Tempest in Eden (16 page)

He pressed his face into her spine and rocked upon her slowly. "Never for me either, my love. Never."

Her heart burst with joy. She was unique to him, too. Then, and for a long while later, they found conversation unnecessary.

Chapter Nine

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F
or the next few weeks they were blissfully happy. Shay moved into the parsonage with less awkwardness than she had anticipated. Only one month had remained on the current lease for her apartment. Since the landlord rented it as soon as she gave him notice, the matter was settled with dispatch.

Mrs. Higgins showed pangs of anxiety until Ian assured her that she would continue in her present position. He even suggested she give his bride a few cooking lessons, for which he received a swat on the behind.

Shay undertook the task of redecorating and updating the parsonage. "Nothing much," she said quickly when she saw Ian's wary expression. "Just a few touches here and there. Now that you have a hostess, you should entertain more."

She attacked their bedroom first. Behind the king-sized bed, which Ian had told her had been a Christmas present to himself several years before, she covered the wall with fabric. She spread a quilt in a contrasting color on the bed and heaped it with accenting pillows.

Ian's brows wrinkled as he surveyed her handiwork. "If I'm not tired by the time I go to bed, I'll be exhausted by the time I haul all those pillows off," he said dryly, but she could tell he was pleased.

The changes she made in the living room won even the approval of the Tuesday Morning Bible Study Group. In lieu of one of their meetings, they sponsored a bridal shower for their pastor and his bride. Shay had used her own money to redecorate, not the church's, and the women ooohed and aaahed over the results. Their wedding gifts were generous, and Shay basked in the warmth of their acceptance. Ian smiled proudly and kissed her, to the delight of the ladies, as they were waving them off.

The church building didn't escape Shay's attention either. "Something really should be done in those children's Sunday School rooms," she said one night over dinner.

"Oh, no." Ian groaned. "Here it comes." He took a sip of coffee as if it were an anesthetizing drug. "Okay, let me have it."

Undaunted by his teasing, she said, "They're positively dreary. How can the children learn to appreciate the glory of God when they're surrounded by pea green? The rooms should be bright and cheerful. They should have a bulletin board, pictures on the wall, bean-bag chairs, learning aids—"

"Shay," he said, laying a restraining hand on her arm, "don't you think I'm aware of that? The people who work with the children also know that. But those things cost money. It's not in the church budget this year."

"Money? Is that all?" she said blithely. "Then leave that to me. I'll get the money."

"Shay," he said threateningly, scowling, "what are you up to? You wouldn't do anything that would embarrass me, would you?"

"Isn't this pie delicious? I really should get Mrs. Higgins to teach me how to bake it."

"Shaaaaay," Ian said menacingly.

"What would you say if I told you I didn't, have on any underwear?"

"I'd say you're a shameless disgrace and trying to get me off the subject."

She jumped up from her chair and sailed out the room. "And what would you say if I told you that I'll be naked by the time I reach the bed?"

The Sunday School rooms looked brand-new within two weeks, and the whole congregation was buzzing about it. Shay had invited to dinner a retired paper-mill owner, a member of the church known for his prosperity as well as his stinginess. Ignoring Ian's glowering disapproval, she casually expressed her concern over the dismal rooms. By the time the guest left the parsonage, she not only had his sizable check but also his humble request to assist in the children's departments if that would be all right. Now every Sunday morning he could be found surrounded by enthusiastic children.

"I'd accuse you of manipulation, but the man seems so much happier," Ian said, shaking his head in amazement.

"He was lonely, that's all. He needed to be needed."

When Thanksgiving came around, Shay suggested to the ladies' group that they collect baskets of food for indigent families.

"But there aren't any poor families in our community," one of them protested.

With a vengeance, Shay searched until she found several families in a neighboring town whose main breadwinner had been laid off from his or her job. None of the families were members of the church, but by Thanksgiving week the bed of a pickup truck was filled to the brim with staples. A grocer had donated three dressed turkeys, and businessmen in the congregation were looking for positions in their companies for the people who were unemployed.

Feigning jealousy, Ian complained. "When the telephone rings, it's for you now instead of me." It was Saturday morning. Since Mrs. Higgins was off, Shay had cooked him a late brunch.

"Nonsense," she said, plopping down in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, and settling her mouth over his.

They both sighed resignedly when the telephone rang. Shay stretched to reach for the receiver.

"Hello… Oh, yes, Mrs. Turner," she said, sticking her tongue out at Ian's "I-told-you-so" look. "Mrs. Graham had her baby last night? A boy? How wonderful! I'll be sure to tell Ian so he can go see her at the hospital this morning. You're right." Shay began unsnapping her quilted robe until her body, warm and rosy beneath, was fully revealed to Ian. "We should take meals to her family while she's in the hospital. When she gets out, I think we should schedule volunteers to go over each afternoon to help with dinner, don't you?" Without the least change of inflection in her face, she took his hand and placed it over her breast. "Maybe for that first week… Thank you. I can't think of anyone better to organize it… Okay, I'll tell him… Good-bye."

Shay's invitation was more than Ian could resist. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her with his nose and mouth, fondling her with a touch that never failed to arouse her.

"Tell me what?" he mumbled against the velvet cleft between her breasts.

Throwing her head back wantonly, she sighed as his tongue rolled over her tautening nipple. "Tell you that Mrs. Graham is resting, and her doctor requested no visitors until later today."

"Remind me to thank that doctor the next time I see him," he said, sweeping her into his arms and heading for the stairs.

The first blowup came two weeks later, just before Christmas. They had spent a quiet evening decorating the tall tree in the living room, sipping hot cider, and enjoying the fireplace and each other's company. Their love play and frequent kisses had stirred them to desire. They were on their way upstairs when the doorbell pealed.

It was a man from church asking quietly to speak to Ian in private. Ian showed the man into his study, then returned to Shay. "Warm up my spot," he said, patting her fanny lightly and kissing her quickly.

Upstairs, she took a long bubble bath, smoothed a rich lotion all over her body, buffed her nails, and climbed into the wide bed to wait for her husband.

Impatient after an hour had dragged by while she tried to read a less-than-engrossing book, she pulled on a modest robe and went downstairs.

By now Shay was accustomed to members of Ian's congregation calling him at home or cornering him for conversation when they were out in public. Often they bent his ear for no reason other than because they were lonely and needed a sounding board. He always listened patiently, even when they became long-winded. But their visitor tonight was the most verbose of all! No doubt Ian was looking for a tactful way to conclude the visit.

Shay grinned impishly as she devised a plan to relieve Ian of their uninvited guest and at the same time get her husband up to bed where he belonged. Conveniently there was a pad and pen on the foyer table.

A few minutes later, she tapped lightly on the door of Ian's study. "Yes?" he called.

She went in, not looking at the visitor, only her husband. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but someone called and left this emergency message for you."

Ian, his face expressionless, looked at her, then at the telephone, which hadn't rung for hours, then back up at her. He took the piece of folded paper she extended to him, unfolded it, and read the message:
"Your place in the bed is warm, and there's a hot woman waiting for you. Send him home! Signed, The Hot Woman."

The secret smile curving her mouth collapsed when she saw Ian's furious expression. "Thank you," he said tersely, barely moving his lips.

"You're welcome," she said haughtily. Her shoulders back and chin up, she stalked proudly out of the study and up the stairs. Reaching their room, she whipped off her robe and the sexy negligee it had concealed and pulled on a long, flannel nightgown.

Too enraged to cry, she fumed, pounding her pillow and thumping the covers when they wouldn't cooperate with her thrashing limbs. Since she couldn't sleep, she tried to read again. The words blurred before her eyes, she was so angry for his ignoring her.

But when she heard his footsteps on the stairs, her heart lurched with fear. She had seen hints of Ian's temper before and had dreaded the first time she'd experience its full impact. She knew that time had come the instant the door was flung open and just as quickly slammed shut behind him.

"Don't ever do anything like that again." His eyes flashed with anger. "
Never
again. Do you understand?"

She flew off the bed, sending pillows scuttling and her unread book sliding to the floor. "No, I don't understand."

"Then let me explain it to you. That man's world is crumbling around him. He needed help, counsel. Thank God he came to me for whatever assistance I might provide instead of seeking solace in a bottle or blowing his brains out, both of which he confessed had occurred to him.

"Then, right in the middle of a counseling session that was crucial to this man's peace of mind, if not his life, you come in flaunting a ribald note in my face. How could I talk to him, pray with him, with that kind of distraction?"

Tears filled her eyes. "It wasn't ribald. I'm your wife."

"Then you should know better than to interrupt when I'm counseling someone in need."

"And what about me? What if I need you too?"

"You'll have to learn to wait."

"But I'm your
wife,"
she repeated. "I come first."

He stared at her for a long moment, then said in a low voice that reverberated through the room, "No, Shay, God comes first."

Her face drained of all color, and she felt her life was seeping out of her body. Blindly she turned and fled to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. Only then did she let the tears fall. They flowed down her cheeks in torrents while wracking sobs shook her body.

"Shay, open this door," Ian demanded, knocking on it from the other side. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. Now open the door."

She obeyed him, opening the door immediately, flinging herself repentantly into his arms, and hugging him tight.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know. Honestly I didn't. I'm a wretched wife."

He buried his face in her wealth of hair and drew her toward the bed. There he comforted her until her crying had stopped and she was hiccuping softly.

"You didn't know any better this time. Ordinarily I would love to get a naughty note from you. It wasn't the note I objected to. It was your timing. I try to schedule counseling sessions during the day at my church office when I know I won't be disturbed. This was an emergency, and the first one since our marriage. I should have prepared you for nights like this, times when the telephone will ring and I'll have to leave you and our bed with virtually no explanation."

"I know, I know. Mentally I know that God and your work have to come first in your life. Forgive me for my occasional lapses of jealousy," she said, moving her fingers over his face, loving him. "It wasn't malicious. I didn't realize the gravity of his coming. I thought he had just come to visit. I'm trying, Ian. I really am."

He hugged her harder, running his hands over her back. "I know you are, and I'm so proud of you it's almost sinful."

She laughed then and pushed away, looking at him with her eyes awash with tears. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," he whispered and lowered his mouth to hers for a kiss that drew her soul into his. "I love you." He covered her face and throat with kisses that grew in urgency even as his hands became greedier in their caresses. "What are you doing in this shroud?" he asked, pulling at yards of flannel in an effort to touch her. Hastily they undressed, and he pulled her down on top of him on the bed. "I do love you, Shay."

"I know, I know. I'm ashamed and sorry for what I did tonight. I was unthinking and selfish."

"I'll give you an opportunity to be unselfish."

She smiled and, leaning forward, offered him her breasts.

The candlelight service Ian conducted at midnight on Christmas Eve was one of the most moving Shay had ever attended. Christmas Day was a happy occasion, which they spent at the parsonage with Celia and John, who seemed more in love than ever. Members of the church dropped by bearing gifts in appreciation of Ian's devoted service to them through the year. Mrs. Higgins kept coffee, hot cranberry punch, and baked goods in ready supply for such unannounced guests.