TRAGEDY
Sarah returned to her room and moved out to a big dormer area with a lovely window adjoining her bedroom. It had been designed and outfitted as a reading area. This was a favorite spot. She brought book after book here and spent hours lost in their tales; big soft chair, good music, wonderful natural light by day and very good reading lamp at night.
Because of the design of the old estate her windows were really on the fourth floor as you looked at the back of the house. It was fun when she was younger to be up that high, to stand near the window, open it all the way and for a moment take flight; out over the car park, and on over the rolling sheep field behind.
Tonight it was completely black as she opened the window and stood there looking. She wanted to see if she could pick out the farm trail that she had taken that first day. She stood with the window open letting the night air move past her dreaming, worrying, and wondering. She could not imagine the peril that Scotty was facing; or would be facing, once the authorities found her note was misleading and came back seeking the truth.
As she stood in the darkened dormer area, her eyes began to adjust. She could begin to see some light outside…she could see shapes and images.
Mentally she tried to calculate which direction she had ridden that day. It was not too hard. The estate was on the very top of a considerable hill and her ride had been straight out past the sheep pasture, through that old gate and then to the left. The old gravel road had been pretty straight as it descended down into the valley.
It was getting later, it was full dark night, now, it was a cloudless night with no moon; she was momentarily amazed at how well she could see as her eyes corrected for the light level. Foot by foot, yard by yard, mile by mile she reconstructed her ride. Thought by thought she moved along the route of her historic bike ride.
Everything momentarily stopped for Sarah as off in the distance; way down in the valley, she could see the glow. Not a bright glow as from artificial lights, but the glow of a fire. How big was it? She had no idea; she had no standard of comparison. She had never studied much of anything out this window at night.
She was terrorized by the glow. Minutes passed as she stood worrying becoming more and more convinced that the glow was a fire and it was collocated with her very best guess as to where Apple Valley Farms might be.
Slowly terror over took her. Could the law have come back to question Scott and tried to arrest him? Could he have holed up in the house, or the barn, and tried to fight it out? One scenario followed another as she studied the distant glow and allowed the bad plots of several novels to interfere with her good thinking. It would not be the first time authorities burned a suspect out of a building.
An hour past as her tension and fears grew beyond comprehension.
Jayson was the only possible source for answers. Sarah rarely used the internal telephone system. In fact it had been so long since she had talked to anyone on the household system she had to look up the numbers. It took five rings until Jayson answered his extension. She could tell immediately she has awakened him. She chose her words carefully,
“Jayson, this is Sarah, I am sorry to wake you but there might be and emergency behind our property. Could you check something out? From my dormer window I can see what sure looks like a big fire. I have watched it for over half an hour and it really worries me. Someone could be in trouble.
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then a sleepy Jayson replied,
“Ok Sarah, you go on back to bed and get a good night’s sleep. I will see if there is anything wrong out there.
Don’t you worry about our properties; all of them have good alarms. It there was anything wrong in the barns, I would know. But, I will look into it anyway. I will stick my head out that way right now. Good night.”
Sarah’s worries grew. Jayson had been with the family for years. His entire world, all his responsibility, ended at the fence of the estate. There had never been any effort at all to get to know anyone in the community. She just did not trust him to even care about something down in the valley. And, as far as she being worried about neighbor, so what.
He had watched Sarah grow up. She was just an over protected little girl. Nothing she did or said would ever change that. To him she had always been just a job requirement, something that had to be tolerated, and that had not changed. Would he even look out the window?
She returned to her enormous bed, propped up on a stack of pillows, turned out the light and tried to sleep. It was impossible. It seemed like she could see the red glow from bed, like it filled the room; impossible, another quick check at the window showed it was way less bright than before.
As she crossed back to the bed she realized she was wearing a nightgown. That was the problem. She was used without it right next to Scotty. No wonder she could not get to sleep. This thing was a real handicap; it balled all up around her.
Now she was lying very still on her back, absolutely nude, and sleep was ever further away. She so needed the warm, loving feeling of Scotty beside her, of his hand in hers, his hand on her leg, his arm to rest her head on, his body upon which…She dozed.
Minutes later she was back across the room calling once more for Jayson: had he been able to see the fire? Had he any answers?
It took several rings until she was once again connected to his sleepy voice.
“Yes Miss Sarah. I looked out back. Yes, I could see what looked like a small fire. I called the fire office in town and was told a farm house down in the valley burned, but it was a small place. The fire was quickly extinguished, everything is all right. Have pleasant dreams. I will see you in the morning.”
That was it. Sleep was going to be impossible. Sarah was certain it was Scotty’s place. Had the county authorities gotten to him? Had they burned him out? Had he been unable to explain her absence? Had there been a fight? Had he burned the place to hide evidence that might lead them to her? Was he alive?
One nightmare followed by another; she tossed and turned her body soaked in sweat. She had to know more.
She reached for the phone on her night stand. It was time to be more assertive with Jayson; after all she was the boss here, she needed answers. She dialed his extension and received a strange hum instead of the normal ring; she tried it again. Jayson had turned his phone off. He was fed up with the intrusions from the little spoiled kid going on and on about some little fire miles away. He was entitled to his time off and she had to settle down and quit bothering him.
The remaining hours of the night were torture for Sarah. She tried every position in bed, she tried every conceivable mind trick to get to sleep, she read, or tried to read; nothing worked. The sky was just starting to get lighter with the morning, when she was startled by the phone ringing. She had ended her effort to sleep sitting in her big chair, a book had fallen onto her lap, and she was back in the nightgown.
It took several rings until she realized the inevitable; Jayson had turned off the phone down in his area. He had gotten fed up with her worries, turned off his phone and gone to sleep. He could not hear this now…that guy loved his sleep and was notorious for being late getting up in the morning.
Sarah made her way over to the bed side stand to pick up the phone. For the first time ever she was the lady of the house. She could handle it after all she was now, by all definition, a lady. She had become a lady in Scotty’s arms and he had taught her so much about reality. However, she would have to fake a good mature voice if she was going to speak for the household this morning,
“Hello, Wanewrite residence.”
She answered with authority.
A very official voice on the other end responded,
“Sorry to bother you so early in the morning. This is Charlotte Hammen with Children’s Services New York City. Could I speak to Cybil Wanewrite please?
Holly shit, Sarah was stunned wide awake; she could hear her heart beating, her legs went weak. Cybil was not a Wanewrite. Cybil had never been referred to as a Wanewrite except in the little paper Sarah had scribbled out and given to Sheriff Henry Jacks.
One by one the light bulbs came on. It all unraveled very quickly. Evidently, Jacks had called the NYPD; they had turned to Children’s Services to locate Sarah. That was one of their big jobs…to locate runaways. Children’s Services had called the condo number she had given Jacks and somehow they were referred back here to the estate.
Sarah struggled to calm down. She needed her senior voice. The game was afoot as they say. It was time to do her best acting; to have her very best dialog. What she said in the next few moments would be so important for she, but more importantly for Scotty.
“Yes Charlotte, this is Cybil Wanewrite. How can I help you?”
Wow, maybe the voice was a little too heavy, a little too mature. Was it even believable?
“Mrs. Wanewrite, once again I am so sorry for bothering you this early, but it is important that I ascertain the where a bouts of your daughter Sarah. We received a missing person inquiry from county authorities in Michigan yesterday and need to follow up on it quickly. Do you know where your daughter is? If she is gone from your custody they may be able to locate her if we move quickly.
The additional few moments had given Sarah time to settle down a bit. She was completely in her element now. This was right out of a good novel. Maybe she should lighten her voice just a little; she always knew she had the capacity to overact,
“Sarah missing? There is a mix up somewhere. Sarah is upstairs in bed. My husband and I just got back from a trip to celebrate our anniversary and Sarah went to visit my brother in Michigan while we were gone. We drove over and picked her up yesterday. She is home safe and sound other than a few big bug bites from playing around on his farm. I think she is going to sleep for a week.”
Sarah was thrilled with her acting ability. The dialog had been perfect, her voice had been perfect…so believable. There was just a quick exchange of pleasantries and the conversation ended with a final apology from Charlotte for the early call.
What good luck. What good fortune. Sarah had been able to document her own location. Scotty was in no trouble. His “sister” had just explained everything to authorities. Sarah was safe and with all the things the NYPD and the local County Sheriff had to do; this should quickly be forgotten.
Sarah hung the phone up and collapsed on the bed.
Her mind was racing. What a marvelous coincidence; the note, the quick trip home in the morning, Jayson turning off his phone, such a string of good events never happen for Sarah Wanewrite. Well now that they did they must be used to the upmost.
She reached for the phone; a master stroke plan blooming in her head. Two rings and
Ann answered for Children’s Services New York.
“Hi Charlotte, this is Cybil Wanewrite calling you back. Sorry to bother you, but a thought crossed my mind after we hung up. We have residences in New York and Michigan, as well as down south; in the summer our daughter, Sarah, spends a lot of her time in Michigan to get out of the city during the heat. My husband and I are busy with business and we travel a good bit as a result. When we are out of town Sarah often stays with my brother. Obviously something went wrong with the authorities there this trip. I wanted to inquire; is there some form of documentation we should give my brother, beyond her medical authority? Should he have something else that might eliminate this mix up again? Perhaps a phone call from you to the folks back there would tell us what we need to assure a mix up like this doesn’t happen again.”
Charlotte immediately responded,
“Mrs. Wanewrite we are very sorry this happened, but it is not unusual, there is such concern today about runaway kids, particularly girls of your daughter’s age. I think this mix up was simply the product of overzealous local authorities up there. I will calm it all down with a phone call from here and explain that your daughter will be visiting the area in the future. That is all that should be needed…no paperwork.”
A couple more pleasantries and the conversation ended. Sarah dropped on the bed choking with laughter. She was overcome with a silly joy. It could not be contained.
What an acting job. What a coincidence. Scotty was safe and beyond that she could see him anytime. Henry Jacks the mean sheriff had met his match. Sarah had opened the door to a future in the apple orchards at least once in a while.
She dressed in shorts and a top, tennis shoes ready to hike and went down to breakfast.
WACO
The only thing surprising about breakfast was the amount Sarah ate. She was starved. The server could not believe all she ordered and watched from the service bar as Sarah consumed one thing after another.
As she ate it dawned on Sarah that she had not had a really good meal in two days, not since she and Scotty went on the run. In addition, her conversations with New York had really added to her appetite for food. She had gone way out on a limp and even asked for coffee. She had never drunk coffee. No one here had ever heard of her drinking coffee. It made for interesting glances. Coffee just seemed essential this morning. Drinking coffee filled her with thoughts of Scotty and mornings outside at the Picnic table.
As Sarah finished, Jayson came into the room to make sure everything was all right. He asked about her breakfast and once satisfied that all was good, he went into brief comments about the fire last night,
“Sarah, you were right about seeing a little fire down in the valley last night. I am sorry it bothered your sleep. When the head gardener came to work this morning he told me the talk at the diner in town was all about a fire out this way in the old valley. Some buildings had burned. There was no water available so the fire department just monitored things and let the old buildings burn. All is back to normal this morning. Everyone thought it was a good idea the junk was gone…less places for drunks to hang out!”
Sarah sat stunned. It was Apple Valley for sure. She had to get there one way or another. Her thought went to the old bicycle and only then did she remember it was still sitting in Scotty’s garage where she left it.
There had to be some other way to get down the hill and check things out.
Slowly she dressed in camp clothes, brown shorts, blue top, and tennis shoes. She looked ready for something. Over and over she was convincing herself that she could run, jog, walk the distance she rode that old rusty bike that fateful day. One thing for certain, she was not going to ask for a ride in any form. Every good novel would tell her this mission had to be flown alone…no accomplices.
Jayson was at his desk in his small office off the entry foyer. As she swung down to the hall floor around the end of the banister a light bulb came on in her head. She had never asked for anything that she did not receive… that was the only good product of money as she saw it. She did not ask for much, but now was the time.
It took ten minutes of conversation with Jayson to tell him about the exercise program at Evenrude and the joy she had found in bike riding…to describe the many real neat riding opportunities here on the grounds with all the fields and such…and to firmly request that she have a real good cross-over bike.
It took Jayson another ten minutes to call his contacts and arrange for delivery. Local merchants jumped if they ever got a call from the estate. There was always the hope of more business.
One hour later, still way before lunch time Sarah was testing out a new bike around the courtyard and the buildings. A Schwinn Super Sport CX Hybrid, light weight yet ready for rough terrain as well as paved surface; should be great on a gravel road.
A quick sandwich in the kitchen…word to Jayson about how much she had grown to enjoy long rides at camp and Sarah was on her way down along the sheep field, out the old gate and down the gravel road.
This bike was super easy to ride…great on the gravel road…she rode like the wind, her blond hair in a loose pony tail flying behind her.
All she could think about was Scotty. She would like to have worn something different for him…something that would cause a stir, but she had to look appropriate leaving the estate.
In less than an hour, Apple Valley Orchards started to appear ahead on the right. There was instant relief as the house came into view, but as she turned up the drive she could see the old garage where her rusty bike had been, was burned to the ground. It had been quite a fire. The lower limbs of the old red oaks above were scorched. Fortunately, nothing else had caught fire.
Cautiously, she moved on up to the house pushing her bike. Even from the old garage location she could see the front door was standing open. That was so unusual, not at all like Scotty.
Time after time, she called for Scotty as she carefully walked up onto the porch. Her first look inside said everything was ok. Everything seemed to be in place as she remembered it. She moved back to the kitchen; strangely every door was standing open. Just the spring loaded screen door to the back yard was shut. She turned, summoned a bit more courage and started up the steps. She had quit the summoning call for Scotty; if he were around he would have responded. Silently she moved up.
Again every door stood open; otherwise everything was in order. Not a thing appeared to be missing, but no Scotty. She peered through the open door to the closet; all in order, but as she turned away she was caught by the possibility that a couple bags were missing…maybe just one bag and a backpack. Something was not as she remembered.
Back outside, her search continued as she brought her bike around the house and pushed it onward past the picnic table and down through the first of the apple trees to the barn. Again, the barn door also stood open, how unlike Scotty. It was one thing to leave the house open…unusual; but it was something very different to leave the barn unlocked let alone open. All his things for the orchards were stored in the barn. Where was he? What the hell had happened?
She stood in stunned silence, this was not like Scotty…his car was here, the tractors were here, the trim wagon and all his other equipment was here; there was no explanation; no way all his things could be here and he was gone.
As Sarah came out of the barn her thought processes move to a higher order. What was common in every detective mystery? The initial investigation was over; it was time to look deeper for clues to answer all the remaining questions.
Walking back toward the house, Sarah studied the ground with new interest. There were tire tracks everywhere. She had not notice them on the way down to the barn, but now they were as clear as day. Next she noticed the width and style of the tire tracks. Several different vehicles, some with off road tires had been all over the place. A quick detective study said maybe as many as five or six different vehicles had been all over, round and round.
As she came up the back steps she moved to close the door as she and Scotty always did. When her hand came away she realized she had blood on her hand where she had gripped the door. Alerted by this new clue she began to study the kitchen floor. Small drops of blood. Her concerns for Scotty mounted.
She opened some of the drawers, found everything in order, but it was then she noted the kitchen knife block on the counter was missing several knives; maybe only two, maybe more.
Sarah moved through the house closing the doors and securing the windows as she knew Scotty did every night. There were no more clews immediately available.
Ten more minutes of fruitless detective work and she was sitting out at the picnic bench trying to organize what she knew.
Scotty was missing…his car, tractors, everything he could use to get away were still here…there was some blood that might indicate a struggle…knives were missing…a pack pack…a pull bag…mismatched tires tracks all around the place. She sat pondered. She needed more information. She had exhausted all readily available clues.
Right now is when all good detectives ask questions, but there was no one to ask. She was absolutely alone in this.
She needed to move fast…Scotty could be in trouble.
The sun was now quite high in the midday sky and it had moved such that she was no longer in the shade. This sleuthing is hard work and combined with a lot of tensions; she was getting warm.
Out of nowhere conclusions started to form. Scotty was never going to be apprehended again. Someone had come here, most likely the law, and search all over for him in the dark. Scotty was on his turf, he knew every inch of these many acres of apple orchards. If he had simply packed up some things and ran into the trees he could live for a long time. Apples alone could keep him going for days. There is no way the law would look for him at night in this dense orchard even if they suspected he was in there.
She sat and pondered, how in the world could she find him if the law could not. There were over a thousand acres of orchards, tractors trails crisscrossed like a labyrinth. He knew every inch; she only knew less than ten acres they had worked together.
But, she knew Scotty, they had lived together, slept together, love together and she knew how he thought. Without a word she got up, mounted her bike and started to ride out past the barn and into the orchard. There was no question where he was; the only question was could she find the spot again.
Sarah was pleased she had requested a hybrid bike. It had the bigger tires and could be ridden off road quite handily.
One thing she knew was how to get back the tractor trails to the area they had been trimming every day. Once she arrived in the area of freshly trimmed trees it was an easy deduction to head down hill to the valley and the compost area. She found her way to the compost pile readily. They had gone back and forth many times.
From the compost area she went on foot. She and Scott had left the tractor and wagon at the compost when they took the walk. This was not going to be as easy. She had only been down this trail the one time.
Step by step she made her way down along the stream along the very treacherous path hidden in the tall growth until she broke out in the little clearing looking over the pond. She could just sense she had arrived, he was here she could feel it, but where.
What was the next step? Could she risk calling for him. It was a long way back to the house, but if the law had returned to start a search she did not want to get caught out here with him.
Then a thought crossed, there is no way the law is looking for him this morning unless they came out to apologize. Her “mother” Cybil had straightened everything out with Charlotte Hammen in New York and by now Charlotte had certainly notified this Sheriff Jacks that Sarah was legitimate in the apple orchards.
She took the chance and in a low voice she called out,
“Scotty?”
Nothing more.
Sarah moved down to the edge of pond and squatted down such that she could wrap her arms around her legs. She peered into the clear fresh water; certain he was in the area, but not knowing what to do next. She was there several minutes, thinking. Then, as she stood up, she saw movement reflected on the surface of the pond from the dark trees across the way.
She looked up. It was Scotty struggling down the steep bank out of the undergrowth.
He was hard to recognize. Dirty from head to toe, his flannel shirt and jeans torn and stained, his shoes wet muddy; it was clear he had been through some kind of hell.
Sarah rushed down to the edge of the water where she waded in fully clothed until she could no longer wade and then she swam.
Clem stood of the far bank with a look of utter disgust,
“Sarah, Sarah he said weakly. What the hell are you doing here? How did you know where I was hiding? Please, please…he stumbled down to the water edge where she actually caught him in her arms. Together, they sank down into a heap on the sand.
It was obvious Clem’s nerves were shot. He was a wreck…he smelled terribly…his clothes were dirty and very torn…his left hand wrapped in the dirty remains of his undershirt. His face and arms were scratched and covered with bug bites. He continued to talk, but just an incoherent jumble of ever worry in the world.
“Scotty, Scotty shut up, lie still. Let me hold you. It is over! It is over! Listen to me. I have good news, for you, for us.
No one is following me. No one is hunting for you. Everything is alright; you are safe. It is safe for me to be here with you. Be quiet for a minute and let me tell you what happened.”
For the next several minutes she sat cross-legged in the sand with Clem’s head cradled in her arms. He had fallen silent as she told him of the improbable string of events that has secured their freedom from the probing eyes of the law. The hurried escape to the camp ground…the early morning delivery to the estate…her horrible day alone…the burning shed…her nagging Jayson until he turned off his phones…the early morning call from New York Children’s Services…Sarah being the only one who could hear the phone….the conversation confirming she was safe and sound…and finally the feed back to Henry Jacks that she was in fact Clem’s niece and safe at home.
Clem sat quietly, breathing deeply not believing what he was hearing but too tired to ask a question.
They sat silently. It was all too much to take in.
Clem rested on her lap, looking up into her face. It was the first peace he had known in hours.
“Sarah, you will never know how glad I am to see you. How did you find me? I have had a night of terror.”
Slowly he started to tell Sarah of his night; too many police cars…hiding in the garage with the door open hoping they would just glance in and then go on up to the house after seeing no one in the garage…hoping they would leave after searching the house and barn…setting the garage on fire as a diversion when his plan collapsed and they continued to search…racing into his orchards in the dark…running endlessly in the dark. Finally settling here, up in the forest beyond the pond, convinced he could not be found and with the water and fruit he could live here a long time.
No details, just facts, a night sleeping on the ground up in the dense trees behind his pond.
One by one Clem and Sarah started to come alive, ask a few questions of one another and shudder at some of the details. It had been twenty four hours of unimaginable terror for Clem and amazingly good luck on Sarah’s side.
Sarah helped Clem down to the sand at the water’s edge. Removed her top and used it as a pillow. From there she could bring the cool water to him in her hands. Gently, she rinsed some of the grime away from his face and arms.
The cold Michigan water started to revive him some. When it became possible, they stood together and Sarah led the way as the two of them went into the water ankle deep and carefully moved around the edge of the pond to the other side avoiding the brush on one side and the deeper water on the other.
Finally, they sat together on the log. The sun was warmer now.
Sarah began putting together another of her plans.
She and Clem would walk together back to her bike at the compost. From there they would separate. It would not be good for them to be seen together right now as Children’s Services NY had reported to local authorities that she was “at home” where ever they thought that was.
She would ride her bike on ahead up through the orchards and on back to the estate unless there was someone already at the house. In that case she would just hide in edge of the orchard behind the barn until they were gone and then go on home.
Clem was to walk back to the house on his own. Once there he would clean up, rest, and get back to a normal life while waiting to see if the law, in the form of Sheriff Jacks, came to apologize for last night. If they came, he would let them do all the talking as there is no way he could possibly know the details that transpired as the authorities “located” Sarah.
Sarah ended the plot with the idea that this evening early she would ride down the gravel road hoping that everything was fine for Scotty and they could meet for a quick chat on the porch.
Sounded like a plan. Maybe not the best plan, but it was the only plan they had.
Travel back to the compost area was not easy. Clem was having difficulty. By the time they got back to Sarah’s bicycle the plan was unraveling. Clem was too weak to trust that he could get back to the house on his own.
After considering again the risks should the Sheriff be at the house, Sarah made the decision to bring Clem with her back to the house. One step at a time with Clem half supported by the bicycle, they made their way back through the orchard trails from the compost to the house.
It was a wise decision. No law was in sight. Things were quiet. Sarah managed to get Clem in the back door and on to the daybed in the living room.
She secured all the windows and the doors, made a good pot of coffee, checked the refrigerator to assure there were things to eat, kissed Clem again and again as he lay on the day bed, and departed.
Forty minutes of hard riding had Sarah back at the estate perspiring and winded. Fortunately there was no Jayson in sight as she made her way up to her bedroom.
One hour later after a shower, a change of clothes and a nap, Sarah came down to dinner on schedule.
NEW OPPORTUNITY
The new bicycle gave Sarah new freedom. Far more freedom than anyone, including Sarah, had realized. It was easy to ride and fast. Beyond that Sarah was in fine shape from the exercise in the orchards.
The estate was organized such that no one knew where Sarah was, or what she was doing. She had largely been self determining since her mother disappeared to South America.
The duty day for the household staff ended between four and seven, depending on duties. The last to leave was the cook and as she drove down the drive, Jayson would ready to retire to his quarters on the lower level. His only remaining duty for the day was at eleven when he assured the estate was secured for the night.
Sarah decided to keep her new bike in the milk house where its absence would not be noticed. Summer evenings are long in Michigan. Dinner for Sarah was over at six. She waited restlessly in her library until she was certain all was quiet in the house.
Around seven the last of the staff had disappeared down the drive and Jayson was off duty in his quarters. Sarah simply walked out the back door two floors below her bedroom; out across the courtyard to the milk house.
Forty minutes later she had Apple Valley Orchards in sight. Sarah walked the last fifty yards up to the house, leaned her bike against the porch and quietly tested he front door. It was unlocked. Inside everything seemed in order. She turned and bolted the door behind her and then proceeded to the kitchen. A coffee cup and plate were in the sink…good sign.
The back door was locked and bolted from the inside…good sign.
Sarah headed up the steps. The bedroom door stood open and she could see Scotty in bed, covered with just a sheet, sound asleep. The window was open, as usual. As she moved into the room she could hear his breathing.
Everything seemed ok.
Sarah quietly undressed; top, shorts, panties and bra were folded and place neatly on the dresser. She passed around to her side of the bed, pulled the sheet down and got in. She lay flat on her back breathing deeply.
She had two hours until dark, she could spend one of them right here and still have plenty of time to get back to the estate before dark.
Scotty had to be exhausted. She could only imagine all he had been through. The worry alone was enough let alone the chase and spending the night in the woods. She would not wake him. There would be no talking this evening; it was enough to just be beside him.
Sarah’s arms were at her sides, her head turned slightly toward Scotty so she could see him. He smelled good. He was clean shaved. She reached over and ever so gently lifted the sheet to just look at him. It was wonderful, he was her Scotty again, they were together and things now stood a chance of being normal for the two of them. If one could ever consider this relationship normal.
Sarah let the sheet fall gently back and returned both her arms to her sides. She lay very still. Scotty was dead tired for sure…
Slowly he turned onto his right side facing her and smiled,
“Sarah, I love you so. How did you get here? Are you ok? Is everything ok at home?”
One whispered question followed by another poured forth.
Sarah reached over and touched his lips.
“Be quiet. You are worn out; just rest. We will talk later.”
She turned toward him, moved closer, and cradled him in her arms,
“I can only stay about an hour so I want you to rest right there where you belong. I love you so. I have worried so much.”
Sarah felt his hand on her knee as they lay face to face. A gentle tug signaled he wanted her on top of him. Gently she rolled over onto his nude body, trying to support as much of her weight as possible with her knees and arms. His hands came to her lower back and he gently pulled her downward until they touched.
One slight movement of her hips put them perfectly into position. Gently, firmly, she moved downward consuming the man she loved. There was no question he was exhausted, but there was also no question he needed her badly. She tried to do everything, to let him lie still, until his hands came up around her shoulders to move her to his lips.
It was an hour of gentle, quiet, amazing love. Sarah was so gentle with him. Masking most of her climax such as to not hurt him with her exuberance. Scotty finally climaxed deep into her body with a series of gentle deep breaths that made the soft blond hair over her right ear move in rhythm.
Sarah stayed in place until his breathing returned to normal.
Once she was certain he was finished, she slowly rolled over to his side, snuggled her lips to his neck and committed herself to getting up and under way home in ten minutes.
Morning light came very early.
“Holy shit Scotty!”
Were the first words spoken at Apple Valley Orchards.
Sarah bounded out of bed. She grabbed her clothes headed for the bathroom.
Clem began dressing right there.
A quick decision was made. Scotty loaded the bicycle into the back of his car and within ten minutes they were up the road. At the back gate Scotty unloaded the bike and Sarah took over, it was just a few more minutes until the bike was in the milk house and a few more until she was in the back door of the estate and up to her bedroom suite.
For the first time Sarah looked at a clock, it was only five thirty. She sat on the edge of the bed laughing. The kitchen staff would not be here for almost an hour, and Jayson would not show his face until after she had eaten.
All was well with the world.
LIFE TOGETHER