For Fandom Love (Mary). Happy belated birthday. :) And thanks to my agent (LOL), Vocal Vixen, for giving me feedback on this chapter. Thanks, girl! :)
"Was Miss Jenny waiting for you upon your return yesterday?" Crane said as he cut them pieces of loafed bread to dip into their cheddar and broccoli soup.
"Yeah. She was worried."
"I believe you mentioned she doesn't have any knowledge about our meetings."
"We disagree when it comes to you." She sipped lemonade out of a thermos.
"My apologies for interfering in your relationship. Would it be best if we didn't—"
"I want to keep seeing you."
"As do I, Leftenant. However, I do not want to come between you and your sister."
"I'll tell her." She traced his knuckles. "I don't want to hide from her. I've already lied."
Abbie explained the excuse she gave to Jenny.
"I'm so sorry our relationship has caused you to go to such lengths with your sister."
"It's not you, Crane." She paused. "Something really bad happened to her."
"If I may ask, what occurred?"
She breathed deep. "I'm really trusting you with this, Ichabod."
He knelt in front of her and held her hands. "I will not betray you, Abbie. You have my word."
She leaned her forehead on his for a brief moment to gather herself and the words she left crammed in her throat. Her and Jenny refer to it as "that night."
"Jenny was raped."
She told him how three to four white men stripped Jenny of her clothes, her virginity, her humanity, her spirit.
"I should have stayed with her, fought for her. She told me to leave. And I did. She wanted to protect me. I let them…" Guilt and sadness smothered her into crying.
Crane wasn't able to swallow his own tears, wasn't able to speak or reassure her. The horror of being a black woman weighed him down, too.
Her head fell in his shoulder. They wept for Jenny and for all the black women who couldn't breathe the stars and night air.
Crane wiped her face with a handkerchief before cleaning his own.
"I have no words."
"Sometimes words don't work or heal anything. All you can do is cry and let the pain settle. Live with it."
He thumbed her cheek. "You cannot blame yourself, Abigail. It is neither you nor Miss Jenny's fault. Those men are worse than vile. Hell isn't even adequate enough for what they've done."
"She came home broken. I've never seen her like that. She wouldn't go out for weeks. I'm grateful I still have her. Jenny's all I have."
"You love her with everything, and she loves you. There is nothing like the bond of a sister. I am most relieved she returned to you that night as well."
She nodded. "There are black women who don't make it home."
Crane shook his head and began to pace in front of her. "It's unbelievable."
She took his hands. "Definitely. Things are changing though. Slowly. People are fighting back. Finding that courage."
They touched foreheads again.
"Jenny is afraid you'll hurt me, treat me like she was treated. That's why we disagree. It's only because she cares."
"My heart goes out for Miss Jenny. I will not harm you, Abbie. You believe me, don't you?"
She fingered his beard. "I believe you, Ichabod."
He kissed her fingers. "Thank you, and thank you for sharing such a vulnerable story. I can imagine it was not easy. I'm very grateful you trust me. I hope I can prove to you I'm noting like those men. I do not believe what they believe or what my parents believe." He paused. "How is Miss Jenny faring now?"
"Her nightmares aren't as bad as they were. I don't think she's had any for a while now. If she has, she hadn't told me. She gets really anxious if I'm gone too long. She handles it the best way she can. She's surviving."
"I wish this hadn't happened to her, to you, or to the countless black women in your community."
She nodded. "But it does, and we have to find our strength afterwards. We have to breathe again."
"You shouldn't have to endure that."
"We're going in circles here, Crane." She sighed. "Can we talk about something else? Maybe finish eating and then have our lesson?"
He kissed cheek. "As you wish, Leftenant."
After they finished eating their cold soup, she taught him a couple more warm-up exercises. He spent the first ten minutes stretching, the next ten minutes standing on one foot, and the last ten minutes squatting. He leaned against the wall now, slightly sweaty. He took off his boots and loosened the first two buttons on his shirt earlier.
"These exercises are quite torturous. I haven't used this many limbs since grade school. How in the bloody hell will this assist me?"
"You are working on flexibility, balance, and strengthening your core and legs. Tired?"
"Indeed."
"You won't sass me next time, will you?"
He smirked.
"Don't look at me that, Crane."
"It is what a student does."
"Does my ass. Up." She helped him to his feet.
"What is on the agenda next, Leftenant?"
"That name is really growing on me."
"It is, is it?"
"Indeed." She giggled.
He raised his eyebrow at her.
"Alright. Now, let's practice your front kick. Then I'll teach you another move."
After she helped him improve his kick, he learned how to escape from a choke hold. They sat in the desks when they were done.
"Do your students remember these tactics?"
"Not all the time. I tell them it's okay if they don't. Some of what I teach can get a little complicated. The moves can involve more than one step. I try to keep it simple. And I review what I taught them in the previous lesson. Sometimes, I'll keep practice a longer if I really want them to know a certain defense technique.
"At the end of every lesson, I remind them of the most vulnerable places to strike an attacker if they don't remember all the moves. Go for the eyes, nose, throat, and groin. Scream. Kick. Scratch. Head butt, even. I tell them to use what they have to their advantage."
"The women in your neighborhood are lucky to have you as their instructor, though I can imagine a woman teaching self-defense doesn't come without criticism."
"I've gotten some push back from a few people, mostly from men, but even from some of the older women in my apartment. A woman doesn't need to resort to such violence to defend herself, they say. Some of them believe it is a man's job to protect a woman, that they should get a husband. I don't agree. My dad didn't raise me and Jenny like that. And considering what happened to her and considering that they are abusive husbands, every woman needs to know how to protect themselves."
"You are truly a woman ahead of your time."
"Thank you, Crane."
"Would you mind teaching me one more move?"
"You're studious."
"Well, I can't help but want to learn under your encouraging tutelage."
He got into position.
"I'll teach you how to block." She adjusted his hands. "Bend your arms. Keep them at an angle or like you're about to do the chicken dance. Keep your fingers straight. Let's say I'm going in for a punch, slap, or grab. It's a pretty wild swing." She enacted it, and he attempted to block her.
"Good. Don't look at what's coming. Keep your eyes on me."
She threw faster swings.
"You're doing—Hey!"
He surprised her with a tickle. She slowly distanced herself from him. And he crept towards her.
"This isn't a part of the lesson, Crane."
"Perhaps I like to be a mischievous student, Leftenant."
"Perhaps you're taking this opportunity as pay back."
"You stand corrected. I suppose you run while you are afforded the chance."
"You'll have to spar with me first. I'm not running. Let's see what you got."
"Do you think I'll win?"
"No."
He gasped. "Have you no faith in your students?"
"You've only had a couple of lessons. You can only do so much."
"We shall see who the victor is."
Abbie bounced on her feet and gently struck Crane each time he reached for her. They circled around and around, blocking, smirking, passing light licks. She knocked him to the ground. He grabbed her ankle as a counterattack, and she fell on top of him. There was nowhere she could go because he interlocked his arms around her. She squealed and squirmed. By the time she could breathe again, their positions were switched. He cleared his throat, pulled her up. They dusted themselves off in silence.
"You win," she said. "For now."
"For now, indeed."
He removed the dust that got caught in the ends of her hair.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." He put his hand on her cheek, moved closer. His let his forehead fall into hers again.
She breathed, skimmed his beard with her fingertips. Here they were. And here he was. Looking at her like they could take on world, despite Jim Crow and generations of slaves and burning crosses and swinging bodies on tree branches and "Whites Only" and "Blacks Only." He nuzzled her nose, said her name.
"There are consequences, Ichabod."
"There are no consequences here."
She wanted a taste of the boldness in his voice, so she pecked his lips. Warm. Salty. Abbie listened to his breathing, to the dust in the room, to her own vibrating heart. Only freedom here, it said. And her lips delved into his once more. Fully. Quickly. Her tongue churned in his mouth, and her fingers memorized his soft hair. His moans sunk down her throat, into her chest. She sighed as he scooped her up. Her legs tightened around his waist. As he bound her against the wall, he sucked and licked down her neck. Her lips recklessly folded into his once more. She wanted everything with him. Everything. Because they could withstand.
"I need to leave, Crane," she whispered.
But she was still here, kissing his nose, eyelids, cheek, fingertips, palm, wrist. He couldn't stop kissing her either.
"I shall escort you."
"As soon as you stop kissing me."
They lost themselves again before Abbie finally put him at arm's length. He downturned his mouth.
"Don't pout."
He reached for her again.
"Crane."
He pecked and nibbled her lips. "You are intoxicating."
"You are, too. However..."
She left a note for Jenny this morning before she left, but she wanted to make it home earlier than yesterday.
Sighing, he presented his arm to her and escorted her.
As Abbie snuggled beneath her sheets, she traced her lips. It felt good to kiss Crane, to be carefree and wild, to not worry about what they were doing or who would see. She liked having that freedom and opening up to him. He didn't judge her, never told her how to feel. That was the most vulnerable she's been with anyone besides Jenny and Mrs. Ann. She could fall apart in front of him, and it would be okay.
Her attraction for him startled her. This is the fourth night they've spent in the schoolroom. And she wasn't sure if she'd admit her feelings to herself, let alone him. Either way, she was falling down that hole like Alice. Falling. Falling. Into Wonderland. She didn't want to stop.