Unto These Hills (40 page)

Oh God, what was happening inside me? All this sensation. Like a tidal wave it slapped and tossed me about, then deluged me. I was floating in
feeling.
I gulped back terror. I trembled from sheer sensuality.

That’s all it is. Lust.
I pushed with all my might, barely moving Daniel’s weight. “Okay, Sunny,” he said gently. “For now.”

I blinked and struggled to rein in my pounding heart. “What happened to us being friends, Daniel?” The anxiety in my voice was pathetic. I couldn’t help it. Here I am ready to go on out and meet my Maker any day now. Least that’s how I’d been feeling for years now, like I was glued to a rocking chair with my eye on Heaven, waiting for the sky to split and receive me. Actually anticipating death.

These sensations I now felt had nothing to do with dying.

“You said we could be friends.” A tiny note of petulance crept into my voice.

He gave me a boyish, lopsided smile. “I don’t do friend too good with you, Sunny. Never could.”
I pushed against him and this time, he complied and loosened his hold. He brushed a strand of errant hair from my face and his fingers lingered on my cheek.

“You’re not helping one bit,” I snapped, irritated out of my skull.

His smile spread then. “Naw. I guess not.”

“Look, Daniel,” I scooted from beneath him as he lifted his weight. “Let’s just go inside and pretend this didn’t happen, okay?”

He stood, reached down to hoist me up, wedge his strong shoulder under my arm, and brace me with his other arm around my waist. “Okay?” I persisted, desperation shrilling my voice.

“Sure, Sunny,” he drawled unflappably. “Whatever you say.”

Was it my imagination or did his fingers linger more on sensitive hot spots as he helped me into bed? But when I gazed up at him, his angular face was brisk and guileless.

“‘G’night,” I said as he reached to turn off my bedside lamp.

Next thing I knew, his hands captured my face and his lips claimed mine in a searing kiss that left me reeling when he finally let go. “‘Night, Sunny. Sleep tight.”

Dear
God, where had those sensual urges come from?
Until tonight, I’d been convinced they were dead.

I didn’t sleep a wink that night.

~~~~~

The next day, Doretha appeared with crutches and informed me that she would take over seeing about me through the day. “I’ll even sleep over here if you need me to,” she said.

Stunned over Daniel’s abdication, I muttered, “No, that’s okay. I’ll be fine by myself at night. I’ll be able to maneuver with the crutches.” For some reason, I was royally ticked. Lack of sleep, I decided.

She looked uncertain. “Well, if you change your mind, just give me a call.”

“I will. And Doretha,” she turned to look at me, her hand on the front door knob, “Thanks.”

Her eyes grew bright for a long moment. “It’s me oughtta be thanking you. You call me, now, y’hear?”

“I will.”

After she left, I sat there, staring at the television screen, but today I didn’t see or hear Regis and Kelly. Why all the
disappointment
? I’d told Daniel last night that I didn’t want more than friendship, hadn’t I? Had, in fact, pushed him away. Then why all this inner turmoil?
Just listen to me
! I shouldn’t be too surprised at Daniel’s flip-flop. After all, he’d vanished at another time, long ago. Just when I needed him most. A flash of last night’s kisses triggered a warm abdominal tingling.

I crossed my arms in disgust. At myself for needing. At Daniel for bolting.

Why this time? Why, Daniel?
A part of me felt cast-off. Another part relieved. Out of sight, out of mind. Partly, anyway. One thing was for sure; I couldn’t afford another roller coaster ride.

Not in this lifetime.

~~~~~

In coming weeks, Doretha and Emaline alternated in daily care taking. I protested that I didn’t need so much looking after.

“But we
want to
be here for you, Sunny,” Emaline insisted. And I have to admit it
did
get me through some tough times. Not the physical. The emotions. Yeh, they kept poking up their ugly heads, in spite of my resolve not to
feel
them. There were times I’d have
died
for a glimpse of Daniel. But it seemed he’d decided to grant me my wish.

Alone. Again.

Lee Roy still visited but not as spontaneously as before. Reminded him too much that Walter was no longer there, I suppose. I continued taking refuge in my weekly column. Another thing happened; I began to think again. Yeh, that’s what I said.
Think.

One day, Emaline asked me point-blank, “Do you ever pray now, Sunny?” She turned from dusting my coffee table to wait for my answer, drawing my brows into agitation. My frown didn’t put her off for a New York minute. “You’re pathetic.” Her dainty hand swept the air then pointed to me. “Just look at you.”

I puffed up. “That’s not fair. My foot’s been —”

“I’m not talking about broken bones. I’m referring to you, Sunny. The total
you.”
Her eyes misted as she sank down onto the sofa, feather duster clutched in hand, facing my recliner, now raised to elevate my foot.

I peered at her through bleary, jaded eyes, dreading what she would say. I knew, on some level, that I had this coming. As Nana always said, “Everybody’s got a reckoning day a’comin’.” This was mine.

I wasn’t ready. I closed my eyes, feigning tiredness.

“Please open your eyes, Sunny,” Emaline said in a voice she rarely used, one used for petulant children. “What I have to say needs all your attention.”

I opened them. The sweet face of my best friend radiated such love that something in my heart stirred, sluggish but persistent. My antennae raised and my head lifted to full attention.

“Sunny, you’re a walking dead person,” she said.

The impact of those words took my breath for a moment, then I chortled, “Look again, Emaline. I’m not
walking
.”

A twinkle lit her eyes but she remained resolute. “That aside. You’ve not been truly alive for years. Personally, I’m tired of you being so beaten down.”

I scowled, defensive. “I’m not so beaten down.”

“You are so, too,” she insisted. I took a deep, angry breath and settled back because I knew she wouldn’t hush till she’d said her piece.

“Oh Sunny,” her voice broke. “I can remember when you called me the solid anchor in our relationship. Well, you were the
life and wind
of us. You were the one with real heart. How I admired the way you always got back up after getting knocked down.”

I eyed her warily. “Where is this going?”

On a sigh, she exhaled heavily, like I’d punctured her with a saber. “I’m
not
patronizing you, Sunny. I respect you too much to do that.” We sat in silence for long moments, allowing the assertions to sink in and process. The room was so quiet I could hear the birds singing outside.

She studied her hands and looked so sad my heart felt squeezed. When she looked up, her eyes were bright, and her mouth was working as she fought back tears. And I thought in that moment,
how much she loves me.

Then a strange thing happened. My nose stung and my throat hurt and my eyes filled with tears. I’d not felt that in so long that it astonished me. Another emotion crept in. “I’m sorry, Emaline,” I said. “That was mean and unnecessary.” I snuffled and reached for a Kleenex on my little table. “I mean,” I chortled hoarsely, “I don’t see that many friends beating a path to my door.” The tears pooled again, aggravating me. “Thanks.”

She arose and came over to give me a big hug. “I’ll go now.”

“No,” I gestured for her to sit back down. “Finish what you started. Apparently I need it. No, don’t look like that. I’m serious. I
know
I need your input.”

Emaline settled again, reclaimed her wit and dignity, then continued. “Sunny, it’s really hard to tag what’s happened to you. I’ve pondered a lot about what to say and I must confess the answer isn’t a simple one. I don’t dare be arbitrary in any counsel because I’ve not been exactly where you are. But I do know one thing: As a result of all that’s happened to you, going all the way back to your Mama leaving, Sunny, you’ve lost heart.”

“No joke,” I muttered darkly.

She smiled. “Remember that song we used to sing,
You’ve Gotta Have Heart?
” I nodded. “Well, you always did. Until that awful thing happened to you.” She finished on a whisper, as though saying it aloud would cause me to start foaming at the mouth.

“When I was raped,” I said flatly. Then reminded myself to not toss her kindness back in her face. “Everything changed then, Emaline. Daniel left me and —”

This time when the tears came they gushed and sobs tore from my chest, shaking me all the way to my toes. Emaline dashed across the room and gathered me into her arms, weeping with me for all that was lost in my lifetime. Once I peered up at her through the blur, “I — I still miss Renie, Emaline. She was sooo like a mama to me and —”

A new torrent broke loose and we wept for not only mine, but her loss as well.

“Do you realize,” I rasped later, as our tears ebbed, “that this is the first time I’ve cried in years? I haven’t
wanted
to feel, Emaline! It h-
hurts too bad.”
Fresh tears came and I realized I didn’t mind.

Later when Emaline was leaving, she took my hand and smiled. “Love isn’t really love until you risk being hurt…or something like that.” She hugged me bye. “This is the first step to recovery. It won’t happen overnight, Sunny. But you’ll find your way.” She gave me a big thumbs-up. “You’ve still got it in you.”

After she left, I sat for a long, long time in that chair, contemplating all we’d talked about. Lifetime’s memories return to folks in different ways. Some folks remember when something nudges them, a picture or such. Others hear a song or see a movie or spot someone whose face reminds them of someone they once knew or loved. Or hated.

My memories come back wrapped in flavors. I smiled, thinking about the lemon-drop aura of Daniel’s and my earliest sweetheart days. Where had all of life’s sweetness and joy gone? Could I get it back? I picked up the Bible Emaline had unobtrusively placed on the little table earlier in the day.

It fell open and a passage from Psalms 42:1-2 leaped off the page at me.

As the deer pants for streams of water,
So my soul pants for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the Living God.
When can I go and meet with God?

Something wonderful and wild thrashed about in me. I recognized it from those sweetheart days, when I would dress up and wait for Daniel to arrive. The same anticipation now
ssszzzzzzed
in me.
When can I go and meet with my Creator?

Something was happening to me. Something I’d never before experienced. A thought struck me and I felt as excited as a little girl doing cartwheels. A
trysting place
. I needed a place to tryst with my Love.

I could hardly wait!

~~~~~

“You want me to move that ol’ chair o’mine back in here?” Lee Roy stood aside, admiring his handiwork. I noted that soft green paint still faintly outlined his fingernails when he picked a carpet string from new wooden blinds. He looked content and pleased.

“No,” I said, hobbling with a cane across the floor. My foot was better but I still favored it and didn’t yet venture outside. Emaline and Francine did my grocery shopping and Doretha stood by to do any other bidding. “The desk and chair look good in that corner, don’t they?”

“Looks downright purdy,” he said reverently. I’d told him the room was my new office. Not a lie exactly because I did do my weekly column in there. I just couldn’t share its true purpose.

It was my own delicious secret.

~~~~~

My days began at 5 a.m. Some mornings, I arose even earlier, abuzz with expectancy. From a collection of CDs, a Christmas gift from Emaline, flowed rich joyful music.

Age ceased to be. I could have been an adolescent or a child or a young woman. I was in love! I forgot all about my tender injured foot. Buoyancy claimed me and I took up my tabret, a beautiful round, tambourine-shaped instrument with long tinseled strands, another of Emaline’s gifts, and began to dance as I ‘d never done before.

And I
felt
His delight in me. After the first time, I discovered that my foot didn’t even twinge.

How I coveted and protected that time in my Tryst Room. Phone off hook, I’d retreat there for hours at a time, communing with and dancing for Him
.
Sometimes I lounged on the carpeted floor, simply being and listening.

No matter the weather, my mood, feeling bad, whatever, He was there.

For the first time ever, someone loved me unconditionally and would never leave me. It was a learning time. I celebrated each dawn, so glad to be alive and free and happy and
so in love!

That wonderful presence touched the chords built within my breast, showing me that I am an instrument of music, dormant until touched… wafting sound and song from deep within, up, up, up till it splashes over like living waters over my feet and sets them to dancing.

Other mornings prose passages flowed through my fingers onto the computer screen:
Fresh from love of dance, Spirit free on the rise, How can
this day mean more? As if sixteen I waltz in my dream for encounter with a voice like silk husk, calm as rain. Eyes turquoise. Handsome and quick, cool as can be. Stands tall and at ease. My name, Sunny, rolls unusually soft into close space…Deep is this man, calming his ways…Italian dark and Germanic pale sit like new Godiva sweet offerings…Loathe to break eye contact, touch of hands, smiles and sharings yet…. Childhood prayer surfaces mind: God is great, God is good, and I thank Him for this day. Child Sunny.

Yes, the erotic me had, through Daniel, sprang to life once more.

And I was free to enjoy that part of me! It no longer shamed me.

I filled endless pages with things I learned in that room. One thing was how beautifully broad is the Maker’s wonderful, terrible, fathomless, vast love for mankind.