This Loving Land - Dorothy Garlock [1]
A growl of protest came from his throat. “Nye, sweet lass, ye don’t be a wishin’ that.”
“Then I think, Sam, about Libby and the boy. Something terrible will happen to me for the wicked thing I’ve done to Libby.”
“Hush, darlin’ lass. Libby is safe in her dream world. She can never really be me wife, and I’ll not fault her, for it’s not of her own doin’. I love the laddie, and I’ll be lovin’ this bairn, too.” He placed his big hand over her swollen abdomen. “If y’r man don’t come for ye, my sweet lassie, I’ll be a takin’ care of ye and the bairn.”
He gathered her against him, his hands stroking her back with long, slow caresses until she was molded so closely against him that she couldn’t catch her breath for the excitement that beat through her.
“I want this summer to go on forever. “ It came out in a sort of gasping sigh, half-questioning, half-exulting, as suddenly, beyond her control, her body arched against his.
“It couldn’t be wicked to love like this,” he whispered breathlessly, suddenly lifting her and carrying her to where they could both lie in the soft grass, mouth to mouth, breast to breast. He kissed her tenderly, lovingly, again and again. “Don’t be a thinkin’ about the right or the wrong of it, think about now, and how I love ye.”
All thoughts of being wicked retreated from Nannie’s mind before the strength of the force throbbing through her in answer to his passion. And then it was as if a dam, which had been holding back wild, tempestuous waters, broke and washed over her. Her mouth was against his so that breathing was almost impossible, his weight held her pinned to the sweet-smelling grass and it was like drowning as she was swept along on the turbulence of their desire. Through the bursting darkness sudden joy, like a great flashing light, exploded within her. Afterwards, there was the warm, sensuous afterglow, as she curled up in his arms, the wetness of tears on her face and on his. She rested her cheek against the smooth silky hardness of his shoulder. Lying motionless in the kind of peace she knew only when she was with him, she fell asleep.
* * *
When she awoke, she felt quite different, and for a while she lay with her eyes closed, wondering why she was so tired, why she was alone. No arms held her comfortingly, no hard, muscled shoulder was beneath her cheek.
It was night-time. She could sense the brightness of the lamp through her closed lids. Gone was the sweet-smelling grass; she could feel coarse sheets on her bare skin. The only thing that was the same was her wet cheeks. Everything else was different. She was different. Feeling lighter than air, she floated like a feather, happy because soon she would be free. She knew what heaven would be like.
Nannie opened her eyes to find her daughter bending over her.
“Mama, you’ve been dreaming.”
“Summer.” She smiled a little. “My beautiful Summer.”
“Can I get you something, Mama?” Gentle, anxious fingers touched the tears on her mother’s face.
“No.” It was a weary whisper. She couldn’t help but be disappointed at finding herself in another time and another place. She closed her eyes again, hoping to feel the warmth, the ecstasy, to hear the passionate whispers. With a little groan of anguish, she knew the time was not yet. But soon . . . soon. Her eyes filled with anxiety and she lifted a hand to tug at her daughter’s dress. “Soon,” she whispered weakly. “Soon you’ll be alone with John Austin. I want you to go to Sam McLean. Find Sam, Summer, and tell him who you are. He’ll help you. He’ll take care of you and John Austin. In my little chest is a letter telling you where to find him.”
“Mama . . .” Tears brimmed in the violet eyes. “Mama . . . no—”
“Promise me, Summer. Promise me you’ll go to Sam. Sam. . . .” The weak voice trailed away and Nannie Kuykendall closed her eyes, never to open