“What would you say…” I pause here, unsure if I can go on. “What would you say if I told you tomorrow will never come? What would you do?” I ask Alex softly. I let my fingers play over his farmer tanned arms.
He shakes his head and stares at me with big doe eyes; so deep brown I imagine they're pools of chocolate. His full lips part as if he wants to say something but doesn’t.
I reach out and caress his scruffy cheek. On it there is three days worth of growth and I love the feel of the coarse hairs against my thumb and palm.
He reaches up and encircles my wrist with weatherworn hands. Hands that have spent their whole lives working the land his ancestors labored on. It is warm and he just holds my wrist as he leans his head further into my palm. I inhale sharply and am overwhelmed by his smell. It is dark and earthy and I am amazed once again by the connection I have to it. It smells of earth and sunshine drying the dew on the grass.
Finally in a hushed voice he says, “tomorrow will always come. We can make it so.”
My eyes fill with tears and I know that they look like frozen ice starting to melt. “For me tomorrow won’t.” A single tear runs over my freckled cheek to drip off my rounded chin.
He drops my hand and the warmth fades with it. He steps back and looks at me closely. His soft eyes showing such vulnerability, his face tense with anger and sadness as he studies me. His bare feet make no sound on the threadbare beige carpet.
My hand still reaches out for him. Suspended in the air for a few long seconds before falling to my side, defeated. I grip the sides of my blue jeans and wait for this scene to unfold. The coarseness of the fabric reminds why I am doing this.
“Please don’t say that Shea.” He begs with a sad smile. His voice still low but now pleading with me.
“I won’t lie.” I tell him while I run my slim fingers through my shoulder length blond hair, brushing it back from my forehead.
“But how do you know?”
Why must he ask these questions? “Please,” My heart squeezes tight when I look at him. So I turn from him. To see the sorrow and regret shadow his chiseled features tug at my soul. It was not fair for him to be standing there in his black boxer with his flat stomach and muscular thighs, tempting me to stay.
I can’t stay though and as I gaze across the acres of golden corn stalks I realize I have to leave now or I never will. Todd will never let me go, will never leave me in peace. I thought I had gotten away from him, but yesterday I found the note.
I still don’t turn to him. “Please,” I say begging him as much as he begged me minutes ago. “I can’t stay. He’s coming and I won’t let him find you. It’s not safe.”
I felt him behind me. His gentle breath caressed my neck. It’s so intimate that I shiver. He lays his hands upon my shoulders. Again his heat saturates my skin and I soak it up. I want to lean against him but I resist.
“He will hurt you to hurt me. He is brutal, like a bull in a bullfight. Relentless and untiring when it comes to getting what he wants Together we can stop this.” He whispers in my ear, tickling the delicate hairs.
“To hurt me, he will hurt you. He will never stop. Not until he or I am dead.” I slowly step away and gather my purse and bag. I turn towards him and my breath catches. I love him so much that I can’t swallow the lump in my throat.
'If I can't have you no one will,' echoes in my head from our last meeting.
His head slumped to his chest in resignation. Brown shaggy hair covered his rugged face. “Go.” I can see the defeat in his hunched shoulders and tense muscles.
That’s all he said and I went. I threw my bag’s strap over my shoulder and walked out the door with the screen door banging shut behind me. So final.
As I slid into my ’88 GMC pick-up I glanced at the ranch house. The house that had been my home for two months, the house I was leaving. I helped to paint it white, to grow the garden out back, to picking the corn fresh from the stalk. The blisters on my hands hadn’t healed yet. It was home, the first home I'd had in a year and I was leaving it. Abandoning it out of love and fear.
He was still there, standing in the window. I watched him watching me for a moment or two, my heart heavy with regret and pain. Then I started the truck and drove away for the last time.
“What if I told you, that I love you, what would you say, what would you do,” was playing on the radio as I tore down the gravel, dirt road, kicking up rocks behind me.
Author notes
Who knows. Just let me know if its any good. Revised 12/28
A contest entry
- Beginning Sentance by VioletStrike.
110 points, ended January 2, 2007, 20 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - ALOT LIKE LOVE by Melli.
120 points, ended April 4, 2007, 16 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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Wow, a great read!
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Thanks for taking the time to read and to comment.
~*Brooke*~
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oh yeah
Fantastic amount of details and character development. However, it's hard to believe any man raised to work the land, as hard and unforgiving as land can be, would let a woman that he loves leave to protect him. Men are generally territorial and don't like to back down. I hope he plays a role later on - maybe chasing her down and fighting together.
She was living with him, and left in a truck - which goes with the rancher/farmer life so I would like to know how she ended up there.
My comments are more on what I want to see next rather than what you have already written because you can go so many ways with what you wrote. It is fantastic to get so much from so little of a story.
Keep Going!!
beginning: 4, language: 5, plot: 4, ending: 4, dialog: 5, characters: 4.
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A very interesting point you brought up about men raised on ranchs. I will seriously think about that. I haven't even picked this up again. I know I should. It really is unifinished, the more I think about it.
Thank you for reading and commenting.
~*Brooke*~
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Still very good. I'm still wondering what happens after that!
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Thank you very much. You would like it! I was almost reluctant to play off of that particular quote, as Benjamin Franklin is an American historian and not an Englishman, but he is very widely known, besides.
And as for this, it is so well-written. The character development is very nicely done; as I read and examined the one called Alex, he so reminded me of Kartik from Libba Bray's "A Great and Terrible Beauty".
Good luck in the contest!
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Hmmm...I haven't read that. May just have to pick it up. I base most of my characters, that are male, on my husband. Sad but true, but if you look at humans in parts you come to find out that they don't fit into one single compartment. My husband can be the villain or the victim depending on what kind of day he's having. I like the sensitive side of him and hoped I captured it in this.
Thanks for taking the time to read this and thanks for the encouragement.
~*Brooke*~
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Excellent! I want to know what happens! TELL ME!
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Haven't even thought about what would happen next. Hmmmm....may have to see about that.
Thanks
~*Brooke*~
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She left a good thang.
Now that she has left what if the day after tomorrow never comes? Just teasing.
I do not like the idea of the mystery man. If he is a man who would open a can of whip ass on the boy you describe as in hot black boxers and has a flat stomach then maybe he is not a dude to be messed with. But I believe that Mr. Hot Black Boxers could have handled him once and for all that that this couple could have stayed on the farm and raised them some Children of the Corn.
As far as leaving in the truck she did...I think the ending could have been better if she left in a limo. Wink.
Ours is not to question the writing motives of a genius at work. Ours is only to read and try to grasped a few plums from the masterette's pen.
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Thanks for the read and the comment. I threw this out in about twenty minutes and it sounds like a have some loose ends to clean up.
Again thanks
~*Brooke*~
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I have to agree with what Totem mentioned. At parts, it was confusing to follow by the characters and time frame. Perhaps more details and elaboration would make this piece better. However, I did like the probing question in the beginning. It was very touching yet could make one wonder. Although I'm not in a relationship and don't hope so till I'm like twenty, I found this an enjoyable light love story... I really don't like it when things get really mushy in relationships..it ruins everything... Keep up the good work.
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Thanks for taking the time to read this and to comment. Sounds like I have some loose ends to clean up. I really didn't stop to proofread this. Will go back and see what I can do.
Again thanks
~*Brooke*~
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I'm a little confused. You say that whoever "he" is would hurt him out of wanting to hurt her. Then you say it's been 2 years. Why now? What happened to make things change? Why wouldn't she stay and trust?
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Chryssi you always seem to catch the things I have forgotten to go into and I thank you for this. I will go back today and clear up what I can.
I guess more proofreading would be a good thing. lol
Again thanks
~*Brooke*~
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