Dark Reflection

Chapter 48

"Just Friends"

by Lilyjack

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"Will you read t' me, Chester?" Ruby requested.

"Huh?"

"Your book there. It look excitin'. You like t' read?"

"Oh, yes, Miss Ruby. I'm partial t' dime novels myself. They surely are excitin'. And me and Miss Kitty, when things was real bad, we took a comfort from readin' her book a' poems sometimes, too. Do you like t' read?"

"Well, I don' read so good, Chester. I knows my numbers and my letters - I jes' ain't too good at puttin' 'em together. But I do knows how t' write my name."

"Well, why didn't you ever learn t' read, Miss Ruby? Yer awful smart."

"You know, Chester, I couldn't go t' no white schools t' learn readin' and writin', and I never did live near a Freedmens school."

"Well, you say ya' know yer letters?"

"I knows some little words, too."

"I reckon it oughta' be purty easy fer you t' learn then. Maybe I could teach ya'."

"You'd teach me t' read, Chester?"

"Why, shore I would, Miss Ruby. You wanna lookie here at my book? Lemme scoot my chair over by yer bed. We kin' start with them little words, like ya' say…"

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A mockingbird singing his heart out nearby woke Kitty from a deep, cleansing sleep. Slowly opening her eyes, she gazed at sapphire blue patches of sky peeking through swaying black willow branches. The gentle breeze caressing her skin carried with it the intoxicating scent of frothy white meadowsweet blossoms growing just a stone's throw away.

Yawning, Kitty threaded her fingers through ropey copper waves, her headachy braid long since undone. She already looked a sight in her oversized men's clothing – she figured if her hair was a mess, it wouldn't make a lick a' difference. She stretched like a drowsy cat on their picnic blanket, turning onto her side to gaze at her companion a couple of feet away, still fast asleep.

Matt had claimed he wasn't tired, that he would just sit and rest during this, the hottest time of the day. But rising way before the dawn and traveling such a distance, then working in the sun all morning had taken its toll on the both of them. Matt apparently had given in to sleep as he sat slumped against the fallen tree trunk, head listing to the side.

Kitty sighed languorously, but not before she took note of the fact that Matt was most definitely breathing more easily these days. She felt a flutter of relief that his ribs must be healing at last. It had frightened her when Matt would gasp for air between words when he spoke, unable to adequately fill his lungs.

She could see the dark circles beneath his eyes, the faded bruises on his face; Kitty knew he hadn't fully recovered from his ordeal yet. She now realized without a doubt that Matt had almost been killed, that he'd nearly died for her, and she still didn't even know why. It bothered her that she did not understand their mysterious connection, but daily she was becoming more and more aware of a deep tie between the two of them. Maybe it was like Matt had said, sometimes when you meet somebody, it seems as if you'd known them forever.

But why on earth an obviously respectable man like Matt Dillon would be interested in a girl like her with a such a sketchy past was beyond her comprehension. She was trying hard to take him at his word, that he didn't give a damn how she'd earned her living in the past and that he was actually proud of her for accomplishing what she had. But it was admittedly proving a mite difficult.

For one thing, Matt Dillon was a man like none she'd ever met before. Kitty's life since her mother had died had been abundantly full of men alright, but most of them were decidedly lacking in character, and absolutely none of them wanted much more beyond what she could provide for them in the saloon or, even worse, between the sheets. A young girl on her own had to make a living somehow, and Panacea Sykes' guidance had opened up a Pandora's Box of gambling, drinking and whoring that easily enabled her to keep food in her belly and a roof over her head. Yes, up until now, Kitty's experience with men was rough and tumble, illicit, chancy and cheap.

But nothing about her relationship with Matt Dillon, for some reason, had proven remotely tawdry. The man was too honorable for that. After everything Kitty had been through, Matt had always been infinitely kind and compassionate. And patient. Lord a' mercy, was he patient. Why, after all these weeks of knowing him, he'd just gotten around to kissing her!

But, oh, what a tender, sweet kiss it had been. And she'd been so shocked when it finally happened, she hadn't known what to say. She'd just sat there like a doggone fool. But Matt had taken it all in stride, grabbing her hand to go eat lunch like nothing had happened.

Kitty now luxuriated in the laziness of the hot afternoon, her head propped on an elbow. She was freely able to admire Matt's handsome face while he slept, his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath. She longed to lay her cheek upon that expansive chest and listen to his drumming heartbeat again, to feel his deep, comforting voice thrumming throughout her head.

Absently, she twined a wayward red curl around her finger, wishing she could thread her fingers through Matt's luxurious mass of deep brown curls that made him look so boyish and charming. Dark lashes and heavy brows framed beautiful pale blue eyes that could make a girl's heart skip a beat when she had a mind clear enough to notice. Thankfully, her head was considerably clearer these days, and she was definitely paying attention now. Kitty couldn't remember the last time she'd thought about a man this way. Men, for the most part, were business to her. But this man did not usher businesslike thoughts to mind at all.

And since he'd been able to get rid of that damn eyepatch, she was able to appreciate him more fully. She now gazed at that sensitive, generous mouth that'd kissed her three times - yes, she'd counted – tremulously on her neck, tantalizingly on her shoulder, and tenderly on her lips. Each time those lips had sent her reeling, made her tremble like an innocent schoolgirl inside and out.

Suddenly Kitty realized there were a pair of clear blue eyes looking back at her. She bit her lip, lazily raised an auburn brow, and lastly cleared her throat, inquiring casually, "Sleep well?"

He cast her a languid, amiable smile, sat up and stretched. "I didn't mean t' fall asleep," he confessed in chagrin, scrubbing his face with his hands and delicately rubbing his eyes.

"You needed the rest, Matt," she insisted, pushing up on one elbow. "You've been workin' too hard again. You don't wanna rush things."

"I know,' he acknowledged. "And it's hard to stay awake when it's so warm…and peaceful and quiet…and you've got the company of a good friend. Relaxes a fella', I guess." One corner of his mouth crooked up and his gaze softened as his eyes sought hers. He shifted sideways, a little closer to her on the blanket, leaning his weight on his outstretched arm.

She looked up thoughtfully at him, still resting on an elbow, deciding to throw caution to the wind. "So we're friends?" she probed, fingers pushing back the disheveled hair that'd fallen bewitchingly over one eye.

Matt's voice rose a notch as he observed her. "Sure, we're friends, Kitty."

"Is that…all?" she asked searchingly, biting her bottom lip.

"Whatta you mean?" His tone was cautious, always afraid of pushing her too far, too soon, continually fearful of pushing her away forever.

"Friends…and nothin' more?" Her question was expectant, but ever doubtful of her standing.

It was his turn to bite his lip thoughtfully. Hope sparked in his eyes at the turn their conversation had taken. "Do you wanna be friends and nothin' more?"

She began uncertainly, "I like you, Matt. I'm just not sure what I…" She suddenly stopped, shaking her head. Her gaze focused on a mound of lovely, purple coneflowers bobbing their heads in the breeze.

Matt desperately searched for a suitable response, an answer to her unasked question. "Kitty, I know you probably never feel lonesome," Matt offered, "since you're so busy with your business…crowds a' folks around you all the time and…"

Kitty's eyes were abruptly drawn back to Matt. She touched his arm with her fingertips, interrupting in a hushed voice, "I get lonesome, Matt."

"You do?" He sounded surprised.

"Course I do. Even when the Long Branch is plumb full a' people, sometimes I feel real lonesome."

He wistfully responded, "I'm lonesome, too, Kitty."

"But I don't understand, Matt. A man like you, why you oughta be able to find…"

"Kitty, please…don't say that. We've had this conversation before, you know. Honey, I guess I've just never found the right person."

"The right person?"

He smiled wryly. "I 'spect I've just been lonesome for a good woman, a good woman like you. Maybe you're exactly what I need. Didja' ever think about that?"

"I'm not so good, Matt." She threw him a sardonic smile.

"Oh, yes, you are," he insisted. "Kitty, you're the kindest, most generous, down-to-earth person I've ever met." He declared firmly, "You've got a heart a' pure gold, honey."

Kitty was taken aback. How could Matt know what was in her heart? She sat pensively for a moment, tracing a finger over the blanket, thoughtfully considering his words. Finally, with a deep breath, she conjectured, "Well, Matt…what if I said maybe I don't wanna be."

"You don't wanna be what, Kitty?" he asked apprehensively.

"Maybe I don't wanna be just friends. Maybe I want more," she proposed, her eyes big and anxious and unsure.

Matt, on the other hand, appeared simultaneously relieved and elated beyond words. He sat and stared.

She tilted her eyes up at him, gazing at his gob-smacked expression. Reaching to pluck a tiny white daisy from the ground beside their blanket, she glanced back up at him, gazing at those soft lips. "Cat got your tongue?" she coyly asked.

He smiled, thinking that "Kitty" had certainly got his tongue and stolen his heart to boot. He could feel her eyes on his lips, so he settled for asking, "Do you wanna kiss me, Kitty?"

She pursed her mouth thoughfully, absently stroking the velvety petals of the little flower over her cheek. Kitty murmured, "I think I just might."

"Well, then, why don't ya'?" Watching her carefully, Matt distractedly smoothed a thumb over his bottom lip.

"Why don't I?" Kitty repeated, thrown off balance by his suggestion. She reached up to toy with a button on his shirt, then pressed her palm against that big heart of his, still beating like a drum.

Placing his hand over hers, he whispered, "Kiss me, Kitty."

Without uttering a word, she wound her fingers in his shirt front, inexorably pulling him down to meet her. She lay back, reaching her free hand to touch his face, sliding her palm over his flushed cheek. Featherlight fingers touched a faded yellow bruise on his temple, next to his eye. "Does it still hurt?" she breathed, her eyes narrowing in sympathy.

"No," he murmured back. "I can't feel a doggone thing…except you right now, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart?" she repeated in wonder as she finally threaded her fingers through those enticingly soft, shining curls of his, completely captivating her senses.

"Is it okay if I call you that?" he tenderly asked her. "It just comes natural."

"Uh-huh," she replied, her hand still gripping his shirt, pulling him closer by inches, feeling his breath brush her cheek. Slipping her hand to the back of his neck, she drew him down, slowly nearer, grazing her lips over his bruised eye, the fearsome patch now long gone. "I'm sorry you got hurt…because a' me," she whispered.

He murmured back throatily, "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, Kitty."

She moved her lips to his cheek, breathing against his skin, "You would?"

"Course I would," he professed, his lashes brushing her sensitive flesh, igniting a trill of goosebumps over her entire body. He declared earnestly, "I'd do anything for you."

"Then kiss me, Cowboy," she urged. Kitty tentatively touched her mouth to his; it was irresistibly warm, exquisitely soft, lips parted in invitation. She kissed Matt Dillon with more assurance and kissed him emphatically again…and then once more, fiercely. She kissed him until they were both breathless, hearts pounding, holding onto one another feverishly, yearning to rid themselves of their shared feelings of lonesomeness at long last.

tbc

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