Gwenyth Taylor Plunkett, parmigiolate, Chris P.C., luakinage :) and Dinah, thank you so much for your very sweet reviews!
no turning back
Stumbling inside the house, skidding to an abrupt halt under the raging hard stare of her stepfather, Violet stood in a dizzying haze.
Soaked to the skin she shivered, not from the cold driving rain, but the from the touch of his lips, still lingering upon her mouth, her body, her everything.
Breathless, teeth chattering, she veered back catching a blanket thrown at her roughly.
"Cover yourself, I swear Violet it's as though you're deliberating trying to test me."
Gripping the multi colored quilt she held it over her revealing nightgown while standing in a puddle forming at her dirty bare feet.
Digging his nails into his worn Bible he averted his eyes clearly moved by the flushed, wet, fevered state she was in.
Oblivious to the power of her beauty, Violet missed the signals, his waning struggle between man and faith.
Stuttering she fumbled with an excuse that felt upon deaf distrusting ears.
"I-I'm sorry, I heard something, it sounded like an injured animal… I went to find it but lost the flashlight, then it started to rain - "
"Save it Violet, your lies are written all over you, like a fallen woman, which is what you are now, a woman, young as you may be."
Waving his Bible in the air he raised his voice looking at her as if she were unclean, tainted in some way.
"Job 31:11-12, For lust is a shameful sin, a crime that should be punished. It is a devastating fire that destroys all to hell."
Furious at his implications she glared up at him fearlessly.
"Are you calling me a slut?"
Frustrated he stomped upstairs bellowing loudly, feeling as if he was losing control over her.
"Your words not mine, I don't want to know where you were, or who you were with tonight, but understand that you are grounded. I believe a week inside reflecting on your behavior will do you some good."
Violet made her way upstairs wrapping the blanket around her slender shoulders, holding it tight around her body leaving wet muddy footprints in her wake.
Feeling as if she were in a trance, she wandered slowly in her bedroom closing the door behind her, before lifting her eyes toward her large windows overlooking the backyard.
He was gone, back to the cemetery she supposed, or where ever he came from.
Bracing her back against her wall she traced her fingertips over her lips, barely able to keep her legs from buckling beneath her, lost in his kiss still.
Changing into a tee shirt and pajama bottoms she slipped into bed watching as her sheer curtains floated with the wind back and forth over her.
Reaching for the box under her pillows she drifted her hand over the carved letters once again whispering his name softly.
'Tate.'
Staring at the lock, she got up to rummage through her things still stuffed in the many boxes surrounding her bed.
Discarding a paper clip, scissors, tweezers she settled on a silver letter opener that belonged to her mother.
Sitting cross legged on her bed she worked the lock for several minutes before she finally heard a clicking sound.
Breathing out excitedly she slowly opened it, before lighting a candle, deciding against her lamp to discourage Ben's curiosity if he happened to pass by her room.
There inside she found another matchbox car.
She ran the tiny wheels over her fingers inspecting it carefully before putting it the side.
Looking further she found a white rabbit's foot, a Hank Aaron baseball card, and a necklace, silver, with a tiny heart hanging from it.
Confused she held it up to the candle, everything made sense except for the necklace, that was obviously made for a girl, thin, delicate, she couldn't help but wonder who it belonged to - his mom, a girlfriend perhaps, these thoughts of him filled her mind pushing out everything else far away.
Rubbing her thumb across the softness of the rabbit's fur she was just about to close the box when she noticed something attached up under the lid.
Hidden in a secret sleeve were photographs, black and white, curled at the edges, cracked with age.
Holding the flickering flame close she lost her breath, her hazel eyes grew wide as chills rushed over her body.
It was him, Tate, an impossibility, something beyond reason or understanding.
He looked just as she had left him just hours ago, same age, same dark intense all consuming stare piercing time and space to find her.
He was leaning up against a nineteen fifty something ford truck that appeared brand new, his hands were shoved inside the front pocket of his jeans, he wore a black tee shirt, the same that she had clung to earlier.
He looked serious, distressed, as if he didn't want his picture taken.
His head was lowered, only his eyes lifted up towards whoever took the photo, it was almost as if he was being forced to be there.
The next was a family portrait, it was taken right outside the house, her house, a stern looking man dressed like a farmer, and a woman appearing like one of the dust bowl victims, void of hope, drained from any signs of life.
Standing off to the side was Tate, he was staring down at a little boy, blonde like him, maybe ten years old, but different, wide eyes of innocence looking straight into the camera, flashing a smile that could light up the whole world.
He seemed carefree, different than the rest of the family, joyful even.
Tate had his hands secured on the little boy's shoulders, protectively, his expression deep with concern, fear, it was immersed in his body, the tension was evident, impossible to miss.
Hearing her stepfather in the hallway, Violet shoved everything back in the box quickly placing it close under the pillows.
For the next week she wandered the halls of the old house, skimming her hands along the old flowered wallpaper imagining him there.
Violet felt like an empty shell without him, the loss was palpable, many times she considered sneaking out, but the lectures continued on each day changing her mind.
Ben decided that an hour of Bible study a night would help to redeem her soul.
Pretending to listen, she nodded as if hanging on his every word, but she could not have been further away.
Always she found herself running down the path, towards the little cemetery, into his arms, secure under the dark gaze that held her like a willing prisoner; seducing, bewildering, beautiful Tate.
He became her anchor, her reason for hope, her secret savior.
Nights continued to bring dreams like before, but now he was always there, hand in hers, his deep comforting voice floating over her, letting her know that she wasn't alone.
Violet found solace in knowing she was in the room that was once his, sleeping where he once slept, imagining him staring up at the same ceiling, fantasizing of a better world, a different life.
His unhappiness was clear in the pictures, loneliness permeated his demeanor, weighing him down as if he were drowning.
She held the one by the truck where he stood alone, keeping it curled within the palm of her hand as she slept until the image was burned in her memory.
It wasn't until the end of the week approached that she noticed a faint date written in pencil on the back of the photo.
Tate Langdon
Summer of 54'
Lost as to how this was possible, not yet fully ready to accept the obvious, she waited patiently till her father was asleep before attempting to get into the attic which she soon discovered was padlocked.
Desperate for clues she ran to the basement door, hesitating remembering Ben's many warnings.
Apparently the stairs were in need of repairs, she was told many times it wasn't safe, like everything else in her life it was forbidden territory.
Opening the door she reached up for a chain switching the light on that only lit half way down the narrow steep staircase.
Covered with spider webs, and a stench that reeked of dead animals she backed away as a better idea came to her.
Tomorrow her punishment was over, she had decided to ride a bike she found in a shed beside the house to the local library, she hoped there she would find old records of his family, possibly of him.
Later that night in bed, Violet hovered on the edge of sleep until she was slowly aroused by something far off in the distance, a kind of soft whisper calling out to her, beckoning her to wake.
Rubbing her sleepy eyes she rose from her bed drawn to the dreamlike voice softly calling out to her.
Spreading her curtains apart she nearly lost her ability to breath as she peered down to the edge of the forest, now lit with the intense glow of a full moon.
Tucking her long hair behind her ears, she stood in front of the open window, finding him beside the very same tree where he kissed her that stormy night.
Staring, fixated on her, he stood still for several seconds just watching her as if his heart had been in pain from their time spent apart.
Waving her down she hesitantly shook her head, knowing she couldn't risk being caught on the eve before her freedom.
Leaning out her window, she looked back worried that Ben would hear her.
"Tomorrow night."
Wincing for a moment he nodded in disappointment before whispering back.
"Promise me."
Violet was unsure of the reasons for her actions that followed.
Maybe it was the sound of his voice, sultry, full of need, earnest in his intense yearning for her.
It could've been the night, heavy with mood, thick with heat, a symphony of cicadas singing just for them, stars flush in the night sky, glittering like diamonds.
Maybe it was the scent of wildflowers invading her senses, or the summer warm breeze drifting like butterfly wings over her skin.
In the end the reasons didn't matter, in the end all that mattered was that it tipped the scales between the possibility of ever going back to the person she was before.
Violet has crossed the line, gone down the rabbit hole, unable to return, more importantly never wanting to again.
After this night she was his… forever.
Lowering her whiskey eyes down over her black tank top, down to her cotton shorts, she felt something take over, desperate for his touch, she knew the weight of his stare would have to suffice for tonight.
Smoothing her hands down her graceful neck, moving lower over her breasts she quickly captured his attention flushing him out of the coverage of the tall trees.
Turning her back to him she swept her hair to one side, trying to keep from shaking.
Skimming her fingertips underneath the waist of her shorts, she bent over pushing them down her long legs, to the floor revealing her white cotton panties for his perusal.
Crossing her arms she grasped the bottom of her tank top, breathing out slowly, feeling the heat burning from his dark eyes, each breath hinging on her next move, she could sense him consuming her, pulling her in close.
Lifting her shirt over her head languidly, letting it slip from her fingers, she shyly covered her breasts with her forearms, her hands clasped tightly together, before turning to face him.
Her lips parted from the sheer intensity of his penetrating stare, the heavens themselves lit up his beautiful face, as if on purpose, indifferent to the world spinning around them, as if nothing else mattered.
Tate braced his hand hard against their nearby tree, his nails dug into the bark causing it to crumble to the ground, willing himself to stay, not run to her, knowing her stepfather was inside.
His chest was heaving, his expression pained, his muscles tensed with unprecedented restraint.
Lowering her head she slowly let her hands fall to her side, revealing to him a part of herself never seen by another.
His black impassioned eyes were his tell, a reflective mirror of his heart, that now belonged to her.
Sweeping his blonde waves from the sweat of his forehead, she could see his hands shaking as he struggled to speak.
"No words Violet... there are no words worthy enough to describe what my eyes have seen tonight."
Blushing profusely she pulled her white sheers across the window ending her bold display as she backed away slowly.
"Tomorrow Violet… promise me."
Nodding she stepped away to reach for her clothes disappearing from sight.
"I promise."