overripe. The harsh chorus of cicadas in the trees lulled her to sleep.
She was awakened, disoriented, by Tom gently shaking her arm.
“You’ll burn. We should go back.” For a brief moment his hand linger ed on her arm, trailing down her pale flesh toward her hand. “Your skin is pretty.” His voice was low and admiring.
A tremor of lust shivered t hrough her at his light caress . Drowsily she reached out her hand and stroked the angel on his forearm. “Yours is too.”
He looked from her hand to her eyes, his gaze dark with desire.
Sarah was instantly awake. She snatched her hand from his arm as if she’d been burned , got up and began gathering her clothes . “You’re right, we should go home now.”
Again they trudged across the field. She wondered how long this tension between them could hold before it broke like the dark clouds rolling in on the horizon .
J ust as Tom had predicted , t here would be a storm before morning.
After bathing away the muddy pond water, Sarah cooked potatoes a nd pork chops for their dinner, while Tom prepared a salad under her instruction. They ate and once more retired to the living room and listened to the news followed by Harold Raimer’s Music Hour.
Sarah had given Tom his library book to look through and he pored over the pages, examining each picture carefully as though trying to figure out the stories.
She closed her plumbing tutorial after she realized she wasn’t going to be able to fix her pipe problem without a professional. “ I f you’d like, I could teach you how to read.”
Tom look ed up from his book and smiled . “Yes.”
She could see the change in him from the tense man she ’ d met only a couple of days before. He was relaxed and completely at ease with her now.
“Let me get some things together and we can begin.” She gathered paper and pencil, figuring she’d start with the basics of the alphabet unless he demonstrated that he was beyond that. She sat cross-legged on the floor next to h im . Smoothing the paper against the hard surface of a book she drew a capital ‘A’ then glanced at him.
He lips parted as if he wanted to say something.
She smiled encouragingly. “What?”
“I already have one thing I can read. Bernard taught me the words.” Tom reached in his pocket, took out the magazine page she ’ d found the day before and carefully unfolded it. Without looking at the words he recited, “Doesn’t your family deserve the perfect holiday? Virginia Beach . Paradise at half the price. Virginia Tourism Board.”
“That’s good.” Sarah’s smile widened at h is earnest recitation.
He stared at the picture. “I made up a story about the family.”
She leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. “Tell me.”
Again he recited as though it was something he ’ d memorized well . “The family is on their holiday at the beach. The children play in the water and go out farther and farther. The brother gets washed away by a wave and his sister screams but the father runs into the water and saves him.”
He smoothed the crease down the center of the page with one finger, stopping where it crossed the woman’s face. “After their vacation the family goes back home. They have a house with lots of windows. Each of the children has a bedroom with a window that looks out at the sky and they each have a bed to sleep in and no one is allowed to come into their room to look at them or touch them. The father goes to work to make money to take care of the family and the mother cooks food. They eat three times a day and sometimes even more. When the children wake up in the morning they eat breakfast and go to school. They have a lot of friends and no one looks at them because they look just like everybody else. They go outside whenever they want and eat whenever they want. They have a dog too.” He stopped abruptly and looked up from the picture to her face.
Sarah’s throat was so tight she could hardly swallow. Tom had
She was awakened, disoriented, by Tom gently shaking her arm.
“You’ll burn. We should go back.” For a brief moment his hand linger ed on her arm, trailing down her pale flesh toward her hand. “Your skin is pretty.” His voice was low and admiring.
A tremor of lust shivered t hrough her at his light caress . Drowsily she reached out her hand and stroked the angel on his forearm. “Yours is too.”
He looked from her hand to her eyes, his gaze dark with desire.
Sarah was instantly awake. She snatched her hand from his arm as if she’d been burned , got up and began gathering her clothes . “You’re right, we should go home now.”
Again they trudged across the field. She wondered how long this tension between them could hold before it broke like the dark clouds rolling in on the horizon .
J ust as Tom had predicted , t here would be a storm before morning.
After bathing away the muddy pond water, Sarah cooked potatoes a nd pork chops for their dinner, while Tom prepared a salad under her instruction. They ate and once more retired to the living room and listened to the news followed by Harold Raimer’s Music Hour.
Sarah had given Tom his library book to look through and he pored over the pages, examining each picture carefully as though trying to figure out the stories.
She closed her plumbing tutorial after she realized she wasn’t going to be able to fix her pipe problem without a professional. “ I f you’d like, I could teach you how to read.”
Tom look ed up from his book and smiled . “Yes.”
She could see the change in him from the tense man she ’ d met only a couple of days before. He was relaxed and completely at ease with her now.
“Let me get some things together and we can begin.” She gathered paper and pencil, figuring she’d start with the basics of the alphabet unless he demonstrated that he was beyond that. She sat cross-legged on the floor next to h im . Smoothing the paper against the hard surface of a book she drew a capital ‘A’ then glanced at him.
He lips parted as if he wanted to say something.
She smiled encouragingly. “What?”
“I already have one thing I can read. Bernard taught me the words.” Tom reached in his pocket, took out the magazine page she ’ d found the day before and carefully unfolded it. Without looking at the words he recited, “Doesn’t your family deserve the perfect holiday? Virginia Beach . Paradise at half the price. Virginia Tourism Board.”
“That’s good.” Sarah’s smile widened at h is earnest recitation.
He stared at the picture. “I made up a story about the family.”
She leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. “Tell me.”
Again he recited as though it was something he ’ d memorized well . “The family is on their holiday at the beach. The children play in the water and go out farther and farther. The brother gets washed away by a wave and his sister screams but the father runs into the water and saves him.”
He smoothed the crease down the center of the page with one finger, stopping where it crossed the woman’s face. “After their vacation the family goes back home. They have a house with lots of windows. Each of the children has a bedroom with a window that looks out at the sky and they each have a bed to sleep in and no one is allowed to come into their room to look at them or touch them. The father goes to work to make money to take care of the family and the mother cooks food. They eat three times a day and sometimes even more. When the children wake up in the morning they eat breakfast and go to school. They have a lot of friends and no one looks at them because they look just like everybody else. They go outside whenever they want and eat whenever they want. They have a dog too.” He stopped abruptly and looked up from the picture to her face.
Sarah’s throat was so tight she could hardly swallow. Tom had
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