Markers (Joshua Stokes Mysteries Book 3) (13 page)

He was not sure if Emma had hung around or if she had left after he did. He was not sure whether he wanted her to be there or not…

When he drove into the parking lot of the post office, he saw Cricket Rowell headed into the building. He pulled in and parked beside her. He and Cricket had dated in junior high; he hoped to marry her when they were older. That was before Robert Vick moved into the neighborhood. Robert stole her right out from under him…

Joshua picked up what he needed to mail and his post office key and then got out to go in. Cricket came out just as he was about to go inside. When she looked up and saw him, she blushed. He tipped his hat and said, “Mornin’ darlin’, I didn’t expect to run into you today.” She smiled and stopped in front of him; her smile traveled to her eyes, showing she was glad to see him.

“Joshua Stokes, I swear, you get better looking every time I see you,” she said huskily. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re still trying to win my heart,” she teased.

“That’s a fact, Hun,” he replied. “I reckon I’ll keep on trying until I’m in my grave.”

“How’s life treating you?” Cricket asked, giving him a searching look.

“Fair to midland-It’d be a whole lot better with you in it,” he grinned, trying not to sound too serious, although he was as serious as a heart attack. There was definitely chemistry between them; probably more now than when they were young. They had never done more than kiss when dating, but she was that
one
person that had always given him butterflies in his stomach. She was an enigma… and would always remain a mystery…

“Honestly, how have you been, Joshua,” she prodded. “You look tired,” she touched his arm softly. The compassion in her voice made him feel ineffective. Even the touch of her hand did not affect him as it normally would. Joshua did not want anyone to feel sorry for him, no matter whom it was, and even though he was standing in a relaxed position, he straightened his shoulders and stood taller. He mustered every bit of charm he could into his smile as he placed his hand over hers and patted it.

“I’m doing fine, darlin’,” he replied. “Just working long hours these days; there’s a lot going on. You know how it is… folks just can’t stop killing one another.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone could just love and respect each other? The world would be a much better place.”

“Yes, it would,” he agreed. “What about you, Cricket, how have you been?”

“I’m trying not to complain, but most people get on my nerves. Especially those that complain and bitch all the time, or who bitch, but never change their situation; fatalistic people whose lives suck only because they have decided life sucks. They just make it depressing for the rest of us that are out here trying to keep on a positive track.”

“I know a few of
those
people myself,” Joshua replied. “Well, I hate to run, darlin’, but I had better finish here and get on with the sheriffing business. It was
damn
good seeing you,” he said as he squeezed her hand that still lingered on his arm. She squeezed his arm. “It was good seeing you too, Joshua. I hope to run into you again. Real soon,” she said, placing emphasis on soon. She let go his arm and walked to her car before looking back at him. He saw it in her eyes. He thought she felt the same about him as he did her, the wondering “what if”, but what ifs didn’t make much of a difference; the past was gone, finished. What ifs were just ends left untied, loosened. The only thing that counted now was the road ahead.

Joshua smiled, winked, and then turned and walked into the post office. When he came out, Cricket was gone. He got into his patrol car and lit a cigarette. He took several long drags off it before cranking up and driving to the diner. He ordered a blue plate special to go and then drove home, thinking of Cricket and the ‘what ifs’ of their relationship. The way they looked at each other… Making love with their eyes was as close as they would ever come to actually being together. An affair was out of the question; she was a virtuous woman, not the kind of woman you sullied by instigating something as vulgar as an extramarital relationship. The ‘what ifs’ of their relationship, the looks that passed between them… there was definitely loose ends there. Did he really want it any other way… he wondered. Was it not the ‘unknown’ that was between them that had kept the attraction alive all the years they had known each other? If he
knew
her in a
husbandly
way, it would probably break the spell… He liked having that bit of mystery between them, the not knowing what its like to be with her - the internal conflict it caused - it gave him something to look forward to…

Twenty-One

Phantoms

Joshua ran through the forest, his fleet feet jumping over obstacles that lay in his path. He was hurrying-almost in a panic. He knew if he did not make it in time, he would be too late to stop them. When he broke through the forest and onto the wet sand along the river, he realized he was barefoot. From both his past and present, many apparitions stood before him; they glowed in the mist that had suddenly formed around him. Phantoms, that at first, he was unsure were real. The scene was surreal; it reminded him of the dream he had when he and his mother were on the dam.

Then, the mist rose, and he could see them all clearly defined. His father, mother, and grandparents were there. Cricket, his dead wife, Francine, and his friends Roy, Hook, Metcalf, and Emma, even his dog, Jack, were walking into the water. Others, that he could not make out as clearly, followed them. The water sung a continuous melody that had them mesmerized with its song.

Joshua stood on the riverbank and watched them walk into the water, their heads disappearing beneath the swift black water. That was when he saw that Tom Stringer, the Mexican, and another man followed his family and friends, almost pushing them into the river. He did not recognize the other man, but by his dress and demeanor, somehow he knew that it was his grandfather-his mother’s father - the crazy one…

Preacher McNeil, from the church his mother attended when he was a child, stood waist deep on the other side of the river and as each reached him, he grabbed them and laid them back into the water, proselytizing and preaching hallelujahs! His silver hair bounced in the moonlight as he spoke in tongues while baptizing each of them. Then, he shoved them away from him and they floated away barely visible beneath the dark water.

Just before his granddaddy’s head disappeared beneath the water, Joshua called out to him, hollered for him to stop, “Please come back,” he yelled. That was when he realized that he was no longer a grown man but a child. His voice croaked with the boyish squeaks that occur when a boy goes through puberty. His granddaddy never even looked back or acknowledged Joshua’s call. They all ignored him as they walked headlong into the deep, swift water, briefly disappearing before emerging on the other side where Preacher McNeil baptized them and then shoved them away.

Joshua fell to his knees and begged them to come back. When they did not stop, he began to cry. He did not want to be left there all alone, but never once was he tempted to follow them into the river. Deep sobs wracked his young body.

A voice beside him spoke aloud in a matter-of-fact tone, she said, “You cannot stop them; they have a destiny - You cannot join them either, Watauga; it is not your time.”

Joshua turned to see Carlos and his mother, Margie Redfeather sitting cross-legged on the sand, a campfire burned low in front of them. She was the one that spoke.

“Watauga was the name your great-grandfather called your grandfather when he was a child, it is what I will call you. Watauga means ‘broken water’. You must be like the water, making its way through cracks. Do not be forceful, but adjust to the object and you shall find a way around or through it.” Her tone, though soothing to his ears, did not soothe his heart. Both Margie and Carlos stood and began to chant and dance around the fire. He looked back toward the river. His gaze met his mother’s sad, haunted, eyes…

Joshua woke crying. It was a moment before he realized that he was not alone. Emma held him in her arms, rocking, almost as if he were a child that had awakened from a bad dream and she was his mother.

“It was just a bad dream,” she cooed, soothing him with her calm voice.

After his breathing slowed and his heart no longer pounded in his chest, he whispered that he felt foolish for reacting as he had; his dream just seemed so real.

“Dreams,” said Emma in a faraway tone, “though not real, seem very real when we’re caught up in them.” She took a deep breath. “I know when I dream of the Dixon brothers, it is not real, but it feels very real at the time. Sometimes, even after I wake up, it will take a while for me to calm down and realize that it was just a dream.

People think that because it’s a ghost and they’re dead, they cannot hurt you, but they can. People in your dreams may not be able to physically harm you, but they can definitely scare you and cause you to harm yourself.” Emma slid down beside him in the bed and wrapped her leg over his. Her head rested on his shoulder. “What did you dream about-why was it so scary?” she asked softly.

“It was just a bad dream,” he said, turning what she told him as he awoke into an excuse not to speak of it. Joshua did not want to talk about the dream. He had cried like a baby; it made him feel foolish. Emma witnessing him at his weakest made it even worse.

“If you talk about the dream, it will help - at least that is what the doctor at Mental Health tells me, and it usually does help.”

“Do you dream of the Dixon brothers, often?”

“More often than I care to admit, but this isn’t about me,” Emma said firmly. “This is about what you were dreaming that upset you so much. Was it your mother?”

“I don’t usually dream.”

“That’s because you don’t usually sleep.”

“It’s a waste of time.”

“Unless you’re sitting up”

“Huh?”

“You don’t usually sleep unless you’re sitting up. And sleep is not a waste of time; your body needs it!” she scolded. “Do you think that is what keeps you from dreaming; sitting up, sleeping in your rocking chair?”

“When you say it aloud like that it sounds stupid; but yeah, I hardly ever dream when I sleep on the porch-as sure as I lay in bed to sleep, I dream.”

“It’s probably because you relax more when you lay down and that lets them loose.”

“You reckon?” Joshua asked. Emma could hear teasing in his voice.

“Are you laughing at me, Joshua Stokes?”

“Are you trying to
psychoanalyze
me, Doctor Carr?”

“Hush - Stop it! You’re just trying to divert the conversation from yourself.”

“You’re much more interesting, Doctor Carr” Joshua said, as he ran his fingers down her jaw line to her neck. He could feel the scar tissue from the Mexican’s blade that had nearly ended her life. A feeling of sadness moved through Joshua’s heart. Emma reached up to move his hand from her neck, but he refused to let her.

“It’s ugly… please don’t,” Emma begged. Joshua slid down, turning her onto her back as he did. He leaned over her, his head bowed to her breasts. His lips traveled from her breasts to her neck. As he lightly kissed her scar, starting at the base of her neck and traveling to her ear, he whispered “You’re beautiful, Emma Carr. No scar could ever change that.” From her ear, his lips found hers and he kissed her deeply, before his lips moved back to her breasts. He could feel her body relaxing under his touch. As he kissed, his hands explored her entire body, softly massaging… he wanted to make love, not talk. When she started to speak, he reached up and placed a finger over her lips.

“Shh,” he whispered. “You’re too tense; let me make love to you.” He could tell that making love was not what she wanted, at least not right then. She still wanted to talk about his dream, a dream that he was trying to rid from his brain.

He rolled her onto her stomach and began to message her neck, shoulders, and buttocks, his lips replacing his hands as they moved to the next location on her body.

Emma gave in to his touch, and when his fingers reached the heart shaped curvature where her buttocks met her thighs, she raised her hips, her legs spread slightly, welcoming his touch. He messaged gently, reached between her legs and probed slightly to test her willingness. Sensing she was not as ready as he wanted her to be, his lips traveled down her buttocks to her thighs. He turned her over and his tongue found its mark; his kiss was soft and gentle. After a moment, Emma moaned in pleasure and moved against his tongue. Inwardly, Joshua smiled, satisfied that he was giving her pleasure. After several minutes, he knew that Emma was more than ready to accept him. His passion now equaled hers, but he restrained himself until he knew the moment was right. He entered her gently; her orgasm was almost instantaneous. She wanted him to hurry, but he did not want to rush. He did not want a repeat of the last time. Slowly, gently, he lingered as his lips found hers, her neck, her breasts, her nipples… he suckled gently, giving her even more pleasure. A moan that began deep in her throat, escaped her lips. His lips went to hers and his tongue explored her mouth. He kissed her deeply and bore down hard, holding himself tightly inside her as she experienced another orgasm.

Her spasms contracting on his manhood almost caused him to lose it, but he thought of other things to keep himself from climaxing with her.

Once spent, Emma relaxed. He continued with his slow and gentle lovemaking until once again she was about to climax; this time, he joined her, their bodies combining into one as wave after wave of orgasmic contractions swept through them.

Exhausted, they lay in each other’s arms and slept.

A slither of sunlight through the curtains woke Joshua. His sleep had been deep and undisturbed; he felt rested. He rose to an elbow and turned slightly so that he could look upon Emma, who still slept, undisturbed by the bright sliver of sunlight. Her soft supple skin was firm and sleek. The ugly red scar rose from her skin like the welt of a lash from a whip. He reached to touch it, but instead let his fingers touch her cheek, just in front of her ear. From there, his fingers traced her jaw line down to her neck and then to her shoulder and along the length of it to her arm; she stirred slightly; his fingers paused. He did not want to wake her; he just wanted to touch her. Her beauty, her youth, his fingers trembled. He did love her; was he
in love
with her? Joshua turned away, eased his legs out of the bed, and sat up.

He gathered his clothes, boots, hat, and his holstered weapon then pulled the curtain to and eased out the door closing it softly behind him. He then showered, shaved, dressed, and left as quietly as he could. Once in his car, he lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He wondered if she would be there when he returned… he hoped not; he needed a break. As much as he wanted her, he also rejected her. He felt smothered, complicated, entangled in something that was beyond his ability.