Dance With Me

-The Way of Grace-

May 1932

He could feel her in his bones. Feel her in the air around him. The way she moved. The way she breathed. She was everywhere, warm and shining, sunlight dancing between the leaves of trees. The calm in the night. The wholeness in the world around him.

He was powerless to her. He knew that now. He probably always was. Whatever she wanted, it was hers. Whatever he could give her, she already had it. His mind, his heart, his home. His body. All hers. He was at her disposal, and he had no control over it.

Edna.

Howard said something funny, made her laugh. The sweet melody blurred the numbers on the page in front of him. Her lips spread across straight teeth in a striking smile. But she never just smiled with her mouth. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed, and it damn near brought him to his knees every time.

How do you do that to me?

She glanced over at him in her laughter, wondering if he caught the joke. He didn't. He wanted his brothers to leave. He wanted to close up the station early tonight. He wanted to be alone with her. With her grace and her delicacy. He found himself wanting it more often than not these days. Wanting to touch her; to be touched by her. Wishing to steal just one kiss in the backroom before tending to other matters.

He stuffed a chunk of cornbread into his mouth and skimmed over the numbers again. The same. They were always the same, and getting better. He heard of an area for sale out along Philpott Lake. She wanted a house by a lake. A big lake, with a sandy beach. It had to be sand. Rocks hurt her feet, and clay stained and stuck to everything. He planned on taking a drive out to look at it. He would stand at the water's edge and look all around him. If he could see her vision, he would buy that land. Then he'd start saving for lumber.

"What do you think, Forrest?"

He looked up at the sound of his name, navigating the three faces around him until one matched the voice of his baby brother. Jack had an eager expression, eyes flashing with excitement. "What?" he asked.

"Me asking Bertha to marry me," Jack said, unable to keep the stupid grin off his face.

He was not remotely expecting to ever be approached with such a question. He looked at Edna, and then he looked at Howard, but they found more interest in their plates as they waited for what he had to say. "Uhm." He dropped his pencil and picked up his fork. "You ask her daddy's permission yet?"

"Well, no," Jack said. "But that don't matter anyway. Ain't like he's gonna say yes."

"And you think she'll still say yes even if her daddy don't?" Edna asked. It was a good question. One he probably would've asked if no one else did. No one knew Bertha like Jack did. Girl never even met Edna yet. Jack made sure to keep his interest at arm's length from his family while he courted her, ever since she was present when Rakes raided those stills the previous year.

"Sure she will," Jack said, with a strong confidence that had been rapidly maturing in recent months. "She loves me."

He chanced a look over at Edna, and met her gaze. Her eyes softened in a private smile as they searched his face, crippling him in his fight to refrain from reaching for her. Not in front of his brothers. Not in front of anyone. Those moments were meant only for each other.

"So what d'you think? Think I should?"

He had a house for her. He had a decent income. Jack may have been young, but he was alive with love. He would be good to Bertha; faithful, true. They'd have babies. Sons who would grow and tend to the farm left neglected in their father's death. Daughters who would bring to life the home their mother and sisters had once worked so hard to make. That marriage bit was entirely up to the youngest Bondurant. But he would always approve of Jack building a respectable life for himself.

He voiced his consent in a low consonant formed in the back of his throat, and returned to counting numbers.

He knew it was time to retire upstairs when he felt her hand at the back of his head. A soft brush against his scalp that reminded him how stiff and sore he felt from sitting in that chair so long. They were alone again. Finally alone. He needed to get out of that chair and lock up. Blackwater Station was closed for the night.

His brothers left shortly after supper; Jack for the farm, Howard for the hills. Edna cleared the table and took her time washing the dirtied dishes. He remained in his seat, sipping whiskey as he calculated the estimated cost of lumber at its current price for a two-level house with a cellar. She didn't care for the cellar, but that was something he wanted.

Her fingers trailed impossibly lightly down his neck, and his eyes closed to the touch. His head began to sink forward, but she caught it, holding his face steady between fingers that folded over his chin and cheeks. She brushed a hand over his forehead to his hairline, smoothing out the short strands.

She pressed a warm kiss to his temple and he swallowed, releasing his hold on his pencil and let it roll across the table. He would probably never understand the how or why of this life he was slowly building. It almost didn't matter. Not when the who and what were so good. It couldn't be wrong. It wasn't.

The world was cruel and unforgiving. He learned from a young age that a person had to be cruel back. It all came down to survival. You had to fight, take charge, and instill fear in your neighbors and your enemies to survive. The day you submitted to them was the day you'd die. There wasn't any time to love. No time for forgiveness. No time to find the beauty in the world around him. Too dangerous to consider it.

Her lips brushed down his cheek, and he exhaled deeply, leaning into her touch.

He'd never forgive the world for the things it'd done to him, but she made him want to forget. Leave it all behind. Live alone somewhere, where it was safe to feel, to smile when he wanted to, and laugh when something was funny. It'd be nice to meet someone without the automatic assumption that they were there to kill him, and take his hard-earned money. It'd be nice to let his brothers take care of themselves for a while. It'd be nice to finally let himself be taken care of. And she was so good at it.

Edna.

He opened his eyes and found her mouth, capturing it with his. He wondered if this was how his father felt when he first loved his mother. He didn't remember much, but he remembered that. His father doted on his wife. Appreciated every kind word and warm meal she placed in front of him. Honored her presence and respected her opinion. Gave her everything he could. When the flu took her, grief crippled him. She was his life, his power. Without her, the world came rushing up to him in a quick and awful way, knocked him six feet under.

He stood out of his chair and pulled her in close. She folded against him easy as a bed sheet, and he could feel her arms wrap around his back. He held her face as he kissed her again, gently as he could. He was always so scared of hurting her. Small little thing.

Where did you come from?

She pulled her face away from his and opened her eyes. They shifted up to his in a flash, and she smiled in a breath of laughter, like something was dawning on her for the first time. He wondered what it was, but the curiosity dissipated as she bunched up the shirt fabric at his back and slowly pulled the seams from their tight tuck in the brim of his pants. Her fingers slid around the circumference of his waist, working to pull the shirt free. Then she started on the buttons, one by one down the front of him as he breathed her in.

She wore her hair long today. He reached up and wove his fingers through a thick of strands near her scalp. It broke her concentration and she smiled, eyes fluttering closed as he pulled his fingers through to the ends. She hooked her hands under his suspenders, slid them over his shoulders and let them fall to his sides.

He had to tell her. He had to tell her he wanted her to stay. He couldn't stand her going off to school. What if she decided she didn't want to come back? How was he supposed to protect her from the ugliness of the world so far away? How could he build them a house if she wasn't there to make it a home? It made sense for her to stay. She loved him. He knew that.

Sweet Edna. He brought his hands back to her face, carefully cupping them around her structure as gently as he could. A ghost of a touch. She leaned into the palm of his left hand and kissed his wrist. Her fingers trailed up the length of his arms to his hands, and she grasped them, drew them away from her face. He watched in awe at the grace of it. Her skin soft as weathered velvet. Her movement choreographed by God. How did it come to be like this? When did he lose himself to this extraordinary being?

When did you first touch my heart?

She threaded her fingers through his and drew their hands in close to her chest. There was a dull thump and she shrunk even further in her height. He looked down to see her kick off her other shoe. He swallowed and returned his gaze to her face, waiting for her direction. Waiting for him to tell her what to do, or waiting for her to free him and be guided by impulse.

She lowered his hands down to her sides and released her hold on them. He flattened his palms against her in question, and she smiled. He bent to kiss her as he gathered up the loose cotton of her skirt until he touched nylon. He felt around the fronts and backs of her thighs, releasing her stockings from their holds with ease of practice. He pinched the tight material of her girdle and pulled. It rolled down her skin in a slow progress until he could tug it loose, and when he did, he let it fall from her legs to the ground.

When she withdrew for a breath, she gathered up the back of her skirt and receded several steps until she felt the edge of the table. She slid onto its surface, and he stepped between her legs as they opened for him. He brought his lips to her chin, and then moved them to her neck. She worked at his belt, and the sweet sound of her laugh rolled between them.

"You ever scared we'll accidentally make a baby doin' this?" she asked, her voice light and full of air.

"No," he mumbled into the base of her neck.

"You want babies with me, Forrest?" she asked.

Course he did. Didn't she know this already? He wanted to make her his under God, too. But not until he was sure she'd stay. He'd build a big home like she wanted, and they'd fill it with a whole mess of kids. Many as she wanted, but enough so that even in the worst times, none of them would ever be alone. He would give those kids everything. He would be there to watch them grow into their own. He'd show his sons how to be men, and teach his daughters to respect themselves, and value their worth. But the best thing he could ever do for them, like his father did for his children, is love their mother. He would do that.

He leaned back just far enough to see her face. Stay with me. He looked at her mouth, her nose, her chin. You are my life. Her cheeks, her ears. My future. He looked at her eyes, shifting back and forth in anticipation of his answer. You are my world. She had to know that already. Didn't she? But she was waiting for him. So he said, "yeah."


"How can somebody be so violent, yet at the same time be such a little boy? And so intrinsically innocent and naive, and have such a heart, but yet do something on this side which is so incredibly, horrifically horrible." -Tom Hardy on the paradoxes of Forrest Bondurant.

Next chapter, we return to where the story left off. Before the vignettes. So if you were wondering why you were suffocating in fluff the last couple chapters, that's why! It was necessary...

So, uhm...I'm playing around with ideas for an Eames story. It could be fun, since it's Inception and all! Just to flex my descriptive writing muscle a little, and work on research and character/plot development. It would be my own private (or public, I guess, since I'd publish it on here) writing workshop. But we'll see.

Sending my love and thoughts out to any East Coast readers affected by Sandy. I sincerely hope you and your loved ones are safe and were able to avoid the brunt of the storm. I love you all! Hopefully you are able to read this. If it's a while before you can, when you do, just know that I was thinking about you. Stay safe!