Holding on to Heaven (9 page)

He drove a finger inside her. Her hips jerked and pushed against his hand. "Creed, I..."

"Not, yet, baby. Patient and tender, remember?"

He seduced her with those knowledgeable fingers, drove her to a maddening frenzy. Just when she thought she could take no more, he removed them and trailed his tongue along her hard nub again. The musky scent of her arousal drifted around them. She groaned and rocked her hips against his mouth.

Creed tongued her sex, teasing the tip over the button-hard nub until she grew mindless with need. Her hands clutched his hair and she pushed his head against her most intimate part. He closed his lips around her and flicked it with his tongue, circling it until she begged him to take her.

"Not, yet," he said, still teasing her.

Her hips jerked and a low moan slipped from her lips. She rocked upward again and allowed the spinning world to embrace her. Writhing under him, her internal muscles tightened as he probed with his tongue.

"Please, I can't wait any longer."

Her warm breath whispered over her skin. "Not yet."

She dug her heels into the ground and arched her back like a cat in heat. She undulated. She whimpered. She begged.

At last, he removed his tongue and entered her. Too far gone to speak, she grabbed his hips and pulled him close. Waves of pleasure rolled through her.

"Open your eyes now, Lauren."

Dazed, she obeyed. He leaned down and took her lips, rocking into her with infinite patience and tenderness. Every tendon in her body ached with the need for completion. She’d never felt so incredible. Creed was above her, below her and around her. She lost herself to the overwhelming euphoria. Her insides clenched around him. She whimpered into his open mouth and surrendered.

Need and hunger meshed. Real became false, wrong became right. He took her to that place he spoke of and she wanted to stay there forever with him. She raked her nails down his back and cried out his name, her release so potent she thought she might faint. Her hips rose up a final time and she took him deep inside her. He claimed her lips and she returned his kiss with a passion that sent her world spinning. A low cry tore from her lips.

His voice came from some far off place. "Let it happen, go with it. Come for me, baby."

Her release washed through her like a storm of pleasure. Moments later, she heard a distant groan, Creed's body jerked and she felt his hot seed spurt inside her.

The sun hung suspended, clouds ceased to move. She clung to his shoulders and cried.

"Don't cry, don't cry," he whispered.

She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. "Pretend you didn't see that."

"I don't want to leave you," he said against her ear.

"What are we going to do?"

"Hold on to this little piece of heaven."

She looked at him with tears in her eyes, stunned to hear him say the exact words that Uncle Mason and Aunt Estelle had said when she first arrived.

"If something happened to Finn and I wasn't there, I couldn't live with it."

With his mouth inches from hers, she drew out the words. "You don't owe me an explanation, not even after..."

"The timing is off, Lauren, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Stop." She put a hand to his chest. "Don't make it any harder than it is." She looked toward Adobe when he gave a low neigh. "I must go. Aunt Estelle and Uncle Mason will be returning soon from the Garrett's, and my aunt’s suspicions are on high alert these days."

They dressed while seated on the ground. Creed walked her to the horses, helped her mount and started to speak again. "Lauren..."

She didn't want to look at him for fear the tears would start again. "Don't say anything. I don't want to remember your last words, but want to carry in my heart what passed between us today." She took the reins into her hands and put her knees to Adobe's side. "Godspeed," she said and rode from the clearing without looking back.

Chapter Five

For a breathless moment, Sage Denzer peered out her bedroom window and watched a hawk in flight. On her left, a clear-running stream trickled over stones, a runoff from the Blue Earth River. To the right, tall, sturdy pines and thick-trunked oaks reached skyward. This morning she found it difficult to think about Long Island and the first thirteen years of her life.

She and Grandmother had lived above a tavern in an overcrowded borough of the city, where pigeons and mice kept them company. Other renters lived there too, sailors, merchants, even a professional card player at one time. But never children.

Mrs. Cox watched over Sage the first ten years of her life while Grandmother ministered to the sick. She didn’t remember much about the white-haired woman except that she looked older than the Good Book and smelled funny.

After her eleventh birthday, Sage accompanied Grandmother into the bowels of the city. Their journeys took them down the alleyways and along the cobbled streets to mop the brows of feverish children and bring babies into the world. Sage had witnessed so many births she could deliver a child on her own by the time she'd reached thirteen years of age.

She recalled the day Grandmother decided to leave New York. A drunken sailor had pinned Sage up against the wall until he met Grandmother's broomstick across his back. The next day they boarded a vessel to Buffalo. From there, they boarded a steamer and crossed the Great Lakes to Milwaukee. In Wisconsin, they joined a wagon train of cheery travelers heading to Minnesota.

A contented sigh left her lips. They'd met Peter Pa on the last leg of the journey. He came into the world christened William Peterson, but Sage took to calling him
Peter Pa
and the name had stuck.

He left Norway, the country of his birth, eager to find his destiny in America. In an all-out effort to promote growth and industry in the new territories, the government offered fertile farmland for a dollar-fifty an acre. Accustomed to hard work beneath a pitiless sun, Peter Pa took their offer and joined the long line of Conestogas traveling across the plains.

Ramrod straight and lean, the man's muscular build alluded to a life of hard work. Clear, aqua-blue eyes, banked by tiny crow's feet, danced when he smiled. Fair-skinned with pale blonde hair, Peter Pa remembered things in life most others were inclined to forget.

"A man can get lonely," he'd said to Grandmother one night. "I wouldn't be against you and the girl settling down with me on the eighty acres."

Grandmother had turned to him with gratitude in her eyes. "I imagine we can live there as well as anywhere."

They’d settled here, in the woods, an environment that suited the adventuresome twenty year old well.

Sage left her bedroom and walked onto the porch. Grandmother and Peter Pa sat in their Windsor rockers enjoying their coffee amid the splendid view.

Grandmother smiled and crooked her finger, a signal Sage should come close for a peck on the cheek. "Morning, child."

"And a fine morning it is." Sage glanced skyward and then lowered her head, kissing her weathered brow.

Looking over the rim of his cup, Peter Pa met her eyes. "I'll wager you're headed into the forest?"

"What gave me away, the smile or the knapsack?"

His blue eyes twinkled merrily. "Your love of creatures, trees, and all Mother Nature has to offer."

Her gaze swept over the countryside surrounding the cabin. "I didn't know heaven on earth existed until we arrived here."

Grandmother eyed the knapsack slung over Sage's shoulder. "What will you search for today, granddaughter?"

"Yesterday I spied a crop of yarrow and motherwort, but in my haste to get home, passed them by."

"And what are the herbs used for, child?"

She smiled into her grandmother's eyes. "You think to test my knowledge? Very well, mixed together, they act as a strong sedative." Rocking back on her heels in a demonstration of boastfulness, she added, "And I found white oak bark."

Peter Pa's laughter drew her attention. He seemed to enjoy the banter about herbs and roots and their slapdash method of testing her knowledge. "And what will your grandmother do with white oak bark?"

"Apply it to small skin abrasions, but never large wounds. The remedy could inflame the injury."

"Did I not tell you, William?" Grandmother clapped her hands. "She knows every root, stem and plant in the forest."

"You've taught her well, Evrasina."

Eager to be about her escapade, Sage bounded down the steps, crossed a nearby field, and scurried into the woods.

* * * *

Evrasina waited until Peter Pa disappeared into the barn before she entered the modest kitchen to prepare their evening meal. Rolling out the crust for a berry pie, she pondered her actions of twenty years ago. The oppressive guilt that had weighed her down for two decades became more oppressive with each passing day. Today, she’d cleanse her soul of her most grievous offense to the only friend she had in the world.

The lazy afternoon danced across the whitewashed, plank flooring of the porch and a soft breeze fanned their flushed faces. Evrasina drew a long breath before launching into her long overdue confession.

Halfway through, Peter Pa's accusatory tone interrupted her words. "What in the world were you thinking?"

"Oh, William, don't berate me. I imagine I wasn't thinking at the time."

For a moment, she felt sick to her stomach. "Everything happened in a breath of time. The child appeared to be dead, wrapped in muslin and lying in a wooden crate—her coffin." Bones creaked as Evrasina rose from the rocker and paced the porch. "I intended to prepare her for burial in the morning, but a strange noise in the night woke me. My mind sluggish, the cottage lit by a single candle-lantern, I ventured toward the sound."

Peter Pa had stopped talking, and when she looked at him, a worried expression masked his features. "Imagine my shock at finding the wee one alive—not only alive, but eager to take sustenance. Throughout the night, I pondered the miraculous event, and by the time the sun rose, I'd made my decision."

His solemn words struck a regretful chord in her heart. "You kidnapped a child, Evrasina. It matters not that the parents believed her dead. Sage has a right to know from whence she came; it’s her inherent right."

She whirled around to face him, remorseful tears flooding her eyes. "A thousand times I've tried to tell her, and a thousand more the words stuck in my throat. One day I must answer to my Lord for the heinous offense." She resumed her frantic gait. "Whatever penance He doles out, I’ll serve in exchange for having her with me all these years."

"Good God, woman. Sage has no idea?"

"None." She flinched. "She believes I'm her grandmother, thinks her parents died in an epidemic."

"For the first time in my life, I'm speechless."

"Do you think I've not suffered for my malice?" She wrung her hands. "I knew she'd want for nothing, and I wanted her to pick up the gauntlet so my life's work held meaning." She shook her head. "I loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her."

"Sage has never questioned you about her birth, her parents' death?"

Her shoulders sagged. "Once."

"And?"

"She wanted to know what her mother looked like and what type of work her father had engaged in before... before they passed."

"What information did you impart?"

"I couldn’t tell her about the McCains. I changed the subject, told her it was enough to know I loved her and revisiting the past pained me."

Relief flooded her when he rose from the rocker and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You must tell her. What if something happens to you and she's never told?"

"Oh, dear friend." Tears flowed down her cheeks. "That's why God placed you in our path?" She turned to face him, wiping the tears away with a well-worn hankie. "What if she leaves me, or worse, despises me for my actions?"

Peter Pa shook his head. "Sage doesn't have it within her to hate, and she’d never desert you."

"Where do I begin?"

"At the beginning, of course.

She blew her nose and nodded. "God grant me strength."

* * * *

Sage followed a narrow path to the river, removed her clothing, and entered the water.

She didn't miss the city. How could she in comparison to the beauty here? A daily staple to their diet, fish were abundant, and the close proximity of the river offered a variety of wildlife¾muskrat, mink, beaver, and otter.

"The creatures will alert you to danger and approaching storms," Peter Pa had said. "If you use your ears and eyes, you'll learn their warnings."

He'd taught her many things about the forest—how to construct a shelter with branches and boughs, how to assemble a travois from birch limbs, and how to follow the sun and stars if she became lost. The only father she'd ever known, she loved Peter Pa with all her heart.

In the quiet solitude of the forest, she struggled into her clothing after her swim and jumped when a cranky blue jay screeched from a nearby poplar. The small hairs on her forearms rose. She sensed danger. After glancing in all directions and reassuring herself nothing seemed amiss, she discarded the subtle warnings and rose.

Intent on bringing home the yarrow and motherwort, she retraced her steps of yesterday and ventured into the deepest, darkest part of the woods. Lost in daydreams, the second warning jolted her from her thoughts. Perched on a cottonwood limb ahead, an eerie screech from a black crow echoed around her. She scanned her surroundings and focused on the sights and sounds of the forest. And she watched the crow preen his shiny black coat. Sage moved on.

The next alert came from a jackrabbit. Scurrying in front of her, he shot headfirst into a nearby bush. A dark and sinister force rode the wind. She narrowed her eyes and studied the thick brush along the stream ahead, every muscle in her body drawn taut.