Love Lies Bleeding (14 page)

As she walked the rest of the way home with bruised lips and mussed hair, she felt more excited than she had in a long time. Now she knew there would be more to life than the stolid existence she saw ahead with Stephen LaBarr. Before she married, she would know what it was like to be a real woman. Not just a dutiful wife, but also one who had experienced the heights of real emotion. Even before she saw Paris, she would know what everyone spoke of when they talked about it being a city of love and passion. As she neared the house, she felt her cheeks and knew they were flushed with excitement and with the exertion of the walk.

Safe in her room, she crossed to the desk and once again pulled out the postcard and gazed at it. The courtesan gazed back at her, but this time, she seemed to grin at Libbie as if they shared a marvelous secret. Now, both of them knew how it felt to be adored and embraced by men who were besotted by them.

Drinking in the sheer forbidden feel of how his lips had felt kissing her and how his hands had felt moving beneath her skirts, Libbie lay back on the fluffy spread on her bed and closed her eyes. It might not have occurred this afternoon, but it was going to happen. The anticipation made her want it all the more. She pulled up her skirts, running her hand over the tops of her stockings like Tom had, wondering how he had known just where to touch her and just how many farm girls he had taken in how many barns not far from here. She knew she could not stand the frustrating tension much longer. It was extraordinary. How could anyone deny oneself the feeling she had encountered with Tom? It had become imperative to feel it again as soon as possible.

Chapter Eighteen

Buttermilk Falls, New York
June 1916

“W
e shouldn’t,” he said as she kissed him again.

“I know,” she murmured, straining beneath him.

“I adore you, Libbie. You’ve enchanted me.” As he leaned in closer to her, he nuzzled her neck, inhaling the lilac scent. The warmth of her shoulder further intoxicated him. All it took was a gentle whiff of her, and he could feel himself becoming rock hard. All he could think about, day or night, was the feel of her, the smell of her, and the taste of her. He nibbled her earlobe, then darted his tongue into the delicate shell of her ear.

Her head fell back, and a small gasp escaped her lips.

After one evening of cuddling in his flat with no interruptions from Mrs. Protts, this was their second visit to the falls in the flivver. The first night, she’d let him once again feel beneath her skirt and allowed him to caress her breast through her lace blouse. She’d reciprocated by stroking him through his trousers. For that night, it was enough. The kissing and petting and flowery words had stroked Libbie’s ego and fulfilled her need for physical contact. Tonight was different.

How delightful it was to sit and admire the scenery from their favorite hollow log and then retreat to the car. They had an entire auto to themselves to do whatever they wished. Here, there were no pleas for help from the well-meaning landlady and no threats of being discovered dating someone from the other side of the tracks.

They could hear the water streaming over layers of rock, collecting and frothing around Lake Treman. A soothing concerto by the crickets accompanied it. While strolling around the area, they had kissed a bit on the rocks overlooking the falls, sharing a passionate embrace until Libbie suggested they return to the vehicle. This had become their favorite spot to park since their last visit. Overlooking the cascades, yet sheltered and very private.

As he kissed her again, she let out a soft giggle and parted her mouth to allow him entrance. Their tongues danced a soft, languorous rhythm.

Maddened by her acquiescence, he grew ever bolder, daring to lay a hand on her breast over the starched fabric. She sighed and pressed it harder against him. He realized that only a few small buttons lay between him and the beautiful bare skin beneath. Holding his gaze, she placed her hands over his and undid a button for him. His hands quivered erratically as he unfastened the rest of the tiny pearl buttons at the front of the shirtwaist, frightening him with his ardor. She gazed up at him, entreating him with her eyes. Her slight smile gave him a new urgency.

When he’d revealed her delicate lacy chemise, he peeled back the fabric to expose the paleness beneath. Fastening his greedy mouth upon her, he grasped more of her through the fabric prison.

Libbie closed her eyes. “So niiiiice….” she whispered.

Feeling him pause, she opened her eyes to see him unsure and nervous about continuing. “Why did you stop?” she asked, obviously irritated.

“I don’t want to compromise you, Libbie. Your honor…”

“Oh for God’s sake. Kiss me…” she said. She held the chemise away from her breast, a brazen offering to him. “Touch me. I want it.”

He could no longer find any reasons to stop. As he caused new and exciting sensations to rip through her, he elicited little mews of delight. She pulled up the hem of her skirt and unclipped the garters on her stockings, now granting him unfettered access.

“Libbie...” His mouth was so dry, the anticipation so great that the word caught in his throat.

Unable to hold back any longer, he yanked down his suspenders and released the buttons on his trousers. He burst forth like an angry bull from a barn.

She gasped, and her eyes widened as he reached for her, fingers in a bold quest beneath her undergarments. What originated as a gasp evolved into a series of deep sighs. What began as gentle thrusting evolved into mindless need as he pounded his way to satisfaction above her. Although craving her own pleasure, this first time, all she felt was searing pain.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, caressing her cheek afterward.

“Just a little,” she said, kissing him. “It will get much better.”

He stared at her in surprise at the thought that she planned on more of what they had just done.

She looked over at him, her face full of wonder as she analyzed it. “It was so…primal, wasn’t it? Basic human needs and all that.”

It disconcerted him to hear her express the blunt sentiment, but he supposed she was right.

The only thing he had felt while he was laboring above her was something he had no explanation for. He supposed men and women had been feeling the same thing for centuries, or he and Libbie and the rest of the folks on Earth wouldn’t be here.

“I want to do it again,” she said, her voice a hot whisper in his ear. She rubbed his hand over her breast and raised her hips to him.

He took in her wrinkled dress, rumpled chemise, tousled hair, flushed cheeks, and bright eyes, and he wanted her once more. But they had to be mindful of the hour. He had to get her home in time to jibe with their story. Olive had agreed to lie for them, and they couldn’t get her in trouble at the risk of being discovered.

“Oh my Libbie. My beautiful Libbie.” His fingers spidered through her soft glossy black hair. “We should get home. Your parents could suspect something. Or your sister.”

She looked down at her disarray, laughing. “I do look a sight, don’t I?” Taking a corner of the blanket, she wiped the blood from her thighs and tried to tidy herself. “I suppose you’re right,” she admitted.

“I do want you,” he said, his earnest brown eyes fixed on hers, “Over and over again. In a real bed in a little cottage. I want babies and grandchildren. I want to make you happy, Libbie. I want to give you so much.”

“Ssssshhhh,” she said, placing her index finger over her mouth. “Not now.”

They lay close for a few moments longer, murmuring sweet nothings for a time, offering each other gentle pecks and soft cuddles until Libbie noticed the new swelling in his trousers. Intent on seducing him again, she reached down to cup him.

“I want to do it again,” she whispered.

Chapter Nineteen

Cascadilla Memorial Hospital, Ithaca
July 1986

H
is mother was looking a bit frailer than during Frank’s visit the previous week, and Diana was already there, dozing in a chair next to the bed. As he moved closer, Diana came to, blinking at the sudden brightness of the fluorescent lights in the room. Her hair had fallen like a curtain over her face as she slept, giving her a delicate vulnerability. Mom’s sleep had obviously been fitful, her face wrinkled at some figment of a dream.

“How is she?” Frank whispered.

“It’s been bad today. I’ve had to call the nurse pretty much hourly for painkillers. Her sleep’s been restless.”

They tiptoed into the hallway so they would not wake the old woman from her meager sleep. Even more tubes were attached to her than the last time Frank had visited.

“It’s metastasized again. The liver this time,” she said. “God, Frank, it’s so hard for me to see her like this. She’s miserable. I know she’s trying like hell not to moan because she knows how upsetting it is for us. But she’s in so much pain.”

“I know, I know.” He folded his sister into his arms and held her for a few minutes.

They stood in the hallway, enjoying closeness they hadn’t experienced for a long while. He tried to remember the last time they had hugged like this with no undercurrent of resentment or annoyance, and he couldn’t. Maybe their dad’s funeral, and that had been years ago. She snuggled in closer, nestling her cheek against his sleeve.

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do when she’s gone,” she sighed. Diana and their mother had always been close.

“It’s going to be hard,” he agreed.

“Hey,” she said, stepping back.

Surprised, he stepped back too. “What?”

“You smell nice. Aftershave or something.”

“As opposed to what?”

“You know what I mean. I can remember very few times the last few years that I’ve been near you and haven’t smelled booze. I noticed it the other day, but I thought it was my imagination.”

“I’m taking a little break.”

“A little break?”

“Okay, a big break.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, I’m trying real hard. Let’s put it that way.”

He flinched as she ran an affectionate hand through his hair. Men weren’t supposed to be so vulnerable, but he was in new territory. Before, he’d been a volatile guy. Instant asshole, just add whiskey. This new leaf was going to have its challenges.

“You know how much it would mean to her, right?”

“I have a general idea. I want a clear head right now to figure out what happened to her sister. I need to do this, Diana. For all of us.”

“Do you have any clue how much I love you right now?” she asked, smiling up at him.

Ithaca, New York
July 1986

“I’m glad you called to discuss the case,” Linda said, leaning back against the front of his couch. They were sitting on the floor of Frank’s place, leftover Kung Pao from Ling’s Pagoda spread out on the floor in front of them.

“The weird thing is, you’ve been here for three hours and we’ve hardly talked about it.”

“Yeah, funny how that works.” She gave him a little half smile, and he grinned back.

“So tell me more about Linda,” he said. Trying to distract himself from his dawning attraction to her, he used his chopsticks to chase an errant shrimp in the bottom of his take-out container.

“There’s not much to tell. I’m pretty boring.”

“No, you’re not. You ran a restaurant for a long time. You live in Ithaca, New York, arguably the center of the known universe. You’re a total gearhead. You have amazing green eyes. I find you fascinating.”

“Believe me. If I tell you, I’ll cease to be fascinating,” she said.

He gave her a hangdog look and she laughed.

“Let’s see. I have two sisters. I went to SUNY Rochester and majored in English. I hate rainy days. I love Neil Young, Bailey’s Irish Cream, and long walks on the beach. I do think Ithaca is the center of the known universe. Oh, and I’m terrified of clowns.” She rose, taking the last of the containers and paper Coke cups with her.

Frank couldn’t help himself. Her irreverence was catching. He chuckled as he followed her out to the kitchen.

“Go ahead and laugh, but I’m telling you…once you’ve gone to the circus and had Bozo up in your face when you’re five, you won’t look at those freaks the same way again. I was traumatized, buster.”

“I believe you. Shrimp?” he asked, offering the last of his bounty. He moved in closer as she scraped the leftovers and styrofoam containers into the trash.

“Don’t call me Shrimp. I’m also quite sensitive about my height.” She smiled up at him. “Thanks, but I’m stuffed.”

“Cute, too.”

“Wow. You never said anything about this before.”

“Well, you were always busy behind the counter. It was hard to get a good luck at you.”

“And now?”

He ran his hands through her hair. “Now, I’m beginning to see things in a whole new way.”

They shared a sweet, short kiss, and Linda looked up at him. Frank knew she was trying to figure him out. The Frank Conley who had visited the restaurant with his daughter was always distant and distracted. Despite her best attempts at friendly overtures, Frank had been cordial. Nothing more. He knew this wasn’t the man she was used to.

“That was nice.”

“Well, I’ve been practicing.”

“On who?” She winked.

He smiled. “Shhhhhh…” he whispered and kept kissing her.

The forest green Karmann Ghia remained parked in front of the gray house on Aurora Street all night. And the night after that.