kissed me once more and then climbed off and started dressing. All I wanted was to curl up under the blankets and sleep, but I forced myself up and reached for my clothes. Wyatt fastened his belt and went to the back window, presumably to check on his parents. He came back and wrapped his arms around me. I'd managed to get into my jeans and bra. He held me tightly. "I have to go. Thank you. And I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. And thank you."

We laughed at each other and how pathetic we both were. Then he kissed me goodbye and disappeared out the door. I finished dressing and took a breath to steady myself. I had to wait and see what emotions would surface. Mostly just despair. Melodramatic, I know. But when you can't be with the man you love, there's no other word to describe it.

I needed to shower but I didn't want to wash the smell of him off of me. So I figured I'd wait until morning.

Liza knocked on my door and stuck her head in. "Come down and have tea with me, won't you dear?"

"I'd love to."

Tea. How whimsical. I would have guessed, looking at her, that Liza was the type who took tea in the evenings. I skipped downstairs into the living room, my body still aching pleasurably from the after effects of Wyatt's attentions. This time there was guilt, too. I hadn't felt guilty last weekend. Now I felt awful. No telling what Wyatt's family would think of me if they found out.

Liza had sat out a tray with a pretty, floral teapot and two matching cups. There were shortbread cookies dipped in chocolate, too. It was quiet in the house. The light from the living room lamps was yellow and comforting. The windows were opened, admitting a cool, spring breeze. I sat on the edge of the sofa, feeling suddenly a bit nervous. I know what I look like after having sex. I could only hope Liza wouldn't notice. She came in a moment later and took the chair next to me. She poured some kind of green tea and I sipped it eagerly.