Dance With Me

-One Love Affair for Two-

I don't think either of us knew what we were doing, but we were doing it anyway. Forrest and I, we walked away from that night with a secret between us, and I didn't see him for a while. That was all right by me. It left me hanging, but even I knew I couldn't put much weight on a kiss. People kissed all the time. Just for fun, because they were curious what it would feel like, because they were bored. The reasons were endless. The action didn't seal any sort of promise of some kind of future between us.

But when Forrest sought me out shortly after the New Year, it sure did give me hope. It was near the end of my shift when I'd walked by on my way to hang up my apron, and seen him standing outside, hesitating like he was debating whether or not to come in. "Forrest," I called out to him, and I must've caught him off guard, because he spun around mighty quick, removing the hat from his head. "What're you doing here?"

"Uhm-"

"Are you hurt?" I hurried over to the door to get a closer look at him, searching head to toe for sign of injury.

"No, I – ah," he began, shifting the brim of his hat in his fingers. He cleared his throat, and tried again, his voice coming out in a low grumble. "I was wondering if you, um, wanted to uh, go for a drive with me."

His gaze was steady as he waited for my answer, but I was speechless. He drove all the way out here to ask to drive some more? Bondurant men and their cars, I didn't get it. But he did drive all the way out here. And he was asking me to join him on his drive. "What, right now?" I asked.

He nodded, a quiet grunt erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes shifted to the side momentarily. "Where we going?" I asked, and he shrugged. I sighed, and looked past him. It was a little warmer than it had been the last few weeks, but the sun was rapidly setting, and the temperature would drop drastically with it. He had the TT with him, rickety old thing. I was in my nurse's uniform, and I sorely wished that I could change into normal, nicer clothing. But it was Forrest, and he was here, asking me to go with him. "All right," I said. "Wait here while I get my coat."

He nodded, but looked past me at the sound of footsteps, and I turned to see the Doctor proceeding from one corridor to another. He stopped to address me with a warm smile, but his gaze shifted as he realized I was talking to someone. "Forrest?" he asked, and a touch of alert was present in his tone. "Forrest, you all right? You hurt?"

"He's fine, Doctor," I said with a small laugh at his blatant concern. Forrest Bondurant shows up at the hospital, and we all expect the worse. "Forrest was just offering to drive me home."

"Well that's nice of ya, Forrest. I'll see ya tomorrow, Edie." The Doctor gave a nod and a smile to the both of us, and then continued on down his initial direction.

I didn't know what to do as we sat side-by-side in the cab. I wrung my hands in my lap, too nervous about the whole thing to look over at him, so I looked out the window instead. What were we supposed to do, were we supposed to talk? Talk about what? What if Forrest didn't want to talk, then what? Forrest kept both hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road, but he wasn't tense. Didn't look uncomfortable. He was just driving.

Whether or not he originally knew where he was going, Forrest seemed to navigate the roads with precise direction, and eventually, we were turning off the roads and down a heavily-driven path as I looked around curiously. We were on farmland. An old farmhouse painted white lay in the clearing at a distance, and beyond it acres of earth hardened by winter stretched across the open space. The whole property was surrounded by thickly wooded area, a semicircle of a dense collection of trees whose branches swung together like they were in some sort of embrace.

We drove right through the clearing and into the woods, the whole area becoming immensely darker. I glanced up at Forrest as the truck lurched and jumped against the difficult path. Whatever he was doing, it seemed to be intentional. In no time, the thicket gave way to another clearing, and Forrest turned the nose of the truck around sharply to point it in the direction we'd come from. When the motor shuddered to a rest, Forrest opened his door. "Come on," he said.

Trees flanked the clearing, which stretched and winded farther than I could see. Tiny patches of snow still spotted the ground in thickly shaded areas, but the most of it had melted by now. In the middle of the clearing lay a body of water. A river of some sorts. It moved downstream in a steady current, encouraged by the weight of all the melted snow, providing a soothing rush that filled the air, like nature's music.

"What is this place?" I asked, stepping down to the water.

"Snow Creek," he said, and when I looked at him, he had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cardigan sweater, tilting back on the heels of his boots to look up at the sky. When I asked what we were doing here, he gave a high-shouldered shrug. "I like it here."

"It's gonna be dark soon."

"S'all right."

Forrest pulled on the latch, and the tailgate fell flat to reveal the bed of the truck. A couple wooden crates sat in the far left corner, up against the cab, and a quilt was spread along the wooden boards. I smiled to myself, thinking Forrest put a little thought into this. He hopped up into the bed and squatted, holding his hands out as he said, "Put a foot up." I did as he told, and put my hands in his. He gripped them gently, and when he stood he pulled me up easily, and my muscles tensed with the sudden weightlessness. We stood still for a moment, but then dropped down, and I fell onto my back as Forrest leaned against the crates.

The sky was a deep blue, only a hint of purple left as the first of the stars began to peek out. The moon was almost a full one, but wasn't doing much in the way of light as the sun fought to stretch its last rays over the sky before drowning on the horizon. A strike of a match drew my attention, and I tilted my head upward to see Forrest lighting a stump of rolled tobacco. He blew out a puff of smoke, and looked down at me. "You cold?"

"Yeah."

"I brought you somethin'." I sat up and angled toward him curiously as he twisted to fiddle with the jars in the crate behind him. He picked one up from somewhere in the middle, and instead of canned vegetables like the others had been, this jar was filled with amber liquid. Could've fooled me for honey, if it didn't move so easily inside. He held it out to me, and I took it with both hands.

"This your apple brandy?" I asked, turning it over in my hands.

"Yep."

"Thank you. Can I open it?" He flourished his hand in a gesture that said it was all mine, so I twisted the lid off, holding it in my hand as I brought the edge of the jar to my lips for a hesitant sip. The drink set my throat on fire and I grimaced, but relished in the sweetness that came after. With a small cough, I offered the jar to Forrest, and he took it.

We didn't drink all that much of the brandy. Just enough to feel warm, and a little more relaxed. My muscles tensed and burned there for a little bit, and it was a strange sensation. But when it let up, it felt nice to move. The stars shined extra brighter, and the moonlight turned everything blue.

"You were there," Forrest said after a long stretch of silence, as we lay side by side, eyes to the sky. I turned my head to find him looking at me. "After I fell. You took care of me."

"Yeah, I did," I admitted.

"Why?"

"Felt right."

Forrest eyed me for another minute, then turned his face back up to the sky. "Tell me somethin'."

"What?" I asked.

"Anything."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as I searched his face. But he kept on staring up at the stars waiting for me to begin. So I did, with the first thing that came to mind. I told him of my love of water, and how I can't live in a place without it close by. And that didn't make no sense to anyone, because of how much I hated rain and snow, and getting my clothes wet. I told him how I hated the winter, was absolutely miserable, and couldn't wait for spring to come. I'd take air so hot and thick with moisture you couldn't breathe over a cold wind any day, I told him.

I told him how I got to Franklin. On my way to Boston. I'd been all over home, but there just weren't any jobs, and I had to leave. I hated that I had to leave, but there wasn't anything left, really. My daddy died before he and mama could have anymore babies, and mama was so far gone in the head with age, she didn't know who I was anymore. I hitchhiked from town to town looking for employment, and just happened upon Rocky Mount by accident. The first thing I noticed was the quiet, and I liked that. I had no idea this was a shiner's county, and that came as a massive surprise. I asked around town about a job, and someone said try the hospital up the hill. That's when I met the doctor. He said they didn't have any positions at first, but then we got to talking, and he ended up liking me just fine. He set me up with a job that had a steady income, and told me where I could find housing. I think I loved that doctor. He was like a mentor, if not like a father to me. I always listened to him, which was why I was now saving wages for university someday. A little more every payday, put away in a coffee can somewhere safe.

I was thirsty as a camel by the time I finished, and grabbed for the brandy. It didn't do much in the way of quenching that thirst, but it'd have to do. When I settled back down, after a while, Forrest spoke. "I like when you talk."

I wasn't expecting him to say something like that, and it drew an expression of surprise from me mighty quickly, though I don't think he saw it. "I wish you'd talk," I said.

"Nothin' to say."

"Oh, I bet you have a lot of interesting things to say, Forrest Bondurant."

He turned to look at me, eyes shining in the glow of the moon. "Come here," he said. So I did, rolling onto my side and tucking up against him. I leaned on my elbow and hovered over him, though neither of us moved to kiss each other. I could feel his breath hot on my face, the smell of smoke and alcohol hovering in our proximity. Then I felt a hand at my head, fingers digging into the bunch of hair at the nape of my neck. He pulled a pin loose, and then another, watching the length of my hair tumble down past my shoulders. He fluffed out the strands gently, running his fingers down through to the ends as he considered the length. And I'm sure he could've done that all night, but I trembled with the effort of keeping myself from falling over him, and when it became unbearable I gave in and pressed my lips hard against his.

I fell onto my back as he rolled, and I could feel my head cradled in his hand, fingers stretched and pressed against my scalp, could feel his other hand slip under my coat to rest warm and possessively against my waist. A burning desire for this man surged through me. I don't know where it was coming from or where it was going, but it was hard to ignore, and I struggled to stop my hands from roaming the length of him. Instead I gripped him by the shoulder and held him close, my breathing ragged as he pressed into me.

My lips still tingled as I fingered the buttons of Forrest's cardigan sweater. His heartbeat was loud and steady against my ear, hand in a firm grasp at my waist. The temperature was rapidly descending as the night grew on, but Forrest ran hot and I hardly noticed. When I craned my neck to look up at him, he had an arm crooked behind his head, and his eyes were closed. "Forrest?"

"Hm."

"Dance with me."

He opened his eyes slightly, and slid them down to me. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Ain't no music."

"So?"

"Can't dance with no music."

"Sure you can."

His eyes opened a little wider, and he shifted to regard me at a better angle. "Why?"

"Because I'd like it," I said, mustering a small shrug. "Ain't no one around."

He seemed to be weighing his options, and whether or not he actually wanted to. But finally, and with a heavy sigh, he moved to sit up. He slid out of the bed to plant both feet on the ground, then turned to hold his hands out to me. I bent my knees and he gripped my hips, lifting me out of the bed to set me on my feet. I took his hand and led him down closer to the water, the moon shining a little brighter out of the shade of low-hanging branches. We stopped, and he lifted the hand that cupped mine, holding it out as he snaked an arm around me. I put a hand around his shoulder, and with another begrudging sigh from him, we began to sway side to side.

It was easy, moving with him. Stepping in time to our own pattern deciphered by the rushing current beside us. Our form became a little lazier, and I leaned into him, resting my head against his chest. I smiled to myself. "Time on my hands." The weight at the top of my head lifted, and I knew he'd raised his chin to look down at me. "You in my arms. Nothing but love in view." I lifted my head to chance a peek at him, and found a puzzled scowl firmly set on his features. I grinned as I lifted his hand and spun myself out, but his grip tightened against my fingers as our arms stretched to their full length, and pulled me back to him. "Then if you fall, once and for all." We rotated to the soft, slow melody. The one we could hear in our heads, because I was sure my vocal tempo was way off. "I'll see my dreams come true." I stopped singing, deciding that was enough, and when I stopped singing, he stopped moving.

I leaned back to find his eyes searching my face, soft and blinking slowly. They narrowed briefly, and he grumbled, "Awful singer."

"I bet that was a grand heap better than you could do," I said.

He released a breath of laughter through his nostrils as his eyes narrowed further, and the corners of his mouth slowly tilted upward. I melted. I couldn't have ever imagined what that smile looked like before. But now that I'd seen it, I never wanted to forget.

He brought my head back down to his chest, and began to sway again.


"Forrest acts like the toughest of the three brothers - they themselves ask this of him, while he wants to be an old woman." - Tom Hardy

Time On My Hands (You In My Arms) - Smith Ballew & His Orchestra, 1931

Oh yeah, I went there. But damn if it isn't a 1930s romance without some fluff. The amazing and kind reception of the last chapter inspired this one. Give yourselves a pat on the back, my wonderful muses. Let me know what you think! :)