The Ashes

THE ASHES, Part 4

21

By the time Sam and I bust through the corn, it's almost completely dark. It's been one of the more stressful days in recent memory, and although I've never been much of a drinker, and I've already had some wine and a taste of Sam's whiskey today. But man oh man, I could use a stiff one or three right about now.

"Sam, you want to stay for dinner?"

"How about I stay for the night?" He's once more focused on the cornfield, the way the early moon shines its white light upon on the stalks, giving them the appearance of steely gray branches. "I don't like what's happening out there."

In my head I see the blood on the stalk and I know for certain Sam shot something. Maybe what he shot was an animal. The animal that the kids have been seeing and confusing for the Boogeyman...for Mr. Skinner. But what if the thing he shot turns out to be human? The last thing me, the kids, and Robyn need in the house right now is a guy with a gun who just shot somebody, even if the verdict results in an accident.

In my head: "Christ, Michael, this whole place has turned upside down all in the span of a single day."

You're safe inside the house, Bec. Tell Sam you want him to go home. Tell him to get a good night sleep. You'll call him if there's a problem...

"Sure that's not the jealous ex-husband talking?" In my brain I see Michael standing beside me, his worn leather coat over his black turtleneck, a can of beer in his hand. His face is going from the handsome, rugged man I once knew to the skeleton it must now surely be six feet underground, and back again. Talk about imagining things? I'm as guilty as they come.

Okay, maybe there's a little of jealousy thing at work here, Michael says. And we have to think of Mike Jr. What he'd think if he saw Sam hanging around all night. He's already having enough trouble without having his dad around...

I take hold of Sam's hand.

"Come on," I say. "It's been a long day. I'll take you home. Get some sleep."

"You sure about that? I don't mind sleeping here for a while, until this thing is straightened out."

"If Michael sees you staying overnight, it could confuse him more. We're not ready for that." I give the hand a quick squeeze. "Besides, you need to practice your drums. Show that kid, whoever he is, playing in whatever house he lives in, who's the real Ringo."

He laughs, but I can tell the laugh is forced.

After heading into the kitchen to tell Robyn where I'm going, Sam and I walk around the house to my Jeep. I dig the keys out of my pocket and we get in. We drive in near silence until I pull into the Goodman drive, throw the transmission in park.

For a beat or two, Sam just stares out the windshield onto the house and the unfinished front porch steps, as if contemplating the next move in the repair process. But then, ever so slowly, he reaches out with his left hand, sets it on my thigh. Leaning in, he brings his face close to mine, his mouth to my mouth.

I can tell immediately that this isn't going to be limited to a little kissing and heavy petting, because for the first time in our short three months together, Sam is unbuttoning my shirt, one slow button at a time, and I'm not attempting to stop him. I can almost taste his desire it is so palpable, the warmth from his fingers and hands entering into my body. He removes my shirt, and unclasps the front clasp on my white lace bra, exposing my breasts. I manage to shift myself so that my legs are extended all the way into the passenger side seat well. I work the fingers on both my hands onto his belt buckle and unclasp it. Then I unbutton his jeans, and slip my hand inside. He is as hard as a rock. Pushing his jeans down, I expose him entirely, and in turn, he unbuttons my jeans, and pulls them down.