13 comments/ 41963 views/ 19 favorites Under The Dancing Tree By: Scaramouche123 For those of you looking for a quick stroke story, this is not it. It started out that way, but took on a life of its own. I hope it resonates. CHAPTER I We called it the dancing tree. We could see it every Sunday as we walked down the old dirt road that passed in front of our farm as it wound its way through the orchards to our little town's church. It was a solitary tree, dead for some years now, but not giving up its place at the top of our little hill. I was raised in foster homes, never knowing a mother or father. My wife, on the other hand was third generation born in the valley and bred on the farm. We met when I was passing through and I never left. Bethany, our daughter, or B, as she liked to be called, used to sing nursery rhymes and mimic the position of the trunk and its two large limbs which were raised in surrender to the sky. I think her love of farming and all things that grow began on our Sunday afternoon sojourns. Sometimes, after church, we'd walk up the little hill and sit near the tree for an hour or two, enjoying the picnic lunch we'd packed. During the summer, we'd not stay long as the tree offered no shelter from the mid-day sun. But most of the spring and autumn, the heat was bearable. Winters were too brutal to do much more than look at it against the slate-gray sky as we passed going to and from church. As B grew, she had more and more questions about life, all life, and death and why there were cycles and simple philosophical issues that oft times turned too complex for her mother and me. But we tried. We tried to answer as best we could and I'm glad we made attempts because, if we couldn't provide an adequate answer during our lunch time, we'd search for the best answer later when we returned to the house and B did her weekend homework. This search for answers would later shape our lives in ways we never conceived of while B was young. Her questions followed no patterns. Why do trees stay in one place? What's the best medicine for a bee sting? How does water turn to ice? She was filled with a lust to know everything and oft times; we'd be the beneficiary of her curiosity as we learned things that helped us understand and ultimately manage the farm much better. As she grew, her questions focused more and more on the nature of sex and its relationship to the health of the animals and even the crops on which she was now helping us tend. Eventually, she asked me if I ever felt alone, or if she and her mother were enough family for me. I always told her the same answer; "when the universe wants me to have more than the two of you, then the universe will give it to me. Besides, I have the crops and animals too." She was amazing with the birthing of the livestock. To her, it was as important as the sex act that had occurred months previous. In high school, she began to work on Saturdays for the town's vet and it seemed a given she would eventually go to school to become a vet herself. "It isn't a choice I've made," she'd say. "The universe wants me to care for everything. That's true," she'd emphasize, "so I need to learn all I can, so I don't make any mistakes. Too much life depends on me." We believed every word. When B was in her senior year of high-school she met Del, a boy two years older than her. Del became the light of her life. We were glad, as the young man was everything the parent of a child hopes for when they think about life mates for their children. He was strong, serious, but with the most engaging and ready smile, a smile that really exploded whenever he saw B in town or at church. Though their attraction to each other was instant, their courtship was slow to develop and definitely what old timers might call proper. There was never a time in the first six months of their becoming a couple when they were alone; not even at B's prom. But of course, if you are raised on a farm and work around animal husbandry, you learn at a young age what's what, and when your own body parts start itchin' you're gonna' scratch. And scratch they did. It was my wife who told me about the conversations she'd had with our daughter and of B's intentions. We were lying in bed one night, having turned in early (B'd gone out with Del), just you know, messin' around, when she sprung the news. "B's gonna give up her maidenhead tonight." "What?" "She and Del are going to have intercourse tonight." "How do you know?" "We talked about it." "You talked about it?" "Yup." "Are you sure?" "Sure as sure can be," my wife answered. "Wow. That's a big step." "Not really." "What do you mean, 'not really'?" My wife pulled my arm around her and snuggled up closer. "They've been working up to it," she said. "What do you mean working up to it?" "You know, kissin' and stuff." "Stuff?" "Yeah. You know. Stuff. The kind of stuff that leads to the inevitable." "Stuff," I repeated, trying to sort it all out. "And you know about this stuff how?" "I taught her." "You taught her?" "Yup. She was not shy in the least bit about askin' for help either." "I bet that's true," I said. I thought how B would search every little crevice to find all the answers that could ever be found about a particular subject, then she'd go over the information twice and sometimes three or four times until she owned it. "Well, you know how she is and I truly think she's ready to be a woman now." "It's a big step." "I think they're gonna get married soon." "Really? What about college?" "Oh she'll go and I expect she'll go all the way through vet school too." "Why didn't she give me a hint or ask my opinion on any of this?" "Because, as much as she loves us, she's a bit shy around you." "No she's not." "Oh, you have no idea how shy she is, do you?" "I don't think I've ever seen it. She always asks me anything and everything." "Are you sure?" "Well, I thought I was. Come to think of it, I just always assumed she knew, you know...What's what." "She knew what stuff was called, but other than seeing the animals do it, she really was a bit clueless." "Until you taught her." "That's right," my wife giggled. "Until I taught her." "Is she really shy around me?" "Oh, yeah." "Why?" "You're the apple of her eye." "What does that mean?" I asked. "It means, there was no way for her to communicate with you her feelings about sex and lust and the itch we all get. It would be much too uncomfortable." "Why?" "It's a girl thing." "Oh, stop," I chided. "No really sweetheart, it's difficult to explain but women have intuitive feelings about what we can and can't do or say around men." "What does that have to do with her being uncomfortable?" "I honestly think you should just accept the fact, there are some things a daughter doesn't discuss with her father." "Okay, I guess," I said, giving in, but not really wanting to. "Now, about those things I helped B learn. Feel like letting me show you what a good teacher I was?" "Sure," I said, wondering where this was going to lead. "Well, first I taught her how to kiss," she said, leaning over and kissing the side of my cheek. "That's not much of a kiss. Heck, B already knew how to kiss both of us on the cheek." "Be patient, oh curious one." She then nibbled at the side of my lower lip. "Oh my. I don't think she knew how to do that." She moved her lips to my neck and began nibbling, working her way over to my ear lobe, gently pulling on it, blowing warm air softly into my ear. "You've got to be kidding," I said. "Oh just wait," she answered. "It's going to get a lot better." "Really?" "Oh yeah. Really. The first few things I taught her were about how humans use their mouths to bring pleasure to each other." "That's certainly differentiates us from almost all other animals." "Hush, oh scholarly one. You just close your eyes and enjoy this," she said reaching down to help me take off my t-shirt. When I lay back, she moved down to my collar bone, gently biting her way around my neck. Next she moved down and took my left nipple in her mouth, circling her tongue around it, using her warm saliva to lubricate the movement. The combination of sensations gave me the start of what I knew was going to be a rock-hard erection, one that would probably be painful until I achieved release. "I better get out of these shorts before they get too small to contain my growing problem." My wife giggled, while I quickly slipped off my shorts and lay back in bed, this time flat on my back. "I'm all yours, my dove. Feast away," I implored. She came up and whispered in my ear, "Now just remember, B's doing all this and more with Del. So, don't think about it in any negative way whatsoever." "I'm sorry, love, I can't seem to think about anything at this moment. All the blood's left my brain." "Now you know what the stallion feels when he smells the mare in heat" "Are you saying I'm a stallion and you're the mare?" "More like a bull," she said, reaching down and squeezing my balls. "Oh, you do make a man feel so, I don't know, like a man." "Enjoy," she said, lowering her face down to my groin. My wife knew how much I enjoyed releasing my cum into her mouth. She also was not the least bit reluctant to swallow. Not so, the first time. The first time I ever came in her mouth was a surprise to both of us. I'd talked her into "kissing it" but was unprepared for how much pleasure I was in for. As soon as she took the head inside her lips I unleashed. As this was new to her, she didn't at first understand what was happening and was confused when of a sudden, her mouth was full of warm, viscous semen, and I mean full. Not thinking, she swallowed at the same instant I unleashed another volley and she started choking, pulling away to try to regroup, she took the next shot right in the eye. As she gasped, she snorted and cum was running down her chin, out her nostrils, and was all over her face. I started laughing. She started crying. I remember, I immediately felt bad for her, but I couldn't believe how great it felt shooting into her mouth that first pulse. For weeks afterwards, she was determined to learn how to please me with her mouth. It was not long after, that I began experimenting with giving her pleasure orally. We obtained, what we both agreed was a level of expertise in that particular area of our lovemaking. I think, living on a farm puts humans more in touch with our base instincts, than living in a city allows. On the farm, we're constantly aware of the smells and tastes of the earth and its diverse constituency. There's horse piss, compost, cow dung, decaying plants when the crops are turned, and a myriad of other smells to assail the senses year round. The taste of an apple picked ripe or fresh food served at the end of a workday, is intoxicating. In spring, when the earth wakes up from its long winter nap and plants begin to bloom, the subtle perfumes of various pollens, helps prepare us for birth and the cycles of life. Our senses come alive. I truly feel love-making, in all its magnificent configurations, is best when done near places where you can smell things growing, things other than humans that is. I was lost in my thoughts when I realized I was about to cum. I tapped her shoulder, a signal we'd developed years ago to let the other know when we are close. She murmured and took me down her throat just as I let loose. "Ummm," she gurgled. "Oh, god," I exclaimed. I clenched my fists and expelled a torrent of semen, a copious amount from which my wife missed nary a drop. I felt and heard the sounds, of her swallowing everything I offered. I was as close to ecstasy as a man gets when he's serviced by the woman he loves as much as he loves anything else. I was giving her the gift we both cherished and it was well received. Later, after I'd recovered my senses enough to communicate in a somewhat intelligent manner, she asked, "Did you like that?" I grunted an affirmation. We both started laughing. "Your turn," I said, moving quickly to grab her and throw her back up against the headboard, pulling her legs apart as her head landed on the pillow. "Me barbarian," I grunted. "Me hungry. Need food." "Well then shut up and eat. I've already had my share for the week." And that's just what I did. I feasted on love and I feasted on flesh. Life couldn't get any better. But it could get a lot worse. Over the next couple of years, B and Del became husband and wife. At first, they tried living in a small room in town, but spent so much time working at the farm we figured it'd be best if they just gave up the room and moved in with us. Del and I worked the animals and the orchards. B and her mother worked the other crops, managed the homestead and kept their two very hungry men well fed with great food and even greater love. It was at Thanksgiving dinner in the second year of their marriage they informed us that B was with child. It was the best Thanksgiving any of us could ever remember. We'd decided that Del and I would build a house for them on the property. B immediately chose the hill where the dancing tree stood as the site. We drew up plans, made arrangements for a well to be dug when spring came, got the plans approved and settled in for a glorious Christmas holiday. Three days after the New Year's celebrations were over, my wife wanted to go into town to return a gift. B was a bit under the weather and I had some chores that needed to be attended to. Del offered to drive her in so he could go to the hardware store for stuff we needed at the farm. They never made it. We were told it was black ice that caused the wreck. An eighteen wheeler hit a patch at a bend near the bottom of a hill and jackknifed just as Del came down from the opposite direction. There was no where for him to go and in an instant they were gone. CHAPTER II Grief is a funny thing. Not funny ha-ha, but funny as in curious. It affects each of us differently and to greater or lesser degrees. It changes our perceptions, our needs; it can even change our moral turpitude. Though I didn't think it at the time, I needed more from life than I cared to admit. I couldn't move. I knew it was a bad dream that would soon end, but it seemed to be taking longer to escape than any other bad dream I'd ever had in the past. B on the other hand, though devastated, took the news rather better than I. Maybe it was because she was pregnant. Maybe it was because she'd not been with Del as long as I'd been with her mother. Maybe it was because she is a woman. In any case, she carried on with a grim determination. But, even in my grief state I worried for my daughter. As days turned into weeks and as weeks turned into months, the only real joy I felt was when I realized my B was getting ready to give birth. I was scared but I was glad too. B seemed oblivious to anything other than the daily tasks that needed completion to keep the farm from falling apart. She made a list each morning while I ate a bit of food as my appetite had disappeared. "Dad, don't forget to check and see if the chickens need food. We can order on Friday if they do," she'd say. "Un-hum," was about all I could offer at each request. "Dad, don't forget this or please make sure that, or will you get such and such when you go to town tomorrow," was about all the communication we had between each other those first few weeks. At night, we'd eat dinner silently. On Sunday, she still got up and went to Church, but I'd stopped. It wasn't because I was angry at god or anything; it was more because I didn't want people to tell me "how sorry they were". Hell, I was sorrier than the whole town combined and didn't need salt rubbed into my gaping wound. I was scared, too. I was one child away from being without a family once again. B never said a thing. She just got up, got dressed and walked all the way to church like she'd done her entire life. In late spring, during a particularly torrential rain, her water broke. "Daddy," she screamed. "Daddy, come quick." I ran from the barn to the house, getting soaked in the 20 seconds it took to make the run, and burst into the kitchen petrified something bad had happened. "Daddy, my water broke. You're gonna' have to help me with the birth." "Okay baby. Did you call the clinic?" "I tried, but the phones are out." "What about your cell phone?" I asked, hoping I wouldn't be left alone with the task. "No luck." Though I was a farmer and helped with a few hundred births, it was always animals, not my daughter and soon to be grandchild, I helped bring into the world. The baby was three weeks early, and that seemed a bit unusual. I realized I was scared to death of something going wrong. I started shaking. "Daddy, Daddy, what's the matter?" I came to my senses at the sound of worry in her voice. "Nothing, sweetie. It's just, well; I'm a bit apprehensive I'll screw up somehow." "Nonsense. I've more faith in you than I have in my own doctor. You've probably delivered just as many babies." "I doubt it," I started to say, when B let out a cry that curdled my blood. "God, Daddy, it hurts. Something's wrong." "Change your sheets and get on the bed. I'm going to boil some water." "Please hurry. I don't like what I'm feelin'," she pleaded. I raced to the kitchen and poured a stock pot full of water, put it on the stove and lit a fire, turning it on high. I got some string from the utility closet and threw it in the microwave to sterilize it. I took some kitchen knives and threw them in the stock pot to boil away germs and started looking for anything else I could think of in case I'd need it during the birth. "Daddy," B screamed. "Hurry, Daddy. It hurts." "Coming baby. Water's just now boiling." I shut off the microwave, grabbed the bucket and realized I was still in my soaking wet clothes. I quickly stripped down to my boxers and went to help B. Katy was born five hours later. She was a breech birth. But having dealt with a few over the years, I had an idea that B and the child should be handled the same way I'd handle a foal in trouble; with cool, dispassionate, movement and a, b, c, type steps. I reached inside B with my fingers, found the cord, made sure it was not trapped, raised the baby's arms up one at a time, while twisting the child gently to prevent the head from being squeezed and bruising the brain. It worked. I cut and tied the umbilical cord, washed the baby, handed it to her mother, and examined the birth canal for damage as best I could. B required stitching which I knew would hurt, but it was necessary to make sure the damage was kept to a minimum. I got the necessary things from around the house. After, I sewed her up, I put the placenta in a pan to take outside for disposal later and turned my attention back to mother and child. B was holding the child to her breast and was crying. "Honey, is there something I did that hurt you?" She looked up into my eyes and just shook her head. "Then what's the matter?" She looked first at the baby, then up at me. "They're not here Daddy. It's just you and me." I couldn't hold back. Months of pent up emotion exploded from both of us. We cried for over an hour. It was a hell of a way to welcome new life to the world, but we couldn't help it. Our grief needed to be let out. We cried until we were drained. Two days later, Doc Beasley came out to check on B and Katy. "You did a great job sewing her up," he told me. "How'd you sterilize the thread?" "Alcohol." "Hmm. I guess I can leave it in, but it won't dissipate. I'll have to remove it when she comes to the office in three days for a check up." Under The Dancing Tree "Will it hurt her," I asked. "A little. But I think it saved her life and she should be grateful she's got such a skilled surgeon for a father." "Jeez doc, you'd a done much better job." "Yeah, but I wasn't here and if it had happened anywhere in a city, the mother probably wouldn't have had the help she needed to stop the bleeding. I mean it. You probably saved her life." I was floored. Everything had happened so quickly and so matter of fact like, I hadn't really thought about how much danger B and the baby were in because of the difficult birth. Over the next few weeks I doted on mother and child. I was still greatly weighted down by our loss, but knew life had to go on. It was not so much for me that I regained control of the farm, but more for my child and for her child that I did the necessary things. But I couldn't do it all by myself. B's maternal grandparents came out three days a week to help. My mother, Grammy May, as B called her, helped B with the household and light crop chores. Her husband, Grampa Bill, was an old workhorse and was a godsend in the orchards and barn. Gradually, we pulled ourselves together and got on with life, sort of. One Saturday afternoon, as B fed Katy, I noticed how beautiful a mother and child can be. I thought for the first time in my life I understood the importance of the Madonna and child in Christian art, how it was so beloved by the people of faith and how I had my own Madonna and child right in front of my eyes. "Daddy," B said, calling my name. "Yes B." "Why are you smiling?" "I was thinking about the union of mother and child. How important the union is to life's continuum. I don't think there's a more beautiful site in nature." "So I'm your Madonna am I?" "Right now you are." "Daddy. Are you ever going to go back to church with me?" "Someday, maybe. Right now, I don't need the sympathy of all the town's folk." "Oh, I think you do. You'd be surprised how knowing every Sunday I'm going to give thanks for life..." "And death," I interrupted. "And death," B went on. "How giving thanks for cycles, even the ones that are cut short, helps keep me centered. I think it would help you too." "Right now, I don't think I can make it any farther than the dancing tree." "But you've been to town." "Yes, but I keep my head down and get in and out as quick as I can." "Daddy," B said with a slight choking in her voice, "please come to church with me." "I'll see," was all I could offer. When B was finished feeding Katy, she handed her up to me. As I took her from her mother, B lifted her breast up in such a matter of fact way and examined it for a moment. "God, I'm such a cow. Look how big these are she said, not realizing what she was saying." I stood there, my mouth agape, staring at the blue veined melon sized breasts that were the life source for my granddaughter. I started to laugh. B realized she was holding her breast up for examination and quickly covered up. "Sorry Daddy. I feel like such a, I don't know, such an old sow. Why are you laughing?" "Oh sweetie," I said. "I remember the time your mom found you trying to suckle milk out of the cow's teat." "I was only four and I wanted to know how it tasted warm." "My goodness, you remember." "Of course. That's the first time Mom showed me how to properly milk the udder to get the milk. I never forgot." "No you didn't." "I'm a good milker, aren't I Daddy." "Yup, baby, you're a good milker." We both chuckled at the memory. But the dye had been cast. The next Sunday morning, I awoke from a pleasant dream to find B standing over my bed holding Katy to her breast. "B, are you okay?" "Huh, oh sorry Daddy. I thought I'd see if you'd go to church with me today." "Not today honey. I'm still not ready." "Okay,' she said, with a slight grin at the corner of her mouth. "What. I'm not ready yet," I reiterated, realizing I'd said yet and that probably meant at some point, I'd be ready to get back to our regular Sunday routine. "Better use the bathroom Dad, then meet me in the kitchen. I've made a breakfast that's too big for me and the little angel here, so I'm going to need help eating it all." "Okay," I said as she turned and walked out my door. As I started to get up, I realized the sheet was tented by my morning erection. I wondered if that was why B was smiling. Maybe that's why she told me I'd better use the bathroom before meeting her and Katy in the kitchen. Oh well, I thought, it must have been a really good dream. I felt it was about time I dreamt of something other than tragedy. At breakfast, B asked if I'd meet her for lunch under our special tree. "Katy's never had Sunday lunch under my tree, and I think it's time she knew how beautiful our little hill is and how we can see all the way back here to the house. Don't you think that's a good idea?" "Sure," I agreed, though I wondered if her motive was really to ease me back toward my regular life. "Good, then. It's settled. We'll meet you at about half past noon." "What should I bring," I asked? "Make a lunch from all this leftover breakfast food. Bring some fruit too." "Okay Sweetie, see you at the tree." At noon, I'd finished all the morning chores and had put all the food in our picnic basket. I got a blanket and headed to the hill. When B and Katy got there, I'd already spread out the blanket, laid out a platter of food which I'd covered with some paper towels to keep the critters away, and was leaning against the trunk watching B walk up the hill with Katy in her little carry halter. "Whew, that used to be easier before this little bundle started gaining weight." "She is getting bigger isn't she?" "And hungry too," B said, taking Katy from her carry halter, unbuttoning her dress and lifting her back to her breast. "How'd she do in church?" "She was fine. I'd fed her about ten minutes before service began, so she basically slept and gurgled all through the sermon." "Hmmm." "Hmmm, what?" B asked. "I was just thinking about the wonder of it all." "The wonder of what all?" "How your body creates food for her body. How your milk is the product of various parts of your body that find their way into a liquid that not only sustains life, but helps promote growth." "Yeah. It really is miraculous." "Here," I said, offering the platter to B so she too could eat." "Thanks," she said, picking a muffin and a piece of bacon from the platter. "I'm famished again." I poured juice in a cup and set it at her side so she could drink when she finished the muffin and piece of bacon then sat back and watched them both eat; B with the muffin and Katy at her breast. A few minutes later B cleared her throat. "It's beautiful isn't it?" "Huh. Oh sorry B. I didn't mean to stare." "It's okay if you perv a bit on me." "Why Bethany Ann (I only used her middle name when I wanted her to pay attention) I was doing no such thing." I didn't want to admit to any such thing. We both smiled slightly while I turned to fuss with more fruit to give B. "Dad, what are we going to do with our lives?" "Wow, honey. I hadn't even begun to think about it." "I figured as much. But don't you think it's time we figured out a bit more than what we need to buy in town each week?" "Like what Sweetie?" "Like should you sell the farm..." "Never. This was your mother's dream and it's one I gladly shared and still feel strongly about today." "Okay. Then what about me and Katy?" "You guys can stay here forever as far as I'm concerned." "I know that. And to be frank, I probably like the idea more than I should." "What do you mean?" I asked. "I'm scared stiff of being alone. I didn't realize how close to being alone we all are at any given time in our life." "I see." "Can you imagine little Katy here, all alone if something happened to me?" "Nothing is going to..." I stopped talking as soon as B frowned up at me. "You're probably right. But, and this is something that I've begun to think about lately; under this tree is my past, my present and my future. Everything and everyone I've ever known or will ever know who is a part of my flesh and blood is here with me now. It's vexing." "That's an interesting way to look at the three of us sitting under your tree. But life goes on. Maybe I should sell the farm. The insurance money and the proceeds from the sale would set you and little Katy up for life." "Yeah, but what kind of a life?" "What do you mean?" "I'd go to Vet school, I'd raise Katy by myself, I'd get a job in some small town somewhere, and wait out my days thinking about what might have been." "Jeez, B, that sounds depressing as hell." "Don't it?" "Look, though I doubt I'll sell the farm any time soon, I'll do anything I can to make your life better. I owe you that." "You don't owe me anything. I'm a woman with a child whose husband and mother died in a horrible freak, goddamn freak accident. I've got to take care of myself but all I can think about is you, Katy, the farm and this damn tree." I was startled by her anger. She'd never in her life gotten mad about anything. She was a very accepting person of the stuff life sends our way. This was a bit of a surprise. "Honey, it's okay to be confused. You've suffered a terrible loss." "I'm not confused Dad. I'm mad. I'm mad that I have feelings. I'm mad I can't see past this," she said, sweeping her arm in a panoramic gesture. "I'm mad that the choices I'll have presented to me if I leave here, make me want to vomit." "Hey, hey," I said, scooting across the blanket to take her in my arms. "Here," I said, tapping my forearm, "punch it out. I can take it." B just looked up at me and started to cry. I felt helpless. Later, after dinner, B put Katy to bed and came out onto our porch to sit with me. "Winter's going to be here soon." I nodded. "It's been almost a year." I turned and looked at B. I wondered where she was going with this line of talk. "I want to have a frank conversation with you Dad. Can you handle anything I throw your way?" "Of course, B. I've always been able to handle your questions and ideas." "Well, I guarantee you, some of the stuff I want to talk about might surprise you." "Go ahead." B thought for a minute then cleared her throat. "I'm gonna need a man." "Okay," I said a bit slower than usual. "You're gonna need a woman." "Now hold on young lady. I'm..." B put her finger to her lips. "Shhh, Daddy. Let me talk. Please." I folded my arms across my chest and sat back and nodded for B to go ahead. "You don't need to be defensive. I'm not suggesting you'd dishonor Mom by being with another woman. But you know and I know we all get itches that need to be scratched." "I'll be okay." "Not according to what Mom told me. She said you had your regular needs, lots of regular needs as she put it, and she told me all about those needs." "She did what?" "It's okay Dad. Del had needs too, and I was glad to take care of those needs. In fact, I miss taking care of those needs." "Of course you do Sweetie." "Right. But there's not a man around these parts that's deserving of me and I don't think there ever will be." "You'll find someone." "Okay. Maybe. But what about you? Who's going to take care of you when I'm gone?" "That's not for you to worry about. When I feel the need, I'll figure out how to take care of it." "You mean take matters into your own hands, so to speak," B said smiling. "Now see here Bethany Ann. I don't think it's appropriate you and I have that kind of a conversation." B started laughing. After a few seconds, I started to smile. "See. Mom said you'd be a hard one to talk about sex with, no pun intended of course." "B, baby, where'd you get these notions?" "Mom told me all about your sex life together. But that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about your love life. And if it happens to include sex well, so be it." "I don't quite follow." B thought for a minute before continuing. "Listen. Close your eyes and listen." I looked her way with a questioning furrow to my brow. "Just listen, Dad." I closed my eyes and listened. As it had just turned dark, the sounds of crickets began in earnest. In the little copse of trees at the edge of the drive way, I heard our resident owl hoot its evening greeting to all little creatures, sort of an advance notice of its intention to feed on whatever ventured out to forage in the weeds and bushes. I heard the branches of trees whisper as a gentle breeze picked up and passed from one tree to the next and so on. I heard one of the horses whinny out in the pasture and a cow start its gentle lowing, calming its calf and I heard the dog barking, probably chasing a skunk into the orchard. Then I heard B's breathing, even, measured, calm, but deep, deep and healthy. "What did you hear?" "I heard everything," I answered. Then I told her what I'd heard. B smiled. "Do you know what we all have in common?" "What?" "This place. Everything you heard comes from the life that calls this place, this farm, these hills, home." I arched my eyebrow and smiled. "Do you know the owl ate three baby mice and a garden snake this week?" "How do you know?" "I don't Dad. But that's not the point." "You're being ob, ob...What's that word you like to use?" "Obtuse. No. I'm not being obtuse. I'm leading up to a point." "Well could you hurry up and get there, I gotta pee pretty soon." "Ha-ha. If you gotta go that bad, just stand on the edge of the porch and pee." "I was just sayin'." "I know. You were lost and you wanted me to guide you so you can see what's so obvious to me." "Something like that." "Okay. Here's the point." B paused, gathered her thoughts, then went on. " The point is, even though we don't see every ant that dies, every mouse the owl eats, every skunk that's hit by a car tryin' to cross the highway, those animals that are left behind tend to stay pretty close to where they were born." "Oh. I get it. We're just like animals and since you were born near here, though we've lost part of our family, we're best off staying here." "Something like that," B responded. " But there's more I've not quite worked out yet. So here's my suggestion." I waited. "Okay. Here goes. Next Sunday, I want you to come to church with me. I want you to walk with me like we always used to do and we'll take another basket for lunch afterwards. Then, after lunch, I'll tell you what's on my mind." I looked at her trying to see a hint of what she was thinking, but what I could see of her face, barely illuminated by the light coming from inside the house, really didn't reveal much. I guess I'd have to wait a week to see what B was thinking. "Let's go inside. I need to feed Katy one more time before I turn in." We went inside. I fussed with the kitchen while B fed Katy. "Dad." "Yes B." "Dad, could you bring me a glass of water please?" "Sure thing," I said, as I got a glass and filled it with water. "Do you want lime?" "Yes please." I cut a lime wedge and took the water into the living room. "Thanks," she said, as I handed her the glass. "Sit. I'm almost done." I sat down in the chair opposite the couch and watched as she finished feeding her child. "She's not very hungry tonight," B said, as she took Katy from her breast and lay her over her shoulder to burp her. This time she left her breast exposed and for some reason, I seemed to be drawn to it and was surprised I was not too self-conscious about looking at my daughter's naked breast. "They're not as nice as Mom's boobs were." "Huh?" "My breasts, Dad," B said, squeezing her breast and lifting it up to look at it. "Mom had beautiful breasts." "Honey, your breasts are just fine. And you don't seem to hear Katy complaining about their usefulness." "I'm talking about their proportion to the rest of my frame. God, they're such a bother some time." Then she lay the baby down and opened her blouse fully to expose the other breast. "See. They're just, I don't know, they're just too big." I sat looking at my daughter's naked breasts for a minute before answering. "They'll return to normal once you wean Katy." "Hopefully." "They will. Now cover up, please." Without a word, B buttoned her shirt back up, then picked up her daughter and went off to bed. She didn't even say goodnight. I slept fitfully. But not before taking matters into my own hands so to speak. CHAPTER III The week passed slowly. For some reason, I had mixed feelings about going to church on Sunday. I'd sorted out how I'd deal with the expressions of sympathy, even though it'd been nearly a year since the accident. It was after church that gave me a feeling of anxiety. I couldn't figure out why B wanted to wait until then to tell me what was on her mind. Monday passed, then Tuesday, and then the rest of the week seemed to race by in a flash. I blinked my eyes and it was Saturday night, just like that... "Daddy," B hollered from her room. "Can you come here for just a minute." I walked into her room to find her in her slip and bra. She was wearing her black pumps and stood facing me, holding up two dresses. "Which one do you think I should wear?" "B, what on earth's got into you? You could wear a gunny sack and you'd be fine." "Oh Dad," she said with a note of exasperation in her voice. "If I wear the blue dress, I might seem a bit showoffy, what with all my cleavage. I think I should wear the green one, don't you?" "Green one's fine honey," I said, starting to go back to the kitchen. "Wait. Here, let me show you." B set the green dress on her bed and pulled the blue one over her head and slithered into it. It did offer a bit of cleavage that I'd never paid attention to in the past. "I see what you mean." "Yeah. See," B said, hefting her breasts and pulling the collar closed. But when she let go of it, it separated again and showed the inside swell of her breasts quite prominently. "Best go with the green one." "Yeah. Huh. If I wear the blue one, town might start thinking I'm ready for the boys to come callin'." "They just might at that." After we ate supper and after B fed Katy, we went out on the porch to enjoy the night again. "Dad, can I sit in your lap like I used to do?" "Uh, I guess so," was my lame response, B snuggled into my lap pulling my arm around her and grabbing my hand to pull it down to the top of her breast. It seemed like a natural movement, so I didn't yank my hand away. Instead, I entwined my fingers in hers and kissed her on the top of her head. "You smell good tonight. Are you wearing perfume?" "No silly," she answered. I got some new shampoo. Do you like it?" "Yes I do. It's, I don't know, it's very earthy, like the woods after a rain." "That's an apt description. In fact, now that you point it out, that's exactly what I was reminded of when I first used it." "It's, how should I say, intoxicating." "Yeah, intoxicating. Kinda turns you on huh?" "Not that kind of intoxicating. More like, I don't know, cleansing, the kind of well being you feel after a hard days work and then a long, hot bath. Clean. Refreshing. That's what I meant." "Oh, too bad. I was hoping for the other kind of intoxicating." "B, you do go on child. If you're not careful, I'll have to spank you." "Umm, it'd be a start." "Now stop it," I said, slapping her thigh lightly. But truth be told, I was a bit intoxicated in that way. Though surprisingly, it didn't seem to put me off. I pulled her head to my chest and gently pulled at her ear lobe. Under The Dancing Tree "Ummm. You remember." "Of course I remember, it's only something you demanded we do every night until you were twelve." "You mean, until I got my first menstrual." "Yeah. I guess that is what stopped it, isn't it?" "Yup. Sorry daddy. Even though I grew up on a farm and knew volumes about the changes, I was still shy around you when it came to my private parts." "Your mom told me that was the case." B sat up and looked at me. "She did? When?" "The night you gave your maidenhead to Del." "Oh. That night. Do you want to hear about it?" "Not really. That should be a special memory between..." "Right, between me and who?" "Sorry." "Don't be. Some may think its crazy, but I'd like to tell you one thing about that night." I thought for a minute about what knowing any details of her special night might mean, but then I thought she has no one else to share those details with and I felt sad for her. "Okay, but don't be too explicit." "Ha-ha. You were hoping I'd tell you some of the sex stuff, huh?," she said wiggling a bit in my lap. "Not on your life. In fact, I was hoping exactly the opposite." "Well then, it is in some ways a bit about the sex, but more than anything, it was about the love." "Oh. I can handle love." B thought for a minute then told me the one thing. "I know now, after bearing Katy, and even before I was pregnant, the way Del didn't hesitate to move out here with you and Mom, that I made the right decision. I'm guessing Mom told you we'd been fooling around for a while." "She did." "Yeah. She told me all about the things you and she would do together, then I'd tell Del and we'd try them ourselves, sort of a learn as we went along type of sex education, if you get my drift." "Please, darling, not too much detail." "Okay, so here goes. Just before Del entered me, I remember looking over his shoulder and imagining you and Mom were there watching. When he tore through my hymen, though it smarted quite a bit, I smiled because I was imagining you and Mom watching and approving of the act as a form of acceptance, of all of us accepting Del into our family. As it turned out, it was the least sexual experience I've ever had." She put her head back on my shoulder and I squeezed her tight, understanding for the first time, the absolute scope of our mutual loss. Half of our family was gone, and what was left were two very, very lonely people, though I think we'd have been a lot worse off without our Katy. I felt dampness on my shirt. I gently pushed her away from me and saw in the dim light, that B's breast, the one that had been squished up against me, was leaking through her shirt. "Honey, you're leaking." "Oh. Time to wake up Katy and see if she's hungry." "Yeah. Time for me to turn in. I've got to get up a bit earlier tomorrow, if I'm to get all the chores done before we go on vacation." "Ha-ha, Dad. Church is not supposed to be a vacation." "I know, I said standing up. "And B, I'm glad you told me about that night. I can see how special it was for you." "Thanks, Dad," B said, stepping up and kissing me on the cheek. "Maybe next time, I'll tell you about the first time I gave Del a blow-job." "Bethany Ann..." I started to say. "I told Mom. She loved the story." "Oh. Well that was your mother. I'm your father. It's different." "If you say so, you old fuddy-duddy." "Night B," I said heading inside and straight to bed. "Night handsome." CHAPTER IV Church was exactly what I thought it was going to be. I was the returning Prodigal Son, the sailor home from the sea. Though everyone was kind, I think no one really heard the sermon. I imagined they all just sat there wishing they could do something to make things right again. I believe that way cause I want to believe that way, cause I believe when people are quiet, when there not at odds with each other over business or other day to day things, they really do have charity in their heart. But I was still uncomfortable. As we all filed out, a few friends stayed behind to express how glad to see I'd come back. I thanked them all but still couldn't wait to get going. After we left the church, I carried Katy all the way to the hill. I held her and stoked her head while B spread out our blanket and made our picnic lunch ready. We ate in silence. When we were finished and I was packing things away, B fed Katy. "So, what'd you think?" I thought for a minute before I answered. I wanted to gather my thoughts so that when I did answer, I was confident I'd be saying the right things. "Well first, it was nice to see everybody." "And..." "And second, I really don't care to ever go back." B thought for a moment, fussed with Katy, then looked at me with a look I'd never seen before. "Are you disappointed," I asked? "No. No I'm not. Frankly, it's what I expected you'd say, I just didn't think you'd realize that was how you felt so soon." "I don't think I'll change my mind." "I'm not going to ask you to change your mind." "Oh." "Dad, I want you to look out across this hill and down by the orchard and then over to our house." I did a quick survey of what she asked and then cocked my head with a questioning look on my face. "This is why I asked you to go to church with me today. This is why I waited to tell you what's on my mind." "What is?" "This. This magnificent piece of earth you and I call home. It owns us. Not that we're captive without choice, but more like we're captive because it is our choice." "Okay," I said, trying to figure out where she was going with all this. "We've chosen a life that many would call hard in this day and age." "I chose it. You were born into it." "Not true oh forgetting father of mine. If you remember, except for the time Del and I stayed in town, our honeymoon, so to speak, except for that time, I've spent every night of my life under that roof down there. Well except for the times you , Mom and I would camp out up here." "True enough. What's your point?" "My point is, you don't want to sell, and I don't want to move." "Okay. Settled. Now what?" "Now we need to discuss our living arrangements. How we're going to raise our child. How we're going to present ourselves to the world, well mostly to the towns folk. How we're going to scratch the itch when it needs scratchin." I thought for a minute before I answered her because I didn't want to hurt her feelings. "B. If you feel the urge to be with a man, as you said once before, I only ask that you be with that man someplace other than our home." "I can't. When I have the itch, I want to be able to scratch it. Damn Dad, can't you see, I've had the itch now for a couple months." "Huh?" "Dad, look at me and listen. This land is ours. That home down there is ours. You don't have family, and I really don't have family. We can't go anywhere. So we accept the inevitable or we go our separate ways and become the two loneliest people on earth. I don't want that." "What is it you want B?" "I want us to live together as if we are husband and wife. I want you to be Katy's father. I want you to be my lover. I want us to gather together what's been left us, and live out our lives in joy, the kind of joy that comes from two people being in love." She paused, then went on. "I don't want another man. You might want another woman, though I don't really think you do, but how are you going to find her unless you sell the farm. No, my way works in every possible scenario except for the societal norms against it." "I want to start today by leaving my dancing tree and heading to that house down there, knowing that when we get there, we're going to shut the door on the past and consummate our love for each other by indulging in some good old fashion love making. I need it. So do you. I need it not just because I itch, but I need it because it will help us sort out our lives." I guess I should have seen it coming. The hints were there. The little teases which were not really any different than the way any other animal in the world behaves when the time is right. I guess, I too had needs that I'd been fighting, needs that I'd used the excuse of grief to bury. I looked out across our little corner of the earth and imagined the ghosts of B's husband and mother watching for my reaction. I couldn't help it. This was what we all needed. It was right. I stood up and helped B get to her feet. I pulled her to me and held her close for a minute. I heard her shallow breath, shallow because she was afraid of rejection, shallow because she had needs that were far greater than any momentary itch, needs that only the universe understands. I kissed her on the forehead, picked up all our picnic stuff, made sure Katy was comfortable in her carry sling and started walking. "Well?" "Let's go close one door and open another." B rose up on her toes and kissed me on the cheek, then said the three words that were a long time coming. "Let's go home."