Echoes From The Past (Women of Character) (26 page)

"My turn," she
whispered, gently tugging at the towel. He felt the trembling of her hands as
she slowly, caressingly, wiped the droplets from his back, then moved to stand
in front of him. When Christie touched the towel to his stomach he pulled her
with him into the bedroom.

Slowly, he lowered her to the bed
and rolled until she lay on top of him. Spikes of her hair lay across her
shoulders. He caught her hair and gathered it in one hand and slowly rubbed the
towel over it. He separated the strands and ran his fingers over her scalp. Her
face peered at him from the depths of the towel. Deep brown eyes, slim straight
nose and full red lips.

He abandoned the towel when she
pressed her lips into his neck, a shock of heat spiraling to the core of him.
Christie’s movements against his body increased the heat and urgency he felt.
Garrett needed to complete the unbelievable closeness he now felt. He needed
Christie.

###

Christie felt every hard, muscled
part of Garrett. The man was built so tough. She stretched sensuously beneath
him, loving the feel of his body along hers. She ran her toes up the back of
his hair-roughened legs, her hands slowly tracing the contour of his back,
remembering and cherishing each shudder she felt in him. This man reacted to
her.

Christie felt so strange, so
heated, a terrible want building inside her. She wanted to love Garrett. There
was no doubt, no question. She needed to experience all of him. It felt right.
Nothing else was as important as the two of them right now.

Garrett’s tongue traced erotic
patterns over her lips and Christie’s body reacted immediately, muscles
clenching as his hand moved down her back, her hip, then lower to cup the
rounded softness.

His mouth moved to her breasts,
his lips teasing the tender flesh.

Reaching over to the bedside
table, Garrett pulled a foil packet from the drawer. There was still a question
on his face. If she wanted to stop, he would, she could see the message in his
eyes. Tenderly, she pulled him closer, offering him everything she was.

"I want you Garrett."
She pushed against him, and he groaned aloud, his hand pressing into her hip to
hold her still. She could see the powerful effect she had on him as an
expression curiously like possessiveness hardened his face.

Emotion coiled deeply inside
Christie, waiting to burst forth. She wanted to push him over the edge, follow
him down and then save them both. She splayed her fingers and moved up his
chest, her lips feather-soft on his jaw. She insinuated her leg between his.

Garrett’s lips and teeth skimmed
her shoulder, making Christie shudder. She thrust her breasts against him and
this big man began to shake. Christie arched her neck, bombarded by pleasurable
sensations, her overloaded senses wanting even more.

When Garrett sought her warmth she
welcomed him. It felt so right, his body with hers, giving and taking, one
hard, one soft.

"Christie." The hushed
whisper rasped across her jaw, up her neck, hungry mouths met as Garrett thrust
forward.

Christie gave a soft cry, unable
to believe the heightened sensation, like an explosion in her brain. Consumed
as emotion and sensation ruptured, she squeezed her eyes and shook, hardly
aware her nails dug into his skin, unwilling, unable to let go as sensation
reached to the very tips of her toes. Surely the energy of their coming
together flew around the room, skimming the walls until slowly it dissipated.
Christie felt free of all the pain and loneliness in her life. In this glorious
moment of forgetfulness the past meant nothing. It held no power over her and
in a flash of fire, she felt totally free.

In the aftermath she lay as still
as Garrett. She didn’t open her eyes in case it was a dream and it all
vanished. "I love you," she whispered inside. The words came directly
from her heart and could not be contained. Once said, they could never be
withdrawn.

###

Garrett jerked awake, his
breathing hard and painful, waiting . . . willing the bad dream to fade away.
He stared at the ceiling, then at the woman beside him, her skin smooth and
supple. He ignored the damp chill on one side of his chest, the side that
wasn't touching the smooth skin of Christie's back. His arm was still around
her as she lay curled against him, having finally fallen into an exhausted
sleep. He didn't want to let her go.

With the sheet twisted about his
hips and one of his legs touching hers, Garrett thought about the intimacy
they’d shared. They had made love, there was no getting around it. It felt as
close to love as he had come in this life.

Judith had never touched the spot
in him that Christie had. That thought scared the hell out of him.

Christie stirred against him,
turning into him even before she woke, her fingers splayed across his stomach,
moving to his chest, gently tugging the hair. She sat up, leaned over him, a
tangled length of dark hair like rich silk against his chest. He reached out to
twine his fingers through it as they made love again.

###

Christie woke with incredible
feeling of release singing inside. She turned her head to find the source of
her joy. Garrett. He melted her heart, just looking at him. This strong, tender
man. Honest. Her smile faltered at the seriousness of his expression. Be
strong, she told herself. Don't stumble now.

Christie looked around, saw the
shirt she’d worn half draped on the end of the bed, one sleeve trailing the
floor. She reached for it, trying to bide herself time.

"Hey, come here,"
Garrett said softly, his calloused yet tender palms sliding across her bare
skin.

Christie slid to the edge of the
bed, wanting to fall back to the bed, let him touch her. She pulled the shirt
over her shoulders, staring at him as she buttoned the shirt.

"Garrett, there’s something
we have to talk about," she said slowly. She hated that a hint of wariness
entered his expression.

"What’s that?" He put
his arms behind his head, causing the triceps to flex and bulge.

Christie looked away.
"There’s something you should know. When I got that letter from Judith two
years ago, she asked me for something." Christie swallowed, pain a
constriction in her chest.

"I’m listening."

Christie bit her lips nervously
and then rushed on, "She told me she had gotten involved with someone --
and she needed to get out. She needed money to leave."

"And?"

"I sent her money. I had a
thousand dollars saved up. I sent it." She looked at him. "I’m
sorry," she whispered. "She had never asked for anything, I didn’t
even know her, but I knew she needed help. She was my sister," she ended
on a whisper, knowing her voice was pleading. His frozen expression broke her
heart. Christie put out her hand but he ignored it.

"And you’re telling me this
now? Why?"

"I- I wanted to be honest
with you. I care about you Garrett. And I care about Hannah. I can’t go on with
this secret between us."

Garrett reached for his boxer shorts,
jerked them up his legs and settled them on his hips. Christie stared at the
dusting of hair on his chest and the hard ridge of muscle beneath. She pressed
her fist to her own chest, fighting a heavy, sinking feeling.

"So you helped my wife leave
me." His jaw bunched and a vein throbbed along his neck.

"If you put it like that,
yes." Christie pressed her balled fist to her mouth, seeing joy turn sour.
She had followed her heart and made a mess of it! "I’m sorry, I should
have told you earlier. I was afraid."

Garrett pulled on a pair of jeans.
Flat stomach, wide, muscled chest dusted with hair. She recalled each place on
his body she had kissed. Each spot she shamelessly wanted to taste and explore
again.

Garrett thrust his arms into a
shirt, not bothering to snap it. "Afraid that I’d be angry?" His
voice came out harsh and she threw her head back.

"There’s nothing else I can
say. You needed to know." Her emotions were slipping past her control.
"I didn't ask her any questions. I didn't know about you or Hannah."
She took a deep breath. "There's no reason you should be angry, you
know."

"Christie, this is a lob out
of left field." He shook his head and came to stand next to her, his hand
cupping her cheek for just a moment, but then he stepped back. "I have to
go check on the buildings."

Christie watched him go. She
looked around the room, remembered how safe she’d felt here a few short hours
ago. She didn’t feel like the same person. Their lovemaking had changed her
forever. Perhaps even now she didn’t know how much.

A deep, dark emptiness engulfed
her. It had only taken one night to reach the grandest heights and then surely
the depths of misery. Right now her soft heart felt like it had shattered into
a million pieces. It was no consolation that Garrett had to be feeling the same
emptiness.

Garrett reached forward and lined
up another block of wood. His wide-bladed axe sliced the air, splitting through
the wood, sending pieces flying in opposite directions. He had energy to spare
today. He couldn’t seem to expend it.

Hannah sat a safe distance away in
the grass by her swing set, watching him act like the crazy, work-demented fool
he’d turned into the last several days since the fire. Even Bo Peep seemed to
be watching him with a wary expression in her soft brown eyes.

"Daddy, why do you work so
hard?" Hannah asked now, lying with her chin propped in her hand.

Garrett reached for the steel
thermos Hannah had brought him. Unscrewing the cap, he lifted it and took a
deep gulp of water. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he reached for
another block of wood and threw his daughter a glance. "It's got to be
done. I might as well do it now."

"Is Christie the lady you’re
going to marry someday, Daddy?" Hannah asked, reaching out as a butterfly
flew past her face.

Garrett missed his mark and swore,
then dropped the axe when it glanced off the side of his boot. Hannah was
right. Why was he working so hard? Pulling off his leather gloves, he walked
over to his daughter and dropped to the grass beside her.

"Why would you say something
like that?"

"Well, because she's living
with us again."

Garrett replied carefully,
"Christie will be leaving soon. Her stay with us is just like a vacation
of sorts, then she goes home to her own place. I’m glad you two are getting
along better."

"At first I didn’t like her.
I know why she had to come here, though. She was sad and wanted to see Mommy.
It’s not her fault Mommy wasn’t here."

"Hannah, I’m glad you’re okay
with Christie being here. I didn’t know how you would feel about her," he
finished truthfully.

Hannah gave him a thoughtful look.
"Christie is okay. She really cares about us." Her answer was
off-hand and Garrett couldn’t get a handle on her expression. He looked up at
the clouds skittering across the sky. Rain, he thought distractedly. The sky
was clouding over for rain.

"If Mommy and Christie are
sisters, how come they didn’t grow up together?"

Garrett took a deep breath.
"Sometimes there are reasons families fall apart. I think that’s what
happened in Christie and Mommy’s family."

"Did you love Mommy?"
Hannah asked in a small voice.

Garrett stared at her, perplexed.
How do you tell a child that even with the best intentions, love doesn't always
mean forever?

"You mom will always hold a special
place inside my heart, Hannah."

Hannah screwed her face up in a
frown. "Why do you marry a lady?"

Garrett reached out an arm and
pulled his daughter close. "A man and woman get married because they
respect and care about each other. They want to spend the rest of their lives
together and raise a family." Garrett felt his heart stop for a moment.
The explanation had come so simply from his lips. He did respect and care about
Christie.

"Why can't you marry
Christie? Then she could be my mommy, couldn't she, Daddy? We could have babies
too."

Garrett clenched his jaw, then
relaxed it, determined to make it through these questions. "I know you
miss Mommy," he said quietly. "That’s the way it is when you love
someone and lose them, but we don’t just invite someone else to be a mommy,
just because you like them."

Hannah shrugged her small
shoulders and her voice dropped. "Nah, I guess not." She lifted a
hand to touch his cheek. "If you got married Christie could stay."

Garrett gave a silent groan. His
daughter was like a dog with a bone once she got something in her head. He
stood and lifted Hannah into the air. He knew he was taking the easy way out,
distracting her so she screamed with delight, but he felt bruised and didn’t
think he could handle anymore mommy questions right now.

Since the smoke damage to the barn
Christie had been staying at the house. He had insisted and was surprised when
she yielded. Luckily, most of the damage had been minor, though who had started
it still remained a mystery. All logic pointed to the fire beginning as they’d
thought, but the painters swore up and down they hadn’t smoked in the barn
after that one warning. Les Doyle had come to mind, but Garrett knew he was
being unfair. Les might not be able to hold his drink, but he’d never done
anything as serious as arson.

As for Christie, Garrett knew she
spent time with Hannah, but he hadn’t seen much of her.

Christie had taken to staying out
in the barns until late in the evening. Garrett didn’t like to see her working
so hard but from all accounts she seemed to enjoy spending time with the
horses.

Garrett rubbed the back of his
neck. Even when he'd had the sole care of Hannah and struggled to bring the
farm into the black financially, he hadn't felt this disoriented or lost. His concentration
was off, and he didn’t like it one bit.