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Rebuilding Faith Ch. 01

By: wilderness



Bill Holder tried to sleepwalk through life, after Jennifer divorced him. But his wakeup call came from the police. They politely informed him that his 14-year-old daughter, Lisa, had been arrested for shoplifting. Ashamed that he had neglected her, Bill became a dedicated father.

Now twenty-two, Lisa was a senior at Boston College, on her way to becoming a physicist, (whatever that is). She said there was good money in it -- music to his ears. Jokingly, Bill asked if that meant she could fill his prescriptions at a discount. 

She answered with the traditional "Daaaaaad!" to convey her exasperation with his foolishness. He could still bring out the little girl in her.

"Oh! That's a pharmacist isn't it." He wondered if she would miss his stale sense of humor.

No one needed him anymore and he became depressed. Wise doctor Murray suggested exercise, which sounded like an admirable way to produce a heart attack. His girl would get a sizable insurance settlement. So Bill jumped on the dusty stationary bike and pedaled until his heart was pounding harder than a drummer at an infantry charge. He pumped iron until he couldn't straighten his arms for days. No luck, the only thing Bill got for the effort was a toned body. At least he'd leave a fit corpse. 

Bill called Lisa and told her that he needed to make some changes. 

He had to pull the phone away from his ear, when she yelled, "HELLO! It's about time!"

After selling the house, he put the rest of his possessions in storage. The family construction business he practically gave to his greedy kid brother, Jack -- who'd probably be bankrupt within five years. 

Finally, Bill was a free man and officially a tourist... at least until the money ran out. 

'Every great rock and roll band makes a farewell world tour, so why shouldn't I,' he thought. So his travels began with a 7-day tour of Rome. A few lady friends hinted a desire to accompany him, but when you feel like putting your head in the oven you don't want someone around to tell you that you're baking at the wrong temperature. As a result, he flew solo, first class.

Bob and Ethel Morgan, a nice couple from Wisconsin celebrating their 40th anniversary, chatted with him on the Rome tour bus. After talking exclusively with Bob for a few miles, Bill got the impression Ethel didn't appreciate him distracting her husband from marital bliss, so he distanced himself at the Coliseum. Bill wanted to end life right there, as a gladiator, but the guide informed him that wasn't an option anymore.

The Sistine Chapel is where his Roman holiday took a strange detour. The structure was much smaller than he imagined, 134 feet long by 44 feet wide. He'd built larger foyers. The plain, boxy exterior masked the splendor that lives within. As Bill entered, an overwhelming fatigue engulfed him. Sagging onto an empty bench along the wall, he leaned back to admire Michelangelo's portrayal of the creation of Adam. God looked surprisingly European. 

Closing his left eye, Bill pointed with his right hand and slowly traced down Adam's arm that reached out to his Maker, wondering what it must feel like to touch the hand of God... Suddenly, he was surrounded by fire and a man's voice was screaming, "Faith! Faith..." 

That's when Bob shook him, "Bill, wake up buddy." 

Opening his eyes, Bill could barely distinguish the concerned face hovering over him. "I'm awake," he said, struggling to straighten up, and feel normal. "How long was I out?" 

"I'd say about 5 minutes. You were mumbling something -- sounded like 'faith'." Bob laughed, "What happened, you get a vision?"

"I must've been dreaming."

In mock astonishment, Bob pointed at Bill's head, "Your hair! It's turned completely white!"

"Very funny." Bill stood up and headed for the door, " Follow me if you want to go to the Promised Land."

"Where's that?"

"Sixth floor of the Marriott." He walked the 3 kilometers back to the hotel... irrationally agitated. 

Bill grew mentally exhausted, but was unable sleep for more than a few minutes. Nightmares about fire repeatedly woke him, sweaty and disoriented. Afraid of getting sick in a foreign country, he flew back to Kennedy International the next day, and slept peacefully the entire flight. 

Suddenly, the inexplicable exhaustion was gone. He felt rejuvenated when they landed, and decided to rent a car. Driving north on Route 17, Bill made a right turn into the Catskill Mountains, hoping to get lost. It amazed him how close you can be to New York City and still find wilderness. Miles of lakes and forest scenery unfolded outside the window. Shortly after midnight, he passed a huge earthen dam. A sign flashed in the headlights, "Welcome to Woodhaven, Nicest Town by a Dam Site". Bill chuckled. Then the engine stalled. The car rolled quietly down Main Street until friction and gravity killed its momentum. Turning the key made a clicking sound like a roulette wheel... he'd lost.

The next morning, church bells woke him to find a half-dozen cookie crunchers peeking in the car windows. 

"BOO!"

Squeals of laughter faded as they ran down the street and into The First Baptist Church.

Bill got out, stretched, and then walked over the "Car Haven Garage". The placed appeared deserted, so he left and wandered over to the only place that showed signs of life. The worship service began, as he slid into the last pew. Every head turned to inspect the late arrival. A murmuring wave rippled through the sanctuary. 

When the announcements began the congregation focused their attention on the pulpit. 

"... And finally I want to remind you all to continue praying for Mrs. Simmons, as she tries to rebuild before summer."

Bill felt so thankful for just being healthy and alive, that it put him in an unusually generous mood, and Mrs. Simmons sounded like a worthy cause. Grabbing one of the offering envelopes from the pew in front of him, Bill placed $2000 worth of traveler's checks inside. Writing "Mrs. Simmons" on the front, he dropped it in the offering plate. 

Before the last hymn ended, Bill walked out to avoid curious strangers, and returned to his car, hoping the mechanic would soon appear.

Ten minutes later, Bill glanced back at the church. A woman stood in the doorway and look anxiously in his direction. Then she waved and actually ran to him. 

"Mr. Holder?" she asked, a little breathless.

She held his traveler's checks, so Bill took a stab at her identity. "Yes, Mrs. Simmons?" 

"I want to thank you for this gift. It's an answer to my prayers," she smiled brightly. Small creases gave her hazel eyes richness. 

Imperiously, Bill stood in judgment. The tanned complexion and her youthful enthusiasm denied the age that random gray strands of hair hinted. She had a bandaged thumb and traces of dirt under her nails, evidence of involvement in the reconstruction. The denim jacket she wore looked more appropriate than the yellow dress underneath. A burn scar on her left leg disappeared up under the mid-calf hem. He wondered how far up it went and how it happened. She didn't look the type to fall asleep drunk with a lit cigarette. 

She scrutinized him and became distressed. "Are you sure you can afford this, Mr. Holder?" 

Bill realized he must look like a vagrant -- wrinkled clothes, face covered with salt and pepper stubble. "Yes, Mrs. Simmons, I can. I'm glad I could help." With annoyance, he continued, "I look this way because I had to sleep in my car last night. Will the garage be open today?"

She laughed at the question. "I'm afraid you'll be lucky if Fred crawls out of his bottle before Tuesday." She looked back from the repair shop, once again serious. "May I offer you a place to stay and something to eat until your car is repaired? There's an empty trailer on my land. You'd have privacy."

Bill didn't relish the idea of living in the car until Tuesday, but he felt awkward taking refuge with a woman whom he'd just given two-grand. "Maybe you should talk it over with your husband first." 

She held his stare, and replied, "My husband was a New York City police officer, Mr. Holder. He was killed in the line of duty six years ago." Her inflection and grim face exposed both pride and heartache.

"I'm sorry," was all he could manage. 

Briefly considering his lack of options, Bill held out his hand, "I accept your offer of hospitality, Mrs. Simmons... and please call me Bill."

"Okay, Bill", she took his hand. A shiver tingled through him when she said, "I'm Faith."

His curiosity tweaked, he asked, "Faith, what are you rebuilding?"

"Do you want the long or short version?"

"Short."

"An angry crack dealer burned down my bunkhouse."

"Okay, I want the long version." 

She grinned. "I run a summer camp for "at risk" inner-city children. One of my girls went home and turned in her neighbor for dealing." Faith confidently walked away, "I'll get the truck and we can talk on the way home." 

Warmth of anticipation fired through him. 

Rebuilding Faith Ch. 02



Bill leaned against the trunk of his car, and watched Faith hurry to the church parking lot 50 yards away. As she passed a group of churchwomen, they turned their backs in an obvious show of disdain. 

'What have I gotten myself into, now?'

Faith climbed into a beat up Dodge Power Wagon and sat there longer than reasonable. Climbing back out, she smiled at him, then kicked the tire in mock anger and threw up her hands in frustration. Moving to the front, she lifted the hood, reached in and, from the shimmy of her dress, apparently wiggled something. When satisfied, she slammed the hood shut, and impulsively wiped her hand on her dress. 

Bill heard an exasperated groan, as she lifted the fabric to examine the fresh grease stain. In the process, he saw the burn scar stopped below the knee. 'She's kind of cute, in a quirky way.'

Faith gave him the thumbs up sign, reentered the truck and started a sputtering engine. 

"Now there's dependable transportation." 

When she pulled alongside, Bill threw his bags into the truck bed. He opened the passenger door and a mishmash of items fell out, including a hammer that made him dance.

With an apologetic grin, she said, "Sorry. My Mercedes is in the shop. Just put that stuff in the back." 

"Let me guess, you're too busy to be neat."

"Hey, that's a good one. I'll remember to use it, next time." 

***

In the minute it took Bill to pick up the debris field and sit in the passenger seat, Faith had decided to perform her "Kool-Aid racist test", because his coming home with her changed everything. 

'I should have left him alone,' she thought. 'Then I could have accepted his charity without condition.' 

Now, Bill was no longer a faceless philanthropist, and, on principle, she wouldn't accept anything from an identifiable bigot. 

Searching through her purse, disguised as a book bag, Faith said, "I have to make a quick stop at the grocery store -- if I can find my coupons." 

She picked out the newest photo of her children. Their faces always brought back the memory of her late husband, Lou, chasing them around the house, and yelling, "I want something sweet to eat. Where are those caramel candies?" They'd squeal and run, until he caught them up in a kissing frenzy -- teaching them to be comfortable with their bi-racial ethnicity. 

No one was welcome in her house that believed them to be an error in judgment. 

"Bill, do you have any kids?"

"Yes, I have a daughter." 

He didn't say much and wasn't making it easy for her.

Handing him the photo, she said, "Here's a picture of my two babies, I took at Christmas. They're away at college until May," and then watched closely for his reaction.

At first, he glanced indifferently, and then his brow knit. His stare intensified. 

Faith's stomach knotted, afraid she'd have to return the desperately needed money, and prepared for some insensitive comment like, "Are they adopted?" or worse -- a racial slur. An elderly matron in the church once looked at her kid's photo and called her a "nigger lover". 

Faith had only recently returned to church services at the Pastors persistence. "Not everyone is racist here. Come back, and God will bless you for showing everyone what love really is." 

So she started attending Sunday mornings, despite cold shoulders, and felt truly blessed by this surprise donation, now hanging in the balance.

Bill asked, "What are they... twins?" Handing back the photo, he added, "Very handsome boy and she could be a model. Nice smiles. My daughter's a senior -- graduates next month."

A weight lifted from her heart as if blown into space. Not only hadn't their race mattered, "Yes, they are twins. No one's guessed that in years." 

"Really?" He laid his head back and closed his eyes, "they look as much alike as any brother and sister could." 

"They may look similar but they are vastly different personalities. Seth is going to law school at Syracuse and Amy is premed at Buffalo." 

Bill yawned, "Excuse me, I didn't sleep very well last night." Then turned his head to look at her, and added, "You must be very proud. I must've been difficult, raising them alone."

"They're good kids. It wasn't that hard," she said, modestly. 

His eyelids drooped. He wasn't going to be chatty. 

"I'll stop at the store some other time."

A few miles down the road, Faith studied him after he fell asleep. Despite his scruffiness, Bill was a handsome man. Forty-something, his face had the tanned, rugged look of an outdoorsman and, as much as she could tell through the layers of clothing, the physique to match. The backs of his hands were crisscrossed with bulging veins, hinting a familiarity with manual labor. 

'I like strong hands. They show a down to earth quality in a man, someone who meets life's challenges hands-on.' 

There was no wedding band or hint of tan line. She knew married construction workers often didn't wear rings, for safety reasons, so that didn't necessarily mean he was single. Strangely, she hoped he was unattached. Not because she wanted a man permanently. It would be fun just spending the next day or two close to an intelligent, single possibility. 

The idea of a suitor had been in her mind lately. Butch, her contractor, flirted all the time, while working on the bunkhouse without pay for the last week. He'd asked her out. But she'd put him off.

'Why,' she thought. 'What's wrong with Butch?' 

The list began to run through her head. First, he wasn't respectful. Second, he wasn't interested in hearing about her kids, which was huge. Third, he was too sweet -- phony sweet. She could probably think of more but...'Let's look at the pluses.' 

Faith thought a few seconds and finally came up with, 'I'm just desperate,' then looked at Bill Holder and smiled. 'He'll make a nice fantasy... for a few days anyway.' 

The pothole at the turnoff bounced Bill awake. The truck began the strained climb uphill, its wheels slipped on the loose gravel.

"Almost there, Mr. Holder," Faith announced, keeping her concentration on the narrow lane. In her peripheral vision she saw him brace, while looking out his window and over the treetops. "Welcome to Talon Mountain."

"Call me, Bill," he said. Glancing behind them, he asked, "How do you drive up this in the snow?"

"Oh, this is only an old farm road. The main entrance is on the other side. I brought you this way because I thought you might enjoy the view."

The extraordinary panorama of forest and sparkling water extended to the horizon. There were patches of snow, hidden in the earth's shadowy folds, where the late March sun couldn't reach. The hardwoods were still without the budding evidence of spring. 

"Let me guess, that must be Talon Lake down there?" 

"Nice try. But the official name is reservoir number 5. It's man-made."

"Why aren't there any camps along the shoreline?"

"You aren't from around here are ya'?" she said, eyeing him with mock suspicion. "All the land is restricted. This is the watershed for New York City. If they catch you even spitting on the ground they'll lock you up for life. Nothing's allowed that might contaminate the water. No powerboats, snowmobiles or anything motorized is allowed inside the Park region, but you can use a rowboat. It'll cost you $200 a year for a permit. And then you have to leave the boat chained to a tree, because if you take it away from the shoreline your permit is revoked. This is serious business."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"It is, if you live in New York City." 

They rolled into a rutted section, and Faith briefly struggled with the wheel. 

"The regulations have crippled the economy around here for years. Land was condemned. Farmers forced out, because runoff put bacteria in the water. Tourism is negligible. In fact, there are less people living in Woodhaven now than there were 75 years ago."

"How do you make it?"

"Who say's I'm making it?"

Turning to look at her, instead of the scenery, he asked, "Then why do you stay?"

Thinking of all the complex reasons, she simply said, "I'm on a mission." 

Reaching the top, Faith parked the truck so they could admire the view. "To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm going to be here much longer. So, I'm just going to enjoy every minute I have left," she said, and then wondered if he'd want his money back.

Bill didn't ask any questions. They sat quietly a few minutes, and watched angry gray clouds build up in the northwest. 

"We'd better get going. Looks like a storm's on the way." Shifting into drive, Faith wheeled the truck around. "You'd probably like to clean up a little before lunch."

Bill leaned his head back, and watched the pine branches brush by his window. "It sure smells good here," he said, opening the window halfway, letting in the forest's damp perfume. 

The air was cold and Faith could see his exhaled breaths. 'He's awfully quiet.' A little uneasy, she asked, "Why did you decide to give so much money to a complete stranger?" 

Closing his eyes, he simply said, "God sent me," then laughed softly.

"That's not very funny. You shouldn't joke about things like that," She admonished, wanting to believe that he was sent.

Driving out of the trees and into the main compound of her endangered "mission", Faith stopped in front of one of the guest cabins -- a fancy name for a doublewide trailer on blocks. 

"Okay, Bill. This is your stop. We had a couple staying here over the weekend, so the power and hot water are on. Bev, should've cleaned up by now. But if you can't find something," She pointed in the direction of the white farmhouse, "just knock on my door." Looking at her watch, she added, "Stop over in an hour and we'll have lunch."

Faith drove off, once he entered the cabin. She parked the truck behind the house and entered the kitchen. Hershey, her two-year-old chocolate lab, greeted her. 

"Hi, Baby," she cooed, kneeling down. "Give me some sweet kisses." 

The dog obliged, enthusiastically. 

"Okay, now get out of here," she commanded, opening the door. 

A conspicuous sheet of paper lay on the floor by the back door. Picking it up, she read:

"Dear Faith, I'm sorry, but we can't work here anymore. We wish you the best of luck with your camp, but our association with you is threatening our full-time jobs. Considering the current economy, we cannot jeopardize our main source of income. Sorry about leaving unannounced. 

Sincerely, Bev and Pete.

"Noooo," she groaned. "Just when I was beginning to have some hope. Life sucks!" 

A loud truck pulled in, and ended her moment of self-indulgence. Hershey began to bark and snarl.

"Well, at least I'll be able to pay Butch." Grabbing her checkbook and heading out the front door, she called off her dog.

The flatbed truck was piled with lumber. Clipboard in hand, Butch climbed down from the cab, looking more smug than usual. 

"Hi, Faith," he said, jumping up the steps to stand at eye level with her. 

'He's too short,' she thought, adding another item to the what's-wrong-with-Butch list.

"Mm, mm, you look hot in that dress."

"Thank you." She smiled, with feigned appreciation. 'Might as well keep him interested. Maybe he'll show up to work on time once in a while.'

"Business before pleasure." Tapping the clipboard against his palm, he asked, "How's the money situation? Any change?"

Taking his arm, she said, "Yes, as a matter of fact. I'll be able to pay you what I owe," and walked him to the wooden deck chairs.

"Hey, that's great," he said, in a voice less than enthusiastic, feeding her growing paranoia that he liked having the debt to lord over her. 

They sat while she made out the check.

"Where's Pete? Is he here to help me unload?"

Handing over the check, she said, "Pete's not here. Give me a minute to change and I'll help you."

"Where's Bev?" he looked around, acting too curious. 

She wondered if he already knew they had quit. "I don't know where she is." 

They got up and walked to the door, Butch hanging closer than was comfortable. 

"I'll be right back," she said, opening the door.

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

She did mind, but 'I can't be that rude.' Relenting, she said, "Sure. Go through the kitchen. There's a bathroom by the backdoor."

Faith went upstairs and took her time changing her clothes, all the while listening for the front door, signaling Butch's exit. No such luck. To discourage his advances, she put on a dirty, flannel shirt and baggy jeans that lay on the closet floor for weeks. 'I can hardly stand the smell myself.' 

Going downstairs, she looked out the front window. No sign of Butch on the porch, only his clipboard. 'He must be in, stinking up, my bathroom,' she thought, wrinkling her nose and moving into the kitchen.

Butch was sitting at the kitchen table with Bev's note in front of him. "This is awful, Faith. How could they quit without any notice, like that?"

"I guess they had their reasons." Faith walked to the sink and looked out the window into the woods, wondering if her were involved somehow.

The sound of scraping chair legs against the hardwood floor signaled his standing and she turned to face him. He approached aggressively swift, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into an embrace, before she could protest. "Well, I'm here for you, Faith. If you need anything, just call." 

Genuinely touched, she rubbed his shoulders, and said, "That's very sweet, Butch. But I think I've taken advantage of your kindness too much already..."

"That's okay," he interrupted, his lips against her ear and his face nuzzled into her hair. The pressure of his grip increased. "You can take advantage of me if you want."

The way his hands were stroking her back, she knew who was taking advantage. "No, Butch," she said softly, while pushing his shoulders. 

Instead of moving away, his lips moved down to her neck and his hands tangled in her hair. "C'mon, Faith. You've been teasing me for weeks. You owe me something for my patience." 

Apparently what she owed him was her breast, because his palm suddenly began fondling it, his hips pressed her into the counter and the edge cut into her back.

"Ow! Butch, you're hurting me," she said, trying to control her panic and diffuse the situation gracefully. "Why don't we talk about it? We could go out to dinner or..."

The tearing sound of her shirt signaled his fuse had burned to the end and he was ready to explode out of control. "What's the matter, Faith? You don't like white men? Is that it," he growled, as one hand worked into her shirt and the other pulled her head back by the hair. "Just try a white man for a change... or close your eyes and I'll be as black as you like 'em."



Rebuilding Faith Ch. 03



Bill lugged his overnight bag and two suitcases down the short hallway and into the bedroom. Rumpled sheets on the bed and bath towels strewn on the floor greeted the tired and grubby guest. 

"Bev must be a little behind schedule today." 

A search of the premises turned up nothing resembling clean linen, so he decided to at least change clothes before lunch. Sweatpants and a sweatshirt, worn under a fleece pullover, were barely sufficient to obstruct the brisk wind and dropping temperature as he walked down the gravel path towards the farmhouse. The ominous clouds, once a distant threat, had nearly blotted out the blue sky. 

'Feels like snow,' he thought, walking head down and hands in pockets. 'I'm heading south tomorrow.' 

Coming to a fork in the road, and being someone who liked to peek down the road not taken, he lifted his head and saw new construction. 'Must be the bunkhouse.' Curious, he turned to check the progress. 

The long, two-story exterior was covered with a white vapor barrier and closed in except for a few missing doors and windows. Entering the structure, he walked around, performing a cursory inspection, making sure all the joist hangers were nailed completely, the fire stops were in place and checking for other frequently overlooked details. 

Everything met with his critical approval, until he climbed to the second floor. A section of insulation had fallen away from a stud, revealing a 6-inch deep pocket partially filled by a 2-inch thick layer of fiberglass, stapled flush to hide the unfilled gap. He began pulling the insulation out from random spaces and found only a few were filled with 6-inch thick batting. 

"Faith is getting screwed." 

Walking over to the interior studs, he touched the damp, greenish wood. Pressing his thumbnail in, pinesap oozed out. Eyeing down the length of the wall, he could already see where the fresh lumber had twisted and bowed as it dried. There were no lumberyard markings to indicate that the 2 x 4's were ever dried, inspected or graded. 

'They bought this right from a sawmill.' 

Nail pops and cracked sheetrock were in the building's future. 

"These studs have more knots than a sailor into bondage. This place is going to be a disaster." 

He left to speak with the owner.

A brown Labrador retriever -- tail wagging and a red ball clutched in its mouth -- greeted Bill as he stopped to examine a newly arrived truckload of substandard material. 

"Hi, pup," he said, holding his hand out for a let's-get-acquainted sniff. "What's that for? You wanna play?" 

The dog dropped the ball and barked. 

Bill gave dog's head a scratch. Kneeling down, and after a cursory gender check, he petted it, and asked, "What's your name, girl?" 

He lifted the tags on the collar. "Hershey?" 

Her ears perked up at the sound of her name. 

Bill smiled. "Your owner has a sense of humor, huh girl." 

He picked up the ball, yelled, "Hershey, fetch!" and threw it, which sent the dog racing to recapture the errant toy. 

Climbing the porch stairs, Bill spotted a clipboard on the arm of the chair with a delivery invoice clamped to it. 'Since my money is invested in this project why not see where it's going?' 

So he folded back Faith's personal check on top to read the details underneath. "You've got to be kidding!"

Every piece of lumber on the invoice was identified as Select Structural -- the most expensive grade lumber, sold at an exorbitant price. 

"This is bullshit," he muttered angrily, and stepped to the front door.

About to ring the doorbell, he heard a painful scream from inside, followed by a man yelling, "You bitch!" 

This seemed to necessitate an unannounced entry, so Bill crossed the threshold and listened. Scuffling sounds came from behind a door, straight ahead. He moved through it and into a kitchen. Immediately, he spotted Faith with her back against the counter, facing a man bent over at the waist apparently suffering from a groin injury. The bright white brazier drew Bill's attention to Faith's ripped shirt. 

As the man straightened up and cocked his hand to strike, Bill shouted, "Hey! Knock it off, Asshole!" 

Suddenly, Hershey charged by, barking ferociously in defense of his owner. The man turned, and held up a defensive arm. 

"Hershey, no!" Bill yelled, and to everyone's surprise the dog stopped, sat down and growled menacingly. "Good girl." He patted her head. 

Regaining composure, the angry man snapped, "Who the fuck are you?"

Faith pushed past Butch and walked towards her guest. "This is my friend, Bill Holder. He's come to stay a few days." Her arms encircled his waist and she pressed against him in a warm embrace, resting her head on his chest. "And, as you can see, he's white. So, for your information, Butch, it isn't the color of a man's skin I'm attracted to, it's his heart." Her voice cracked as she finished with, "An organ you seem to be missing."

Having seen and heard enough to understand he'd been cast as the leading man in an impromptu drama, Bill decided to play the part. "Are you all right, Honey?" he asked, lifting Faiths chin to look into her swimming eyes. "Did he hurt you?" 

"I'm all right."

Moving her aside, Bill took a step towards Butch, saying, "I ought to kick your ass until you have to shit out your nose." 

Butch backed up three steps. 

"What kinda game are you running here, Butch?" Bill spat the name as if it was rancid meat. "You're overcharging her for your shitty carpentry work and trying to get in her pants at the same time? How many ways are you trying to screw her?"

The stunned expression on Butch's face revealed the deceitful truth before he recovered enough to deny it. "Now wait a minute..."

"What?" Faith said, stepping beside Bill.

As evidence, Bill waved the clipboard still in his hand. "Faith, he's been ripping you off. He's not using enough insulation in the walls. The lumber on the truck and some he's already used in the bunkhouse is so green it was probably cut and milled less than a month ago. The sheetrock is going to look like hell when the wood dries. And he's charging you for Select grade lumber at inflated prices."

"Hold on. That's good quality..."

"Shut up," yelled Bill, pulling Faith's check from the clipboard and ripping it up. "Consider yourself paid in full. Now get your sorry ass out of here before I take you into the woods and beat you to a pulp." 

"Faith, he doesn't know what he's talking..."

"Then I'll call the police and have you charged with attempted rape." 

"Just get out." Faith's voice shook with emotion.

Shoving the clipboard into Butch's stomach, Bill forced him out the front door and then waited with arms folded. 

When the truck engine roared to life and he'd shifted into drive, Butch yelled at the house, "Faith, he's not going to be here forever. You call me when you want me to come back. And, if you're really nice to me, maybe I will. You can't take care of this place by yourself!" With a flip of his finger at Bill, he left.

Faith was quietly laying out plates on the kitchen table when Bill returned -- the blank expression hinted she was in a state of shock. The torn shirt fell open from time to time, exposing her undergarment and red welts. Hershey curled up on a blanket, watching her master run through the lunchtime routine.

"Faith, why don't you go upstairs and change."

Hearing his voice seemed to bring Faith to her senses. She stopped and clutched the shirt closed with both hands. Without looking at him, she said, "Yes, you're right," and moved quickly toward the door. "Make yourself at home. The fridge is full."

***

Faith ran up the stairs two at a time and locked the bedroom door behind her. After stripping off her clothes, she scrubbed herself pink in the steaming shower, trying to feel clean again. Thirty minutes later, she lay naked on her bed, with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. 

"Why God? Why won't You let me do this? I'm only trying to help children."

When no answer came, she curled up under the covers, and hoped for peaceful sleep. Slowly the grief ebbed away. She tried to put everything in perspective and wondered if this was the end of her dream. Occasionally the sound of Mr. Holder, rummaging around below, made its way up through the oak floor. She found comfort in the homey noise. It conjured up childhood memories of her father cooking the Sunday meal. She felt safe. 

'He seems like a nice man. A little rough maybe, but kind.' 

The feel of his body when she hugged him rekindled a forgotten pleasure -- the strengthening power of a good man. 

'He certainly thinks fast on his feet.' How swiftly he took on the role of her visiting friend, how convincing his performance, and how heroic. 

'He's only been here an hour and he's already uncovered Butch's fraud and saved me from'...she shuddered, thinking about the assault. 'I must be stupid not to have seen that coming.'

Bill's protection reminded Faith of her deceased husband, Lou. He'd had a 'defender of the weak' mindset, which made him an exceptional police officer, and a devoted husband and father. 

She remembered Bill's concerned eyes. What did he say? 'Are you all right, Honey,' he'd asked, with an easy sincerity. Her body tingled, recalling the moment. 'What does he think of me' she wondered, 'after using him to make such a suggestive point about not caring what color skin a man has?'

The aroma of sizzling bacon filtered in under the bedroom door. A rumble from her stomach reminded her it hadn't been fed. She lay inhaling the soothing smell, until a soft knock on the door startled her. 

"I'm awake," she answered, a bit nervous even with a locked door between him and her nude body. 

"I hope I'm not disturbing you. But I was wondering if you'd like something to eat. You have all this great breakfast food, so I made a late breakfast... brunch, I guess." He sounded unsure of what to say next, "I've made plenty, so I'm leaving a tray by your door. There are hash browns, toast, bacon and scrambled eggs. I was going to ask what kind of eggs you like, but I've never been good at cracking eggshells without breaking the yokes... And there's some orange juice." 

The masculine voice confessing something so mundane touched a wistful place in her soul. Padding barefoot to the door, she rested her forehead against the wood, and said, "Thank you... that's very kind." Closing her eyes, she placed her palms flat on the cool surface. 

"I couldn't help reading the note from Bev. You seem to be having a streak of bad luck." After a pause, he asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

'You could hold me in your arms and tell me everything will be all right,' she thought, but said aloud, "Thank you, Mr. Holder, you've been very nice. I'll be fine. I just need some time to think."

"All right, I'm going back to my cabin. Would you tell me where I could find some clean sheets and towels?"

Guilt bloomed, and she said, "No, I'll be over to clean up. You're my guest--"

"It's okay. I can take care of myself. Just tell me where they are. You have... more important things to do."

Without further argument, she said, "Down the hall on the right you'll find the linen closet." 

A few minutes later she heard the front door open and close. Standing behind the curtain, she watched him disappear, head bowed into the swirling snow. 

Slipping into a flannel nightshirt, Faith went out into the hall and found Hershey lying next to an upside-down cardboard box, held secure by a sizeable log from the hearth. Laughing, she retrieved the food tray from underneath and sat down on the bed to satisfy at least one of her basic needs. Hershey sat nearby, hoping for a handout. 

***

A hot shower felt wonderful after trudging through the frigid wind. 

Bill wiped the steam from the bathroom window to see how much snow had fallen. A three-inch layer already covered the ground. The pine branches sagged under the weight. The scenery looked closer to December than March.

Extracting the car rental agreement from his bag, Bill picked up the phone and prepared to dial the toll free help line. The only problem, the line was dead. 

"Oh Lord, I'm stuck in Lodi again," he half sang, while sliding into bed to hibernate for a while.

Once again, Bill's sleep was troubled, although when he bolted upright, he couldn't remember what he'd dreamed about. Faintly, he heard a dog barking playfully in the distance. The clock radio glowed 3:35. Bill put on his sneakers and jacket, and stepped out onto the porch to see why Hershey was so excited. Over by the farmhouse, he saw the dog bouncing around Faith, as she struggled to roll one large snowball on top of another. She almost had it in position, and then it slipped off sideways. She flopped down onto her bottom, gave a frustrated shriek, and then kicked the misbehaving sphere.

"Hey, Faith! That's no way to treat Frosty!" 

Her face brightened at his comment, and she gave him a beckoning wave. "Holder, get over here and help me build my last snowman." 

The wind had died and the snow fell vertically. As he approached the seated woman, Bill didn't feel the cold. The sight of Faith sitting with her legs outstretched, a knit hat and scarf dappled with white and her cheeks a damp rose, was delightfully heartwarming. 

Her heavy breathing puffed out in clouds of steam. "I think I made him too fat." Her face grew serious. "But I want him to last awhile, before he leaves."

Squatting on the other side of the abdominal ball, Bill picked up some snow and flicked it at her grim expression. "Let's get to work then."

Returning the smile, she picked up a handful and tossed it back at him, saying, "Don't start something you can't win, Holder." 

They positioned themselves to lift. Their grinning faces only inches apart over the ball -- her breath scented with alcohol. 

Bill thought, 'She's been self-medicating.' Then he asked, "Are you ready?"

"Ready."

"Okay, lift on the count of three. One... two... two and a half..." 

Anticipating "three", Faith began lifting without him, and laughed.

"...two and three quarters... THREE!" 

They successfully plopped the middle section into place.

"Oh, you're gonna be trouble. I can tell." She said, punching his arm. "Come on inside and try on my son's coat and boots. You look about the same size." 

The fit was a little snug, but close enough. "Here's some mittens... and a hat that suits you,' she said, handing him a knit cap of wild colors and tassels fit for a court jester. 

"Thanks. I didn't come prepared to build snowmen on this trip." 

"Would you like a beer?" Meeting his eyes, she added, "Don't let me drink alone. I don't want to be that pathetic."

"Sure, whatever you're having is fine." 

As Faith walked into the kitchen, she asked, "Did you call your wife and let her know you're safe?"

"I couldn't call anyone. The line was dead." 

The sound of the phone being lifted and racked was audible through the door. "Still is!"

She came back into the room carrying one beer and one carrot. "She'll be worried about you."

"I'm not married -- been divorced a long time." 

"Well someone must be worried about you," she said, looking him up and down, as if it were impossible not to be part of some larger collective. 

The realization he was completely alone filled him with an old sadness. "At the moment, the only person that seems concerned about me is you," and holding her gaze, he asked, "Who worries about you?"

"Well... today it was you." She took a swig of beer and then handed him the bottle. "Come on, let's go finish Frosty." 

They played like children -- laughing, and throwing snowballs -- while Hershey barked and danced around them. 

One mistimed slush-bomb hit Bill in the head and he fell to his knees yelling, "My eye!"

"Oh my God!" She ran to him. "Are you all right?" She bent over to inspect the damage. 

He grabbed her sleeves, flipped her onto her back and scooped snow down her neck. "Faith, you are too gullible." 

Laughing and struggling, she finally broke free and dug out the cold war shrapnel from inside her collar. "Believe me. I know."

Immediately, Bill regretted the insensitive remark, and added, "But I think it's because you only want to believe the best in people."

Her cheeks became a brighter red. "Shut up, Holder." She began packing snow into Frosty's chinks. "For a quiet guy, you have a knack for saying too much." 

When the iceman was complete -- down to the carrot nose, stony eyes and mouth -- they stood side by side admiring him.

Faith sighed. "I've made snowmen here all my life. It's hard to believe this is my last." 

"This was your folks place?" 

"Yup," she said, and then leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. 

Placing his arm around her back, Bill hugged her sideways. 

The sun had set, the snowflakes floated like milkweed on the light breeze. They stood quietly, until Faith had enough nostalgia. 

"C'mon Holder, I've got dinner in the Crock Pot." 

"I'll be there in a minute. I want to put on some dry clothes."

On his way back to Faith's house, Bill decided he liked being called "Holder". The way she said it sounded like "hold her" and conjured up a pleasant image. The more time he spent with Faith the more attracted he felt. 

'This is an attraction of opposites,' he thought. 'She's a free spirit, able to enjoy life despite its rough spots, and I'm the guy whose cup is always half empty,' and realizing her positive attitude renewed him, he began to care more than he wanted. 

His knock on her door was answered by a "woof" and, "Come in."

Faith had changed into a pair of jeans and a fuzzy, oversized sweater. Her thick, shoulder length hair was held back in a ponytail by some kind of black elastic band. Leaning against the doorframe, Bill watched her move about the kitchen. She had a precise quickness that articulated self-assurance. 

"We're going to eat in the dining room," she said, without a glance. "How are you at building fires?"

"Do you want a warm, slow burn or a blazing inferno?" 

Stopping, she looked at him with a measured stare. He wondered if she felt the heat between them.

With a sultry tone, she responded, "Make it the long and warm kind. I'm in no hurry, are you?"

"No, not me."

Dinner preparations were completed in silence. A crackling fire burned in the living room -- visible from the dining room table. When they sat down to eat, Faith asked Bill to pray.

"Bless this food, Lord, and the hands that prepared it," was all that came to mind. 

Hershey took up a midway position, scanning the floor hopefully.

After the initial, "Tastes great" compliments for the beef stew and small talk about the spring snow, they sat quietly with their own thoughts. 

Bill looked down at Hershey, and she wagged her tail. Moving a square of beef to the edge of his plate, he flicked it and it never hit the floor.

At first, Faith giggled, but then placed her hands on her hips, tipped her head, and sternly said, "You're going to teach Hershey bad table manners."

On cue, the dog walked over and laid her head in his lap. 

Faith's I-told-you-so look made Bill laugh. Using this opportunity for transition, he said, "Did Hershey have to be a chocolate Lab, or was it just a coincidence?"

From the way Faith picked at her food and the disconcerted glances, he knew the answer. 

"You wouldn't get a black or a yellow Lab. She had to be chocolate."

"Well, I do have a family tradition to uphold," she said, a little defiant. 

"I get the impression the people around here aren't very supportive of your family tradition."

Her backbone lost a little of its starch and she slumped over her plate, staring at the food. "It wasn't always this way. When I moved back home two years ago people were more tolerant of me, and the summer camp program. But when they found out a drug dealer burned down the bunkhouse," she paused, and thought a moment, "it was like I opened all the cell doors at Rikers Island and invited them to Woodhaven. Public opinion branded me a menace to society. And some people are working overtime behind the scenes to put me out of business. The first contractor I hired quit without notice. Butch was the only one around willing to work for me." She looked up with glistening eyes, "Now I know why."




Rebuilding Faith Ch. 03



"And, Bev and Pete are gone now," Bill added. 

"I don't want to talk about it." She stabbed a carrot. "They've won. I'm leaving."

The way she angrily chewed her food, Faith didn't look ready to quit. 

Bill pulled out his wallet, removed a picture of his daughter, and slid it across the table. "This is Lisa, my daughter."

Faith glanced down at the picture and stopped chewing. Lisa was a lovely young woman, with soft curls, light brown eyes and caramel skin. Picking it up, she studied the photo, then looked questioningly at Bill.

"Her mother, Jennifer, was bi-racial." Finally, Bill was finally able to talk about it without emotion. "Jennifer's parents were artists who immigrated from South Africa, looking for a more tolerant culture. I met her in college. She was studying art and I was going to be an architect." Picking up his glass, he soothed his suddenly dry throat. "We married in our junior year. When my father died unexpectedly, I quit school to keep the family business going." Looking into the fireplace, he continued, "Jen and I just grew apart over the years. Mostly my fault for not being home much. She married an art professor a year after the divorce was final. She's happy now."

When he heard Faith say, "I've had enough to eat. How 'bout you?" he realized he'd been staring dismally into the fire far too long.

"Yeah, I've had enough. Thanks, it was delicious."

They cleared away the dishes in cozy companionship, smiling at each other in passing trips between the table and the kitchen. Bill brought in the last plate. 

Faith handed him an open longneck beer. "Here, I'm going to start the dishwasher. Go relax in the living room."

Taking a swig, Bill stood in the doorway and watched her, until she gave him the "shoo" hand wave. He went to the living room, poked the fire, and sat on the rug. Hershey came over for some affection. 

A few minutes later, the swishing sound of the dishwasher was silenced, as Faith closed the kitchen door behind her. She sat down on the couch, put her feet up on the coffee table and took a hit from her beer. 

"Hershey has certainly taken to you."

The question, 'What about her owner?' popped into his head. "She's a sweet dog," he said, getting up to sit on the other end of the couch.

The conversation rolled along, from personal history to current events, until the mantel clock struck 10:00. 

"You must be tired, Holder," said Faith, searching his face for evidence. 

"I'm not really. I had a nap," he smiled, and then asked, "Are you?"

"Nope." She stood up. "Let me take Hershey out and put her to bed."

"Where's the bathroom?"

"Use the one at the top of the stairs."

The oak stairs squeaked under his weight. Sliding his hand along the banister, Bill stopped to appreciate the view into the living room. The country furnishings Faith decorated the old house with created a warm atmosphere. At the top of the stairs, he couldn't resist a peek inside her bedroom. A thick, blue quilt, adorned with a pink and white star pattern covered the four-poster bed. There was a rocking chair by the window and a plethora of photos and knick-knacks atop the Early American dresser.

Back in the living room, he waited only a few minutes, before Faith returned alone. "Hershey sleeps in the kitchen." 

She grimaced, put her hands on her lower back and stretched sideways. "I think I strained something." She rubbed, and said, "I know what would make it feel better." 

From the front closet, Faith pulled out an exercise mat, placed it in front of the fire, covered it with a blanket and lay on her stomach. "Holder, would you rub my back for me, please?" 

The request surprised him and felt inappropriate. It wasn't that he didn't want to. The problem was that he wanted to very much. This situation might be hard to control. 

"Of course," he said, and knelt beside her hip. 

As he began massaging her lower back through the thick sweater, she turned her head to face his side. "Mmmm, that feels good." She smiled and closed her eyes.

Emboldened, Bill slid his hands underneath.

"Hold it, Holder."

"I'm sorry. I just thought it would feel better if--"

"Hush." Faith sat up, turned her back, pulled off the sweater and lay down again. "It will feel better. Go ahead. I'm ready."

Tenderly, he applied his hands, changing the rhythm, pressure and direction to keep the sensation fresh on her warm body. Fingering up her spine caused an outbreak of goose bumps and a shiver vibrated through her.

Another, "Mmmm," flowed from her grinning lips, while Bill fought a losing battle with arousal. 

'She's testing me,' he thought, wanting to pass, wanting her to trust him implicitly and intimately. His hands traveled up one side then the other. She stretched her arms overhead, catlike, tightening the skin over her ribcage. 

"Faith, are you eating enough?" he asked, making soft, probing touches along the parallel ridges.

No answer.

When his fingers worked under the bra's elastic, she said, "If it's in your way go ahead and unhook it."

So he did. "Lift up." 

When she complied, Bill pulled the fabric up and off her arms. 

"You have great hands, Holder. I have a thing for manual dexterity."

"Really? And to think I'm so out of practice."

Placing both hands along the edge of her left side just under her arm, he alternated compressions and light pulls, moving down to the hip, knowing this movement involved the breast and caused the nipple to rub against the blanket. When she wriggled pleasantly it excited him. His hands moved to the other side.

For no apparent reason, Faith asked, "Your family business has something to do with construction doesn't it?" 

"Yes," he said, beginning to rub her neck and shoulders. 

"From the way you spoke to Butch, I knew you were involved in the trade somehow." She sighed contentedly, and said, "Give me a working man any day." 

"Why's that?"

Curling her arms under her head, she rested her cheek on her forearms, and continued, "When I was a senior in college, I used to walk into Greenwich Village occasionally for lunch. I always wore a baggy sweatshirt, to avoid attention from a construction site I had to walk past." 

Faith's eyes opened and Bill realized she was staring at the taut outline between his legs. 

She continued, "It didn't seem to help much. I still got my share of whistles and innuendos. They began calling me by the letters on my shirt, NYU. 'How's it going NYU?' 'Lookin' good honey,' it really bugged me for a while." 

She closed her eyes again, seeming to visualize the past. 

"Then something happened that changed my opinion of tradesmen forever. It happened on a Thursday. As I neared the construction site, there was a terrible car accident. Someone had run a red light and hit another car broadside. I stood by and watched these guys I thought were pigs, pour out from the building, carrying fire extinguishers, first aid kits, pry bars, ropes and sledgehammers. The car that was hit had a woman and infant inside. The mother became hysterical. A group of the men forced open the passenger door and an older, foreman type, slid in and talked softly to her, like she was his daughter. He said something to the men by the car and they all looked at me. 

Someone yelled "NYU, get over here." So I did. 

The woman's legs were trapped. She couldn't get out. But she insisted that her infant be removed. After ripping the back door open, they gently lifted out the child seat, and handed it to me, saying, "Stand over there, where the mother can see you." So I did. The woman calmed down. She rested her head on the seat and kept an eye on me and the baby." 

Faith's shoulders tightened under his fingers as she relived some of the emotional trauma.

"The first officer on the scene was a rookie cop, and my future husband, Lou." A tear dripped from her eye and she finished with a prayer, "Please Lord, if I'm ever in trouble, make it near men like that." 

Bill said, "Amen," and continued massaging through a prolonged silence, until Faith fell asleep. He continued touching her, mostly for his own pleasure. 

The logs in the fireplace were reduced to glowing embers by the time Faith spoke again. "Bill?"

"Yes?"

"I think it's time for bed."

Looking at the clock, he said, "You were ready for bed thirty minutes ago."

"Mmm, I feel so relaxed... thanks to you."

Faith began to move. Bill sat back on his heels and looked away, not wanting to embarrass her as she dressed. 

When she touched his arm, he turned and found her still semi-nude. 

Faith's eyes were heavy lidded, as she leaned in to kiss his lips softly and then picked up her sweater. 

Bill watched, unblinking. 

She stood and held out her hand to him. 

When he was on his feet, she hugged him and asked, "May I impose on your kindness a little longer, and ask a huge favor?" 

"Well, as long as it's legal, I'll consider it," he said, smiling down at her upturned face.

"Oh, it's legal. It's just a little immoral. Would you sleep with me?" and then added in a rush to prevent any misunderstanding, "I mean just sleep. No sex." Her eyes searched his face for an answer before he spoke. 

Bill kissed her forehead and said, "I can do that." Taking her hand, he led her upstairs.

After his turn in the bathroom, Bill returned to Faith's bedroom. All the lights were off except for the dim table lamp beside the bed. When he entered, she was seated on the edge of the mattress with her hair loose and flowing. 

"Would you help me turn down the covers?"

They worked together, in an atmosphere charged with sensuality. Bill copied her movements, as they folded back the quilt to the foot of the bed. Next they folded back the blanket and sheet halfway. Faith handed him a pillow and Bill waited for a word or sign of what was next. 

Facing him from the other side, without pretense, Faith pulled the sweater over her head and threw it on the rocking chair. 

Obviously, this was not a time for modesty, so Bill let his eyes wander. The strength of her shoulders, unnoticed early, was evident in the pronounced ridge sloping gracefully from her neck to her arms. The clavicles created a shadowy line, sloping up to meet them. In the sensitive depression between bone and muscle at the base of her neck, Bill witnessed her pulse, fluttering under the skin, revealing an excitement her serene expression concealed. The desire to place his lips against that spot, and feel her heart rate increase, was powerful. 

The red welts were gone and her breasts, well proportioned despite her thinness, flowed out from her chest as twin peaks of unblemished ivory, capped by erect nipples. A few faint stretch marks lined her flat stomach.

Her small hands trembled, as they unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans, and then pushed down the open waist, exposing white panties and creamy thighs. Her tan ended at the neck and wrists, evidence that work was performed in the sun, not play.

Bill was awakened from his trance, when Faith said, "Your turn, Holder."

While obliquely enjoying the spectacle before him, Bill disrobed down to his jockey shorts. He felt a twinge of embarrassment about the erection. "Faith, you're a beautiful woman," he said, in explanation. 

Her eyes focused on his briefs, before trailing up to his face. "And you're a handsome man, Holder." 

With that said, she scooted under the covers and turned off the light, leaving him standing in the dark, mystified.

"Holder, what are you doing?" said her voice from the blackness. "Just because you're hung like a horse doesn't mean you have to sleep standing up does it? Get in here and hold me."



Rebuilding Faith Ch. 04



Faith held her breath, as Holder lifted the covers and lay down. The cool air from the black room flowed over her. The old mattress sagged under his weight. She struggled to keep from rolling into him. 

'What have I done,' thought Faith, 'acting slutty like that with someone I hardly know.' She had teased him terribly, and now he may not keep his promise of only sleeping together. The bigger question was, did she want him too? Her boldness evaporated, leaving only timid anticipation. Would he just hold her, or would he try to do more? 

At first, she lay on her side, facing away from him, and then changing her mind, rolled onto her stomach, hiding her hands under the pillow. To pre-empt any misunderstanding, Faith said, "I'm sorry for teasing you, Bill. I hope you don't think I'm easy, because I'm not. I guess I must be a little drunk." With a nervous giggle, she continued, "Phew, I'm so glad this day is over. It certainly won't be forgotten any time soon." 

'He's close,' she thought, feeling his body heat. There was movement low on the bed. His foot made exploratory contact, then his shin, and knee. Gently, his leg slipped up and down her calf. 'He's checking to see if I'm laying on my back or my stomach.' 

A larger movement ended with his left side merging with her right. His arm came to rest across her back, with his hand over her far shoulder. 

"Faith, thanks for one of the best days I've had in a long time." He kissed her shoulder, and then moved a few inches away, leaving a cool void. "Don't worry about teasing me. I understand you're going through a tough time right now, and there's nothing more comforting than being held while you sleep... is there." 

The hand left her shoulder and stroked her hair. "If you want to put on a shirt, go ahead. But you don't have to worry about me trying to take advantage."

Faith's attraction to him doubled, and she scolded herself for doubting his gentleman's pledge. There was no reason to distrust his word after all the opportunities he'd let pass. She'd already fallen asleep in his presence while half naked. Why should this be any different? 

"Holder, you were my Guardian Angel, today," she declared, snuggling in closer to bring more skin together, more warmth. "I don't even want to think about what would have happened if you hadn't been here." 

"Oh, believe me, I'm no angel." His hand moved to caress behind her ear and she quivered. "I've had my share of impure thoughts."

Laughing, she said, "Confession is good for the soul. Tell me."

There was a rustle of linen as Bill moved to rest his forehead against hers. "I was jealous of all the attention you gave Frosty -- all that rubbing and patting."

Faith laughed and their heads bumped lightly in the process. "Well, my plan worked then, didn't it. Look who I lured into my bed. Men are so easy." 

Moving his head back to his own pillow and his hand back to her shoulder, he said, "Don't flatter yourself. You're not irresistible, ya know."

More than a little disappointed, Faith said, "I'm not?"

"Nope," His voice sounded distant. He'd turned his head away. "I'm just laying here picturing a wart on your nose and oozing boils on your chest, and I'm not attracted to you at all."

She found his waist and pinched it.

"Owww!"

"Good night, Bill."

"Sweet dreams, Faith. If I snore, just poke me and I'll rollover and stop." 

"Thanks for the warning."

Time passed quietly, as thoughts of her unpredictable future kept Faith awake. 'Where will I go? What will I do?' 

She'd hate to sell the place, but there seemed no other option. Bob Engles, the Town Supervisor, always said he'd buy, if she ever wanted to sell the property. 

'I can always go back to the city and be a social worker.' But the idea of living among tall buildings again instead of tall trees held no appeal. Fresh air and changing seasons in the country were pleasures she'd lived without for too long. 

The sound of steady breathing and a twitch of Bill's arm brought her focus to another pleasure she'd lived without for too long. 

'He's been so kind,' she thought. 'Tomorrow his car will get fixed and he'll be gone. Life's not fair.' 

Deciding to give in to temptation, and live in the moment for once in her life, Faith rolled over onto her back to see what would happen if Bill woke up. The hand that had rested on her shoulder now lay warmly over her side, his arm tucked under her breasts. He mumbled incoherently and pulled her tighter, unconsciously stroking her. 

'That was nice,' she thought, and wiggled under his embrace to get another fondling reaction. 

Turning, Bill laid his face against her shoulder and squeezed her. When his breathing came in peaceful puffs once again, Faith slowly dragged his lethargic hand and placed it over her breast. The hardness of her nipple triggered something in the sleeping man, because he rubbed delightfully for a few seconds. The stimulation sent 'get ready' messages to her clitoris. 

The idea that she could pleasure herself while Bill slept, thereby keeping some self-respect, blossomed in her titillated imagination. Her left hand slid into her panties while the other tickled the nipple of the exposed breast. A soft sigh of gratification escaped her lips before she clamped them closed in fear of waking her unaware participant. 

'This is so bad.' Excitement mounted, over this stealthy challenge. 

Faith soon discovered if she stirred a little, Bill would move his hand -- sweetly teasing. Careful not to wiggle too much and spoil the secret pleasure, her fingers played between her thighs, creating the kind of internal pressure that ends in an external explosion called orgasm. Increasing the risk of indecent exposure, her hand abandoned the nipple and slid under the sheet to rest on Bill's firm derrière. Slowly, she investigated its firm contour. 

This triggered a clenching of his muscles, which fired a tingle up her arm and down between her legs. Her fingers moved faster now, with less regard for her slumbering partner. The bed began to shake from the motion, but she somehow passed the point of caring. 

Bill mumbled something incoherent. His hand left her breast, as his other hand snaked beneath her back. 

To ease the way she arched up, continuing to rub her clit faster and harder. 

His arms now encircled her. Turning in his embrace, Bill pressed himself against her side. The top arm covered her chest. She felt the bulge of his penis on her hip. All ten of her fingers now worked together between her legs as the climax neared. 

Bill whispered, "Faith?" his arms tightened.

"Bill..." The idea of being caught pushed her over the edge. In an intense release, her hips arched, legs clamped around fingers and she moaned in ecstasy. 

His body pressed harder against her side, as he struggled to control her quaking torso. A deep growl vibrated from his chest.

Lost in the diminishing sensations, she misread Bill's reaction as one of indulgence, her ears not understanding his guttural tone was fear, not delight. 

Bolting upright, he screamed, "Faith, where are you!" dragging her with him, and holding her against his heaving chest. 

"Bill, I'm right here," she purred, turning in his grip to rest her face on his neck. 

Suddenly realizing her mistake, she breathlessly exclaimed, "It's all right, Sweetie. You were having a nightmare." 

Flopping back, he grumbled, "Not again."

Physically spent by the orgasm, she lay on top of him, abandoning her former sense of propriety. "It was only a bad dream," she said, wrapping him in her arms, comforting him. 

After a long silence of panting anxiety, Bill calmed enough to utter, "I hope so." 

Pecking his chest with soft kisses, she said, "Tell me about it." 

"It's nothing. Just one of those reoccurring things... that doesn't make any sense."

She didn't believe him, but didn't press for more. "Well, if you don't get a good night's sleep tonight you should probably stay another day so you're rested before driving," she advised, absently stroking his scruffy cheek with her fingertips. 

For no apparent reason, Bill gripped Faith's wrist. 

When she felt his nose on her fingers, and heard him sniffing, Faith knew she'd been caught, or at least found guilty by a preponderance of the evidence. Waiting for a cross examination, she lay still on his chest listening to his heart rate increase and felt her own pound in response.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted something," was all he said, releasing her hand and then toying with her hair.

'What should I say?' She felt embarrassed and selfish for using him as a sex toy. "It helps me sleep." Sliding her hand down and working her fingertips under the waistband of his briefs, she suggested, "Maybe it would help you too."

"Faith, you don't have to --"

"I want to," she said, pushing her hand in and covering his penis. She rubbed the underside, and then squeezed it. "No wonder you're having nightmares. You must be so frustrated after what I've put you through. Let me give you some relief, Sweetie."

Pulling up under her arms, he said, "First, shouldn't we at least kiss? I haven't even gotten to second base and you want to swing my bat? We've got our innings backwards. We're starting at the end of the game."

She thought, 'You've been to second base. You just slept through it,' then aloud said, "Rules are for beginners," releasing her grip and covering him with her body, she whispered down into the blackness, "But I would like a kiss." 

Hands reached out of the night, cupped her head and pulled her down into a tender buss. As his fingers played gently in her hair, his mouth came alive against hers. Tongues brushed lips. A groan was uttered and then two, until the passion between them was indistinguishable, the separation between their bodies nonexistent.

Afraid of losing all control, Faith pushed off and, suspended on her arms, caught her breath. "Oh my God, you can kiss." 

"Hey, kissing is a pairs event. I think we make a good team," he said, trying to pull her back down for more practice.

"Uh-uh," Faith resisted, slipping her hands down over his chest, pausing to harass his nipples. "I have a job to do. A hand job." She continued to run her hands lower and stopped at the elastic border. 

"You could just rub my back."

"No, I think you deserve a reward for your kindness." Gripping the waistband with both hands, Faith pulled the underwear down.

Bill said, "I see your mind's made up," and lifted his hips. 

The briefs were soon off, flying in the direction of the rocking chair.

Laying her head on his chest, facing his feet, Faith used one hand to find his erection, made firm by their cuddling. "Mmm, you are ready for action soldier." Stroking slowly, she added, "I'm not sure I remember how to use a stick," and making noises like an accelerating engine, she worked his hard-on like a stick shift connected to a five-speed transmission. "Oooo, you really have a sporty feel, Holder." 

When he laughed, her head bounced, and she smiled, feeling thrilled with life for a change.

Bill's hands found her shoulders and he began fondling. Not with the massage strokes from earlier, but with caresses in spots that sent chills down her spine. 'He knows what turns a woman on,' she thought. 'And I think I remember how to turn on a man.'

He felt big in the dark. The weight and heat of a man's engorged penis always amazed her. 'What an engineering marvel,' she thought, bouncing it against her palm. Then, sitting up to use both hands and to break free from his distracting fingers, Faith encircled the shaft, and slowly pumped. "Is the band-aid on my thumb bothering you?"

"Uh-uh," came a low response from a preoccupied mind. 

She smiled. "Does this feel good, Sweetie?"

"Good doesn't begin to describe how I'm feeling."

Letting one hand slip down between his legs to lightly tickle his scrotum, she said, "Frosty doesn't have anything as nice as this, Holder. You are much more fun to rub," with that said, she pinched the sensitive foreskin at the base of the glans and tweaked it for emphasis, feeling him stiffen even more.

Seeming to need contact, Bill's hand found her hip and worked in through the leg opening of her panties to fondle her tush. "Hey, are you getting fresh with me?"

"Yes." 

She smiled bigger. "Okay," and picked up the pace, pumping faster with one hand, while rubbing the tip against the palm of the other, changing the grip, angle, speed and pressure to vary his pleasure. When his hips began an involuntary push, she knew he was close and settled on a steady pace. "How's that feel?"

"Wonderful." Then, seconds later, "Faith, I'm coming."

Pumping faster, making sure to rub the sensitive head for maximum sensation, she felt the ejaculation fire up through his shaft. Contraction after contraction signaled a long and pleasant orgasm. Exhilarated by Bill's moans, Faith remembered how good it felt to play with a lover and then saddened to think how soon he'd be gone. 

Making sure he was totally spent, she continued pumping slowly, until his cock began to soften. The sensation of his cooled semen dripping from her hand onto his stomach signaled it was time to fetch the box of tissues on the nightstand. 

As she blotted up the swampy pool around his navel, she said, "My, my, you are really potent, aren't you, Holder."

"I don't know about that. I've just been storing it up for awhile."

"A nice man like you?" she said, finishing the clean up the best she could in the dark. "I think you must have women waiting in line to give you a hand." Faith lay down beside him.

Bill rolled, and hovered over her. "Yeah, but I lied earlier. Women with warts and oozing boils are what really turn me on, and they're hard to find." Bill kissed the tip of her nose, lingered sweetly on her lips, and then fondled each breast before leaving the bed. 

He stumbled in the dark, and swore.

Faith laughed, "It's to your right." 

The bathroom light clicked on, giving her a brief glimpse of his naked silhouette. 

The covers were bunched at the foot of the bed and she pulled them over her, keeping an eye on the door, anxious for another glimpse. When the door opened, she saw another attractive eclipse before the bathroom light went out.

"I'm blind."

"Over here, Holder," she said.

When his warmth returned under the covers, she asked, "Can we get some sleep now?" 

"I don't think that'll be problem," he said, hugging her from behind. Bill kissed her neck briefly, before settling in.

His naked body felt warm and solid, pressed against her back. She relaxed into the comforting embrace. Her last conscious thought before sleep took her was, 'I wish I'd taken off my panties.'



Rebuilding Faith Ch. 05



The other side of the bed was empty when Bill awoke. The clock showed 7:30. He lay on his back and thought about how nice it had been to sleep with Faith -- tangled up like puppies. But now came the morning after awkwardness. 

How a woman behaved the day after was always a mystery to him. Some were clingy, some cold, but the hardest to deal with were the gracious ones. After the divorce, Bill had used his share of women and regretted some of it now, realizing he was punishing them for his failed marriage. Women had used him too, which was okay, because he didn't want anything other than physical satisfaction. But there had been a few who deserved better treatment, sweet women, looking for a companion and thinking he might be a possibility. 

'Faith is a sweet woman.'

The rumble of snow sliding off the roof coaxed him out of bed to check the weather. Pulling back the curtain revealed a blue sky and melting snow. Spring was retaliating against the foray of winter. Frosty had already lost his carrot nose. 

After putting on his clothes, smoothing his hair and using and index finger to rub Colgate over his teeth, he went downstairs to face the music -- be it a hymn or a march. 

Faith was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a professional journal, drinking coffee and nibbling a piece of toast with jam. 

"Good morning," he said, walking to the counter to pour an eye opener of caffeine into a waiting mug. 

"Good morning." 

There was a cheery tone in her voice that made him turn to study her expression.

She smiled warmly, appearing to have no regrets or concerns about the night before. 

'Maybe she just wants to forget it ever happened.'

Faith's eyes returned to the page. Bill stayed at the counter and gave her the once over. There were faint shadows under her eyes; similar to those he'd seen under his own in the mirror. Her dark, chestnut hair was still sleep tousled and he liked that she hadn't tried to put on a false front. She wore an old flannel shirt underneath faded bib overalls. The clothes fit her personality -- country comfortable. 

Her magazine fell to the side. "Why are you staring at me, Holder?"

His eyes traveled down to her feet, covered by fuzzy brown dog-faced slippers. "You look nice in the morning," he said, smiling broadly.

Her cheeks colored a little. "Get your eyes checked when you get home." Two heartbeats later, she said, "The phone is working again," and pointed at a piece of paper on the table. "There's the phone number for the garage. Maybe the weather kept Fred from drinking last night. Give him a call early, you might get lucky," then she went back to reading.

Bill thought, 'If I'm lucky, Fred will be on a bender all week and I'll have to stay,' then said aloud, "Thanks, I'll call him from the cabin. I need a shower."

"Aren't you hungry?" asked Faith, meeting his eyes again.

"As a matter of fact, that toast looks pretty good."

Her eyes moved back to the article, as she instructed, "The bread's next to the toaster. The jam is homemade, from raspberries I picked last summer."

A bark at the door signaled Faith to let Hershey in, while Bill busied himself at the counter. The jingle of dog tags indicated her approach, so he turned to say good morning to the friendly Lab, as her owner went back to the table. 

It stayed quiet, until he sat down across from Faith, took a bite, and said, "Mmm, this is delicious."

"Thanks. There's a berry patch out back that we've harvested" after a pause, she finished with a hint of emotion, "forever," and hid her face behind the magazine.

Swallowing his last bite, Bill decided it was best to talk about what happened. "Thanks for last nigh, Faith. I've really enjoyed our time together. You've been very kind... I don't know if you're worried at all, but let me say that I'm disease free --"

Last months issue of 'Adolescent Psychology' dropped with a laugh, "That's very thoughtful of you, Holder. I've enjoyed our time too, but here we are back in reality and it's time to move on," with that said, she removed his traveler's checks from her bib pocket and slid them across the table. "You may as well take these back. I won't be needing them and you might."

A little annoyed by the brush off, Bill sat quietly, while Faith went back to reading. After some time, he asked, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to sell the place cheap and get a real job," she said, sounding angry. "It's time I grew up and stopped being so naive." Then, closing the periodical to look at him, she asked, "What are you going to do? And why are you even here to begin with? You never did explain how you happened to be passing through." 

These blunt questions surprised Bill and he felt obliged to try and respond with the truth. She deserved an answer and, somehow, it might make a difference if she knew how he happened to be there.

So, he began from the point of his decision to start a new life, leaving out the part of wanting to end it. As he spoke the recent past aloud, his explanation of the trip to Rome sounded bizarre. He also left out the "hand of God" experience in the Sistine Chapel, so as not to appear totally insane, and continued to describe how he began to feel ill and couldn't sleep, until he was on the plane home. How he felt better on arrival and rented a car -- driving with no destination -- how the car broke down in Woodhaven, how the children had woke him, how he sat in her church and gave the checks in the offering plate when it passed. Finishing with, "The rest you already know."

Faith seemed frozen. Her stare made him uneasy. 

In a soft voice, she finally said, "Are you serious? You came all the way from Italy to be here at the right moment to..." Shaking her head and looking out the kitchen window, she added, "It sounds like a fairytale." 

When Faith looked back, Bill understood her puzzled expression. 

Standing up, he said, "Now that I've told the whole story from start to finish, it does sound like divine intervention, doesn't it. And last night I got my reward without going to heaven first." Moving behind her chair, he bent down and kissed the top of her head. "Thanks again. I'm going to get cleaned up and make some calls. Will you take me to the village in a couple of hours?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, distractedly. 

He left her alone to meditate and returned to his cabin.

Under the hot shower, Bill tried to convince himself it was time to move on, but the dream that woke him last night made him second-guess the decision. 'If I was sent here by some divine providence just to give Faith money and prevent a rape, why am I still having the same fire dream?' Actually, when he thought about the details, the nightmare wasn't exactly the same. He'd still been surrounded by fire, but the voice that screamed, "Faith," over and over again, was his own. There were other subtle changes not quite distinguishable and he was left with a subliminal foreboding. 

"This is nuts," he said aloud into the needling spray, then thought, 'It's just my active imagination adding familiar things to a memorable dream.'

Out of the bathroom and dressed, Bill phoned Avis. They gave him a case number and instructed him to have the garage call when the car problem was found. Next, he dialed his brother to let him know he was back in the country. After a friendly chat with the office manager, Irene, Jack got on the line.

"Hey bro, how's the vacation going?"

Bill made up excuses about bad weather and lousy accommodations, finishing with his current location in the Catskills. 

Jack was quiet too long, before he said, "You're bullshitting me about this vacation aren't you? You're working out some real estate deal on the sly."

Confused, Bill said, "No... why would I do that?"

"Well, if you're not there to buy land, then start thinking about it. The news reports are saying the governor is very close to passing legislation that would give the Mohawks permission to build a casino down there. Property values are going through the roof and buyers are scooping up bargains on speculation. You could get in on the ground floor of the next Atlantic City." After a pause, he said, "I'd be there in a New York minute if I hadn't used all my money to buy you out. Thanks a lot." 

"Nobody likes a whiner," he couldn't help but grin at his brother's greed. "I appreciate the tip. When I build my hotel I'll call you for a bid, okay, Little Brother?"

"Yeah, yeah, kiss my ass," said Jack, followed by a loud click.

Packing to leave, Bill's mind digested and processed all that had happened since yesterday, ending with Faith's comment this morning. 'I'm going to sell the place cheap.' 

He thought, 'We'll see about that.'

A pounding on his door, snapped him to attention. Through the sidelight, he could see Faith waiting with arms folded. 

Opening the door, Bill began, "Hi, Faith. I've been thinking--"

"Holder, I want proof," she interrupted. "Show me your ticket stubs, or something to prove you were in Italy."

Taken aback, he asked, "Why?" 

"Let's just say I'm tired of being gullible," she answered, putting her hands on her hips.

Grinning at her challenging posture, he said, "You look like Wonder Woman on a day off," and walked into the bedroom to retrieve his alibi. A minute later, Bill returned with the proof.

The paper trembled slightly in her hand as she read the time and date. Visibly drained, she sat down in one of the living room chairs. "This is crazy," she said, and stared at the print, like she was trying to read the future between the lines. 

Apparently giving up, Faith leaned back with eyes closed, while Bill stood by. 

'She's going to ask me to stay,' he thought. 'I should save her the aggravation.'

"Faith, I think I'd like to hang out here for a while, if it's all right," he said, sitting down in the other chair. "I need to decompress, get my head together, and your place seems perfect. I'll pay for my room of course." 

Her anxious expression changed to one of relief, and he knew he'd been right.

She met his gaze with determined sincerity. "I think you should stay, too... and get some rest. I'd like that very much." Pulling out the traveler's checks from her bib pocket once again, she said, "I'll keep these. Consider yourself paid in full for at least... another day," and laughed. 

"Fair enough. And after that I'll have to work for my room and board."

Faith stood up and held out her hand, "Deal?"

He stood and shook on it. "Deal. Now, let's go to town and see if Fred's is open."

Fred's place was open and after cleaning the gas filter, and adding dry gas to the fuel tank, Bill's car started without a problem. He followed Faith's pickup truck to the nearest Avis office in Adelphia Falls and returned the car. With the rental gone, they rode quietly together in the truck cab.

As they approached a strip mall, Faith said, "I need to pick up a few things at the drugstore. Do you need anything?"

"No, I think I'm all set for now."

"I'll only be a minute," and with that said, she left him in the truck.

A few minutes later, Bill decided to check out the paperbacks and entered the store.

Standing at the book display, he read several covers but none appealed to him, so he went in search of Faith. He spotted her waiting at the pharmacy counter with a few items in her hand. As he strolled back, she became the next in line. After a wary glance from side to side, Faith subtly grabbed a box of condoms from the display rack and added them to her purchase. Discretion seemed to be in order, so Bill turned on his heels to go wait in the truck. 

As she climbed in, he asked grinning, "Find everything you needed?" 

"Yup," she said, and, without meeting his stare, began backing out. "Are leftovers okay for dinner?"

"Yeah, sure," said Bill, and then asked, "What's for dessert? I'm really hungry for something juicy. Do you have anything like that?" 

Keeping her eyes on the road, she made a half-grin, and said, "I think I have something that might interest you."

"Is it cold? I like my desserts hot."

This time, she gave him a look that would melt a glacier. "If you want to heat it up, I won't stop you."

"Sounds delicious." The idea of warming up his juicy dessert preoccupied Bill's thoughts for a while, until they drove into the town of Woodhaven. 

Faith said, "I'm going to the bank to deposit your loot." She turned to look at him. "Last chance to take the money and run."

"Uh-uh, this is the best thing I've done in years," he said, with a wink. Then, glancing at the gas gauge, he added, "Leave me the keys and I'll fill it up."

"Okay, but use my credit card," she said, fishing through her bag until she found it. "I don't want people to think I have a 'Sugar Daddy'."

Acting hurt, he complained, "Aren't Sugar Daddies suppose to be old geezers with young honeys?"

Opening the door and getting out, she asked, "Are you saying I'm not a young honey?"

He slid over into the driver's seat, and smiled at her feigned displeasure. "No, that's not what I meant at all. Are you saying I'm an old geezer?" 

"No, far from it." she smiled, waved, and walked into the bank.

'Her ass looks cute in those overalls,' he thought, shifting into drive. 

While filling the tank, Bill noticed Butch, standing inside the gas station mini-mart, talking to a couple of scruffy characters fit for a "Deliverance" crowd scene. After racking the nozzle, he headed inside to pay. As he walked up to the door, an idea came to mind. The quickest way to get rats off a ship is to sink it. 

He paid with his credit card and walked over to Butch, ready to poke a hole and start the rats scurrying. "How's it going?"

Suspicion on his face, Butch answered, "All right. How's it going with you?" 

The other men slinked away.

Bill smiled, and said, "I just stopped to say that I don't hold any grudge towards you for trying to get the most out of an opportunity," giving him a conspiratorial wink. "I know how things can get out of hand." 

Butch visibly relaxed. 

Bill continued, "I may be calling you for help. Faith is selling me the place cheap, and I'm going to be fixing it up." He patted Butch on the shoulder, and said, "I'll be looking for experienced carpenters." 

Faith stood leaning against the truck when Bill returned. "You two looked awfully cozy in there." 

"Really?" Wrapping his arms around her, he said, "Let's make him jealous," and quickly kissed her.

As he walked to the passenger side, Faith said over the hood, "I'm beginning to wonder about you, Holder."

"That's good. Women like mysterious men, don't they?"

No answer. Faith started the truck rolling toward home with frequent glances his way.

For no apparent reason, Bill asked, "How much land do you own, Faith?"

"Just a little over 700 acres. Why?"

He whistled, impressed by the amount, and asked, "Are there a lot of people offering to buy you out?"

"Oh, I've had offers from realtors working for private investors. Property values are climbing, thanks to this casino rumor. But I won't sell to them. I want the ownership to stay local. Bob Engles, the town supervisor, owns the adjacent land and I promised him the first purchase offer."

"Your 700 acres has to be one of the biggest parcels of land around."

"I think it's the third largest adjacent to the park region. Why?"

"Did you ever consider that the opposition to your rebuilding may have more to do with someone trying to force you to sell the land and less about the summer camp?"

Faith thought quietly before answering, "No. I never considered that." Then turning to inspect him closely, she asked, "What do you know you're not telling?"

"I talked to my brother this morning. And when I told him where I was, he wanted to know if I'd bought any land on speculation. According to news reports, the casino thing is getting closer to becoming a reality." Bill looked at her sheepishly. "Expect a phone call from Mr. Engles. I told Butch you were selling me the land -- cheap."

"Why did you do that?" her voice loud with irritation.

"Well... I smell a rat. And when I saw Butch, I thought I could use one rat to flush out the rest." 

"So now you're Detective Holder?"

"Faith, this is business. I know business." With a frown and a shrug, he added, "I've been there and done that. I'm not proud of everything in my past, but maybe I can do something good by helping you." 

Her face softened, "If I put my faith in you, Holder, I won't live to regret it, will I?"

"You won't," he answered with a reassuring smile, and prayed it was true.

As they approached the property entrance, Faith said, "Let me give you the guided tour," and for the next 20 minutes he was shown around the wooded acreage, complete with a pond, trout stream, waterfall, and a number of barns and equipment sheds. They passed silently by the charred remains of the old bunkhouse, a short distance from the new one.

Approaching the fork in the road, Bill said, "Faith, drop me off at the cabin. I need to unpack my bags again."

Faith glanced at him several times, and said, "Why don't you get your bags and we'll bring them to the house. You can settle in one of the spare rooms." 

Bill studied her face, and found a hint of pink on her cheeks. She avoided eye contact by staring straight ahead. 

Parked outside his cabin, she explained, "I used to have this place rented every week. Now I have to turn off the heat during vacancies to save money." 

Pointing to another dirt road across from them, she added, "There's another cabin down the hill a ways. Both of these units were always booked before the fire. I was making enough money to pay the bills, just on these two cabins and the occasional church group that would rent the bunkhouse for retreats. Now it's rare that anyone stays. This place used to be popular with couples, as a romantic weekend getaway, before travel agents became afraid to send clients here." Sarcastically she added, "Somehow word spread that it wasn't safe." 

Bill reminded her, "I said I'd pay for my cabin."

Finally she looked at him, and said, "Is that all you want after last night -- a place to sleep?"

Faith's eyes were shiny and vulnerable and his heart filled with a compassion he'd forgotten existed. Smiling, he said, "No, I definitely want more. But I think you've had enough heartache and I don't want to add to it."

In words sounding vaguely familiar, she said, "Don't flatter yourself, Holder. I'm not making a marriage proposal, just looking for a little tender loving care. Can you give me that much for a little while?" 

Commitment is a scary word, even for a little while. Bill had been committed to his daughter and his business, but he'd not given in to a woman in very long time. He wanted to help her, he wanted her physically, and yet something deep-rooted was pulling him away. Surprisingly, he said, "I can do that."

Bill followed her through the farmhouse kitchen, dining room and living room. Faith carried his overnight bag and he carried the rest. The procession was silently charged with the excitement of a new beginning. As she climbed the stairs, he stood and watched, enjoying how the denim overalls seemed to accentuate the taper of her back and the curve of her bottom. 

Reaching the top, Faith turned and caught him ogling. Smiling sweetly, she turned and disappeared. The spell broken, Bill climbed the stairs to find her leaning against the doorjamb of the room at the opposite end of the hall. "The dresser is empty and there's room in the closet, if you want to hang things up."

He moved past her and set the luggage on the bare mattress. "Shouldn't we put sheets on this, even if it's just for appearances?" he asked, wondering about the sleeping arrangements.

"Are you trying to protect my reputation, Holder?"




Rebuilding Faith Ch. 05



Sitting down, he grinned at how Faith stood leaning on the jamb, her thumbs hooked inside her pockets. He thought 'If she had a stalk of wheat hanging from her lips the image would be perfect.' Aloud he answered, "Isn't that just part of the tender loving care you asked for?"

"God, you say the sweetest things." With a distracted look, Faith raked fingers through her hair. Briefly her neck and ears were exposed, before the flowing strands covered her face, as she stared at the floor, lost in thought.

"You look like the legendary farmer's daughter, and I feel like the tempted traveling salesman."

Lifting her eyes, Faith gazed at him through the silky strands, which only enhanced the illusion of smoldering passion. Flipping the hair back with a toss of her head, she slinked towards him. Both palms pushed him onto his back as she settled in, straddling his hips. Lowering her head, Faith dragged the feathery hair across his face -- first left then right -- the alluring scent part shampoo, part spring air. Her expression was self-indulgent -- eyes closed as a pink tongue moistened smiling lips. Placing her head against his, she rubbed her straight nose against his, her soft lips played over his; a sociable tongue tickled his upper lip. With an unexpected charge, Faith captured his mouth and crushed her chest against him --fingers stroking his hair. The probing kiss vibrated with a desiring "Mmmmm," until she lifted from the sensual mugging. 

"Mr. Holder," she puffed, as her thumbs rubbed his temples and her eyes searched his face with subdued longing, "You go on and stow yer belongin's. Ima gonna git to the kichin' and rustle us up some vittles so's you can git yer strength up fer later." 

Laughing, Bill said, "Okay, Daisy Mae. Run along now. I'll be down shortly." 

Playing her part, Faith ran to the door, stopped and turned for one last look of postponed desire, then disappeared. 

"She's gonna give me a heart attack," he muttered, shaking his head at his unbelievable luck.

The unpacking complete, Bill made a pile of dirty laundry and realized he would need hardier clothes if was going to work for his keep. But tonight, comfort was the priority, so he dressed in a tee shirt, sweatpants and sweatshirt, before heading downstairs to find the kitchen table already set. Sunlight streamed in and glowed on Faith hands, as they mixed a salad in a bowl on the counter. The microwave hummed, as it warmed leftovers. 

Having heard him, she said without looking, "Holder, why don't you pour the drinks. I'll have some Cranapple juice, please."

Taking her nonalcoholic cue, he poured two. "What else can I do?"

"Would you feed Hershey? Her food's in the closet," she said, pointing, "There's a scoop inside. Give her two." 

Hershey followed, wagging with anticipation, barking as the first scoop rattled into her bowl. Finished with the assignment, he watched the hungry animal crunch the dry meal, and said, "You'd think I gave her a sirloin steak." 

Bill looked up and smiled, as Faith left the counter to put the salad bowl on the table. Having only seen her from the back, he hadn't noticed Faith's change of clothes. The bib overalls were still in place but the flannel shirt had been exchanged for a filmy pink tank top. From the side, he could see the pleasant jiggle of freed breasts outlined against the snug material. Bending slightly to set down the bowl, the profile of an erect nipple was exposed as the bib bloused out. He looked forward to sitting across the table, and asking her to pass something. 

She responded, "If you're hungry enough almost anything edible looks good."

This one, seemingly innocent remark triggered something within the dark recesses of Bill's mind and distrust reared its familiar head. His short-lived contentment collapsed under the weight of suspicion. 

'Was that a veiled metaphor about how she feels about me? Does her asking me to stay symbolize how low she's stooped to satisfy a hunger? Am I a last resort to hold on to her dream?'

Something broke inside, and he snapped, "What does that mean?"

Halfway to the counter, Faith froze. Quietly, she asked, "What does what mean, Bill?"

"That crack, 'when you're hungry anything edible looks good.' Was that directed at me? Am I just some crumb you've picked up in desperation?" 

Rushing to the table to set down another bowl, Faith said, "No, I didn't mean that at all." She went to him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing close. "I can't believe you'd think that." 

Feeling stupid and embarrassed, he placed his hands on her shoulders and tried to break free. 

"No, I won't let go. Not until you say you believe me."

"Okay, okay, I believe you."

Looking up into his face, tears pooled in her eyes, "After what we've shared, how could you even consider I would think about you like that?"

What was he suppose to say, 'The shrink said I have issues with trusting women,' instead he hugged her, kissed her hair, and said, "I'm sorry, Faith. I guess I'm still out of sorts from the jet lag." Her searching look was flush with concern, and he thought, 'At least I didn't scare her.'

"C'mon, Holder." She took his hand and pulled him to his chair. "Maybe you'll feel better on a full stomach."

A calm fell over the room. The only sound was the clink of silverware and china. Bill stole glances of his dinner companion, feeling like a tongue-tied adolescent.

"You really surprised me, Holder," Faith commented, before sipping fruit juice. 

"How so?" he asked, putting down his fork, more interested in listening to her voice and watching her face.

Her brow furrowed, as she pointed an index finger and glass at him. "You're very astute, although a bit misguided in your reasoning. I was thinking of someone when I made that 'anything edible looks good' remark, but it wasn't you. Actually, I was thinking of how close I came to dating Butch -- that is, before he grabbed me." 

It was nice to know he wasn't totally off the wall with his instincts. Would he ever be able to think only good intentions in a woman?

"Holder, are you listening?" 

Brooding, he'd faded away, until Faith reached across the table to touch his hand and treat him to a peek of creamy breasts pressed against the tabletop. 

"You have my full attention," he smiled.

Catching his wandering eye only made her smile broaden. "I just want you to know how much you mean to me. You've rescued me from so much in such a short time... I can't begin to thank you. Also, even if it sounds like nonsense, I want to say that I find you extremely attractive. More than anyone I've met since my husband. So don't ever think you're not important to me. If you left today, I would miss you and always remember you as someone dear to my heart." 

Picking up her hand, he ran his thumb over her knuckles slowly, enjoying the miniature hills and valleys. Though petite and feminine, the hand contained a sinewy strength. Turning it over, he stroked her palm and noticed the calluses along the top. 

The fingers curled up and gripped his, making him look at her. "Not very soft, are they." 

"Oh, I don't know about that," he said, pushing her hand open and warming it between both of his palms. "They certainly felt wonderful last night."

No hint of embarrassment appeared in her warm eyes, as lines at the corners deepened with a smile. 

'This is one self-assured woman,' he thought, worried that she'd soon tire of him. And then thought, 'Why do I care?' and realized, 'I care because I've never met anyone like her before.' Faith had something he'd lost a long time ago. The joy of living.

"Earth to Holder," she said, pulling her hand back. "Where do you keep drifting off to? Do you have something you'd like to share with the group, hmm?" She picked up her dishes and carried them to the sink.

"I'm just thinking about all the profound things I've learned today," he answered, taking his dinnerware to the counter. Then he grabbed a dishrag and busied himself with cleaning the tabletop. After that, he took the broom and dustpan from the closet and swept up tracked in dirt near the backdoor. After that, he pulled out the full trash bag from the waste bin, stuffed it in a trashcan outside and then lined the kitchen wastebasket with a spare bag he found laying in the bottom. 

Looking around for something else to accomplish, Bill noticed Faith leaning against the counter with her thumbs once again hooked in her pockets, smiling and watching. 

"What?"

"Holder, you are so damned repressed." She held out her arms, gesturing for an embrace. "If you need something to keep your mind off whatever's bothering you, let me help."

"I don't think you can. I'm deeply disturbed," he said, and crossed his eyes.

"How deep? Come here, so I can make a preliminary examination." . Offers like that are not to be ignored and Bill was soon occupied in a deep kiss, wrapped in the arms of a beautiful woman. His hands cradled the back of her head, while hers made soft circles on his shoulder blades. The fact that he was successfully standing where Butch had failed yesterday was not lost on him. 

Breaking the kiss, Faith rested her forehead on his chest. "Oh my," she whispered, and then squeezed him tighter. 

After a time, she looked up into his face. "Let's have another fire tonight. Only this time, make it blazing hot -- so hot my skin turns pink, my mouth goes dry and I get light headed." Delicately, the back of her fingers stroked his cheek. "Can you do that for me, Holder?"

Finally, an action item. "I will do my best," he said.

"Mmmm," she cooed, "I have no doubt," and then, smiling wickedly, she added, "I have a present for you. It's in one of my pockets, and you have to find it." 

"I love treasure hunts!" and enthusiastically his hands delved into her back pockets, searching all over her bottom, kneading the rounded flesh underneath. 

After a thorough fondling, he said, "I guess it's not in there."

"Uh-uh," she answered weakly, her cheek against his soft shirt.

Spinning around, Bill put his back against the counter and turned Faith so that her back was against him. Not wanting to find the gift too quickly, he said, "I'm going to check your bib pockets next." 

Snaking his hands along her ribs, they slipped in-between the bib and her shirt. He enjoyed the soft weight of her breasts in his palms and then lightly traced his fingers over the two turgid speed bumps that meant 'go slow, curves ahead'.

With face tipped back, her warm lips nuzzled his neck, and then said, "You missed my pockets, Holder," as her hands reached behind him to rub his buttocks.

"Are you sure? Because these feel like a nice gift." Exaggerating on purpose, he guessed, "A couple of 38D all-day-suckers, I think."

Laughing she said, "Close enough. The all day part sounds about right," then moaned as he pinched the pointy parts. Her hands tugged his hips forward as she ground her bottom into his expanding arousal.

Moving the search along, Bill slid his hands down into the bib pockets and rummaged around enough to massage the rough fabric against the stiff buds underneath, eliciting more encouraging moans. "Nothing in there," he mentioned to anyone interested. "Only two more pockets to go. I'm getting excited."

"Yes, I know. I can feel it," Faith said, and moved her hands between their bodies to rub up and down his vertical ridge.

After gliding his palms down her sides, Bill pushed them deep into her front pant pockets. Bending her over at the waist with his weight, he manipulated the loose linings. His fingers worked their way between her legs, until she was too weak from the pleasure to stand and he had to support her.

In the right pocket there was a square foil package. Bill finally said, "I found something."

Recovering some strength, breathily she asked, "Are you sure?"

"It feels like Alka-Seltzer." Then added, "Thanks, the stew was kind of bubbling in my stomach."

Faith elbowed him. "Very not funny," she said, and stepped away.

Holding the item at eye level, he said with surprise, "Oh! It's a condom." Bill thought of telling her about his vasectomy but decided, 'some other time would be more appropriate.'

Putting her hands behind her back, Faith coyly twisted side to side, and said, "Guess what's for dessert, Holder."

"Well, let's see. Is it warm and juicy?"

"It is now," she blurted out, laughing.

"Does it have something to do with this condom?"

"No, that's for later," Walking up to him, she palmed his groin, squeezed the bulge, and said, "Follow me, and I'll show you."

Bill followed her out of the kitchen, shutting the door to keep the dog from interfering. 

Faith headed for the staircase. "Bill, start a fire to keep us warm, please. I'll be right back, after I freshen up." At the bottom of the stairs, she turned. "Maybe I should ask, so there's no misunderstanding. Do you like the taste of a woman?"

Grinning, he said, "I love the taste of women, unless they have really bad breath."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "That's not what I meant and you know it, Holder."

"Oh! You mean the taste of those other lips?"

Hands on hips, she boldly said, "Yes. Do you like to perform cunnilingus?" 

"I think... I'd rather show you, than tell you," he said, and licked his lips.

She smiled and blushed before turning to go.

After Bill watched her disappear up the stairs, he busied himself with making a fire hot enough to warm the naked body he envisioned. The mat and blanket from last night were once again positioned in front of the hearth.

When the fire crackled brightly, he went to the kitchen bathroom and washed up. Upon returning to the living room, he removed his sweatshirt, to be more comfortable in the rising heat, and then sat down to wait. A squeaky tread foretold her descent, and then her legs appeared between the balusters. She still wore the overalls, but when her torso came into view the pale flesh of her breast was visible from the side. Stopping midway, she turned, leaned low over the railing, flashing an abundance of cleavage, and blew him a kiss.

"Very nice, Faith. That's a good look for you."

Walking over, she said, "Thanks, Sweetie. I thought you might get a rise out of it." Then spying the mat, said, "Well, I see you've been proactive, haven't you."

Bill stood up, took her hand, and pulled her willingly to the warm blanket. "I'm anxious for my dessert." 

They knelt facing each other, and smiled for a few moments of heart pounding anticipation.

"Okay, Mr. Travelin' Salesman, go on and teach me somethin' about them there birds and bees." Faith leaned forward, put her hands on the floor, closed her eyes and puckered up. 

Bill laughed. "Daisy Mae, you are something special," Cupping her face with his hands, he moved in for a kiss. 

The physical pleasure of women was something Bill understood. Like construction, good sex had rules and standards. They'd already laid the foundation of mutual desire, now came the framework of fulfillment. With one arm around her shoulders, he eased Faith onto her back, their lips and tongues still weaving a communion of spirits. His mouth moved down to the spot on her neck where he'd seen her pulse throb the night before. 

Her encouraging moans, as her hands pulled up his tee shirt, raised his level of excitement. Two active participants always made the best sexual partnership, and Faith was definitely enthusiastic. 

Tugging upward on his shirt, Faith said, "Cmon' Sweetie, take this off."

Kneeling between her spread legs, Bill pulled off the shirt, the heat from the fire now on his skin. He leaned over her.

"Mmmm, that's much better," she said, smiling at his chest. "You have a nice body, Holder." Her fingers ran down from his shoulders to tickle his nipples.

"My turn," Bill said, dragging his hands up her bare sides. He brushed the soft flesh spilling out from under the bib, and loosened one suspender, then the other. Touching only the denim, he folded it down to expose her breasts. "Very nice. Faith, you have a beautiful body. May I try one?" and, without waiting for permission, he quickly bent his head to suck a nipple. 

Faith arched into the pull, and cooed in a husky voice, "Ooo, Sweetie. That's so good." Her fingers locked in his hair, holding him in place. 

Coordinated hands moved to the buttons at her hips and, without loss of momentum, he unfastened the pants. "I think dessert's ready to be brought out," he declared, beginning to work the overalls down her hips. Soon he discovered there were no panties to hinder the progress and it was his turn to look surprised.

Faith gave him a devilish grin. "Do I shock you?"

"Yes, and I'm loving it," he admitted, pulling the overalls off and kneeling at her feet, delighted by her smirking nudity. 

His gaze wandered up her long legs to see a trimmed triangle of hair. Farther up, her breast's rapid rise and fall hinted her excitement. 

"Faith, you look delicious." Bill couldn't decide what felt hotter, the fire on the outside or his lust on the inside. 

Smiling back, she remained silent, but her chest and neck turned pink. Propping up on her elbows, Faith put her heels together and then spread her knees. 

Bill's attention was drawn between her thighs as the feminine petals spread and revealed a pink of their own. 

Meeting her impassioned stare, he moved forward, running his hands up her shins. The roughness of the burn scar on her leg distracted him, and her look became uneasy.

Smiling to reassure her, he ran his fingers across the bumpy surface, and asked, "Does this bother you?" 

"Only that it's ugly. There's no feeling in the scar tissue. I'm thankful I still have one attractive leg." And she wrapped it behind his back to pull him closer to her warm and open center. 

Taking the hint, he kissed up the inside of her thigh, while sliding his hands underneath. His nose stopped in her hair and deeply inhaled the inviting feminine scent. 

Bill kissed her tummy, and asked, "Are you sure you want this, Faith?"

There was a small laugh, and then, "I really do enjoy a man who knows what he's doing. No pressure though, Holder." 

"Well, why don't you tell me how you want me to do it? That would really turn both of us on."

Her boldness seemed to recede for a time, but as they held one another's gaze and smiled conspiratorial, she said, "No hands at first, just poke your tongue in there and lick across my clit. Barely touch it."

"Your wish is my command," he said. Her tangy freshness exploded on the end of his tongue, as his heart pumped concrete into his erection. 

Faith's head dropped back as her feet spread apart, allowing Bill to lie flat between them. 

Working gently for some time, the clitoris grew noticeably harder and larger on his tongue.

"Mmmm, that's it, that's it. Wonderful, Sweetie. Now, press more tongue in there. Lick a wide swath -- just upward... mmm, yes, that's very good." 

There was more nectar on his tongue as her arousal increased and her fingers came down to pull open the labia for better contact. 

Her words became more lurid as the pleasure increased. "Put your tongue in me as far as you can. In and out... Yes, like that. Oooo, your cock will feel very nice in there."

Bill struggled not to touch her. His hands were under his chest, itching to feel her everywhere.

"Sweetie, plunge in and then lick up. Harder. Press on my clit. Now suck on it. Put your mouth over it... yes, that's it. It's building, coming soon."

Her hips began to rock slightly, as the primal urge took over. 

"Fingers, Sweetie, use your fingers. Two, put in two. Oh, that's it. You're doin' it, you're doin' it so good."

Shortly thereafter, he was on his own. She lost the ability to speak. So using her past instructions, he varied on the theme. His fingers filled her, while his lips teased, sucked and hummed. Improvising with the free hand, Bill slid his fingers up her abdomen to play with a distended nipple. 




Rebuilding Faith Ch. 05



As her moans and thrusts became more urgent, so did his caress. 

It was less than a minute later, when Faith shrieked those spectacular words, "I'm coming!"

Bill rode her bucking hips as well as any rodeo cowboy, staying in the saddle throughout. 

A hand pushing his head away and a breathlessly whispered, "Stop," signaled, time to dismount.

His lips moved up her body to kiss each breast, nuzzle her neck and gently peck her lips. 

Not enough for her, she hugged him tight and captured his mouth, unashamedly tasting her dessert on his lips. The kiss only served to fan her lusty flame. Breaking away, she said, "Roll over, Bill."

Aggressively, she grabbed his sweatpants and briefs and pulled them off, exposing his erection. Brushing back errant strands of hair from her face, she wrapped one hand around the warm pillar. "Oh Sweetie, you're so big. Can I have it, please?" she asked, her eyes pleading.

Bill couldn't help but smile. His heart pounded from the reality she really wanted him. It had been a long time. Long enough that he'd forgotten how good it felt to be physically desired. "Faith, I'm all yours."

"Goodie!" she squeaked, reaching for the condom on the table. Apparently unwilling to let go of him, Faith ripped open the foil packet with her teeth, positioned the latex shield at his tip, and rolled it tenderly down. 

Grinning, she admitted, "I love doing that." 

Bill was thankful for wearing a condom, now. 'I may last more than two seconds with it on.'

Straddling in position, she sat upright and then slowly sank down, guiding his entry. "Oooo, you're deep. I can feel you against my cervix," she whispered, with closed eyes.

The delightful pressure of her body was compounded by the vision balanced above him, the dreamlike quality of her eyes, tousled hair and parted lips. As she began an easy rocking motion, Bill said, "Faith, you're beautiful."

Smiling, she continued on. "I like riding the peg, Holder," she confessed, opening her eyes to look at him. "Ain't I awful?"

Bill wanted to say she was the most fascinating woman he'd ever met, but didn't want to scare her. "No, Faith, you're wonderful," and cupped her swaying breast, making her groan in appreciation. 

Her rocking quickened, and Bill felt the pressure building in his groin. "I'm getting close, Faith." 

"Do it, Holder. Come on," she demanded, bouncing faster.

His hips shot upwards to meet each thrust. The sound of squishy, slapping skin could be heard between the panting and moaning. The energizing fragrance of sex permeated the air. 

"Faith, I'm coming!" And Bill arched uncontrollably, as his seed pumped into the latex barrier.

"Oh, God, me too!" Faith yelled, announcing her own release, pressing down hard on his pelvic bone. 

When the waves of sensation finally passed, she lay flat on top, cupped his face and tenderly kissed him. 

Bill held her close and returned the affection, until Faith lifted away and rolled off, appearing exhausted.



Rebuilding Faith Ch. 06



As Faith lay basking in the orgasmic afterglow, she thought, 'This is one of those rare moments when reality exceeds your fantasy.' Turning onto her side and propping her head on her hand, She met the eyes of her grinning lover. 'Was it only yesterday I was thinking how nice it would be just to spend time flirting with him?'

An old Rolling Stone's tune popped into her head and she sang softly, "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you neeed."

Bill turned onto his side and mirrored her relaxed pose. His dark eyes wandered pleasantly over her skin. It made her tingle, when he said, "What did you want?"

"I forget," she lied, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling and wonder, 'what's next?' 

Bill's movement made Faith curious and she shifted to watch him remove the flooded rubber. Apologetically, she said, "Sorry little guys, but I can't have you swimming up my stream to spawn." 

After setting the condom on his briefs, he leaned over her, his damp penis resting lightly against her thigh. "There are no swimmers, Faith. I had a vasectomy eight years ago." 

Smiling warmly, she arched her brows, and said, "Really... well, we may have to try this again, without the safety net," and pulled him down into a lingering kiss. Then added the comment, "That is, if you're still interested."

His tantalizing hand caressed between her thighs and cupped her sex, as his lips landed on a nipple, drawing it in to a wiggling tongue. The wanton desire she felt inside, and something growing against her leg, gave a positive response. 

Bill lifted his head. "Maybe." 

"Maybe?"

Bill sat up cross-legged and leaned forward, with elbows resting on his knees. Languidly, he ran his fingertips back and forth on the front of her hip, while staring blankly into the fire. 

At first, she thought he was joking, and then there was a burst of fear that she'd been unsatisfying or, even worse, simply used. But his loving touch pushed away those concerns and was replaced by a concern for his emotional well-being. Quietly she waited, enjoying the warmth from the hearth and his caress, while observing the new man in her life. His black hair, sprinkled with gray, gave him a mature presence, hiding the big kid inside. The recently eager, full lips had compressed into a hard line. 'What is he thinking about?'

'Let him think,' she decided, as her eyes wander over the broad shoulders, down the slightly haired, deeply cleft, chest. His arms, even at rest, appeared powerful and she relished the safety she felt in his company. 'When will this enchantment end?'

Faith was eyeing his legs, when from above she heard, "Maybe we need to slow down. I'm missing something--"

The sudden ring of the telephone startled them both. 

Faith sat up, as Bill walked over to the end table and, smiling playfully, tossed the cordless phone to her.

"Thank you, Mr. Moody," she scolded as he turned away. 

He gave her a sidelong glance, and she stuck out her tongue. 

Faith watched him walk to the stairs. His back was nicely muscled and the contour undulated with the sway of his arms. The firm buttocks alternated clenches with each stride. There was a slight roll above the hips where age was settling in. 

'He's human after all,' she thought. 

The persistent ring finally regained her attention. Faith clicked the talk button, and mumbled, "Hello," while concentrating on the nude ascending the staircase.

"Hello, Faith?" 

The annoyed tone snapped her focus back to the caller. "Yes, speaking."

"Faith, this is Bob Engles."

"Oh... hi, Bob." Suddenly feeling exposed to the world, Faith began to dress, with a growing uneasiness in her stomach. "How are you?"

"I'm very upset, Faith. I've heard a rumor that you're selling your land to an outsider. Is that true?" His irritated volume made her hold the receiver a few inches away from her ear.

Warily, Faith asked, "Where did you hear that?" trying to be evasive, while thinking about the best way to proceed. The phone line was quiet long enough to know the question had flustered him. 

Sounding intentionally vague, he answered, "Some people were talking, and I just overheard them." 

Deciding another strand of misinformation may speed the detective process along, Faith boldly said, "Well, it's true Bob. A friend of mine, who's a contractor, wants to develop the land. And considering how uncooperative the town has been during my recent setback, I'm selling out to the highest bidder. I have to think of my family's welfare." Snapping her suspenders closed, she thought, 'That ought to get him worked up.'

Another extended silence, and then, "How much is he offering?"

Unaware of current property values and not wanting to sound ridiculous, she answered, "Thirty percent higher than the assessed value."

The connection began to crackle with static, as Bob's angry voice demanded, "Don't you dare sell to anyone but..." then the line went dead.

"Bob? Helloooo... Hmm." Clicking off the phone, Faith sat down to think things over, until the creaky top stair shifted her interest. Flexing calves and thighs appeared and then white cotton briefs. "Awww," she groaned, initially disappointed, but, as his torso became visible, her expectations were somewhat fulfilled. 

"Who was that?" Bill asked, smiling as he strolled over -- seemingly in a lighter mood than when he left.

Not wanting to dispirit him, she answered, "Just a neighbor." And then, before he could make anymore inquiries, she added, "The phone went dead again. Lets go for a walk and check the telephone line down to the road." 

Bill bent down, resting his weight on the arms of the chair, and pecked her lips. His breath had the fresh scent of toothpaste and her essence was gone from his skin. 

A little sadness crept in with the awareness of how quickly she'd been washed away. 

Hovering close, his happy eyes looked down her bib. "Are you going dressed like this?" he asked, then stood back and held out a helping hand.

"In your dreams, Holder," she answered, taking his hand and enjoyed the ease of rising to her feet and being held close. 

Hugging Bill tight, her face pressed against his shoulder, Faith decided the next move should be his. 'If he wants to slow things down -- so be it. He knows I'm ready and willing.'

His grip slackened so Faith moved away and headed upstairs to dress appropriately. When she returned, Bill was already outside, Hershey was barking and she heard the word "Fetch." 

Grabbing a green plaid jacket from the closet, she spied an old straw hat on the shelf and, deciding to perpetuate the 'farmer's daughter' image, put it on for effect. As she walked over to him, his broad smile was reassuring. "Are ya ready fer a hike, Mister?" she asked. Bending to pet Hershey, she took the ball and threw it.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Lets git goin' then. The day ain't a gittin' any younger and neither am I."

They walked side by side in the dwindling light. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, so she did the same -- resisting the temptation to take his arm. Following the gravel driveway downhill, they chatted about the fresh air and springtime, growing up and raising children. Several Robins bounced around, pecking bugs from the bared grass between the patches of snow, and giving Hershey something different to chase. The telephone poles veered off from the road. So, they had to walk underneath the wires through the woods to continue their inspection. 

The recent weather left the earth slick and soft. Not long into the off-road hike Bill's sneakers lost their grip and he found himself sitting in mud. Laughing hysterically, Faith offered a hand up and he pulled her down next to him. 

"There! Serves you right," he said, with retaliatory smugness.

"Aw, poor Holder. Did I hurt your feelings?" Faith cooed, tenderly stroking his face with muddy fingers.

"Why you brat!" and he countered with a muddy paw print of his own. 

Soon they were caked with a layer of brown muck -- laughing and pointing out certain resemblances to their wallowing relatives in the hog family.

Coming to their cold senses, they got up and continued the quest for downed wire another 100 yards, where they found the phone line ripped from the poles by a dead maple tree that had split and fallen from the weight of the recent snow.

Faith said, "I guess I'll have to drive into the village to report the problem."

"Do you have a chainsaw? I can cut that up for firewood."

The offer surprised her. She'd never been sure how long he intended to stay. It was one thing for him to say he wanted to be there for a while, but this was making a commitment of considerable days, she thought, looking at the size of the tree.

Hesitantly, she said, "Yeah, I have a saw," while gazing at his face for any regret.

Seeming pleased, Bill wrapped his muddy sleeve around her, and pulled her toward home. "Good, I could use some exercise. I'll get started in the morning."

When they reached the gravel road, Faith and Bill began a slow jog in the growing darkness, just to warm up. The fragrant hickory smoke, wafting from the chimney, greeted them a short ways from home.

Slowing to a brisk walk, Faith said, "Mmm, I love that smell. Doesn't it smell warm and inviting?"

There was no answer. In the dimness she could barely make out his steely expression.

Entering the dark kitchen, Faith said, "God, I'm cold and disgusting."

She heard an oink behind her. A disembodied voice said, "I think you're one sexy sow," and a pair of hands began removing her clothes. 

Laughing, she reached out and found something resembling wet plaster to peel off him, and called, " sue-eee, here pig, pig, pig." 

Stripped down to underwear, they left the filthy rag pile on the floor for Hershey to sniff and draw her own conclusions about what was happening, and once again closed the kitchen door on her. 

Stopping at the bottom step, the red glow from the fireplace embers gave Faith a chance to inspect Bill's shadowy countenance before they headed upstairs. It was a grim, mud mask, with eyes fixed on the hearth.

'Something about the fireplace or fire sends him into the twilight zone,' she reasoned, and taking his hand, pulled him away, hoping to provide a more satisfying distraction.

Reaching the top, Faith let go of his hand, and said, "I'm going to take a shower," leaving the, 'Will you join me?' part unsaid, forcibly reminding herself, 'It's his move.'

In a halting, indecisive voice, Bill said, "Okay... I am too."

Separating in the hallway, before the silence became exceedingly awkward, Faith entered the shower in her bedroom and waited. A few minutes later, on the other side of the wall in the main bath, the shower turned on and her water pressure diminished along with her optimism. Head resting against the tile, she muttered, "What is your problem, Holder?"

Scrubbing away the filth with an intensity born of ill-tempered confusion, she completed the job quickly, dressed in a long flannel nightshirt and went downstairs to sit by the remains of the fire. Hershey lay close and she relaxed by rubbing the dog's soft fur with her foot, pretending to read, while thinking about Bill's vacillation. 

When the creaking stair signaled his descent, the book was set aside. 

Casually walking over and sitting in the opposite chair, he said, "Faith, I really need to do some laundry. Do you have a washing machine I could use?" 

Ignoring the request, she asked, "Did I turn you off today, Bill?"

His smile faded, and a serious face said, "No, Faith, just the opposite. I can't remember another time when I was so turned on." 

Feeling encouraged, but far from content, she continued with, "It's just that you seem hesitant to initiate..." after a thoughtful pause, she bluntly said, "sex. We seem to have a good thing going here. I like being with you, Holder...But I feel like you're afraid of something. Is it Butch? Because, if you think what he did has affected my psyche and you're trying to be sensitive to some assumed fear I may have, you can stop now. I'll let you know if I'm uncomfortable with anything you do. You're not Butch. I like you very much and I trust you." To herself, she thought, 'And I want you to want me,' but didn't dare verbalize that particular ache.

Shifting uneasily in the chair, Bill's brow furrowed as he considered an answer. 

Time ticked by -- Faith's frustration increased. 'Is he trying to come up with some kind of excuse?'

"I'm sorry, Faith," Bill said, meeting her gaze, "I have been holding back, but it's not because of you. I'm drawn to you like a moth to," hesitating, he looked unhappy with his choice of words, "a flame." He stood and nervously paced with hands in his pockets. "There is something eating at me. My future is a mysterious black hole and I really don't want to screw up your life with my problems. These nightmares..." his voice trailed off. "I just don't want to be a burden. At the same time, I don't want to leave and I can't stop thinking about you." Finished, Bill flopped down in the chair and covered his face with his hands.

Faith pushed her way onto his lap. Gripping his cheeks between her palms, she said, "Holder, didn't you say women like mysterious men?" His small grin was encouragement enough. "Well you're my man of mystery, and I'm not letting you go until I solve it." Resting her head on his shoulder and placing her arms around his neck, she continued, "Whatever is eating you, share it with me and you'll feel better. Things are never as bad as they seem cooped up inside your head."

His tired voice answered, "There are exceptions to every rule, Faith." 

She was prevented from further discourse by his wanton mouth capturing hers and changing the course of events. The arms she longed for, snaked around her back and snuggly cradled her. And there was nothing passive about his kiss. The arousing ardor of his lips spread to his hands, as they began to massage her back. One slid up to stroke her hair as his mouth moved down to nuzzle her neck. 

"Oh my," she heard her own breathy voice exclaim, almost involuntarily. This was the feeling she craved. The one that confirmed, 'He wants me as much as I want him.'

"God, I can't remember ever feeling like this," Bill confessed, leaning back to look longingly into her eyes. 

Laying her smiling face on his shoulder, Faith burrowed her nose and lips into his neck, and asked, "That's a good feeling, right?"

"The best." 

Gentle fingers stroked her cheek during a silent moment of mutual contentment. The jingle of Hershey's tags was followed by her pleading head resting on Faith's leg. 

"Looks like someone wants to go out, huh girl?" 

Hershey's ears perked up and her tail wagged faster.

"Okay, okay. Then it's bedtime," and Faith looked obliquely at Bill.

"I'm going up right now," he said, and yawned, then brushed his hand down her breast, pausing suggestively when his palm was full.

"I'll be right behind you," she said, dismounting from his lap and swaying to the kitchen, hoping his gaze followed.

After putting Hershey to bed, Faith made her final rounds. She had high hopes, and didn't want to be disturbed later with wondering if she'd forgotten to lock the doors. 

Turning to climb the stairs, she spotted Bill sitting on the top step. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting," was all he said.

"I'm sorry, the last bus has already left," she informed him in passing.

"No, you don't understand..."

The sound of creaking wood and patting feet signaled his quick approach, and she squealed with delight as he scooped her up. 

"I am the bus," he said, carrying her in his arms to the bed. Laying her gently down and kissing her neck, he said, "Here's your stop."

"How often does this bus come?" she asked, optimistically.

Feeling a chuckle against her throat, "Not often enough," he confessed, lying down between her splayed legs, pressing his mouth to hers with a thrilling urgency.

Arms wrapped around and they rolled over, laughing. 

Smiling down at him, she said, "You're a fun ride, Holder."

Bill's insistent hands lifted her flannel nightshirt, until they fondled her naked bottom. "Are you on some anti-underwear campaign I should know about?"

"Yes," she declared, sliding a hand onto his. With a tug, she yelled, "Down with underpants!"

"I'm a Republican," he said, and surprised her with a pillow to the side of the head. "Down with free willies." 

Yanking the pillow from his hand, she planted it over his face and slid up to kneel over his biceps. "Holder, you must submit to the will of the people."

A muted, "Never," escaped from underneath. 

Faith lifted her nightshirt and bunched it around her waist, before pulling away the pillow. His eyes widened, as she rose up on her knees and suspended her pussy over his face. "Submit to the will of the horny people or be muffled."

Licking his lips, he grinned defiantly, "My lips will never be muffled."

But it was, as Faith lowered to cover his nose and mouth. "Just try and struggle free. I dare you." 

And, as he began struggling against the muff of authority, Faith began to feel his indomitable spirit with a hand down his shorts, and decided on terms of surrender. "Let's make love not war." 

Turning around, she pushed the disputed pants to his knees and engulfed his growing cock. "Mmmm," she moaned around it, as he pulled her muff back to the negotiating table. 

They lay together, nearly coming to terms in a tender give and take of oral influence, until Bill apparently needed a change of venue. 

Faith felt her legs lifted. Suddenly, she was twirled onto her back, and the erection popped from her mouth with a loud slurp. "Awww, and I was just about to filibuster." 

"No, I was about to fill a mouth," Bill laughed, climbing up between her legs, pulling off the flannel barrier with a little help from his new ally. 

"Free at last!" Faith celebrated, as Bill sucked one nipple and tweaked the other. Then, replacing his mouth with the other hand, both nubbins were pleasantly pinched and twirled, while his tangy lips made peace with hers. 

Pulling up on the hem of his shirt, she begged, "Holder, take this off. I want to feel your skin against me."

Bill sat back, pulled it off and threw it. Then he stood up between her legs. His head bumped the ceiling and his erection cantilevered out, while he removed the offending underpants from around his ankles. 

Feeling the heat rise in her face, she beckoned him with open arms and bent legs. "Come to me my sexy giant," she lewdly invited.

He fell upon her like a starving animal, all mouth and paws. 

They tangled up, alternating sweet assaults -- attacking, retreating, but always pleasing. 

Finally, nearing the end, Faith begged, "Do me, Baby. I want you now!" And when he rose up, she grabbed his rod, positioned it, and let it slide through her fingers into her clutching warmth. "Yessss," she hissed, wrapping her legs over his back as he began pumping. 

On every in-stroke her heels spurred him, encouraging a powerful thrust. She knew by Bill's speed and strength, self-control was waning. Suddenly, his chest pressed against hers, and the surprise of his fingers between them, teasing her clitoris, sent her over the edge. 

"I'm coming!" she warned, and was rewarded with a grunted, "Me too," as his hips pounded, feverishly. 

They began a loud chorus of male and female howls, until the crisis passed and they lay clutched, hugging and kissing in grateful consummation.

Bill Holder, the miraculous stranger, had somehow found a way into her heart and into her bed. The man of mystery had somehow renewed Faith.



Rebuilding Faith Ch. 07



Faith's eyes popped open when male laughter rumbled up from downstairs and woke her. Searching for Bill, she rolled over and found the bed empty. The blanket and sheet seemed to have fallen off. A chill shivered through her, as she turned on the bedside lamp. 

"Bill," she hissed, thinking maybe he was in the bathroom, and then realized the laughter from sounded like his. 

'Where are the sheets?' she wondered, kneeling on a bare mattress. 'How could they be stripped off without waking me up?'

A man began talking -- low and indistinguishable. He seemed to go on at length about some incoherent topic until she heard her name spoken, "Faith is..." followed by more unintelligible words.

Her heart pounding, she wondered, 'Who could Bill be talking to?' and searched on the floor and under the bed for her flannel nightshirt. Giving up, she tiptoed to the closet for a robe, only to discover it was empty. Not even hangers were on the metal rods. 

Anxious about her nudity, she hurried to the dresser, yanked open the drawers and found them all empty. Panic reached an almost uncontrollable level, when she looked at the half open bedroom door. On the inside knob hung a familiar white negligee, it had been a gift from her husband for their first anniversary. 

"Wear this at your own risk," he'd warned. The filmy lace was practically transparent in normal light, and had always been Lou's favorite come-and-get-me tease. 

A little better than nothing, she cloaked herself in the mid-thigh gossamer and crept to the top of the stairs to listen, forgetting about the loose board on the landing. All conversation stopped when the squeaky wood tattled under her weight. 

A familiar voice said, "Faith, are you awake?" 

Afraid to be seen and fearful of what she might see, Faith turned to dart into the bedroom and bolt the door, only to find it already locked. Running frantically down the hall, she pushed on all four doors and every one was locked. Confusion and disbelief weakened her legs. Stumbling backward for a supporting wall, Faith bumped a family portrait, sending it crashing on the floor.

"Don't be afraid, Faith. It's just me and Bill down here." After a short silence, he continued, "Don't you want to see me again, after all these years, Sugar?"

Worried about her sanity, she thought, 'How could it be Lou? Lou's dead.' 

"I've come back one more time to see you, Faith," the disembodied voice answered.

Timidly clutching the wispy garment closed, Faith stepped down the stairs just far enough to bend at the waist for a quick peek. Standing next to the couch was her husband, Lou, looking young and strong in a green polo shirt and tan pants.

"See, Sugar," his voice said, "It's me. And Bill's here too."

Bending a little farther, Bill's white socks and navy sweatpants appeared, standing in front of the chair directly across.

Lou turned in Bill's direction, and said, "She's embarrassed. Can you believe it?" Shaking his head, he added, "God I've missed her so much."

Backing away, Faith tried to yell, "I'm not decent," but no noise would come from her mouth. 

"Faith, I know you're wearing my anniversary gift. I put it there on the door. Let me see you in it one more time. Please, Sugar?" Then as an afterthought, he added, "I know you've slept with Bill. I'm cool with that. Hey, I've been gone for over six years. And I know you can't live your life on a memory." There was a brief pause, and then, "Bill and I have been talking about you. And, from what he tells me, you've got him hooked pretty deep, Sugar. He won't admit it, but I know he'll worship you from now on, just like I did."

Heart pounding in her ears, she tentatively moved down the stairs, shyly hugging herself while staring at her bare feet. The silly thought, 'I wish my toenails were polished. Lou loved red toenails,' flashed through her mind. 

"I loved your body any way I could get it, Sugar. You know that," Lou said in answer.

Shocked that even her thoughts were not private, she felt totally exposed and a heat began rising in her face. A furtive glance into the room, as she descended clumsily, revealed Lou's beaming face, a soundless fire, and Bill, standing with his back turned, staring into the dancing flames. 

Compassion for Bill pained her, knowing how awkward he must be feeling. She wanted to apologize for adding more stress to his already confused life. 

Lou followed her thoughts and looked at Holder. "From what I'm hearing, Sugar, I think you've got it bad for him too." Turning back to face her again, he added in a tone of sadness that pulled at her heart, "Bill is here for you... the way I wish I could be."

From the bottom step, Faith rushed into Lou's open arms, and felt his nearly forgotten love close around her. Nestling against his chest, memories flooded her mind. Warm and pleasant shared times. Moments that should have been repeated for a lifetime were gone in one muzzle flash. Tears dripped from her cheeks. 

Lou stroked her hair, and said, "You're so amazing, Sugar. We had some great times, didn't we?"

She nodded into his chest, inhaling deeply, trying to remember what he smelled like but couldn't, which brought more tears.

Lou scooped her up and sat on the couch. 

Faith, unable to relax, continued to hug her chest with eyes shut tight, and pressed a damp cheek into his shirt, legs stretched out across the cushions.

"I'm proud of our kids, Faith. I wish I could tell them. They've turned out to be good people, thanks to you." Then kissing her hair, he said, "And I'm so very proud of you."

Sobs wracked her body, as she wrapped her arms around and squeezed him tight. Gentle hands stroked her hair and he kissed her face until she was drained of emotion. 

"Shhh, everything will be all right," he whispered. "Bill's gonna take good care of you."

Comforting warmth washed over her and she calmed into a serene stillness.

Loudly, Lou asked, "You're gonna take good care of our girl, right Bill?" 

Another flood of tenderness enveloped her as she basked in their combined protection. 

"Bill, stop bein' a statue and sit down here with us," Lou commanded. "Faith move your feet so Bill has room."

Once again, Faith tensed. Keeping her eyes shut tight, she curled her legs and felt the cushions sag under the added weight. 

"Holder, rub her feet. Her body's as tight as an oak knot." 

Warm hands lifted her unresisting ankles and placed them on firm thighs. Knowing fingers worked pleasantly on her soles and she floated with the pleasure.

"Holder." Lou said the name like he was trying it out. "That's a good name, Faith," his fingers lightly massaged her shoulders. "If you married him, you'd be Faith Holder. Now that's a very cool name. It sounds... spiritual."

The comment forced a smile to her lips.

"That's better, Sugar. You're beautiful when you smile. Isn't she, Holder?"

Apparently, Bill's voice was absent as well, and she had to force her eyes open to see his reaction. When their eyes met, the smoldering passion in his gaze was overwhelming. Her heart beat wildly and she pressed her eyes shut against a new rush of affection. 

"You're just as beautiful as the day we met, Faith," said Lou, as she felt his hand slip into the opening of the translucent fabric covering her breasts.

When she turned her body into his chest to prevent embarrassment, he whispered, "Sugar, let me have a peek. It's been too long." And then, "Bill look away. Give us a moment."

Cracking open an eyelid, Faith saw Bill's head turned toward the stairs and she relaxed against the arm of the couch. Lou untied the bows and then parted the fabric to expose her flesh. She shyly closed her eyes tight, once again. 

Loving palms cradled her breasts, while thumbs and index fingers toyed with the nipples, "She's a fantastic lover, isn't she Holder?" Lou asked, in a tone thick with wanting. 

There was no verbal response, but the man under her feet shifted, and she knew Bill was looking at her. Nervously, she waited for a hint of what was next, part of her excited and part of her appalled by this taboo behavior. 

After an interminable wait, Bill's gentle hands began ascending her legs as Lou's hands slipped down her stomach. The soft fabric sheath tickled, as it fell to her sides, opening her body to full view. Faith pressed her face into her husband's side, trying to hide from the thrill she felt from the caress of the two men she loved.

'Love?' she wondered at the thought, 'Do I love Bill?' 

"I think you do, Faith. It may be just the beginning, but it's there. I can tell by how you act around him," Lou said, persuasively. 

"Yeah, she does have nice legs, doesn't she," Lou said, apparently in response to one of Bill's thoughts and then to her, added, "I'm sorry about the scar, Sugar. But someone's gonna burn in hell a long time for that. Believe me."

Bill's hand slid over the scar... at least she thought it was Bill's. She began to lose track of which hands belonged to which man, as the pleasurable sensations grew into an indiscernible bliss. Someone's fingers firmly gripped her ankles and forced her heels flat on the cushions, pushing them toward her bottom. Unresisting, she let her knees bend up and spread open, revealing her sex. Faith pressed her face harder into Lou's shirt, as the increasing contradiction of shame and desire heated her body.

"There's my pleasant valley sunshine," Lou quipped.

Faith grinned at the remembered allusion to her moist, pink nether lips. A shudder was triggered as someone's fingers began exploring between her open legs. Progressively, charming touches were everywhere and she lost all reticence, but still kept her face buried with eyes closed. Manly fingers toyed and pleasured her in ways both familiar and imaginatively new.

"Faith?" she heard Bill say, in the distance. Then loud and urgent, "Faith... FAITH!"

Bolting upright, in the black coolness of the bedroom, she felt Bill tossing under the covers beside her, his foot kicking her. 

Cradling her hot face, she discovered, 'It was all a dream,' and rocked back and forth while her confusion and frustration diminished. 

Bill's nocturnal anxiety became increasingly physical, struggling harder against some nightmarish vision.

Wanting to soothe him and sate her own need for loving contact, Faith lay down and rubbed his back, whispering close to his ear, "I'm here, Sweetie."

With surprising swiftness, he turned and wrapped her in his arms, quieting down while pressing against her, seeming to want her as close as she wanted him. 

The heat of dreamed passion still burning through her, Faith played with his hair, rubbed his back and pressed her pelvis to him, needing completion. Deciding the dream was a fundamental clue, and that she really did feel a growing love for this near stranger, Faith found his mouth and pressed hers to it passionately, dropping a hand to squeeze his bottom.

Bill's lips came alive when he woke to this tempting reality. His response increased with his alertness. 

The dream may only have been an emotional transference from the past to the future, but Faith decided to test what her heart implied by using her body. Relaxing her muscles, she fell back onto the bed. 

Without coaxing, Bill rolled on top. The power of attraction seemed to propel him, and she wondered what he had seen in his dream. 

He toyed with her body, until, driven by carnal desire, she returned the pleasure. 

Animalistic want and groping hands guided and prodded to a quick and needful insertion. The joining of their flesh became a mutual act of aggressive lust that ended with screams of satisfaction. 

Afterwards, crying into Bill's shoulder, she heard him whisper, "Faith, I love you." 



Rebuilding Faith Ch. 08



The rising sun through the yellowed window shade cast a golden light over the bedroom. Bill sat quietly in the rocking chair, engrossed in the vision of peacefully sleeping Faith. She lay on her stomach with her face turned away, and arms hugging the pillow. The scene reminded him of a romantic antique postcard. Her tousled hair and naked shoulders invited loving hands and tender kisses. Resisting the temptation, he let her sleep undisturbed, remembering her exhaustion after the burst of emotion in the frenzied dark of the night before. 

Bill thought, 'I shouldn't have said, I love you. It was too soon.' But the confession had slipped out and felt so right. He couldn't remember the last time he'd said those words to a woman or even thought about it. 

Bill's eyes lost focus as he replayed the events in his mind, trying to determine if Faith was happy or sad after he'd declared his love. 

'She woke me up.' 

He remembered how the passion of her body had replaced the terrifying fire dream with a burning need of its own. Overwhelmed and consumed by the thrill of this amazing woman, he felt the need for a declaration of devotion, and said, 'I love you'. 

Then her tears flowed -- sobbing, shuddering tears -- leaving him worried about the cause behind them. They'd clung to each other and fell asleep. 

'Maybe my dream is a warning. It's telling me this fiery obsession is going to hurt Faith.' The idea knotted his stomach. 'I have to put some space between us and sort it out.' 

"What'cha thinkin', Sweetie?" asked her dreamy voice from the bed.

The sleepy eyed woman, smiling up from the pillow, revived the warmth he felt. "I'm thinking about how much I care about you," he answered honestly, moving to sit on the bed and lean across her body to look down into her eyes.

Clutching the sheet across her mouth like a surgical mask, Faith warned, "Morning breath. Stay back." 

Bending down, he kissed her cotton mouth, and said, "You can't scare me away that easily," while one hand affectionately squeezed her cottony arm.

No audible answer, just smiling, crossed eyes. 

Laughing and drawing on inner strength, Bill pulled away from the craving to touch her, and said, "Faith, I'm going downstairs to make breakfast. What do you want?" 

A surprised but happy look passed over the exposed half of her face. Sitting up and hugging her knees, the covers crumpled to her waist, giving him an intimate glimpse. 

"Really?" she asked, resting her head on twin knee peaks. "Can you make pancakes? My jam is delicious on pancakes."

"I'll need your help finding the ingredients." 

Throwing off the covers, Faith stretched her naked body shamelessly on the mattress, while groaning with the ritual's pleasure. She rolled off the bed and wandered toward the bathroom, saying, "Okay, Holder. I'll mix the batter but you cook and do the dishes. Deal?"

Taking a mental timeout to watch the skin parade, Bill was silent until Faith turned to eye him. "Oh! Okay, it's a deal," he said, winking, then turned and left the room. 

Instead of heading downstairs, Bill went down the hall to pack his clothes, deciding the best thing for both of them would be for him to move back into the guest cottage. "After all, if this is going to be a long-term relationship, we need to keep some appearance of respectability," he muttered aloud, trying to convince himself. 

Faith was busily stirring ingredients, when he finally lugged his bags into the kitchen and piled them by the backdoor. Hershey barked to come in and Bill opened the door. When he noticed the clinking of the spoon against the bowl had stopped, he glanced up to see Faith's shocked visage staring at the bags. 

"What's going on, Bill?"

The distress in her voice was a balm to his anxiety about her feelings towards him. 

"Well, Faith," he began slowly, making sure the words were right, "I've decided to move back into the guest cottage. I think the best thing to do would be to put some distance between us, so that I can get a grip on my emotions." In contradiction to his words, Bill walked over and put his arms around her, before he went on, "I'm planning to stay for a while, and I really think that we need to slow down and sort this out rationally," while thinking, 'Just standing near you drives me crazy.' 

Lifting her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze, he said, "I'm in love with you. And I have to behave myself, for your sake." Releasing her, Bill began stirring the pancake batter, saying, "Sooner or later, I'll meet your family and, frankly, I don't want them to know I moved in with you the first day we met. They wouldn't think very well of me."

Circling around behind, Faith wrapped him in her arms and pressed her cheek against his back. "Okay, Mr. Holder-then-leave-her. If you need to act like a choirboy, I won't stop you." Letting him go, she pulled on his sleeve and Bill turned. "I'm falling in love with you too, in case you're interested."

Moving away, she casually began setting the table. 

Bill's heart pounded and hands trembled, as he poured batter onto the griddle. He stole glimpses of her grinning face. Already he regretted the decision, but he hoped the dreams would at least stop.

"Were you a lost missionary baby, raised by wolves, Holder?" she asked. "Because you seem to waffle between being a saint and a predator." Her steps came up behind him, and her hand squeezed his butt. "And I find that combination very arousing." 

"You don't know how close you are to the truth. But I've never been interested in what God expected from me, until recently."

Faith sat down at the table, and said, "Well, when you want to tell me, I'd love to hear about it."

The first batch of pancakes was done. Using them to change the subject, Bill carried over the plate and set them in front of her. 

"You're an artist!" Faith gushed, staring down at the golden circles shaped into a teddy bear. 

"My Grandma used to make them into shapes for me. I'm just carrying on the tradition," he said, pouring the next sizzling batch of shapely circles. "Go ahead and eat them while they're hot." 

When the second batch was done, he sat down and let her inspect his originality, before spreading jam over the obviously bare breast shape. Smaller areola and nipple cakes were strategically positioned atop. 

Giggling, Faith said, "See, this is just what I mean. You innocently set me up with a cute little teddy bear and now your wolfing down boobs right in front of me. I don't think this is what Grandma had in mind, Holder."

"Mmm," he moaned, relishing the first bite. "Scrumptious, but not as delicious as yours."

Faith flashed a devilish grin, before leaving the table to pour her own batter shape. He waited patiently, until she sat down with an erect penile pancake and began spreading red jam along its length.

"Hm, kinda looks like someone was menstruating during sex."

"Nah," Faith replied, "I was a virgin. I've never had a pancock before," and promptly cut off the berry-covered glans and popped it into her mouth. "Mm, mm, good. But not as sweet as yours," she said, making his heart skip a beat.

Laughing and teasing throughout breakfast, they cleaned up the dishes together. The playfulness continued to boil his thoughts into sexual steam. Standing together at the counter, Bill felt a bond with her like he'd never experienced with anyone before. 'If kindred spirits ever existed, we are living proof,' he thought. 

"C'mon, let's take my stuff to the cabin, and then I can get started cutting up the tree while you drive to town and report the phone problem," Bill proposed, wanting to do something ordinary and physical.

Faith leaned over the sink to read the thermometer, outside on the window frame. "It's already 56 degrees. We won't need heavy coats at least."

The heat of the sun on their faces, as they carried Bill's belongings to the cabin promised a warm spring day. The snow had completely melted once again, except for a small mound where Frosty had stood, and as they passed by, neither made mention of his rapid disappearance. 

Climbing the porch stairs, Faith put down the carryon bag, unlocked the front door and handed Bill the key, "Here ya go, Holder. Home sweet home," and smiled with an expression that said, 'I bet you won't stay away long.'

"This is really for the best," he said, unconvincingly.

Faith shrugged and answered, "If you say so." Sighing heavily, she sat on the porch rail and added, "I'll wait here. I don't want to go inside with you. You might get the wrong idea."

Grinning, Bill moved to her, bent and captured her unresisting lips, plying them apart with his tongue. They lingered, connected by a suction of mutual enjoyment, until he pulled away to carry his bags inside, hearing a groan of left behind disappointment. 

'My God, she turns me on.'

Throwing his bags down onto the bed, Bill looked in the dresser mirror. Yes, the reflection still appeared to be him, but with more twinkle in the eye and laughter around the mouth than yesterday. Stepping back to the bed, he picked out some older clothes to work in, put them on, and then headed for the door. He spotted Faith still sitting on the railing, turned away with an upturned face catching the sun. Her legs swung back and forth between the balusters. Hershey lay on the grass beneath her feet. 

He could hear Faith humming, and thought to himself, 'I'll remember this moment forever.'

"Are you ready to get to work?" he asked, stepping out to disturb her reverie. 

"Yup. I'll show you where the tool shed is." Faith hopped down and, taking his arm, led him along. 

"My father's workshop is... well... sort of a shrine to me," she said, giving him a serious look. "I think you'll find everything you need -- and then some. When my parents retired from teaching, they remodeled the old barn into a bunkhouse for local youth groups to meet in -- Boy Scouts and such. It was a beautiful old post and beam structure, and a terrible loss when it burned, irreplaceable. Dad was a meticulous craftsman and did most of the work himself. He spent hours in his shop tinkering -- much to my mother's aggravation." Faith smiled with the remembering. "When I was a kid, I'd just sit and watch. He didn't mind if I asked questions or wanted to help, but mostly I just wanted to watch him work."

They approached a large shed between the charred ruins of the old bunkhouse and the unfinished new one. The door appeared handmade from solid oak planks, stained dark and rich. The top of the door was rounded, like an old English cottage. One porthole window graced the center. 

Faith was quiet as they drew near, and he felt a sense of reverence. The serious look on her face probably masked the emotional upheaval she felt bringing him there. Underneath the window, a carved symbol caught his eye. It looked like the letter "P", but stylized with swirls and vines wrapped around it. 

"What does that figure on the door mean?"

"Oh, that's an old German rune. It's actually a spell, believed to prevent any evil from crossing the threshold."

"Uh-oh. I'd better stay outside."

She smiled, and said, "Just kidding. It's the letter "P". My maiden name was Pfiefer."

"Are you sure it's safe?" Bill stopped short when she opened the door and disappeared inside.

A hand reached out and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him in. "C'mon, don't be such a scaredy-cat. Besides, you're one of the good guys."

As soon as he was inside, Bill grabbed his chest, "I can't breath. The pain... the pain," and fell to his knees.

Faith rushed to kneel in front and held him up. "I have the antidote," she said, and pressed her lips to his, in a reviving kiss. 

His strength renewed, Bill ran his hands up her back to cradle her head while the cure was administered long after the pain was forgotten. 

When his knees began to hurt on the concrete floor, he helped Faith up, and said, "Ahhh, I feel much better. You must be a princess."

"It's a secret, so don't tell anyone. I just couldn't let you die. You're too much fun." She patted his butt. 

"Wow!" Bill looked around, impressed. 

Slowly spinning on his heels to take in the surroundings, tools of all description were neatly arranged on pegboards and on shelves, according to size and purpose. There were sections for plumbing, carpentry, automotive, and other miscellaneous endeavors, all neatly labeled. The room was immaculate and smelled wonderfully of old wood and varnish. 

Various unfinished projects hung from ceiling hooks -- a bicycle without a wheel, an old spoke desk chair minus a leg. On a bulletin board over the bench there were old newspaper clippings and family pictures tacked in rows. There was one of an attractive dark-haired woman with a young girl that must have been Faith and her mother. Another was obviously Faith and Lou, each holding a twin. A sentimental twinge passed through Bill, and he suddenly felt out of place, like an intruder reading a diary. 

"I think I would have liked your father," he said, looking for her. 

Standing next to a coat rack, Faith lifted the edge of a denim work apron to her nose. "I can still smell him --English Leather. I used to give it to him for his birthday every year." When their eyes met, hers glistened a little more than before. 

Leaving the past behind, she marched over to the lumberjack section, "Here's a couple of chainsaws, an axe, a hatchet and some assorted limb saws. Take your pick. I think everything works."

The saws looked to be in superb condition, although they were manufactured before safety features, like tip guards and chain brakes, were required. 

Pulling the McCullough 24 inch from the shelf, he said, "This will do for a start." Pointing, he added, "Grab that pry bar from the corner and those safety glasses. Now all we need is gas and oil." 

"Butch was using one of the saws. I think there's gas and oil left over, in the garage."

Silently, they walked back to the house and loaded the tools into the pickup. They found plenty of chain oil but the gas can was nearly empty.

"Let's go to town and report the downed wires and then we can come back and work on the tree, while we wait for the repair crew," Bill suggested.

"Okay, Paul Bunyan, let's go." She tossed him the keys, saying, "You drive."

Climbing in, he asked, "Well, if I'm Paul Bunyan then you must be Babe?"

She gave him a stern look, and said, "You can call me Babe, but if you call me a blue ox, that limb in your pants won't be getting pruned by me any time soon, if you get my drift."

He laughed and left it alone.

Cruising down Woodhaven's Main Street, Faith pointed, saying, "Drop me off over there, in front of the town hall. I can call the telephone company from inside, and I need to talk to Bob."

Wondering who Bob was, but not wanting to pry, Bill dropped Faith off, drove to the gas station, filled up the can with the required gas and oil mix, then waited across the street for her to come out. When Butch stepped outside and leaned against the wall to occasionally glance in his direction, Bill began to worry about Faith's safety. A few minutes later, visibly upset, she marched through the front door, past Butch, and straight to the truck. The grin on Butch's face as he eyed Faith from behind was something Bill wanted to erase with his fist. 

'Maybe some other time,' he thought, as Faith climbed in and slammed the door.

"Is everything all right, Babe? You look a little blue."

She gave him a double take, and then smirked, unable to stay angry. "Yeah, Paul, everything's fine. Its just lately, people I know seem to be disappointing me when I least expect it." 

Reaching out and stroking his arm, she added, "Present company excluded, of course." Then after a brief pause, "Let's go cut us some firewood." Sliding over and resting her chin on his shoulder, she whispered persuasively, "Do you think you could give Babe here some of your wood later? It'd sure make me feel better."

Shifting into drive and laughing, he answered, "Maybe, Baby."

They waved to a scowling Butch as they drove by.



Rebuilding Faith Ch. 09



"We need gloves," declared Bill, turning into the village hardware store parking lot. "I want your hands with all their fingers in working order."

Faith laughed and jabbed his arm. "You're so fussy, Holder." Feeling the same way about his. Aloud, she said, "I think you just want to look at all the tools. This is like a toy store to you, isn't it?"

"A little. I'd rather play with you, but my body can only take so much. I have to do something while I recuperate."

As they entered Sawyer's Hardware, Faith felt surprisingly nervous. Mr. Sawyer had been her father's best friend and, at 75 years old, he still ran the cash register, Monday through Friday.

"Well hello, Faith." Mr. Sawyer's splotchy face lit up with a large Polident smile. "So nice to see you," he said, coming around the counter to embrace her.

"Hi, Mr. Sawyer." Faith hugged him gently, "How are you and Mrs. Sawyer doing?"

"Oh, we're as ornery as ever." 

They spent a few moments catching up on family news, Faith ever mindful of Bill standing patiently behind her.

Mr. Sawyer looked over the top of his spectacles, and asked, "Now who's this young fella ya brought with you?" extending his hand in greeting.

Bill shook hands. "Hi Mr. Sawyer. I'm Bill... Bill Holder, a friend from Rochester. Faith needed some help, so I'm here to lend a hand for a while."

"Aren't you the guy everyone was whispering about in church on Sunday?" He asked, leaning closer to focus. "Pastor Tom should thank you. That's the first sermon in months everyone was awake enough to hear." Laughing, he stepped back and folded his arms.

"Yup, that was me alright," confirmed Bill. "So much for blending in."

"Well, in a small town like Woodhaven, even a stray dog is news," said Mr. Sawyer in a warning tone, and then changed the subject. "So, what do you need today, Faith?"

"We're cutting up a tree, knocked down by the snow. And Bill thought we should buy some work gloves."

"Smart thinking." 

Another customer entered and Mr. Sawyer moved away to greet him, while pointing, "Down aisle three, you'll find some good leather Wells Lamonts."

As they strolled down the cavernous aisle, Faith turned to witness a grim expression distorting Bill's face. Guessing his thoughts, she said, "So, if you're the stray dog in town, I must be the bitch in heat." 

She stopped suddenly, and caused a collision with the tailgater. Turning and wrapping her arms around his waist, she said, "Don't worry, Holder, he's an old friend of the family and just concerned people will gossip about me. I'm used to it." After a quick hug, she released him and continued walking to the glove display.

"Well, I'm not." Picking up a pair of coarse leather gloves, Bill jammed his hand in and flexed his fingers.

His annoyance tickled her. The pleasure of being part of a couple again, even an illicit one, was exciting, and she liked that other people might see them together. "They're all jealous, Holder. When they see me with a tall, dark, and handsome stranger, they all want to be me." Finding a smaller pair of the same style glove, she slipped in her hand and smacked Bill a leathery high-five.

His fingers slipped between hers and he gripped them tight, while wrapping his free arm around her back. Bill pulled her close, saying, "Then let's give them something to talk about," and risked kissing her, right there, amongst the safety equipment. 

Initially grinning against his lips, she soon understood his seriousness and returned the buss with a zealous intensity -- pressing closer, urgent and needful. 

The rattle of someone pulling out a length of chain at the other end of the aisle broke their concentration and they resumed normal relations. 

"Well now... these should work fine," said Bill, holding up his gloved hand, while it's mate dangled on the connecting plastic tether. "The grip seemed very secure. Thanks for testing it with me, Faith." 

"My pleasure," she answered, hot and bothered.

Hand in hand, Bill led Faith to the register and paid. 

As they left, Mr. Sawyer cautioned, "You two be careful now. I don't want to hear about anyone getting hurt." 

Faith wondered if there was a double meaning in the comment. 

Bill answered, "We'll be careful, Sir. I won't let anything happen to Faith."

The promise sent an unexpected tingle through her scalp and ears, continuing down her spine, until she shivered. Placing her arm around his waist, he reciprocated by resting his around her shoulders. They smiled at one another, pulling close, walking together like they were practicing for a three-legged race. Sliding in from the driver's side, Faith sat next to Bill, gladly flaunting her affection for all who'd bear witness. The truck was warm. They drove home with the windows down, letting the fresh spring air wash over them. Bill laid his arm along the seatback, driving casually. 

Resting her hand on his thigh, Faith nestled against his shoulder, as her mind wandered back to her earlier visit with Bob Engles. She had planned on telling Bob the land wasn't really for sale, to ease his mind. But when she stood outside the Town Supervisor's office, about to knock, she heard him say, "That bitch cannot sell the land to anyone but me. If I don't own it soon, I'm screwed."

"What can you do about it?" asked a voice she recognized as Butch.

"I'm gonna need your help."

The phone rang and Bob answered it. He must have dismissed Butch, because she heard him get up and shuffle towards the door. Hurriedly, Faith moved away and acted like she'd just arrived as he exited the office. 

"Hiya, Faith," Butch said, louder than necessary. "Do you want me to come back yet?"

After overhearing their conversation, she'd changed her mind about telling the truth. "I'm selling the place, Butch. You'll have to talk to the new owner."

"Oh yeah? Damn, that's too bad. I'd really enjoy working for you again. The job was just getting interesting."

Her face burned with anger. Faith resisted slapping him; instead she acted meek and looked away. "Talk to Bill Holder. Maybe he can use a hand."

Butch made a point of brushing against her when he walked by, and for the first time she was afraid. Not only afraid of him, but also of an expanding plot involving people she used to trust. 

Faith jumped when gentle fingers caressed her cheek, and Bill said, "Hey Babe, you're turning blue again."

Watching his concerned eyes flash to the road and back, she decided, 'Bill should know what happened. Love shares all things, not just the good things.' 

Taking hold of his hand and lightly kissing the palm, Faith answered, "I know who's been working to get me out of town." After a momentary pause, she continued, "It's Bob Engles. He called yesterday and was angry because he heard I was selling the land to someone else. I went to his office today, to talk about it, and I overheard him telling Butch that if he didn't get my land soon he was screwed." 

Faith Released Bill's hand and he began stroking her hair. 

"When I talked to Bob, he had no idea that I heard what he'd said to Butch, and acted friendly and apologetic for the way he spoke to me on the phone. I don't know what I should do now."

Bill hugged her shoulders. "We don't do anything. I'd say it's up to him. Hopefully he's all talk. If his time is running out, the crisis may pass and take care of itself."

"Why do you think he wants my land?"

"Engles? He's the guy who owns the land adjacent to yours, right?"

"Yes."

"He's probably made a deal with some developer that's dependant on a certain number of acres and he needs to own your plot to reach the requirement. There must be a deadline. And if he doesn't meet it, the proposal goes to someone else. Usually these land developers have time constraints based on available financing. And from the way Bob's acting, I'd say he's in debt up to his eyeballs." 

Snuggling against his side, Faith curled her legs up onto the seat and closed her eyes, praying the crisis would pass very soon.

The remainder of the trip was silent, until they arrived home and busied themselves with logging preparations. When Bill started the chainsaw, Faith was reminded how much they frightened her. Just one mistake could cost a limb or a life. 

When she loaded a first aid kit into the truck, Bill smiled. "Hope for the best and prepare for the worst?"

"You got it, Sweetie," she answered, patting his butt on her way to fetch the wheelbarrow.

After lunch, they headed off to work. Hershey sat in the cab with them, her head sticking out the passenger window, eyes squinting, ears flapping and nose snuffling. 

The plan was simple -- Bill would cut and Faith would load the firewood onto the truck and help with the pry bar when necessary. The sky was cloudless and, as the sun passed its zenith, the direct rays were hot. Parking the truck as close as possible to the downed wires, they piled tools into the wheelbarrow and rolled down to the jobsite, enjoying the day and each other's company. Hershey romped around them, sniffing and searching for who knows what. After a preliminary inspection, the McCullough was fired up and hard labor began. 

First, Bill cut down the remainder of the tree trunk. Next, the branches were pruned off and Faith piled the dead brush for kindling, hopefully to be used for a bonfire during camp-time this summer. 

While she waited for more cuttings, Faith had the chance to watch Bill work. He'd stripped to a tee shirt and his sweat glistened on his arms and face. The damp fabric accentuated his physique, as the exertion made it cling. At first, she felt admiration watching him, similar to how she had felt as a little girl watching her father in the workshop. But soon there were singularly adult thoughts, as she remembered how gentle those powerful muscles could be while loving her. 

'The grace of the human body is amazing to witness in all its variations,' she concluded. 

Biceps and triceps bulged in the effort of controlling the spinning chain, as it ripped through the dense maple. The new gloves looked ruggedly masculine, knotted into fists around the red handles. Wood chips spit off and stuck to his arms and legs. The concentration made his facial muscles clench, defining his jaw and cheeks. 

She thought, 'I should get my camera and save some of this for posterity.' 

The noise was deafening and when he stopped to adjust his stance her ears were ringing. 

"Faith, bring the bar over and wedge it under this log. The saw's getting pinched." 

Jamming it under, near the partial cut, she used another log as a fulcrum and pushed down on the bar with all her weight. "How's that, Paul?"

"Great, thanks Babe," he said, his eyes smiling at her through fogged safety glasses, before revving the chainsaw again.

When her leverage was no longer needed, Faith loaded the wheelbarrow with all the logs she could manage and rolled them to the pickup truck. After her fourth trip, Faith was hot and breathing heavily, wishing she'd worn a lighter top. Today, style wasn't the priority, comfort was. So she rolled up the sleeves, unbuttoned the flannel shirt and tied it around her midriff. 

"Ah, that's better," she said, feeling the cool breeze against her damp skin, as she went to retrieve another load.

***

Pausing to decide where his next cut should be, Bill glanced at Faith, returning from the truck. Obviously feeling too warm, she'd adjusted her shirt for maximum airflow, while inadvertently creating maximum sex appeal as well. He blatantly feasted on the sight of her bare stomach, arms and hint of cleavage, all shiny with perspiration. Her forearms flexed with linear muscularity, while trying to maintain lift, balance and forward momentum on the wheelbarrow. Some of her hair had come loose and curled down over her eyes, creating a bedraggled sensuality. 

Faith caught his grin, and said, "What?" when she stopped to brush away the hair.

"You're a safety hazard, Babe, parading around all hot and sexy like that." He picked up his sweatshirt and wiped some perspiration from her face. "I may have to report you to OSHA."

"Sexy?" she gave him the raised eyebrow, 'get real' look. "Oh yeah? Well I think you're harassing me, so we're even." 

"It can't be sexual harassment. You're the boss, so you could just fire my ass."

"I wouldn't fire your ass. I like squeezing it too much," and she did, as proof.

"Now that's harassment," he declared, as his eyes searched the surrounding woods. "It's time for a break. Isn't your stream around here, somewhere?" 

"Yeah. Just beyond those trees," she answered, pointing. 

Bill stepped closer, throwing his sweatshirt down into the barrow behind her.

"What do you think you're doing?" she smirked, eyeing him.

Bending slightly at the knees, he reached behind her, stood and backed away, causing the wheelbarrow in his grip to bump behind her knees, forcing her down into a sitting position.

"Hang on," he yelled, and pushed the wheelbarrow toward the stream while Faith laughed and held on for dear life. 

Every bump and turn made her squeal and her breasts to jiggle, so Bill took a circuitous route for maximum wiggle, finally stopping alongside the streambed, panting happily.

Getting off the makeshift roller coaster a little wobbly, Faith declared, "Like I said before, Holder, you are a fun ride."

Breathily, he said, "Thanks, Babe," then picked up his sweatshirt and headed for the water.

"Stay through the summer and you can give about one hundred kids the same thrill."

"Yeah, but it wouldn't be the same thrill for me."

The flow was clear and cold. Scooping some up, Bill rinsed the woodchips from his arms and then cupped both hands to splash his face and hair, trying to rinse away the exhaust fumes. 

"Ahhh, that feels great." Soaking his sweatshirt in the stream, Bill called, "Babe, come here. I've got something for you."

"Oh, yeah?" she said, her voice full of suspicion. "What might that be, Bunyan?"

Bill wrung the excess water from the soaked garment, saying, "You had your fun. Now I want mine," and approached her.

"Is this going to turn into another event like the mud fight?"

"No, just the opposite. I want to clean you up a little," and so saying, he used a cold sleeve to gently wash her cheek.

"Mmmm, that feels nice," she groaned, with eyes closed.

"Come over here." 

Taking Faith's hand, Bill guided her to a flat rock where they sat in the sun, and he continued to use the cold cloth to lave her hot face. He began with the cheeks, soothingly working to her forehead and down over her closed eyes. Rearranging the shirt to use a fresh spot, Bill stroked the coolness along her nose, over her chin and down her throat to her chest and then swiped the bracing dampness around her neck.

"Ahhh, that's sooo refreshing," Faith cooed, tipping her head back in pleasure.

Unwilling to resist the temptation, Bill bent down and kissed her lips and then her inviting neck, tasting a little of her saltiness. "You're right, that is refreshing," he replied, smiling against her chilled skin. 

Only a small, throaty laugh was Faith's response and he sensed she was hoping for more. Her eyes of love sparkled at him.

Bill made a return trip to the stream and pulled off his shirt, sank it in the icy water and sponged his sweaty torso. Goosebumps dappled his skin. After spreading the tee shirt out on a rock to dry, he recharged the sweatshirt with fresh water and walked back to Faith. 

She waited, smiling and unmoving, leaning back on her hands, eyes wandering over him. 

Back at her side, Bill untied the knotted shirttail and pushed the material from her shoulders. 

With a shake of her arms, the flannel shirt lay abandoned. 

Once again, Bill gently washed her, starting at the shoulders and making languid strokes down each arm. Occasionally Faith would watch him work. Mostly her eyes were closed, and her face dreamy. 

Kneeling behind, Bill said, "Sit up," and then unclasped her bra. Without being asked, Faith raised her arms and he lifted the flimsy garment off. 

Working the washcloth laterally, he made a chilling zigzag down her back. His lips landed on her cool shoulder ridge and, pushing aside the dangling hair, nibbled to the back of her neck. 

"Holder, what are you doing to me? You're cooling me down and heating me up, all at the same time."

"Contrast and contradiction, stimulation of opposite sensations. Isn't it a confusing pleasure?" he asked, tickling behind her ears and then gently squeezing the base of her neck between his thumb and fingers. 

"Ooooo," Faith purred, as she shuddered, and goose bumps appeared on her arms. "You make me tingle."

Returning to the stream, Bill soaked the shirt, and turned to look at Faith. Her head was tipped to one side as she met his gaze. Leaning back on her hands, she smiled invitingly. The slope of her shoulders, her upturned breasts, her twinkling eyes, her joy of life, her everything, held him like earth's gravitational pull holds the moon. Playfully she sat with her legs outstretched, tapping her work boots together like lugged windshield wipers.

He thought. 'I wish I was younger.' 

Faith's eyes focused on his groin. "Looks like ya got some lumber in your pants there, Bunyan." 

Going to her, Bill knelt over her knees and pulled one of his icy hands out from under the wet cloth. He teased one breast and she squirmed beneath his legs.

"Oh, that's cold."

"Feel good?" he asked, as the fondled nipple hardened even more.

"Yes."

Laying the shirt aside, both cold hands were now free to tease both breasts, and Faith's head rolled back, groaning from the sensations. While she was distracted, Bill quickly mopped his chest with the cold shirt. With a rush, he slid forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. 

Faith's hot flesh against his cold chest created an audible intake of air from both, until Bill's mouth covered hers, his hands massaging her back. 

Without warning, the cold cloth was now scrubbing his back, in the reckless motion of unrestrained passion.

Breaking the kiss, he said, "Hey, I want my shirt back. I wasn't finished yet."

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," she pouted, and pulled his head back for a soft, whimpering, 'please-forgive-me' kiss.

Taking over control of his sweatshirt, he instructed, "Now lean back so I can wash the front."

"Yes, Sir!" 

Covering both hands, Bill used the shirt like one big mitten and lovingly enveloped first one breast in a cooling wrap and then the other, making sure they were thoroughly washed and tenderly treated. Next he swabbed down over Faith's stomach to complete the self-appointed task.

"Now for the taste test," he grinned. Leaning down, cradling the soft treats in his palms, Bill licked and sucked the left nipple and then the right. He couldn't see her face, but the pleased sounds and the fingers entwined in his hair made clear the results of his testing procedure. 

"They're ready. I'm sure of it," Bill declared, looking up to meet Faith's hooded eyes.

"Oh yeah, they're ready," Faith said, leaning her forehead against his. "I'm ready all over." 

Standing up, Bill extended his hand. "Great, then let's get back to work."

Ogling the bulge in his pants, Faith said, "Bunyan, you're a hard man," and took his offered hand. Once standing, she rubbed his erection through his jeans and kissed him hard, before bending to collect her discarded clothes. 

Walking away, Faith said, "I'll be back in a few minutes. I want to get a lighter shirt and my camera." 

He watched her backside stroll up a path through the woods. Hershey foraged ahead. Reaching a bend that would put her out of sight, Faith turned to give him a wonderful view of Mother Nature, and commanded, "No chainsaw until I get back," and then disappeared like a wood nymph.



Rebuilding Faith Ch. 10



Once out of Bill's sight, Faith slipped on her flannel shirt and strolled cheerfully down the tree-lined path, swinging her brazier in lazy circles.

'I don't think Bunyan will be sleeping alone in his cabin tonight,' she decided, smiling at the high probability of pleasure.

Sunlight, shining through the bare hardwoods, cast spidery stripes across the trail. The earth smelled alive. Buds had popped open on the undergrowth, drinking in the rays before the treetop canopy blocked them out for the summer. Bending to look closely at the sliver of green peeking out between the brown shrouds, Faith thought how quickly the world changed. Two days ago, she was surrounded by cold and snow, and today was all sunshine and springtime, a pattern that seemed to be reflected in her own life, a change from cold and dark to warm and bright. 

"Holder has made all the difference." 

Was his timely arrival simply coincidence or a miracle? 

"A miracle," she said aloud, with a tone of undeniable conviction. Walking on, she wondered what her kids would think of him and what he would think of them. 

'I hope his daughter likes me.' The thought extended into, 'This must be really serious if I'm worried about relatives.' Faith smiled at the recognition of wanting more, of wanting Bill. 

Getting back on the reality track, her mind downshifted into, 'How will I get the bunkhouse finished?' 

As she began to prioritize practical needs, Faith approached the new bunkhouse from the back. Hershey ran around in front and started barking and snarling, followed by a wounded yelp. 

Running anxiously in the dog's direction, Faith yelled, "Here Hershey, here Hershey... Please don't be skunked."

***

Rolling the wheelbarrow back to the segmented tree, Bill couldn't help but grin, thinking, 'I may be a fun ride, but Faith is the whole amusement park.' 

Expending some of his newfound vigor, Bill tossed the abundance of cut wood into a pile, clearing the work area. As he worked, he tried to come up with some new ideas on how to tease Faith, and how much fun it would be if she tried to one-up him. 

'I may be onto something; we'll have a who's-the-biggest-tease contest. There's no way I can win but, considering the outcome, losing is better.' 

Bill frowned with the realization he'd surrendered to his sexual urges again. 'Damn, I'm a pig. Where is all this going? Focus, Holder, get a grip.'

Looking over what was left of the tree, Bill decided to cut up all of the smaller branches and leave the main trunk for another day. The telephone wires were already free from the debris. He could leave at anytime to pursue other interests. The thought of how sweet his other interest tasted made him shake his head in an effort to erase the memory of Faith's eyes inviting him in, as her legs opened wide. 

With one pull, the chainsaw screamed to life and, concentrating on his mission, the logs fell in nearly equal lengths in rapid succession, until the engine coughed and died from thirst. Carrying the saw back to the truck for refueling, the buzzing in his ears was gradually replaced by a mournful howl. Looking in the direction of the sound, a billowing cloud of smoke rising above the trees made the blood drain from his face. 

"God, no!" 

Heart beating wildly, Bill threw the saw in the truck and scrambled into the cab. Turning on the ignition caused a tired cranking noise. 

"Start, damn it!" The engine sputtered to life and he stomped the gas pedal down, ripping up the sod as he backed onto the road.

Shifting into drive, he accelerated toward the growing plume. The wheels spun and gravel flew. 

"This is my fucking nightmare!" Bill screamed, pounding on the steering wheel.

Flames were already licking out from the new bunkhouse windows when Bill jumped from the truck. 

"Faith! Faith!" 

No answer. 

Attempting to see inside, Bill circled the building. Fire blocked both entrances. A flood of helpless dread overwhelmed him. He knelt down and prayed, "God help me," to regain some rational thought. 

The dog began howling again and Bill jumped at the sound. Racing to the far end of the building, he found Hershey sitting with her head back in a mournful wail. 

"Where is she girl? Where's Faith?" 

She ignored him and continued her cry.

There were no windows on the first floor at this end. If someone were inside, they'd be trapped. Pounding on the structure, Bill screamed, "Faith! Faith! Are you in there!" and pressed his ear to the wall. 

Time to act was burning away quickly and there was nothing left to do but try. 

Racing to the truck, Bill quickly refueled the chainsaw and ran back. Ripping off the vapor barrier to expose the nail heads, he started the saw and began working the tip through the plywood, four feet above the sill. When the wood was cut all the way through, the smoke poured out, drawing the fire to a new source of air. Bill knew he'd just shortened his rescue time, and let the chainsaw chew rapidly down. Just before meeting the floor the saw jammed and stalled. Something wet made him glance at his arm. Blood and clots of flesh were splattered over his forearm and shirt. His stomach retched. Unable to control his horror, He vomited. 

The heat blowing out through the slot in the wall put him in motion once again. Moving over to the next stud space, he cut a hole two feet above the floor and reached in to feel for anything in the way. Nothing there, he opened the hole big enough to crawl into.

"Faith!" he yelled, and reaching to the left, grabbed and pulled on an arm. 

Dragging the body outside into the light, the dead stare from Butch's eyes made his stomach churn again. The deep fracture above his right ear meant Butch never felt the new cut on his leg. 

Letting the lifeless body fall to the ground, Bill crawled inside. The smoke was blinding and the heat tremendous, as he felt around for anyone else. 

"Faith!" He yelled and choked at the same time. 

There was a small groan and a cough to the right and his hand landed on a boot. Swiftly, he knelt and cradled a familiar weight in his arms. Bill turned and stumbled to the dim opening, laid her down, jumped out and then pulled her through. 

"Faith, can you hear me? You're going to be all right." Tears streamed down his face, as he carried her further from the fire and smoke.

Faith's eyelids fluttered and she began to cough violently. Blood was caked on her forehead and her sooty face looked battered. Her hands were tied behind her back and her ankles must have been tied together, but he couldn't see because her pants were down. The flannel shirt hung open, the fabric torn. Faith was completely exposed. 

"What did he do to you?" Laying her in the grass, Bill went to the truck and grabbed wire cutters from the toolbox. 

Faith, began to cough and struggle. 

"It's all right, Faith, you're safe now," he said, rolling her onto her side, and cutting the nylon wire ties that bound her wrists and ankles.

Coughing and groaning, she blindly moved to pull up her pants. 

Trying to help, Bill touched her leg and she struck out wildly. 

"It's okay, Honey. No one's going to hurt you," he said, trying to sound soothing and calm, just the opposite of how he felt.

Faith recognized his voice, and stopped fighting. She let him cover her and croaked one word between coughs, "Hurts." 

Bill's heart ached. "I know, Babe. We're going to get help. Hang on." He fastened two remaining shirt buttons before lifting her into the truck.

Ignoring all laws and limits, Bill sped to town. Faith lay on the seat with eyes closed, and coughed continuously. He remembered seeing the firehouse near the church and concentrated on getting there without crashing, all the while talking a steady stream. 

"You're safe now, Faith. You're going to be all right. We're almost there. Hang on," unsure of how much she heard. 

Holding her body steady with one hand, Bill wheeled into the firehouse parking lot. Even before he hit the emergency call button concerned citizens were already rushing toward them. As the siren wailed, bringing help from distant homes and fields, a new panic grew inside him. 'Who can I trust?' 

"We need an ambulance! There's a fire at Faith Simmons' house!" he yelled, as people closed in.

When Pastor Tom came running from the church, Bill felt some relief. He knew Faith liked him and he had to depend on someone. 

People were yelling questions and Bill tried to answer. The Preacher took control and began barking orders. The crowd answered, "Yes, Sir," and "Okay, Chief." 

Pushing past Bill he began to examine Faith, asking calmly, "Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you understand." Bill saw a slight movement of her fingers. Pastor Tom continued, "I'm going to give you some oxygen. It will help you breath." Turning to Bill he demanded, "Tell me what happened." And seeing the blood smeared on his arm, he asked, "Are you hurt?" 

As Bill gave him the details, someone drove up in the ambulance and an oxygen mask was placed over Faith's nose and mouth. The Preacher froze momentarily when Bill told the part about Butch, but he never looked away from Faith. 

Finally, Bill added, "When I found her she was..." the words stuck in his throat, "She may have been sexually assaulted." 

The Pastor briefly closed his eyes, and seemed to be trying to regain control of his emotions or praying. Looking around, he yelled, "Jack! Come here," and while Jack checked her vital signs, the Pastor left to talk with another firefighter. 

Returning, Pastor Tom moved Faith to a stretcher, saying, "We're taking her to Saint Lucy's Hospital, right now."

"I'm going with you."

"No! You're not," and then with a hint of compassion added, "We'll take good care of her. There's nothing more you can do for her now. You need to stay here and talk to the police. They're on the way."

A fire truck siren smothered any attempt to argue. 

As the ambulance pulled out a State Trooper arrived. Bill stood dazed and swayed with emotion as the fireman, whom Pastor Tom had spoken with earlier, relayed information to the Trooper. When he finished, the volunteer got into his car and sped after his squad.

The Trooper walked briskly over to Bill, and said, "Sir, I'm Officer Baker and I understand you have some information about this fire. May I have your name, please?" 

"Bill Holder."

Pointing at Bill's arm, he asked, "Are you hurt, Mr. Holder?"

"No. It's someone else's," and then, wanting to get things rolling in the right direction, he blurted out, "Someone killed Butch... I don't know his last name. Then they set the fire and left Faith inside to burn."

His explanation sounded surreal. 'This isn't just a nightmare anymore.' The horrible consequences of his failure to protect her weighed heavily on him, along with guilt for not staying by her side. Absently he muttered, "It's all my fault."

"Before you say anything else, Mr. Holder, I need to advise you that you have the right to remain silent, if you give up that right..." 

After the Officer finished, Bill said, "You need to find Bob Engles. I think he's responsible for what happened."

"Are you talking about, Bob Engles, the town supervisor?"

Bill explained everything that'd happened -- from stopping Butch's assault on Sunday to what Faith overheard outside Engles office this morning -- leaving out his own ideas about motive. 'They can figure that out.'

When Officer Baker was done writing down the summary of Bill's statement, he said, "Come with me please, Mr. Holder."

Bill found himself in the back of a police cruiser for the first time in his life. The radio was crackling with coded messages, as they headed back to Talon Mountain.

The new bunkhouse resembled the ash pile of the old one. The only difference, the new one was still smoldering and was cordoned off by yellow crime scene tape. Along with the firemen, there were a number of police, wandering around, searching for clues. 

Officer Baker parked next to another State Trooper. "I'm going to talk to the Investigator in charge. You can get out and walk around, but stay on this side of the tape." 

Baker opened the backdoor. Bill got out and walked along the tape, staring at the rubble in disbelief. A gray tarp covered Butch. The huddled officials listened, as Officer Baker recited from his notes, and then all eyes turned in his direction. 

To ease some of his worry, Bill looked for Hershey. "Here, Hershey! Here, girl!" 

A few seconds later, she came slinking out of the woods and he knelt to comfort the frightened dog. "Good girl. You saved Faith's life, do you know that." Suddenly, he found himself wiping away uncontrollable tears.

A Ford Bronco, with the Town of Woodhaven's official seal emblazoned on the door, arrived. A heavyset man in a blue nylon windbreaker stepped out and headed for the police huddle. A rumbling growl from Hershey supported Bill's suspicion that he might be Engles and he grabbed her collar in time to keep her from attacking. The vicious barking attracted everyone's attention, including the new arrival. The man actually jumped sideways, and banged his leg against a car bumper. The grimace on his face was quickly erased and Bill had the impression the man was doing his best to conceal an injury.

The officials walked over to meet and greet him on the civilian side of the tape. 

Holding tight to her collar, Bill said, "Hershey, no!" and walked in the suspects direction. 

"Keep that dog away from me," warned the late arrival.

Hershey was fighting hard to get free. "She doesn't seem to like you very much. Why is that, Bob?"

The shock of hearing his name from a stranger flashed briefly across Engles face.

"Hi, Bob," said the lead officer, as they approached, "What can we do for you?"

Ignoring Hershey, Bob shook hands and said, "Just stopped by to check on my neighbor. I was home picking up some paperwork and I heard on the scanner that there was a fire up here." Glancing at Bill, he said, "Butch told me he caught one of Faith's guests getting fresh with her on Sunday. When I talked to her this morning she told me the guy was still here and she was afraid of him. I sent Butch to check on her earlier and I never heard back from him. I wanted to see what happened." Looking sweaty, he asked, "Is Faith okay?" 

"Thanks for the information Bob. Officer Baker here will take your statement. This is now a homicide investigation and whatever you can tell us will be appreciated." 

Bob said, "Anything I can do to help." 

When Engles posture relaxed, Bill had the impression he seemed pleased to hear someone's death was involved.

With precise timing, the lead investigator added, "You'll be happy to know that Faith will recover."

Engles' answer sounded shaky, "Well... That's great news!"

Officer Baker pointed to the dark circle on Engles pant leg, and said, "You're bleeding."

Bill couldn't resist asking, "That wouldn't be a dog bite would it?" as he held Hershey back.

Engles edged away, saying, "I need to get back to the office. If I think of anything else I'll give you a call."

Looking at his notes, the Investigator asked, "Is it true that you want Faith's land, Bob?"

The question pushed Bob to the breaking point and he ran several feet before Officer Baker persuaded him to stay. As Baker read him his rights, Engles kept repeating, "I want my lawyer." 

Bill asked permission to go to his cabin and the police said he was free to go. 

Taking Hershey with him, Bill wandered the short distance, feeling numb and empty. Mechanically, he undressed and showered, vacantly watching the day's grim evidence flow down the drain. When he was dressed and about to go out, someone knocked on the door. 

Outside stood Officer Baker. "Mr. Holder, the doctor's at Saint Lucy's would like to see you. Ms. Simmons is awake and very agitated. They've had to sedate her. She keeps asking for you."



Rebuilding Faith Ch. 11



Afraid to touch her, Bill slumped in the chair beside Faith's bed for nearly an hour. She looked fragile -- face swollen, wearing an oxygen mask, and lying so still he had to watch closely to see her chest rise and fall. 

Doctor Grady explained that her physical injuries, although initially disfiguring, were actually minor and in a few weeks would fade away. The smoke seemed to have irritated only her upper respiratory system. The arterial blood gas analysis was negative. A chest x-ray was scheduled for tomorrow as a precaution. If nothing changed dramatically, Faith would remain on oxygen and intravenous fluids for another day and be discharged the following morning. 

"My main concern is emotional trauma," Doctor Grady had said. "Mr. Holder, even though you're not part of her immediate family, I'm telling you this because Faith needs someone she trusts to stay close for a few days. She has fixated on you as her guardian and refuses to let us contact her children because she doesn't want to disrupt their lives." Looking stern, he'd asked, "Pastor Richards told me that Faith met you only a few days ago. Is that correct?"

"Yes, that's right, Doctor." Then in self-defense, Bill added, "But I'm here to stay for as long as Faith wants me."

Looking skeptical, Dr. Grady went on, "Whatever you decide later she'll have to deal with. I'm asking you to stay until she's out of the hospital. Faith is experiencing something called Rape Crisis Syndrome. The primary stage usually lasts through the first 24 hours following the assault. During this phase she's going to need significant emotional support. You should know what to expect. Faith may experience physical reactions such as numbness, shaking, cold sweats, nausea, over-reaction to noises, loss of appetite, sleeplessness, nightmares, unexpected crying jags or the inability to cry at all, confusion about time, memory loss. 

Emotionally she may experience a sense of failure and a loss of control over her life, helplessness, violation, shame or humiliation; alternating sadness and anger; fears of dying, darkness, of being alone or isolated, of the rapist returning, of falling asleep, unusual impatience, inability to handle normal routines, and changes of personality in handling relationships. The emotional reactions are most severe in women who didn't know their attackers, or the reason for the attack. Many survivors who cannot identify the rapist experience an unfocused fear of all unknown persons and noises." Pausing, he asked, "I understand they have someone in custody?"

"Yes."

"Well, that may help lessen her anxiety." Doctor Grady's face softened. "Bill, when Faith wakes up she's going to be very pleased to see you. No one was able to calm her. She only wanted you. I hope, for her sake, you're up to the challenge." 

Pointing the way, Dr. Grady walked him to her room, adding, "Faith claims that she wasn't raped and wouldn't let us do more than examine her wounds. If she changes her mind, a Rape Kit needs to be done within 48 hours of the attack for the evidence to be useful. Regardless, the affects of the violence are the same, even without vaginal penetration. You can expect the same emotional trauma." 

Standing outside her room, Dr. Grady finished with, "They've given her a private room so noise from other patients won't disturb her. All you can do now is be supportive. When she's released from the hospital, Faith should seek counseling. If she's willing, Pastor Richards and his wife have offered to take her into their home so she won't be alone."

Bill held out his hand, "Thank you, Doctor. I'll do my best to help Faith through this."

Shaking hands, Dr. Grady said, "Be patient with her. She has a strong will and, being a trained Social Worker, she might think she can heal herself. Don't let her fool you into believing she's okay." Taking a peek at the chart in his hand, he informed Bill, "The sedative should wear off in about an hour. Keep her calm. I don't want her tranquilized if it can be prevented. The drugs could mask a breathing problem caused by the smoke."

When Bill entered Faith's room a young woman stood and introduced herself as Jessica Richards, the Pastor's wife. Bill's first impression, 'Tom married well.' Her charm matched her beauty. She seemed down to earth and genuinely concerned for Faith. 

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Well, I'm going to be staying here with Faith. If someone would feed Hershey..." Bill explained the dog's eating routine and told her the house was unlocked.

"I'll stop on my way home and pick her up. She can stay with us until Faith is better," accepting the responsibility without question. "The kids will love spoiling her." Patting his shoulder in passing, she left.

Saint Lucy's was an old hospital, the first building over two stories high in Franklinville. The room, though clean, had a 1920's atmosphere and probably the original two-tone paint scheme -- cream and green. The terrazzo floor was cracked and showed a traffic pattern from years of nursing rounds. Old abandoned gaslights were capped on the walls near the ceiling. The room's electrical circuit had been upgraded with brown, surface mounted wire raceways. 

Depressing would characterize the room's ambiance.

Bill rubbed his face, thinking, 'Hospitals are no place to get well.' Waiting quietly, he prayed that his failure to protect Faith hadn't devastated the woman he'd grown to love. 

Picking up the vinyl-padded chair, he moved to the other side of the bed and lowered the railing. Sliding the chair forward, laying his cheek on the thin white blanket, he gazed through swimming eyes at her hand a few inches away. The skin was unscathed and he remembered the new gloves. 'At least they did their job.' Unable to resist touching her, his index finger traced lightly around her hand before covering it with his own. 

Closing his eyes -- weary with regret -- he fell asleep.

A muffled scream and his head bouncing on the mattress jarred Bill awake. Faith bolted upright, panting -- the oxygen mask hanging under her chin. Her round and unblinking eyes -- one, a blood red -- stared unfocused.

"Faith, it's okay, you're safe now. You're in the hospital, remember?" his voice soothing, his heart pounding. 

Hearing him, her head snapped in his direction and her eyes became sane and overflowing. "Bill, you're here," her face calmed and her smoky voice softened. The hand he'd held reached out to caress his cheek. 

Gently lifting the oxygen back into place, he smiled saying, "Of course I'm here, Babe, where else would I be?" softly pushing her back against the pillow.

Unintelligible sounds came from under the mask; he lifted it and asked her to, "Please repeat."

In a hoarse whisper, she said, "I'm not going to be much fun to be around. Babe is going to be black AND blue for a while." 

A sad little grin played on the corners of her split lips and he knew that she was beaten but not broken. There was hope. "You get lots of rest and I'll have fun watching you get better." 

She winced briefly, adjusting her position to lie on her side to face Bill.

Picking up her hand, he kissed the knuckles. 

Her closed eyes crinkled in momentary happiness as he tenderly massaged her fingers, hoping to give her some pleasure despite the pain. 

A nurse entered and in a booming voice, asked, "Did I hear our girl's awake?"

Faith lurched at the noise and then groaned from the pain of the sudden movement. 

Bill's irritated look harpooned the waddling white whale in mid breach. A tad softer, she apologized. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so loud. It's a bad habit left over from being the youngest of six children," like it justified her thoughtlessness. "Let me take your vitals and then I'll leave you two alone." Quickly she completed her appointed rounds and exited stage left. 

Bill walked over and slowly closed the door most of the way -- wanting to slam it. When he sat down, Faith reached out her hand and wiggled her fingers, magically melting his heart. First pressing the palm against his lips, he resumed administering the sweetest, softest, most pleasurable caresses that large callous hands can apply, loving each finger, each bone, each tendon, vein, corpuscle, genome, chromosome, until she pulled it away and pointed. Following her finger, he spied her uncovered right foot with wiggling toes beckoning him. 

Bending over her ear, he whispered, "I love you, Faith," and kissed her smoky hair.

A trailing, "I love you, too," was faintly heard as he slid the chair down to the exposed appendage and continued to be the best reflexologist/lover he could be. 'I'm her army of one.' 

A few minutes' later, slight twitches of her body signaled she slept and dreamt. Hoping to make them pleasant ones, he continued doting on her through his touch. 

Bill never thought too much about women's feet before. Never paid much attention to them. Faith's were nice looking, he supposed. They were only slightly longer than his outstretched hand, dainty in fact. The long toes and trimmed nails were inviting. 'I'm going to play "This Little Piggy" with my lips on these someday,' he decided. 'Maybe she'd like me to put some red nail polish on them.' He smiled -- thinking of the day when he could tease her mercilessly again, wondering if she were ticklish. 

Lifting the cover to peek at her leg, making sure there were no bruises, Bill lightly worked his hands up her shin and calf, continuing to massage her -- hopefully into a peaceful sleep.

A kick to his head woke him this time, as Faith struggled against unseen evil. Moving to her side, he stroked her arm, whispering close to her ear, "You're okay, Babe, I'm here." 

She sucked air and opened her eyes, blinking to focus until they settled on him. Her brow furrowed into a worried pinch. Lifting her O2 mask, she asked, "Where am I?"

This worried him. "You're in the hospital, remember?" 

The confusion seemed to pass from her face, "Oh yeah," she mumbled. "What day is it? What time?"

Glancing at his watch, he was surprised how late it was; "It's 10 pm, Tuesday."

Anxiously, she asked, "Where's Hershey?"

"Jessica Richards took her home and is taking care of her until you're feeling better." 

This seemed to be the end of her questions. Faith gently rubbed her eyes, waking up slowly.

While they slept someone had delivered a food tray. Lifting the molded plastic lid, Bill asked, "Are you hungry?" The cold mashed potatoes, chicken and green beans weren't very appealing, even to him. 

Taking the oxygen mask off, she answered with a hoarse, "No."

"Oh, come on, Babe. There's always room for Jello. Mmmm, green Jello." 

"Then you eat it." Gingerly, she swung her legs over the bedside, and asked, "Where's the bathroom?" 

Offering her his arm, "I'll take you there myself. I may as well join you. You may need my help," and he bounced his eyebrows suggestively. 

There was a weak laugh and then a groan. "Don't do that. It hurts."

Unthinking, Bill said, "Wow, that just gave me a flash back to my first sexual experience," and then realized how insensitive it was. 

Faith only groaned with the pain of attempted laughter, and said, "Stop it, Holder."

Blowing a sigh of relief, Bill kept his mouth shut and helped Faith and her I.V. on wheels into the women's room. After using the men's room next door, he leaned against the hallway wall and waited. 

Becoming worried about how long she was taking, Bill knocked on the bathroom door, cracked it open, and loudly asked, "Is everything all right in there?" and heard faint weeping. Rushing in to see what was wrong, Bill found her crying at the sink. 

Standing behind her, lightly placing his hands on her hips and looking over her shoulder, he asked, "Faith, Sweetheart, what's the matter?"

"I'm hideous," she said, looking up to stare at her reflection.

The swollen face left little room to argue. "Babe, you're going to be fine. Doctor Grady said it looks much worse than it is. In a couple of weeks most of the injuries will be healed. You'll be back to your irresistible self."

Her eyes searching his in the mirror, she asked, "Will I be irresistible to you again?"

Finding an undamaged spot on her neck, he kissed it softly, and said, "No, Faith, not again, still. You are still irresistible to me."

Her eyes brimming, she declared, "You're so full of shit, Holder." Leaning back against him, she added, "But thank you for that anyway," turning, she hugged him tighter than he thought possible, considering her condition, "And thank you for saving my life." Keeping her cheek resting delicately on his chest, she added, "I owe you so much. What can I ever do to repay you?"

"Well you can start by going back to the room and eating green Jello. I hate hospitals, and the sooner you're strong enough to leave the happier I'll be."

In mock resignation, Faith sighed, "Alright, Warden. Take me back." 

And, thinking about the Jello, they walked the green mile silently.

The night passed with more nurses, nightmares and trips to the bathroom. Bill wanted to crawl into bed beside her, but settled for sleeping with his head on the mattress and his hands on her leg. Occasionally, fits of coughing wracked her body, her pain brought tears to two pairs of eyes. When sleep wouldn't come they whispered nose to nose about rebuilding. Faith was determined as ever. A construction insurance bond covered the freshly burned bunkhouse, so money wouldn't be a problem for a change.

Wednesday brought the chance for a refreshing shower, along with more doctors and police investigators. The physicians talked about an early release for Faith while the police talked about life without parole for Engles. 

The investigators thoroughly questioned both Faith and Bill separately about the fire, including all the details leading up to their suspicions concerning Bob Engles and Butch Rutherford. Faith was sullen after the interrogation. 

When Bill asked what happened, she answered, "The police told me not to talk to anyone about the case, especially you, because you're a material witness."

So, Bill focused his attention on Faith's upcoming chest x-ray, suggesting maybe the doctor needed his help with the preliminary examination. "Since I've recently studied the patient's chest thoroughly, I'd be more than happy to lend a hand as a consulting specialist." 

This brought on another bout of painful giggling. Faith lifted her gown and flashed him. 

He smiled, despite the heartache caused by the sight of previously hidden bruises. "Well now, I'm going to need a closer look than that."

"Behave yourself!" she admonished in a stronger voice, as she wagged a threatening finger at him.

"Or what?" 

Gradually, her face clouded with frustration as she struggled to think of a retort and uncharacteristically failed. Unannounced tears began rolling down Faith's swollen cheeks and splashed in her lap, "I don't know," she whimpered in a heartrending loss of self-confidence. 

"Babe... Babe, com'ere." Bill was learning quickly what hurt and what didn't. Sitting on the bed, with his arm around her shoulder, she rested against his chest as his fingers played with her hair. Minutes passed before the tears were exhausted and she laid, curled up, head in his lap dozing, until the orderly came to irradiate her.

Whispering in her ear, Bill said, "Remember, Faith, if they need a consult I'm here."

Getting out of bed, curling her arm around in back, her right hand flashed the international sign of defiance. 

He answered the gesture with, "I'm ready when you are, Babe."

She made her laugh/groan sound. "Don't hold your breath."

While Faith was getting x-rayed, Bill strolled down to the cafeteria for a snack and to phone Rochester, making plans. 

Returning to the room, he found Fire Chief/Pastor Tom and his wife waiting. Jessica was sitting. Tom was standing, hands in pockets.

Tom walked over and extended his hand, saying, "Hi, Bill. How's everything going? How is Faith?"

"She's doing better," and brought them up to speed with her progress.

"We want to thank you, Bill, for all you've done for Faith. She wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for you."

There was that pesky knot in his stomach again, as he thought, 'You're right. Faith wouldn't be here if I'd only been more careful. She'd be well.' 

Aloud, he said, "I only did what anyone else would have done." 

"I don't know what your plans are when she's released, but we told the doctor that Faith could stay with us for a while, if she's afraid to be alone."

Bill thought, 'This is nice of them, letting me off the hook if I want to run.' Aloud, he said, "Whatever Faith decides is fine with me. I'm hoping she'll let me stay in the guest cabin for a while, even if she's not living up there at the house. I want to help take care of the place. This is beautiful country and I can't wait to see it all turn green. Spring must be spectacular."

Smiling and nodding, Tom said, "It's definitely a sight worth seeing. And if you're a fisherman, the trout literally fight over a drifting worm."

"Well, that nails it. I'm not leaving."

Behind him, Bill heard, "Sure, I'm gone for half an hour and you guys have a party in my room," and turned to watch Faith roll in smiling -- a heartwarming vision.

Tom laughed, "No, no party. We're just making plans for fishing." Then with sincerity, added, "Faith, it's great to see you smiling again. You're looking so much better."

"Yeah, well, considering how I looked yesterday, it wouldn't take much to improve." She stood and the orderly helped her into bed. "Thanks, Jim."

"Take care, Faith." 

After Jim left, she said, "I'm so sick of this place."

Tom sat down on the widow sill. "Have the doctors told you when you can go home?" 

"If the x-rays are clear, I can leave tomorrow morning. They'll let me know the results in about an hour." Surprisingly, she didn't look very excited about it. 

"Faith, we'd love to have you stay with us for awhile. You would have a room to yourself, and Hershey seems to love the kids, although she may get fat."

Jessica chimed in, "I've never seen the kids' dishes so clean at the end of a meal. Even the food they hate is gone. For some reason, Hershey likes to sit between Ryan and Katie."

Faith and Bill's eyes met. The memory of their first meal together flashed through his mind and he smiled. The brief smirk before Faith looked down at her hands told him she remembered too. 

Bill said, "That's my fault. I taught Hershey some bad table manners."

"Well, Ryan and Katie have perfected it to an art form. It's like dinner and magic show rolled into one. The food just disappears." There was a short silence, and then Jessica continued, "Faith, I was hoping you would stay with us. We have a women's bible study every Tuesday morning. I'm sure the ladies would enjoy a fresh perspective. And I could use some advice on how to deal with Katie. She's decided the best way to avoid trouble is by lying her way out." 

Faith looked strained by the pressure of making a decision. Everyone remained quiet, as her internal struggle seemed to grow. 

Bill guessed what Faith was thinking. She wasn't ready to go back home. It was too soon. On the other hand, she didn't want to impose on Tom and his family. When Faith began wringing her hands, Bill couldn't stand it any longer and had to give her another option. An option he'd held back until it was obvious she didn't like the available choices. 

"Faith, I'm going to Rochester for a few days. Maybe you'd like to get away from everything and come with me? I need to pick up some things and take care of some business. And I'd love your company."

The relief on her face was like the first breath taken after a deep dive. 

"I'd like that. It would give me a chance to collect my thoughts." Her eyes briefly sparkled at all their faces before returning to stare at her hands. 




Rebuilding Faith Ch. 11



Tom's grim mask of resignation showed his misgivings, Faith wanted to stay with Bill -- regardless of the immoral implications. "Faith, the invitation to stay at our house is always open and we'll take good care of Hershey while you're gone." An air of finality permeated the room, signaling Pastor Tom to pronounce, "Lets all have a word of prayer." Bowing their heads, words of thanks, praise and supplication were sent aloft, before the charitable husband and wife made a gracious exit.

"They're good people," said Bill sitting at Faith's feet, rubbing them through the blanket.

"Yes, they are." Faith's head fell back and she closed her eyes, "too good for me."

"I'm glad I'm not." Bill slipped his hand underneath the blanket to touch her bare sole.

"Yes you are. But I'm just too selfish to give you up." Instead of laughter from her lips, tears dripped from her lids. 

"Then I hope you stay selfish for a very long time, because I don't want to be given up." 

No response.

Bill studied her face. The swelling had diminished, although the bruises were darkening. She looked like a boxer the day after fifteen rounds, and she wasn't the winner. The internal bleeding of her spirit is what concerned him most, how much damage was done could only be guessed from the outside. 

"Would you like me to go home and pack your clothes so we can leave right from the hospital tomorrow?"

"Mm-hmm, I'd like that. I can't go near the place right now."

So a list was prepared, and when Dr. Grady gave his "all systems ready for launch," announcement Bill blasted off, rushing to collect everything like a speed freak on a scavenger hunt, so as not to be gone long. On the return trip, he stopped at Avis and rented a car, leaving the uncomfortable, undependable truck behind. 

Entering her room, Bill found Faith curled up and facing the wall, despondent. She brightened a little at the sight of him. His heavy heart lightened an ounce. There had to be a way to lead her back. The guilt of not protecting her was an ache that wouldn't stop.

"Did you find everything?" 

'No. I didn't find a time machine. I didn't find the recipe book of spiritual healing. I didn't have a vision that suddenly revealed what you need. You're just stuck with me.' Aloud he spoke upbeat, "Yeah, I think so," sliding his fingertips along the blanket covering the curve of her hip.

"I'm making you sad, aren't I? I'm depressing you." She looked away. "You should leave. I don't want to complicate your life anymore. You have enough problems of your own."

"Faith, I only have one problem." Bill's voice cracked with emotion, "How do I fix this awful thing that's happened to you. I don't have the power. I was sent to protect you and I screwed up. Now I'm afraid I've lost you forever. Lost my last chance for happiness and ruined your life." Legs weakening, Bill dropped into the chair and covered his face with his hand, hiding tears. "I'm sorry."

"Shhh, Sweety," Faith's fingers softly raked his hair, "This isn't your fault. You're my hero, my White Knight." After more soothing strokes, she asked, "What do you mean you were sent to protect me? I know the timing of your arrival seems like a miracle, but your being here is just a coincidence, nothing more."

Lifting his head and meeting her brimming eyes, he had to tell her. The desire to stop hiding behind rational explanations was overwhelming. 'If I'm crazy, she should know it.' 

And so, he began, "Faith, I have to tell you about my reoccurring nightmare..." and he told everything without stopping -- how his life seemed without purpose, how he went to the Sistine Chapel wanting life to be over, reached out to touch the hand of God painted on the ceiling, and fell asleep. How in his first dream while in the Chapel, he'd seen fire and heard the word faith yelled over and over, how he couldn't sleep peacefully until he was flying home, how the car unexpectedly stalled on Main Street, how from the first time she introduced herself he knew she was the Faith in the dream. "If I had paid more attention to taking care of you, instead of being selfish and thinking of myself, you wouldn't be... hurt."

Faith's eyes broke contact and wandered around the room. Her hand covered her mouth, appearing to hold in a sob or a scream. Lying back, tears trickled down to the pillow. 

Bill put his head on the mattress, closed his eyes, and waited for judgment. Strangely, there was a peaceful sense of relief after telling the whole truth. He learned that hiding the truth from someone you love could be just as unbearable as hiding a lie. 

Low voices woke Bill. Not wanting to interrupt, he listened. 

Faith was talking to the nurse. "Oh, it feels so good to finally have that out of my arm. I know I'll sleep better tonight."

"You're doing very well, Faith. You seem to have more energy than your friend there."

"My fiancé hasn't been able to sleep very much in that chair. Is there any chance you could get another bed in here? I want him to stay again tonight, but he needs a good night's sleep too."

"I'll call housekeeping and see if we can get one of those recliners from the maternity ward brought up."

"Thank you, Claire, that would be great."

After the nurse left the room. Bill lifted his head and rested it on his hand. "Thanks, Babe. I must be more tired than I thought. I'm sorry for falling asleep like that."

Faith laid a hand over his and remained silent.

"So... I'm your fiancé?"

Entwining her fingers with his, she answered with a question of her own, "Did you think that after God sent you to me, I'd let you go?"



Rebuilding Faith Ch. 12



Anticipation of good things to come energized Bill, as he drove the car from the hospital parking lot to the front door. Faith had finally been released and declared fit to return to normal life. He was eager to coddle and care for her, and to restore the woman that fallen in love with.

Faith looked pitiful, sitting in the wheelchair, resting a hand on her forehead to shield her battered face from a passerby. The voluminous, gray NYU sweatshirt thoroughly hid her femininity. 

He felt a tingle of delight when he pulled up in the Lincoln Town Car and witnessed her surprised expression.

"Thanks a lot, Greg," Faith said, to the orderly pushing the wheelchair. 

"Take care, Ms. Simmons."

Walking toward Bill and the open car door, she asked, "Where'd you get this?"

"I traded your truck for it. I didn't think you'd mind. Obviously it wasn't a fair trade. The dealer still owes me $200 bucks."

"Yeah, right."

"It's a rental. I decided you need the tender loving ride of a Lincoln for a while."

Her eyes glistened at him, as he closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. 

Bill reached into the backseat. "I've brought a few things from home to make you more comfortable," and handed Faith her pillow and the blanket they'd made love on in front of the fire.

Using a sleeve to wipe her eyes, she said, "That's so sweet."

"Wait, there's a little more," reaching back again, he retrieved a grocery bag and, from inside, pulled out a red scrunchy. "Turn your head." When she did, he gathered her hair and bound it into a ponytail. "Now put this on," handing her his Yankees baseball cap.

Faith slid her ponytail through the hole in the back and pulled the cap gently over her forehead.

"How's it feel? Is it bothering your stitches?"

"No, it's loose enough so it doesn't rub."

"Okay, now try these on." Bill removed the last item from the bag -- large, aviator style sunglasses. "Tell me if they're too heavy on your nose."

Hooking them behind her ears, she answered, "No they're fine."

Flashing his biggest smile, he said, "Babe, you look hot."

Faith made the familiar you're-so-full-of-shit face at him.

"No, really. You remind me of Sophia Loren. A young Sophia Loren, trying to hide from the paparazzi -- mysteriously sensual."

Haughtily, she commanded, "Driver, let's go. I have a busy schedule," waving him on with her hand, like an arrogant diva.

Smiling, Bill said, "Yes, Ma'am," and shifted into drive, heading into the unknown, elated by the knowledge Faith still wanted to play.

Covering herself with the blanket, Faith reclined the seat halfway and leaned the pillow against door. "By the way, where are you taking me?"

"I've made reservations for us at the Blue Star Inn -- very quiet and secluded."

"You've been there before, I take it."

Bill thought, 'what she really meant to say was, I'm not the first woman you've taken there, am I.'

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I spent seven months there -- building it." He would just leave out the other women.

"Really? Are you showing off, or just getting a free room?"

"Well... I have to do a little self-promotion to impress a perspective customer. Once you've seen my work, I'm hoping you'll hire me to build your bunkhouse." Trying to make a serious face, he added, "I've never slept with a client before, though. And, no, it's not a free room. The place was sold two years ago. I don't know the new owner." 

Feigning diva arrogance once again, Faith declared, "This sounds like a good idea, Mr. Holder. I want to learn firsthand how much passion you have... for your work. If it's half as good as I've already experienced, your skill will be more than adequate for the job." Faith flipped her ponytail, putting the exclamation mark on the declaration of self-indulgence. 

"Yes, Ma'am!" 

They drove through the countryside, enjoying the peacefulness. Billowy clouds floated miles apart, leaving the sun free to warm the rolling hills and lift the human spirit. Faith drifted in and out of catnaps, interrupted by dark visions. 

Slightly past one o'clock, they entered the small town of Wilkins Glen. 

Spotting a 1950's style chrome diner, Bill pulled into the parking lot. The sleepless nights had taken a toll on his stamina. 

Faith woke up, and asked fuzzily, "Are we there already?"

"Not yet." Turning off the engine, he reached across the wide seat and rubbed her knee. "Even superstars need nourishment. So, c'mon, Sophia, let's go eat with the little people."

Folding her arms across her chest protectively, Faith suggested, "Why don't you get something to go. I'll wait here. I'm not hungry."

"Uh-uh, you need to eat. Come on, it'll be fun. You can be the bitchy celebrity and I'll be the pussy whipped bodyguard."

"Pussy whipped? What's that mean?" 

Unfortunately, the sunglasses worked against him. Bill couldn't tell if she was serious or kidding. "It means I'll do anything to put a little of your honey on my stinger."

"Huh?" 

Giving up, he said, "Never mind. You need to eat, Sophia, and it's my job to take care of you. So get your scrawny ass out of the car."

"Melvin, you're fired."

"Melvin?"

"Hey, if I'm supposed to be Sophia Loren, then you have to be Mel Gibson."

Laughing, Bill got out and opened Faith's door for her, like a good bodyguard should. But she just sat there. 

"It'll be all right, Faith."

"People will stare."

"Let 'em."

"They'll think you did this to me."

Touched by her concern but not giving in to manipulation, Bill crouched down and took her hand, "But WE know I didn't. Please, come in?"

After a few moments and several deep breaths, Faith stepped from the car and clutched his arm. As they walked in the front door, she hid behind him, staying close, looking down and away from the six pairs of eyes that turned to gawk at the strangers.

Instead of moving inconspicuously to one of the booths, Bill strode to the counter with Faith tattooed on his back. "Excuse me, Miss, have you seen a big, hairy guy with a cut on his left cheek, speaking with an accent -- probably riding around in a limo -- asking questions about strangers passing through town?"

The busty redhead, wearing a low cut, tip-promoting blouse, stopped cleaning the counter in mid-wipe, and said, "Huh? Um, no." Then, regaining her wits, added with a sarcastic grin, "At least not today, Hon. Why?"

A gaunt old man, sitting two stools away, snickered.

"Is there a backdoor we can leave through in case he shows up? Ms. Scicolone would appreciate the American hospitality." Bill stepped aside, and before Faith could hide behind him again, the waitress had a good look.

"Aw, you poor dear, don't you worry. If anyone like that comes in here," she bent down and pulled out a Louisville slugger, "he'll get what's comin' to him."

Bill added, "That's very kind of you, but I'd just as soon avoid any altercations. This man has diplomatic immunity and lots of money. It would be best for all involved if we just disappeared quietly."

Rapping the bat on the yellow Formica, Red proclaimed, "Around here we use Teddy's foreign policy, speak softly and swing a big bat. Right guys?"

Faith jumped at the sharp noise. Bill felt her grip tighten. Someone in the back spoke up with a ringing, "Whatever."

"Why don't ya sit over by the kitchen door. You can duck out the back if ya see him comin'."

A soft voice over Bill's shoulder said, "Grazie," making him smile.

Taking their seats and pulling out the menus from behind the tableside jukebox song selector, Bill whispered, "See that wasn't so bad was it? Now the whole diner is on your side."

"Thanks, Melvin." Her menu trembled slightly. She put it back, saying, "I'm not hungry," crossed her arms and began to rock, while staring out the window.

Studying her heightened anxiety, Bill apologized. "I'm sorry, Faith. I shouldn't force you to do things that make you feel uncomfortable. I'm rushing you." 

Faith stopped and held his hand. "I'll get over it."

Swiping his thumb soothingly across her fingers, Bill said, "Faith, promise me you'll go for counseling when we get back. Doctor Grady said it would help you deal with this."

Before Faith had a chance to respond the waitress appeared. "Have you folks made up your minds?"

Attempting a smile, Faith said, "No-thing, grazie."

Bill frowned at her, and said, "I would like the cheeseburger platter and a large Coke. Do you have any green Jell-O?"

Faith stuck out her tongue.

"No, Hon, but we have some homemade lemon meringue pie. I won a blue ribbon at the county fair last summer."

"Mm, you've convinced me. I'd like a piece of that too, please."

Glancing at Faith, Red asked, "Are you sure you don't want anything, Honey?"

"No, grazie. I will... how you say... eat him, share."

Eyeing Bill, Red mumbled, "I wouldn't mind some of that myself."

Faith covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. 

Bill shook his head. 

They sat quietly, holding hands, until the heaping platter arrived. The sight of food apparently triggered Faith's appetite. She began chain-chewing French fries. 

Bill grinned, watching her pick one up, swirl it in the pool of ketchup and then slowly nibble from one end to the other, until it disappeared between her lips. How he wanted to be a French fry at that moment -- "how you say... eat him." 

A wayward dollop of ketchup dripped down her chin. At first, Faith tried to retrieve it with an agile tongue, reaching only half. Slowly and thoroughly, she swiped the remainder with an index finger then sucked it off.

"Sophia, stop it."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be such a pig and use a napkin." 

"No, I meant stop turning me on. The way you eat those things makes me want to be a French fry." Lifting the dripping cheeseburger, he took a bite.

"Oh, really." Picking up a particularly long and fat fry, Faith lazily lathered it with the red lubricant, "You mean this turns you on?" and slid the phallic fry between her puckered lips, letting some of the coating run down her chin, with a growly, "Mmmm." 

Bill stopped chewing and stared. "Yeah, a little."

"Well, Mel, when my lips heal, maybe I'll nibble on you, until you feel hot, greasy and French fried."

Smiling large, Bill countered with, "Sophia, I don't know how to respond to such a blatantly sexual proposition." So instead, Bill tipped the burger sideways and suggestively licked between the golden buns, savoring the warm, juicy patty hidden between. 

For a few precious moments they were back flirting and teasing -- like life was good.

Eventually Faith's smirk lost its sparkle as she fell back into the dark pit of recent memories. She stopped eating.

Bill scolded himself. 'You asshole. Stop talking about sex. You're an idiot for bringing it up.' Anger simmered beneath his the calm surface, and he wished Butch were still alive so he could kill him. Engles still had something coming. Bill continued to eat without taste or enjoyment, only for fuel, finding it difficult keeping the happy face pasted on.

Red returned with the blue ribbon lemon meringue pie, a slice big enough to share. "Here ya go, you two. This is on the house and guaranteed to put a smile on your sour pusses." 

"Grazie," said Faith, smiling feebly. 

"Yes, thank you very much," said Bill, picking up his fork and cutting off the tip of the wedge. 

Reaching across the table, he offered it to Faith, "Open wide, Sophia. Through the lips and over the gums, look out stomach here it comes."

Reluctantly, Faith opened her mouth. Bill held the fork inside until she closed it and then retracted the utensil for a reload. 

"Mmm, that is good!" Faith picked up a fork to fend for herself.

Pleased with her renewed appetite, Bill sampled infrequently, letting Faith take the lion's share.

The meal was over and it was time to hit the road. Leaving a super-sized tip, they headed out the door.

Bill said, "Thanks. Everything was delicious. Fantastic pie!"

Faith said, "Arrivederci."

As they walked side by side, two young men approached from the other direction. Faith moved slightly behind Bill when they glanced at her. 

In passing, one said, "I hope ya got the license number of the truck," and they laughed.

Bill exploded with pent up rage. Grabbing two fistfuls of the punks jacket, he pinned him to the wall, "What the fuck did you say, you rude little piece of shit?" and bounced him against the diner once, glaring at his buddy, daring him to step in.

Faith tugged on Bill's sleeve, pleading, "Let go! It's not his fault. Don't take it out on him!"

"Apologize."

"I'm sorry, Lady," he said, sounding more afraid than sincere.

Yanking him off the wall, Bill launched him on his way, "Learn some respect!"

"Fuck you!"

Faith pulled Bill toward the parking lot. "Calm down, Mel, you're out of control."

He took a deep breath. "You're right, you're right. I overreacted." Putting his arm around her back, they walked. "Wow, I felt like a lethal weapon for a few seconds."

Faith squeezed him sideways, "My hero."

They drove north along the eastern shore of Seneca Lake. The road snaked high along a bluff, treating them to breathtaking vistas of water, land, and sky. Miles of hillside vineyards striped the landscape. Men were working between the rows, preparing for the spring growth, tending the soil, pulling out the dead wood and securing the vines on their supports. 

Making a left turn toward the lake, Bill announced, "Faith, we're here," not sure if her eyes were open or closed behind the sunglasses.

The way she scurried to put her hat back on told him she'd been asleep.

"Bill, you built this? It's beautiful," said Faith, as they approached the Victorian Inn, hidden among towering pines. 

"Well, I had help."

"How many rooms are there?"

"Twenty rooms and two suites," Bill pointed to a gable on the second floor. "We are in the southern suite, where there's lots of sun." The sound of waves, lapping against the shore, always had a calming effect on him and he was optimistic it would have the same effect on Faith.

The parking lot was nearly empty. They parked close, making the walk to the wrap around porch a short one. 

"Bill, this is way too expensive. I can't let you do this. Take me to a Super 8, that's more my speed --"

"Hush, Sophia." Holding her by the elbow, he guided her toward the door. "I know you're not used to places like this but you'll have to adjust. This isn't Monaco, after all. Come down off your pedestal."

Putting an arm around his waist, Faith pulled him against her side and whispered, "Thank you, grazie, grazie," and briefly laid her head on his shoulder before entering.

While Bill checked in, Faith stood in the shadows, lending an air of mystery to the process.

"Let's take the stairs," he said, offering his arm.

The stairs were wide, allowing them to climb abreast. At the top they turned left, walking until they reached the paneled door at the far end marked, Seneca Suite. "This is the bedroom entrance. There's also a downstairs entrance."

"We have two floors?"

"Sophia, stop whining, two floors are plenty," he said, grinning.

"Stop it Bill. I can't believe you're doing this."

He opened the door and stepped aside. "After you."

They entered a small room that was actually a walk-in closet -- clothes hangers on one side and drawers on the other. Bill went to the other end and opened a sliding door to reveal a monstrous canopied bed. 

Brushing by him, Faith entered the bedroom, "Ooh, this is wonderful."

The room was filled with sunlight, streaming through large windows. A round turret in the southwest corner allowed the occupant to stand virtually outside the building for an expansive view of the lake. A few sailboats dotted the sparkling surface, creating a mobile tapestry. French doors opened onto a private deck, for use during warmer weather. 

Faith circled the room, touching the tasseled pink lampshades, sitting in the overstuffed chairs, and finally lying on the bed, smiling. Turning to Bill, she said, "Holder, I want the bunkhouse just like this."

He shrugged, saying, "Okay, Sophia, but you'll have to sell your summer home on the Riviera to pay for it."

Sitting up, Faith removed her sunglasses and hat, and set them on the bedside table. Starting to remove her sneakers, she stopped, and said, "We should get the luggage, before I get too comfortable."

"I'll get them later," said Bill, kneeling at her feet and untying her laces. "Make yourself at home." He pulled off her shoes and lifted her legs onto the bed. Finally, he was able to lie beside her, something he'd waited patiently for. 

Leaning on his elbow, looking down on her swollen face, he felt nervous. "May I kiss you?"

Smiling sweetly up, Faith answered, "Of course, Silly."

Tenderly, Bill kissed her lips, letting her apply the pressure, not wanting to cause any pain. The coarse scabs conflicted with the surrounding softness. Her tongue slipped in to greet its mate. 

They lingered, getting reacquainted like porcupines. 

His lips moved to touch some bruises with kiss-it-and-make-it-feel-better caresses. When his body responded to hers, Bill broke away, and said, "I love you."

Encircling him with her arms, Faith squeezed him, and said, "I love you too," then burst into tears. 

Struggling not to place all his weight on top of her, Bill whispered lovingly, "Let it all out. Let it go, Faith," and rolled onto his back, dragging her onto his chest. 

Her crying became loud, her body vibrated. Faith spoke in short bursts between shuddering sobs. "They weren't there to kill me. But I surprised Butch. I yelled at him. Told him to leave. He was furious about you. Said he was going to take what I owed him. He kept hitting me. I pretended to be unconscious. I was just going to play dead. Then Bob showed up and fought with Butch. He was mad, because Butch was leaving evidence that would lead to them. Bob hit him with a crowbar. He tied me up. I remember Hershey bit him. When I smelled smoke... I knew I was going to die. I must have blacked out. I don't remember much after that. I remember your voice." 

"Faith, I'm so sorry." Bill's eyes overflowed, as his heart filled with fresh self-incrimination. "I should've been there."

They lay holding on, each owning the other, until both drifted into an exhausted sleep.

Bill woke first. The bedside clock read 6:12. Faith lay snug in the crook of his arm with her hand on his chest and her leg over his. Not wanting to disturb her peaceful sleep, he closed his eyes and waited for inspiration, something purposeful, and something extraordinary. He wanted to do more. He wanted her to get well. And like most things profound, the answer seemed so simple in its design yet so hard to believe it would work.

When Faith began to moan and struggle, Bill stroked her cheek, waking her gently. "Ciao, Sophia."

Her disoriented look faded and was replace by a smile. "Hi, Melvin." She rolled off his arm, stiffly. "Ooh, that felt good. I've missed sleeping with you." Faith left the bed and entered the bathroom. "Wow, Holder, a whirlpool tub!" she yelled. "I'm going to soak for hours." The sound of water splashing in the tub meant starting now.

Waiting for an invitation that didn't come, Bill shouted through the door, "Faith, I'm going to bring in our stuff."

"Okay!" 

Bill retrieved the luggage and hurriedly unpacked. Opening the small bag containing Faith's toiletries, he extracted the bottle of red nail polish and went downstairs to wait and make phone calls. The sun rested on the western horizon, before Bill heard the hum of the whirlpool go silent. The bathroom door squeaked open and muffled sounds filtered down the stairwell. 

When Faith called, "Bill, would you come up here, please," her tone did not sound happy. 




Rebuilding Faith Ch. 12



Picking up the bottle of nail polish, Bill apprehensively climbed the stairs. 

The sight of Faith sitting on the bed, clad only in a terrycloth robe, distracted him from his previous concern, and he bluntly said, "Faith, you look delicious."

Her troubled brow relaxed a bit before she held out a particularly sheer piece of fabric for him to see. "Why did you bring this?"

"I don't know? What is it?"

Faith located the shoulders, and held up a white negligee so transparent he could see her looking through from the other side. The front was open and four pairs of white ribbon dangled for fastening and unfastening. The garment's trim was made of a shiny silk or satin, uncomplicated in design, yet very alluring to the eye. 

Guessing Faith was upset because he'd brought something so suggestive, Bill tried to calm her resentment by saying, "That's very pretty, Faith, and I'd love to see you wear it someday, but I didn't bring it on purpose. I was in a hurry and I must've scooped it up with your underwear. I remember the drawer was almost empty, so I grabbed everything." After a short pause, he continued in his most sincere voice, "Babe, it was an accident. I'm not trying to pressure you into anything."

"What's that in your hand?"

Standing on the stairs, Bill leaned over the rail with his hands out in front. The red bottle practically flashed, "Look at me, look at me."

"Nail polish." Then in an effeminate voice, he added, "It just makes me feel so special when I'm wearing it. Can I put some on you?"

Faith smiled a little.

Continuing in his normal tone, he said, "But seriously, I've always wanted to paint as a hobby. And while I was rubbing your feet in the hospital I thought, 'Hey, why not start small by painting Faith's toenails, and work up to painting her in the nude.' I mean, I'd be nude not you. Or I could just paint your toenails while you're nude; whatever gets me out of trouble right now I'll agree to. I'm rambling, so I'll just shut up."

Faith stood and walked to the closet. "Okay, I was just wondering." 

Shaking his head, Bill strolled across the room and flopped into the overstuffed chair to watch the sun disappear. 

A few moments later, Faith sat down in the chair beside him, still wearing the robe. "Beautiful, colors."

The sky faded from light blue, to turquoise, to black. Wispy clouds glowed from orange to pink. The lake became a black hole between the hills. House lights twinkled randomly on the far shore. Their room became dark and shadowy.

Something touched his arm. Bill looked, and found Faith had turned sideways to stretch her foot over. "I'm ready from my paint job." Her face was unreadable in the dim light. 

Bill answered, "Hey, I'm not a machine. Artists can't just paint on demand. First I have to study my subject, get in the mood, and build a creative atmosphere." 

He moved the small table from between the two chairs and pushed his chair arm against hers. Her bare feet now lay in his lap. 

"First I must prepare the canvas," and began sliding his fingers over her toes and in between. A pleasant sigh floated from his subject. Picking up one foot, Bill nibbled from the instep to her toes and kissed each tip, lightly. 

"Be careful, Sweetie, I'm ticklish. I wouldn't want you to lose any teeth."

When her two feet of canvas were ready and with a hardening sense of motivation, Bill turned on the table lamp and began applying the red lacquer. 

"I like this," he confessed, and admired the completed little nail. 

"That makes two of us." Faith wiggled her toes.

"Hold still," he commanded, grabbing her ankle, sliding his hand up her calf to her knee and then back down her shin, beginning to hope for something more energetic than toe touches, but afraid of making her uncomfortable. The best he could do was let her know he was interested. 

Upon finishing her left foot and starting on her right, Bill flopped his head back against the chair and groaned. "I can't go on. I've lost the mood." 

Rolling his head to gaze at the shadowy Faith, he said, "Babe, you're my muse. I need your inspiration or I can't go on."

After a brief time, her hands reached down and sluggishly separated the bottom of her robe up to the waist, revealing the sheer negligee beneath, and the faint outline of her velvet triangle. "Does this inspire you?" 

"Very much," he answered, with a quickening pulse. "In fact, I can feel my creative juices filling me right now."

"Hmm, isn't that funny, because I can feel my juices flowing too. But mine are procreative."

Sitting up, his concentration became sharply focused on completing this project, so that he could start the next. Beautiful images were already revealing themselves to his minds eye.

Between painting nails, and taking inspirational timeouts to view his muse, Bill announced, "Faith, painting with a brush is okay for some artists, but I suddenly feel the need to regress to a more primitive art form, something that brings me closer to my subject," With an intellectually snobbish tone, he added, "So that I may become one with my art." 

Faith grinned. "Sounds intriguing. What did you have in mind, Picasso, something else with food? You certainly have a way with pancake batter. And eating your art would make you both one, at least for a digestive cycle." A brief pause and then quietly, she added, "Tell me what you're thinking, so I can motivate you."

Finally done with the last toe, Bill blew on them to hurry the drying process, while massaging Faiths calves. He sat back to admire his first work, and said, "I don't really care for Picasso. The women in his paintings have one eye off center or one breast out of proportion. I enjoy the realism of the Masters -- Michelangelo, da Vinci..."

"Hefner."

"See! I knew you'd understand. You're a wonderful muse, Babe," he declared, as his hands worked above her knees. No bruises in sight. "So, how should I prepare for my new art form? I call it: Finger Painting on Nudes."

Faith was quiet at first, and then said, "Let me think about it, Sweetie."

Bill turned off the lamp, leaving them in a world of grays and black. The only light filtered in from outside. More dots sparkled from the opposite shore and stars now twinkled in the sky above. Within the stillness of the room, the faint swishing of waves could be heard washing in and out, "hush... hush... hush..."

A few minutes later, an answer came from the chair next door. "I don't think I like the idea of you finger painting on other women." 

Faith took back her red toenails and stood in front of the window. 

Bill watched, as her silhouette untied the robe and let it fall. The feminine form slinked over and leaned down on the arms of his chair. Her lips stopped short of his, to say, "I'm a selfish and jealous muse. Would you promise to paint only me, hmm?" To give him time to think, Faith traced her tongue over his lips, before pressing forward to capture them, her clean scent compounded the pleasant sensation. 

"Faith I will promise anything and do anything to have you with me," Bill vowed, surprised by his intense emotion.

"Such dedication by an artist should always be rewarded by his muse," and so saying, Faith sat lightly in his lap, swung her legs over one arm, nibbled his neck and sent lightening bolts down his spine. 

Silently, Faith laid flat. Her head rested on the arm of the chair. Keeping her eyes closed, she lifted his hand, kissed it and placed it over her heart. "You may study me whenever you're ready, Sweetie." 

Looking down on his vulnerable lover, Bill thought, 'this is the end of the game. She's given in and is depending on me to see this through,' feeling a heightened sense of responsibility and awe in touching her now. This moment was all about recovering what was stolen and fixing what was broken. He was equally frightened and thrilled by her trust. 

Cradling Faith in his lap, the soft and silky fabric slipped along her skin, as he stroked her hip. "Faith, I love you." 

No response, just a noticeable relaxation of her body. The translucent negligee revealed tempting shadows of feminine curves. 

"You are so beautiful," he said, tracing an index finger from her throat, down between her breasts and ending between her closed thighs. 

She smiled and shivered.

Bill shifted the fabric over her, playing with the filtered light on her skin and gliding the fabric delicately over her nipples and bruises.

Her lips parted, releasing a sigh, as goose bumps appeared on her arms.

"Tickle?"

"A little."

Using both hands, Bill untied the four bows, releasing their hold from top to bottom. Slipping one palm across her tummy, he pushed the almost weightless fabric off to the sides. Her skin felt hot, and she squirmed pleasantly in his lap. 

"Faith, you're already a masterpiece," Bill whispered, as his left hand fondled her breasts and his right teased in the tangle of her womanhood. "Are you all right with this?"

She gave a slow nod and "Mm-hmm," as her hand reached up to touch his face in affirmation. 

The bruises on her torso were distinguishably darker and Bill gently marked each one with a tender touch, ending at the count of nine. Stroking her arms, he discreetly inventoried the damage there. She had endured so much and was still able to find pleasure in his caress. How fortunate he was to have met her and to have won her heart. A slight thrust of her hips brought Bill's focus back to the joy at hand. Although her face was serene, his fingers, toying at the junction of her legs, seemed to have created a need. Returning the left hand to her breasts, lightly circling the nipples with the pad of his index finger, he worked the other hand lower, sliding his long middle finger down the valley of her sex, and felt the moist entrance. 

Arching her hips against his probing finger, searching for greater contact, she slipped her hand under his shirt to pet his stomach, giving some affection back. 

Continuing to pleasure Faith by plying his middle finger between her folds, as the adjacent fingers traced along the edges, he felt her wetness increase. Bill curled his probing finger inside, rubbing her clitoris with a slow seesaw penetration. 

Soft, whimpering moans escaped her lips. 

He began to swirl his finger over the sensitive nub after every extraction. 

Lifting his hand to his nose, he smelled her. Placing his finger in his mouth, he sucked in her essence, as she watched. 

"Sweetie, I'm cold. Can we go to bed?" she asked, breathily. 

Actions speak loudest, and Bill, lifting her gently, carried her and laid her on the quilt. 

As she snuggled in under the covers, he quickly stripped. 

Sliding in beside her, he hovered briefly, before sucking a turgid nipple between his lips and slipping a hand down to recapture her sensitive clit. 

Faith's hand encircled his erection and began to pump slowly. "I want you in me, now."

Moving between her legs, Bill held his weight on his arms, as Faith guided. His entrance was slow and sweet. Their groans mixed in the air between them. 

Afraid to lie on her bruised body, he began an easy motion with only his hips touching her. 

Faith's hands caressed them both at their juncture. Her fingers moved faster, as her breathing became ragged and panting. "Oh, God! Bill, I'm coming." 

She arched beneath him, squeezing him inside with waves of release. 

Her tender climax pushed him over the edge, "So am I, Babe." He forced himself to control the primal thrusts, fighting the desire to pound himself deep within her. 

As the last contraction faded, Bill lowered to his elbows and gently captured Faith's lips in a gentle and satisfying kiss.



Rebuilding Faith Ch. 13



Disoriented, Faith snapped awake, and then remembered, 'I'm at the Blue Star Inn.'

The bed was empty beside her and there were faint sounds coming from the bathroom. The sky outside was gray and it matched her mood. The aches in her body had found new strength, after being overpowered by the pleasure she'd felt last night. 

Faith trudged to the bathroom, impatient for some Tylenol, and thinking, 'No more sex.'

The bathroom was steamy. Holder stood naked shaving his reflection. That was okay, because she was naked too and it only seemed fair. Faith really didn't give a damn if there were ten men in the room -- naked or dressed -- as long as they didn't get in her way. 

Holder stopped shaving to look. 

'What's he doing? Smiling?' her headache pounded harder from the thought of someone happy at the sight of her.

"Good morning, Sunshine."

"Get real," she grumbled, dragging her fingers across his buttocks as she passed. 

Finding the medicine bottle and shaking out two tablets, Faith pushed him out of the way, popped the pills, cupped her hands under the running water, drank them down and moved onto the toilet where she sat and peed. 

Then she wandered into the shower. It had seats. 'Great. I'm already tired of standing.' 

Adjusting the temperature up beyond hot to sterilize, Faith sat in the spray, waiting for medicinal relief. 'What the hell am I doing here? I should be home. I've got so much work to do.' 

Without a word, her naked man with the nice ass entered the shower. He sat down on the other seat and began soaping a washcloth. Kneeling, he began to wash her legs. 

That felt kind of nice. 

After the initial sudsy application, he apparently didn't like the washcloth and soaped up his hands instead, which felt even better. 

Faith just watched -- almost detached. 

When her legs were lathered, he brandished a safety razor and began carefully removing the stubble. 

Her body tensed. 

"Relax, Babe, I know the difference between cutting down trees and trimming limbs." Performing some kind of friction test, he rubbed his smooth cheek against her thigh. 

Faith just closed her eyes, ignoring the fear factor, and let the man work unimpeded. Soon, both legs were shorn smooth without blood loss. 

"Are there any tools you aren't an expert with?" After all, if he was going to provide full body-mechanic service she ought to know.

"I'm not very good with sewing machines. So don't ask me to make you any clothes." 

He began washing the rest of her, with masterful precision.

"You're going to spoil me, Holder." Suddenly her aches weren't so bad. 'Must be the Tylenol.'

"No I'm not. I'm just giving you some tender loving care. Or maybe I'm just taking advantage of your weakened condition." As self-incriminating evidence, he vacuumed one of her nipples into his mouth for a moment, and then demanded, "Get your head wet so I can feel up your scalp."

Faith bent over and rested her elbows on her knees and her jaw on her fists. 

First, Bill washed her back and then, pouring shampoo into his palm, his fingers began kneading her not-so-throbbing skull. 

She felt the 'not-so' change to not at all. 

When the hair was done, he stood and directed the spray to rinse off the soap. 

"Okay, Babe, stand up so I can get those hard to reach places." A wicked smile telegraphed his intent, while his soapy hands bubbled over with joy.

Thinking 'Might as well let him finish what he started,' Faith stood up and placed one foot on the seat. 

Bill squatted eye level with the dirty bits. Reaching between her legs with one hand, he slowly swiped his fingers down from her spine and onto her buttocks, working them into the cleft. When he reached the bottom he cleansed the area with provocative oscillations. And then, with a fresh coat of soap, he repeated the act for verification. This jack-of-all-trades and master of her body, stood and lingered, soaping up his digits while admiring his handiwork. Pulling her gently against his chest, he turned her back into the spray and massaged her tush, separating the hills to flood the valley. 

Faith, weakened by the intimate attention, leaned on him for support, feeling more than just tired. 'Why am I letting him do this? I said no sex. But this isn't really sex...'

A sudsy hand slipped between her legs and it suddenly became sexual. His fingers, disguised as washing machines, plinked clitoral neurons into the spin cycle. 

"Mmm," She moaned, lips against his chest.

And then he stopped, turned her into the spray, and fluffed her pubes for a complete rinse. "There ya' go girl. All done," he said, patting her buns on the way out.

Following him, she muttered, "Thanks... I think," and walked into a towel he held open. Then got wrapped, patted and stroked dry. 

A robe appeared and she slipped into it. 

Bill pointed to the side of the tub, and said, "Sit, so I can comb your hair." 

'Why am I acting like such a baby?' She sighed. 'Because it feels so good,' she decided. 'It's nice to be pampered and fussed over. It's nice to be his, and to be without any lofty purpose for a while.' 

"Everything all right, Babe?"

"No, but it's getting better," she said, forcing a smile to please him. 'Why do I please him? What does he see in me?' The thought nagged her psyche, until his damp, naked body moved away to dry itself and she enjoyed watching the process. His penis had a little starch in it. There was satisfaction knowing she'd put it there, in an offhand way.

"I'm going to Rochester. Do you want to ride along? I'll be stopping to see my brother and I have to pick up some things from storage. I'll be back late." 

This trip didn't sound very appealing, but the idea of spending the day alone didn't either. Irrational fears popped up. Fighting them back, she replied, "You go on. I'll wait here and sleep." 

Sulking, Faith left the bathroom and flopped onto the bed, face first. Her head started to throb again. 

Feeling ugly, Faith thought, 'Sure, go have fun without me. I don't want anybody to see me like this anyway,' and then chided herself, 'I'm such a baby.' 

The bathroom door opened. 

She sensed Bill was looking at her. 'I'm such a selfish bitch, laying here, having a pity party.' 

The mattress compressed under his weight. His hand rubbed her bottom through the robe, and he said, "I'm hungry. Do you mind if I grab something to eat?"

Keeping her face buried in the quilt, Faith answered with a flat, "No."

His weight lifted from the bed. Without warning, powerful hands gripped her waist, rolled her over and bodily dragged her to the edge. The robe bunched up around her hips and her legs hung down.

Kneeling between her thighs, he said, "Thanks, Babe," and nuzzled his smooth cheeks between her smooth thighs. 

She felt his warm breath against her hair. He placed her legs over his shoulders, and plied his tongue easily between her labia, while his hands worked over the top to spread her open. Feeling the tingle of desire growing, Faith said, "No, Bill, stop."

He sprang away from her, apologizing, "I'm sorry, Faith," and covered her with the robe. "I thought after the shower you'd be a little turned on and might like some relief," he laughed softly, and said, "I know it turned me on."

"Is that all I am, a good sport fuck?" Her voice was angrier than she intended, and it felt mean. But it also felt good in a strange way, to strike out and judge his reaction. To test if she could chase him off, and prove she was nothing important, like she felt.

Bill stood, glaring. "That hurt, Faith." 

"I'm a bitch. It took you six days to find out. You must be slow." She rolled over onto her stomach to hide the tears. "I need some sleep. My body aches all over. Sex is the last thing I want."

Touching her calf, he said, "Sorry Faith, I shouldn't have pushed. I just thought you were feeling better after last night and..."

"I'll shoot up a flare when I'm ready, Holder," she interrupted, "That way you won't get your signals crossed."

His footsteps sounded quick and determined, striding to the closet. When Faith heard the outside door close, she cried out, "Saving my life doesn't mean you own me!" Then softly, she whimpered, "Sure, just run away. Leave the crazy bitch. You don't need me screwing up your life. Go build a skyscraper to prove what a man you are, not some puny bunkhouse."

Ten minutes later, noises downstairs broke into her brooding funk. Clutching her robe closed, Faith moved to the stairs, and yelled, "Who's there?"

"Sophia, get your scrawny ass down here and eat some breakfast." 

Feeling immense relief, Faith answered sweetly, "Coming Mel," letting the robe fall open as she descended. 

This was her first visit downstairs. She stopped halfway to study the room. French doors, similar to the upstairs, opened onto a private lakeside deck. A comfy couch and two matching chairs were arranged facing the water. In a corner stood a cabinet where she guessed the TV was hidden. In the back was a small dining area with a fridge and microwave. 

Bill stopped setting out food to stare at her, looking seriously miffed and ignoring the peek-a-boo robe. "I grabbed some stuff from the buffet. Take what you want. I'm just going to have coffee." 

Leaving the table to stand by the window, he sipped from a Styrofoam cup and studied the view outside.

"Thanks for thinking of me. I don't deserve it." Faith placed a Danish with a red jelly center on a napkin, and put a packet of sugar in her coffee. Stirring absently, she wondered if she could scream without attracting the police. A mirror by the door caught her attention. Seeing only the black and blue marks, she tied her robe closed and sat at the table to nibble the pastry. 

After minutes of silence, Faith explained in a contrite voice, "Bill, everything in my life has changed. I'm afraid, all of the time." A short pause and then, "I'm not treating you with the respect you deserve." Tears began to run down her cheeks. Emotions formerly under control, now seemed to ebb and flow without warning. 

Bill sat down across the table from her. "Would you feel better at home?" 

"Maybe... I don't know," her voice faded. 

"Well, think about it. We can leave tomorrow if you want."

"Do you have to go today? Can't you do your errands tomorrow?"

Reaching out, he touched her trembling hand. "I have business to take care of. Tomorrow is Saturday and offices are closed." 

"Will you come back?" Uncertainty squeezed her heart. "You're not giving up on me are you?"

"No, Faith. I'm not giving up -- ever," he smiled.

This declaration did little to allay her fears. 'Hadn't he already given up on life before I met him? So what's changed?' 

Hurrying around the table, Faith knelt at his feet. "Bill, marry me. Marry me as soon as possible." She babbled on, impulsively, "I can be a good wife." Her hands rubbed the tops of his thighs. "I can't lose you. My head's messed up right now, but I'll get better and I'll make you happy, you'll see." Fearing rejection, knowing how pathetic she sounded and afraid to look at his face, Faith focused on his pants and deftly unzipped his fly.

"Faith..."

"I shouldn't have stopped you, Bill. You saved my life, and I won't ever act ungrateful again," she promised, as her fingers groped inside and dug out his flaccid penis. Mind racing and heart pounding, Faith covered all of it with her mouth, laving the soft flesh with her tongue.

Bill's hands cradled her face and gently lifted. "Faith, stop it," he whispered.

Releasing him, she ran to the couch, ashamed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I don't know what's the matter with me." She fell face down, sobbing.

She heard shuffling footsteps. A hand rubbed her back and in her ear, Bill whispered, "It's alright, Sweetheart. Don't worry. I'm coming back. We'll go home tomorrow and get some help. Okay, Babe?" Kissing her neck, he said, "I have to leave now, or there won't be time to get everything done." Opening his wallet, he added, "Here's a credit card and a calling card, and here's an old business card with my brother's phone number. If you want anything, if you need anything, just get it. I promise I'll be back as soon as I can." 

The air around her grew cold when he walked away. Seconds later, the door opened and closed. Faith stayed on the couch for a few minutes, regaining composure. 

Feeling vulnerable, she set the dead bolt and chain on the door, walked upstairs and secured the bedroom door. An inner chill made her shiver. Finding her flannel nightshirt, Faith dressed in its warmth and crawled into bed. Curling up, she fell asleep to escape for a few hours.

Shortly after noon, Faith woke up and got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Then wandered downstairs and ate some of the morning's leftovers. Strength somewhat renewed, she opened the Inn's guidebook to find out what the place had to offer besides a nice room. There was a gift shop, gym, laundry, bar and dining room, to provide all of the creature comforts.

Picking up the telephone, Faith used Bill's calling card to phone home. After four rings the answering machine picked up, signaling there were no messages. She hung up pleased. 'At least the phone line has been fixed.' Briefly, she thought about calling her children, but decided it would only alarm them. She planned on being home for their usual Saturday call. 

Faith's lethargy was gradually replaced by nervous energy. She began pacing, and thinking, 'what should I do? Get a grip. Take control.' 

Putting on the hat and dark glasses, she grabbed Bill's credit card and mustered enough courage to leave the room. She strolled to the lobby where there was a bustle of activity. A handful of weekend guests had arrived early. They were young couples, lovers away for a romantic interlude. 

Afraid of literally sticking out like a sore thumb, Faith eased discreetly along the perimeter and slipped into the gift shop. Bottles of wine from local vineyards were prominently on display. 'I should get a bottle for later. Bill might like a glass to relax.' 

Unwilling to ask the salesgirl for a recommendation, Faith stood and read the labels, trying to decide. 

She jumped when a soft feminine voice behind her said, "The Monroe Cabernet is excellent, if you like a dry red wine." 

"Oh, thank you," Faith answered. Her voice sounded tremulous, despite her best effort to stay calm. Glancing back to see who offered the advice, she spied a smiling, attractive blonde. 

Smiling, until she glimpsed the bruises. "Is everything okay?" the stranger asked, lightly touching Faith's arm. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Turning back to the display, Faith answered, "Yes, thank you, I'm fine. Just a little jumpy right now."

The woman moved into Faith's peripheral vision, "I can imagine," she said, with concern. "Are you here alone?" 

"No, I'm not. But my fiancé is gone away on business, until tonight," Faith answered, feeling self-conscious, nevertheless pleased to have someone to talk to.

"Excuse me for asking but... did he do this to you?"

The distress in the stranger's voice was comforting -- someone cared. "No. Just the opposite in fact, he saved my life." 

The woman held out her hand, saying, "I'm sorry for being so nosy. My name is Lucy. I've been down that rough road with my ex, and I was worried you were still on it."

"Hi Lucy, I'm Faith," she answered, shaking her hand. "I'll be fine," qualifying it with, "eventually."

"Okay, have a nice day, Faith," Lucy gave a small wave in departure. Carrying a bottle of Monroe Cabernet toward the cashier, she added, "We're in room 205 if you get lonely and want to chat."

"That's very kind of you, Lucy. Bye." Faith returned to perusing labels. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone walk up behind Lucy and rub her bottom. Mechanically, she looked to see what her new friend's companion looked like. A willowy brunette stood with her hand around Lucy's waist. Lucy whispered something and the brunette turned her dark eyes on Faith. The woman smiled and then whispered something in Lucy's ear.

Faith's face grew hot, as she went back to shopping, minding her own business, until they left. Quickly picking up one bottle of white and one bottle of rosé, along with a cheap corkscrew, she paid and then marched back to her room.

Without a conflicted thought, Faith opened the bottle of white and poured a full plastic cup, then gulped down half. After refilling it, she went upstairs with the bottle to sit in the window. 

A steady rain fell. The lake rolled with somber waves of gray. 

The wine's warm ripples swept through Faith's veins.

The gift shop encounter invaded her musings. 'Lucy turned gay? Was that her answer to physical abuse? Did she change sexual orientation, just to run from men?' Faith couldn't understand it. Men's bodies turned her on. And good men, like Lou and Bill, certainly knew how to make love, and how to make her glad she was a woman.

Grabbing the bottle and cup, Faith left the room and ambled down the second floor hallway. Room 205 was in the north wing, near the end. For a few seconds, she stood still, filled with mixed emotions. 

Emboldened by the drink, Faith knocked. Muffled voices penetrated the door and then there was a brief silence. Standing in front of the peephole, she smiled, realizing she'd forgotten the sunglasses and hat. 'Oh well.'

A chain rattled and a bolt turned. Lucy's face appeared in the crack of the door. "Hi, Faith. Is everything all right?"

"Hi, Lucy. Yes, everything's fine. I was just feeling lonely and thought I'd drop by." 

Faith was beginning to have fun. Sociology had always been one of her passions, and this was like a laboratory experiment, albeit a tipsy one. Nonetheless, it was taking her mind away from her own problems. 

"Have I come at a bad time? I thought I'd visit early before you two got busy." She smiled at the double entendre, knowing Lucy had caught on by the startled look on her face. 

'She's a timid woman,' thought Faith.

"Lucy, invite her in. Don't be rude and leave her standing out in the hall," came a decisive, contralto voice from inside.

Faith thought, 'Lucy's traded one domineering mate for another,' and wondered if the abuse had only switched gender.

Opening the door to let her in, barelegged Lucy, wearing a blue silk robe, stood aside, apologizing, "I'm sorry. Come in. We were just... getting comfortable."

"I brought some wine to share," Faith announced, as she stepped in and waited for Lucy to close the door. 

"Great, we'll open ours and we can have a little wine and cheese party," Lucy replied, leading them into the room. 

Their accommodations were much less opulent than Faith's. The furnishings were comfortable, although the room itself was only one large bedroom with two double beds, a desk, a chair and a television -- homogenous with thousands of other hotels. The window looked out onto the parking lot.

After a momentary pang of guilt, Faith said, "This is a wonderful place, isn't it?" turning to the lissome woman sitting crossed legged on the bed. 

Her face was stunning -- oval, with large dark eyes, a button nose and full lips that looked slightly amused. The tank top hung loose on her frame with two hints of nipple poking through. Her lavender panties had a wet discoloration. She showed no uneasiness about exposing it. 

Faith knew then that she had interrupted the start of something sexual.

"Yes, this is a great place to get away for a quiet weekend," agreed the woman on the bed. 

"Faith, this is my friend, Kate," said Lucy.

Leaning forward, Kate extended her hand, and said, "Hi Faith, you look like hell," with a small appealing grin. The shirt fell open and exposed her small breasts.

"Hi Kate." Taking the offered hand, Faith thought, 'This woman has natural magnetism.' The handshake was warm and soft. "The doctor says in a couple of weeks the bruises will fade and I'll be as good as new."




Rebuilding Faith Ch. 13



Holding onto Faith's hand a few seconds, Kate said, "I'm sure you can't wait. It must be hard to deal with all of the stares and whispers." 

Untangling her slender legs, Kate walked over and put her arms around her roommate saying, "Luce, you get out the cheese and I'll open the wine," and then leaned in for a kiss. 

Lucy stiffened noticeably during the public display of affection. 

"Here, let's finish my wine, before you open yours," said Faith, picking up the plastic cups from the desk and filling them. 

Lucy busied herself with laying out paper plates and extracting cheese from a cooler.

Kate picked up a cup and raised it to Faith. "Here's to your health," and sipped the golden liquid. "Mm, this is good." 

Faith moved over to Lucy, and handed her a cup. Then helped by unwrapping some wheat crackers and laying them out on a plate. "So, Lucy, you were in an abusive relationship?"

"Yes, I was married to a monster for three years."

"How long ago was that?"

Lucy seemed to squirm a little before answering, "Six months."

Kate moved next to Lucy, so close their legs touched as she prepared a plate. The contact would've appeared incidental, except for the way Kate rocked the leg back and forth to brush against the other woman.

Faith said, "I was attacked four days ago, and I don't think I will ever feel normal again." Pausing briefly, she asked, "How long did it take before you felt better?"

Lucy drank a few swallows of wine, before answering. "It's a gradual healing. You don't really notice you're feeling better, until one day you realize you didn't jump at a loud noise or been afraid to go out in public. It took about a month, before I started doing things without the thought of asking permission. That's when you say to yourself, 'I'm going to make it.'"

Lifting a square of cheese to Lucy's lips, Kate said, "Try this, Luce. Doesn't it taste Gouda?" and made a goofy face.

Lucy chewed. "Very Gouda!" she said, and seemed to relax a smidge. 

Faith changed her mind about Kate. She wasn't domineering. She seemed sympathetic and protective. Faith decided she liked Kate. 

"How did you two meet?" she asked, unconcerned about broaching the subject.

Everyone moved to a bed and sat down, Faith on one, Lucy and Kate on the other. Neither woman spoke at first. Kate tossed a cheese cube in the air and fell back, catching it in her mouth. Lucy watched and smiled at her success. Kate grinned back, laying her hand on Lucy's thigh.

"We met in the grocery store," said Lucy.

Kate sat up quickly. "Yeah, we were in the produce aisle. When I saw the way Lucy squeezed the melons, I had to have her."

Faith was caught swallowing, and spritzed wine through her nose. "Give me a warning."

They all laughed -- Lucy shyly.

There were many questions Faith wanted to ask Lucy about switching sexual orientations, but it wasn't any of her business. 

'If I let myself,' Faith thought, 'I could be with a woman.' 

The alcohol had lowered her inhibitions and this attractive couple tweaked her curiosity. 

As she watched Kate's hand caress her friend's leg, Faith thought of Bill and missed him. 

'Would I be as satisfied with a woman?' Lifting the cup for a sip, Faith considered hetero versus lesbian sex and decided, for her, loving a man was like being on the varsity team and being with a woman would be like an intramural sport. Loving a woman would have the same rules, the same outcome, but it wouldn't count. You'd shake hands when it was over and say, "That was fun. Same time next week?" But loving a man, now that's a dangerous and risky challenge, filled with intricate strategy and understanding that leads to creating a family. 

For some reason, the picture of a lion tamer popped into Faith's head. 'A lion could lick your hand one minute and eat you alive the next.' Then the erotic image of Bill's face eating between her legs burst into her mind's eye. Crossing her titillated legs, Faith was confident she preferred being eaten by the lion and enjoyed the perilous liaison.

Lucy's voice broke in on her daydream. "Faith, do you want to tell us what happened to you? Would you like to talk about it?"

For the next half-hour, Faith detailed everything that'd happened to her, beginning with the death of her husband, Lou, and ending with the present. She hadn't planned on opening up and revealing everything. The wine and the sympathetic strangers combined to ease open the floodgate of her welled up pain and the story just poured out. Occasionally wiping tears and cursing her emotional weakness, Faith couldn't stem the flow. It just felt too good letting it all go. 

When Faith told of being burned while trying to put out the first fire, she broke down. Lucy and Kate moved to her bed. They stroked her hair, rubbed her back and whisper sweet encouragements. 

When she finished her narrative, Faith rested her head on Kate's shoulder, quietly weeping. 

Lucy moved behind and massaged Faith's shoulders and neck. "Sounds like you and Bill have a wonderful future together."

"Does it?" Faith wanted to believe it was true, but life seemed so out of control, how could she be sure of anything? 

Suddenly self-conscious, Faith stood. "I need to go. I'm sorry for laying all of this on you guys, when you're here to relax." 

Kate and Lucy stood beside her. 

Surprisingly, Lucy kissed her cheek, saying, "I invited you, remember? So relax. I'm glad you came. You're a strong woman, Faith. And it's been wonderful to meet you." She walked to the desk, and as she was writing, said, "Here's my phone number. If you ever want to talk again give me a call."

Faith took the offered paper, saying, "Thanks, Luce." Then turning, she said, "Kate, it was great to meet you. I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here." 

There was a strange disappointment when Kate didn't move to kiss her goodbye. "It was nice meeting you too. I hope everything turns out well."

Once in the hallway, Faith ran to her room, emotionally drained. Safely inside the bedroom, she stripped to her panties, crawled under the covers and quickly fell into a dead sleep.

The room was dark when Faith's eyes fluttered open again. The smell of food woke her. Smiling, she thought, 'Bill's back.' After stretching and assessing her physical condition, she wandered into the bathroom and washed up. Leaving her panties on the tile floor, Faith put on a robe, before strolling downstairs to greet her lion.

Bill sat at the table, eating pizza. The overhead light cast shadows across his face. His smile looked tired. 

"Hi, Babe," said Bill.

"Hi, Leo."

"Leo? Why am I Leo?"

"Because you're a lion," she answered, as she pulled the small table away from him.

"Okay..." he replied, in a slightly confused tone. 

'He needs me,' thought Faith, moving around to his side. 

Any lion tamer worth their whip knows how to use a chair for training purposes and Leo was already sitting on one. She took advantage of the opportunity. 

"Welcome home," Faith cooed, spreading her legs to straddling his lap. She cupped his face with both hands, and her lips lavished it with kisses. He tasted deliciously like sausage and mushrooms.

While Faith nuzzled into his neck, Leo asked, "Is this like shooting off a flare? Because this sure feels hot like a flare, but I don't want to get my signals crossed."

Untying the robe and exposing her body seemed answer enough. 

His hands cupped her bottom and squeezed playfully, before they slid up her back to massage. 

While he carnivorously nibbled her collarbone and neck, Faith's hands worked to open the button on his pants. Dismounting his lap, she commanded, "Stand up."

He did, baring his teeth.

Shamelessly, Faith stripped every vestige of human apparel from him and then dropped her robe to become equally animal. She pushed him, and he sat. She sat on him, and he held her. She slipped sideways onto one hairy thigh and rubbed her sex against it while her mouth controlled his mouth, her tongue battled with his tongue for dominance. Pressing her palms against his chest, Faith toyed with his nipples. 

Following her lead he fondled hers, too gently.

"Harder," she commanded.

Bolts of hot pleasure shot to her clitoris, as the excitement increased under his obedient pinching and squeezing, the bruises contributing an exotic twinge.

Leo's erection had sprung up between them. 

Faith repositioned herself to rub against it, making the shaft slippery. The arousal from room 205 rekindled, and added fuel to the current fire burning in her belly. Grabbing his shaft, she impaled herself. Momentarily resting her head on his shoulder, Faith enjoyed the fullness, as he petted her, hugged her, loved her.

When her cool tears drip onto his skin, he stopped. "Are you okay, Babe?"

Quickly, Faith pulled his mouth to hers in answer, while slowly lifting from his lap and then dropping, beginning warm ups. 'Who's the animal here?' crossed her mind. 

Tiptoed on the floor, she repeated the lift and drop motion, just a little faster. Abruptly, two helping hands cradled her seat, fondled her flesh, and assisted in the next lift and drop.

Nose to nose, she praised, "Oooh, Leo, you are such a good fucking lion," the reward integral to any successful lesson.

Leo growled in her ear and bit her lobe, his paws still worked in unison with her legs to increase the ferocity of their coupling.

Faith's legs began to ache. "This feels unbelievably good, but I'm getting tired."

Leo, sensing weakness, did what all lions do -- attack. Clutching her to his chest, he stood and sat her on the table edge, never leaving her body. He was dominant now, and she knew the end would soon come, as he pressed in and out, clawing her breasts, scratching her clitoris. 

And then he was gone.

"Awww, don't stop, Sweetie," she groaned.

Faith looked down, just as Leo's mouth descended between her splayed legs. He was eating her. His claws were inside, digging into the core of her. The sensations overwhelming, Faith gave up. The end came and she screamed in shuddering fulfillment. 

But the lion wasn't satisfied. 

When the waves of climax ceased, Leo stood over her, pulled her up and carried her remains to his lair. The couch felt soothing after the hard tabletop, as she sank into the cushions and he sank into her wet folds. Still hungry, he tasted her breasts and savored the feminine flesh. 

Knowing escape was impossible; Faith hastened the end by clutching the lion's hips, forcing him to pump faster, faster, faster, until she felt it again. The niggling tingle grew and grew, and suddenly peaked in another explosive release, shooting out to encompass her entire being.

And then the lion roared -- a loud magnificent satisfying sound. 



Rebuilding Faith Ch. 14



Ripping off the last paycheck, Bill handed it to the painting contractor. "Thanks for the great job, Greg."

"Anytime." Walking away, Greg added, "I'll call you when the salmon are running. We'll wet a line."

"All right, sounds good." Bill wandered around the bunkhouse for one final inspection -- engulfed in a satisfied sadness. The windows were open. A gentle breeze mingled with the eggshell semi-gloss to create a fresh paint and pine scent. The June sun heated the air beyond comfortable. Cicadas buzzed and finches chirped. Leaning against the window frame, staring blankly outside, he wondered, 'now what?'

Faith stood below, surrounded by counselors preparing for the arrival of the campers on Monday. Injuries healed and self-assurance restored, she appeared once again a marvel of efficiency, although the shadows under her eyes indicated fatigue and her smile didn't blossom as often. 

In the past three months she'd outgrown him... or had he abandoned her? The familiar pangs of "what if" he'd often felt about women who slipped through his life hurt more than ever before.

That one extraordinary week in March now seemed years ago. The magic that brought them together vanished. Faith drifted away in her summer camp preparations, and Bill dove into his building project. 

He'd served his purpose and rebuilt the bunkhouse; now it was time to move on. 

Faith's cauldron of emotions proved too much for Bill. 'What an arrogant ass I was, to think I knew what was best for her.' 

When intellect failed, his hands got busy -- working. The diversion method of ignoring problems always served him ill in the past and history repeats when you don't learn from it. Seeing her now, beautiful and whole and vibrant and... and... 'I'm still a stupid ass.'

They'd been overwhelmed by the outpouring of kindness from the townsfolk and Faith's New York friends, making it easy for him to slip behind the scenes. Her twins, Amy and Seth, had stayed home for a month after the college semester ended, before moving on to summer internships. 

Convinced it was for the best, he put a respectable distance between himself and Faith by renting a room in town.

'I should have married her... No, that wouldn't have been right.' Obviously he wasn't marriage material. Every woman tired of his stoicism. As long as there was work to do he was fine. 'Just don't ask me what I'm feeling.'

The Saturday they'd returned from the Inn, Faith proposed marriage, again. Afraid of public opinion over a hasty wedding, Bill demanded a prenuptial agreement, so people would know he didn't marry her for the land. Before he could explain, Faith became angry, slapped him and locked him out. He left, thinking it best to wait until she'd calmed down and had time to think things through. 

'I should have talked to her sooner. But I never had a chance... no, that's just an excuse.' There were chances. They'd discussed all of the building plans and finances. Kept up a working relationship. They'd met almost everyday at the jobsite, as Faith made cursory inspections. He knew she had appointments with a shrink twice a week for a month, but they never spoke of them. 

Their relationship morphed from sizzling to civil in only seven days. 

'It's better off this way.' His nagging inadequacies were building to discontent, meaning it was time to leave. 'Or, should I say, run away.' 

Looking down again, he met Faith's icy stare. Without a sign, she turned and followed after the others. This was becoming increasingly awkward.

"All done up here?" 

He jumped at the sound. 

"Sorry, Bill. I didn't mean to scare you." Bev, the camp housekeeper, stood smiling with an armload of sheets and blankets. "Can I start making the bunks?"

"Yeah, sure, Bev. Just leave the windows open to air the place out."

"You've performed a miracle, Bill, getting this place finished. The kids are going to have a wonderful time."

"It wasn't a miracle. Just years of experience paying off." On his way downstairs, he added, "But thanks. I'm sure Faith has a great summer planned."

Grabbing the duffle bag from the front seat of his pickup, Bill went back inside and changed into cutoffs and a tee-shirt. Holding the ends of the towel around his neck, he walked down the path to the pond, eager to swim laps and release tension. 

The water was still mountaintop cold. Swimming fast, he concentrated on technique to ignore the chill. Reaching the anchored platform in the middle, he pushed off and headed back until his hand touched bottom. Turning once again toward the platform, he counted, "One," blocking out all other thoughts. 

When he counted, "Six," a splash beside him broke into his emptied mind. Lifting his head, he spotted Faith knifing through the water beside him. Together they reached the float and together they turned without a word. Bill slowed down to stay together, enjoying the glimpse of her at each breath. On the count of sixteen, Faith climbed up onto the platform while Bill continued until the count of twenty. Lazily he backstroked, staring at the blue sky, gliding to the artificial island. 

Faith dangled her feet in the water until he was close enough to touch. Straightening her leg, she blocked him. "Sorry, you can't come on. I'm Queen of the raft," she declared, stern faced.

Bill smiled, reaching for her foot. Quickly she pulled it back, "Uh-uh, behave or I'll have to banish you," she said.

"How about letting me be King and we can rule together?" Bill offered.

"Hey, you had your chance. I asked you to marry me, remember? Then you ignored me for three months," her volume rising at the end. 

The anger surprised him. This wasn't just a simple game. "I didn't ignore you," he declared, treading water five feet from the island Queen. "I was busy. You were busy..." 

Rushing the platform, Bill the Invader lifted himself half out before Faith pushed his shoulders away. 

Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her, head first, into the water and scrambled up. Now Bill sat dangling his legs, watching Faith tread water. "One point for a takedown and two points for a reversal," he grinned at the frowning woman. 

Hoping for a truce and a reopening of negotiations, he held out his hand, and offered, "I think we need to make peace if we're going to be neighbors."

Accepting defeat, Faith gripped his hand. As Bill tugged her up, she pushed on the platform with her free hand and pirouetted into a sitting position beside him, with a squishy plop and a frosty silence.

Faith began to shiver. Sliding closer, Bill tentatively placed his arm around her. When she rested her head on his shoulder, he felt hope for a peaceful coexistence and fostered reconciliation by kissing her dripping hair. The cold, goose pimpled flesh of her arm against his palm brought back a rush of past pleasure. His heart swelled with warmth and he kissed her forehead. No dispute followed his peace offering, so Bill kissed down her cheek and rested his lips briefly on hers before moving away to read her expression. 

Faith's eyes were closed and her lips, slightly parted, quivered. Ivory breasts inside the red bikini top heaved with deep breaths and Bill hoped it wasn't all from exertion, that she still found him desirable. 

"I miss you," she whispered, guiding his eyes from her chest with a gentle touch on his cheek to witness the unhappiness in her face. 

"I'm sorry you think I was ignoring you, Faith. But I couldn't marry you, just knowing you for a week. Especially after... everything." He didn't want to dredge up the violence and the pain all over again. "You needed time to get everything sorted out..."

"I needed you to help me!" Faith snapped. "I haven't been able to sleep in peace since we came home. And you weren't there to hold me when the nightmares came. You don't really love me. You were just took pity on me." Her voice trailed off and her hands covered her face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be laying a guilt trip on you. If you don't want me, just tell me, so I can get on with my life."

Bill's stomach twisted in shame, remembering Faith's tenderness when frightening dreams shattered his sleep. He'd left her afraid and alone. 

The words 'since we came home' reverberated in Bill's mind. Where Faith lived was home. Taking her hand, he asked, "Faith, I'm sorry. I thought time apart was the best thing for us. But I'm an idiot. Will you forgive me?" 

The brimming hazel eyes searched his face, filled with conflict and indecision. 

"I know I've been colder than a well digger's ass. So, you don't have to answer now. With camp starting Monday, you have a lot on your plate."

Faith wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down, as she lay back on the warm wooden planks. "I have a lot on my plate, but I want you for dessert," she confessed, before forcing his mouth to hers. 

Cold skin heated rapidly as their wet bodies pressed together. Holding her head between his palms, Bill's mouth roamed her face and neck while Faith stroked his head and back, encouraging his hunger. 

"I've been a lonely muse," she cooed... and then shrieked in terror.

Jerking away while rubbing a buzzing ear, Bill asked, "What's wrong?"

"Something in the water just brushed against my leg!"

Quickly sitting up, they spied Hershey dogpaddling around the raft. The tension broken, they laughed in relief. 

By the hand, Bill helped Faith up into a tight embrace. The only evidence of recent injury was a thin red scar on her forehead. How someone so wonderfully assembled, mind and body, could want him was incomprehensible. 

Bill sang, "Let us be lovers, we'll marry our fortunes together. I have some real estate here in my bag..." and smiled.

After a brief look of confusion, Faith asked, "Simon and Garfunkel?"

"Yup," continuing with an explanation, he added, "When I was in Rochester, I met with my lawyer and a realtor and told them about a piece of land, owned by a certain Bob Engles, that might be on the market soon. And I gave them authority to place a purchase offer on it." A brief pause for affect, and then, "Guess what?"

She stared wide-eyed. 

"I'm your new neighbor, Faith."

With an excited "There goes the neighborhood!" she jumped and wrapped her legs around his waist, knocking them both into the water. 

Surfacing, Faith recited, "Love thy neighbor -- Saint Matthew 22: thirty-something" and hugged him in a deep wet kiss.

Struggling to shore, nearly convinced Faith tried to drown them both, Bill reached the towel and began to dry her upturned beaming face. Touching her was something he wanted to do everyday, from now on, if she'd let him. 

"I have Engles house key in my truck." Wiping her arm, he added, "I'm moving in tonight."

Stealing the towel, she hastily patted Bill, saying, "C'mon, let's go right now," then squeaked, "This is so cool." Throwing the towel at his head, she ran down the path barefoot, and yelled, "Last one to the truck owns swamp land."

After watching her disappear, Bill sat on a log, dried off, donned his tee-shirt and sneakers, picked up Faith's shirt and sandals and trotted down the trail. Hershey sped by, playing along.

Around the first bend sat Faith on a stump, with crossed legs, fingers locked together on a knee, and one dirty foot bouncing up and down with pent up energy. The odd thought, 'Her toenails need another paint job,' sprang to mind. 

With a half-grin, Faith commented, "We need to work on your impulsiveness, Holder. Hmm, impulsive Holder, now there's an oxymoron if ever I heard one."

Handing her the sandals, he answered, "I'm the tortoise and you're the hare in this relationship, Babe," and trotted away.

"Hey, wait up! Timeout!" she yelled from last place.

Bill leaned against his truck, with Faith's shirt draped over his arm. Watching her stroll through the trees in her red bikini top, white skin and soaked blue shorts, filled him with a strange mixture of erotic and patriotic ideas. An all-American woman, who inspired a part of his body to stand and salute, while his mind raced with lewd words to sing to the tune of the Star Spangled Banner. But he thought better of it, considering other people might be within earshot. 

He simply handed her the shirt, saying, "You'd better wear this if you want my eyes on the road."

"Decisions, decisions," she grinned, before slipping it on and climbing in. 

Bill backed away from the bunkhouse. Faith slid across the seat, close.

"Let's go out the back way, Sweetie," she purred in his ear. 

The view from the rutted farm road was now green and lush with summer growth, the change of scenery remarkable since March. The reservoir sparkled through fluttering green maple and silver poplar leaves.

"Bill, the bunkhouse is fantastic," Faith said, rubbing his knee. "I owe you so much. I can never repay you for all your hard work. We're going to help about 150 kids this summer thanks to you." 

"It was a labor of love," he answered, putting an arm around her. "And now that I've spent all my money on this property I'll have to live on love."

Reaching the main road, Faith said, "Turn right." After a short pause, she squeezed his leg. "You just might find enough love around here to sustain you for quite a while," sliding her hand up his thigh as proof.

"Am I glad to hear that. I'm a starving man with a big appetite."

"Oh my! How big?" Feigning shock, Faith rubbed his groin appraisingly, before pointing. "Turn here." 

The driveway was long, and twisted through a stand of pines, hiding the house from the road. The old homestead sat in a small clearing. The porch light was on and several windows were broken. 

"It looks like some kids have already been taking target practice." Glancing at Faith, he asked, "Does it bother you to be here?"

After a short pause, she answered, "No. This house used to belong to Carol Hogan's family, my best friend in high school. I spent a lot of time here as a kid. So, when I see this place I think of her." As they slowed to a stop, she said, "I'll show you around."

The lawn was overgrown. Other than fading paint and a few broken windows, the structure looked in good repair. Unlocking the front door, Bill stood aside. "After you, Ms. Guide." 

Peeking over the threshold, acting tentative, Faith asked, "Who moved all of Engles stuff?"

Bill followed her through the door. "The realtor told me his brother came up from Philadelphia. And whatever is left we can keep or throw out."

"We?" Faith asked, spinning to place her palms on his chest as he bumped into her.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be so presumptuous." Entwining his fingers in the small of her back, Bill pulled her tight and kissed her, the buss growing from sweet to passionate. 

Sliding her palms up to cradle his cheeks, Faith broke away to ask, "Would you still want a prenup?" then recaptured his mouth, slipping him tongue.

Dampness from the bikini top soaked through his tee-shirt. Two cool breasts pressed against him. Raising his lips to caress her forehead, Bill declared, "Yes, I still want a prenup. But the new contract will say that whenever we discuss anything important, or have an argument, we'll have to be naked and stand this close together," he answered, letting his palms drop to the moist shorts. His fingers fondled her bottom.

"Let's continue with the tour, shall we," said Faith, pushing him away, but teasing with a coy grin and eyes that begged for further persuasion.

The first floor was devoid of furniture. Hardwood floors, scuffed by decades of traffic, echoed their footsteps. 

As they climbed the squeaky treads to the second floor, Bill said, "I was thinking about asking Tom if the fire department would want to burn this place down for practice. And then I could build something new. What do you think?"

Turning around on the landing to look down at him, Faith asked, "Are you trying to get even with Engles? A fry for a fry?" 

Shrugging, he answered, "Yeah, a little." The biblical reference made him smile, 'God, I've missed her.' 

"Well, it's your house and you can do whatever you want with it," said Faith, walking along the second floor hallway. Before entering a back bedroom, she added, "but I love this old place."

Following her in, Bill watched as she stood staring out into the backyard. The thickly wooded mountain rose steeply out of sight only fifty yards away. Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his chin on her shoulder and looked out. 

"This was Carol's room." Stroking his sweaty forearm, Faith pressed her damp cheek against his. "On hot summer nights we'd climb out the window and sit on the porch roof, talking for hours and gazing at the stars." After a pause, she wistfully continued, "Carol dreamed of moving away and I... I dreamed of growing old on Talon Mountain."

The air was stale inside the hot room. Unlocking the window sash, Faith pulled it open, letting in a refreshing breeze. Leaning down, she propped herself up on the sill and poked her head outside to take a deep breath. "Mmmm, the forest smells so good."

She'd let her hair grow and it lay fanned out across her shoulders. The swim top's red straps showed through the white cotton shirt. The way her back arched and hips lifted, stretched the damp shorts tight against her bottom. Her weight shifted from one leg to the other, flexing each round cheek and muscular hamstring in turn. The sexy vision stirred wanton thoughts. He resisted rubbing his palms slowly over her round derrière, and sliding his hands up along her sides and underneath her shirt.

Bill said, "If you marry me, we'd have almost 1,000 acres to grow old on together." 

He resisted gripping her waist, holding her still and, pressing his hips forward, judging the height to be near perfect for rear entry. 

Faith seemed to be oblivious. "Are you trying to bribe me into marriage, Holder? If you are, it won't work." 

Bill's hands resisted slipping up her back, pushing the shirt, and unfastened the red elastic support. Then gliding to the under side to fondle the freely swaying breasts, while his penis hardened against her bottom.

"Material possessions are only a small part of a happy marriage, Holder. The person you share them with, how well you relate to each other, and how well you meet each other's needs, is the most important ingredient. Because when all is said and done and the years have stripped away the mystery of knowing one another, there still has to be a spark, an attraction to keep love alive."

"I totally agree," said Bill, resisting the urge to bend and kiss her spine, work loose the button and unzip the fly of her shorts, "You can't be happily married unless there is something unique and intrinsically satisfying about your mate," envisioning her shorts piled around her ankles and his cheek resting on the cool flesh of her exposed buttocks. He would kiss them; drag his fingers down across her ticklish stomach. 

Acting unaffected, Faith continued, "Carol and I used to sit out there and talk about the kind of men we'd want for husbands."

Picturing one hand tweaking a swaying nipple, while the other found it's pleasure teasing her clitoris, Bill commented, "I don't think I want to hear about the kind of man you're after -- unless it's me," craving to pull her ass tight to his groin to feel his erection. 

Abruptly, Faith stood, slammed down the window and faced Bill. Pointedly, she looked at his shorts. The convex crotch made his arousal obvious to the most unobservant. She smiled. "A man that gets a hard-on just looking at me, but still has the self-control to carry on a conversation... I find very attractive." Pulling out the waistband, Faith reached in and arranged his penis comfortably against his abdomen, saying, "Now that's a man I can count on in a crisis. That's a man I want by my side... always." 

Bill pulled her close. "And a woman that I find stimulating, mentally as well as physically, is someone I want by my side... always."




Rebuilding Faith Ch. 14



"Well then, I think we've come to an agreement we can live with," Faith declared, drawing Bill's head down to bring his mouth to hers. After a moment of tender play, she announced, "Yes, Bill. I will marry you." 

Breaking away, Faith added, "But I have to get back. There's a new counselor arriving tonight and I need to be there."

"Okay, Babe."

They walked out to the truck, hand in hand. 

"I'm going to sleep here tonight. After I drop you off, I'm heading to Franklinville to buy a mattress, sheets..."

"You don't have to buy sheets and stuff," Faith interrupted. "Just get a mattress and I'll bring over everything you need tonight -- around ten o'clock." 

"Everything I need?" Bill patted her bottom, while he opened the truck door.

Sliding in from his side, Faith grinned and said, "What's mine is yours, Sweetie." 

***

Arriving home at 8:00 pm, mattress and box springs tied down in the truck bed, Bill noticed boxes stacked on the front porch. After backing up the truck so the tailgate hung over the stairs, he walked to the packages and pulled off the sealed envelope taped to the top one. 

"Dearest, Sweetie," the letter began, "Bev and Pete dropped these things off on their way home. Inside you'll find everything you need -- except for me. I'm going to walk through the woods to Carol's/your house, just like I did thirty years ago. Sit out on the roof and look for me around 10:00." Signed, "All My Love, Tinkerbelle." 

"Tinkerbelle?" Bill folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. "This should be good." 

With heart pounding, he began preparing for the jealous fairy's arrival. 

***

Freshly showered, Bill was outside on the porch roof, sitting on a cushion he'd found in the basement. Candles flickered a soft light inside the bedroom. Stars twinkled overhead. A rising moon, only a few days away from full, cast pale shadows across the backyard. Nostalgic thoughts of Faith sitting here so many years ago, wishing for someone like him, sent a tingle down his spine. God drew complete circles sometimes. 

The air was thick and humid with summer heat. Intermittent breezes provided sporadic relief, wafting the mountain smells of growth and permanence. Black shapes flitted across the forest backdrop, as bats ate their evening meal. 

Bill's mind wandered to the future. Pastor Tom asked him to join the fire department and mentioned the Town Supervisor election in the fall. Was that a hint? 

'I'm not ready for public office. I'll be a newlywed.' He smiled in the dark, certain that Faith was everything he'd ever wanted in a friend, lover and wife.

A bright sparkle caught his attention. There was a light bouncing leisurely down through the woods, floating like a fairy descending to earth. When the beam reached the clearing it clicked off, and a mysterious form moved across the lawn through the shadows, until it was behind the tool shed. 

After a few minutes, Faith hissed, "Bill, are you alone?"

Smiling at her voice in the night, he answered, "Yes, Tink, I'm all alone."

From out of the black, twirling pirouettes in the cool moonlight, Faith's nude body appeared. She danced and leaped, until she stood below the roof, resting her hands on the top of her head looking up at him. Her translucent skin glowed with the sheen of exertion. She WAS a fairy... or an angel. 

Bill forced himself to breath, "Faith you're beautiful."

She laughed low and earthy. "I have something important to talk about and I'm honoring your prenuptial agreement -- remember? I've upheld my part of the bargain, now I expect you to get down here and do the same."

Scrambling in the window, he yelled over his shoulder, "I'll be right there." Shedding his clothes along the way, he ran out the backdoor into an empty yard, clad only in sneakers. 

"Over here." 

His head snapped to the left. Faith was leaning against the top of a picnic table. 

'How appropriate.'

Walking briskly towards her, Bill noticed Faith's smiling eyes travel down and focus on his bouncing penis.

"You're an outstanding specimen, Sweetie," she said, as he stood before her.

Reviewing her nude form, Bill noticed she'd shaved her pubic hair into a small stand of fuzz, a nose tickler. Anxious for discussion, he moved aggressively and pulled her to him. Their hot and slick bodies harnessed in wrapped arms. She smelled like sex and soap, like sin and salvation. The salty taste of her damp neck quenched a feverish man's thirst.

"I'm serious, Bill. I need to talk about something." 

Looking into her dark eyes, he said, "All right, Tink, I'm listening." But his hands moved to her ass on a covert operation. 

"Will you come to camp this week?" Their skin slipping as she squirmed under his caress.

"Why?" he asked, to show attentiveness, while focusing elsewhere.

"Because I want the children to meet a real hero."

All extracurricular activity ceased. 

Apparently sensing his mood shift, Faith rushed on, "The kids need to meet people like you, Bill. They need to know that there are hero's everywhere, not just on TV, or on the playing field making millions of dollars. If they meet someone who performed an extraordinary act of bravery, and still lives a normal life, they'll be inspired. They'll think, 'Hey, maybe I can do something to make a difference in my neighborhood'." 

Squeezing her butt, he asked, "You call this normal?"

"Well, they'll have to wait until they're a lot older to find out for themselves," she answered, kissing his shoulder.

"Okay, Babe. I'll be there."

Wrapping her arms around Bill's neck, she pulled his mouth to hers, saying, "Mmm, thanks lover," sliding up against him in a full-bodied reward.

"Now I would like to discuss something," said Bill, grabbing her hips and spinning Faith around. 

Giggling, Faith asked, "Is this a fitting position for discussion?"

"I like the fit very much," he declared; as one hand slipped down into the fuzz patch between her legs and the other covered a breast. Nibbling his lips up her shoulder, Bill began with a whispered question. "Faith, have you heard of those rope challenge courses? The ones used for building teamwork, communication and leadership skills?" 

Her legs separated, letting his prying fingers glide between. Leaning forward, Faith rested her palms on the picnic table, before muttering, "Mmmm, yeah, oh yeah. I've heard of them. Great for building self-confidence."

The engorged nipple between his fingers was sensitive, judging by the moaning reaction pinching it harder produced. He continued, "If we build one, I bet we could attract corporate executive seminars, and fund the kid's summer program with the profits."

With one set of fingers slowly oscillating into her, his erection pressed against her bottom and his other set of nimble fingers plying their magic from one breast to the other, Faith struggled to answer coherently. "Mmm, mmm, yes, yes, that's wonderful. That's a great idea, Sweetie."

Bill separated from her, and said, "Okay, I'll start formulating a plan and collect some information, before I submit my proposal to you." Patting her ass, he walked away, "Faith, I like this discussion method. It's very invigorating."

"Bill, come back here!"

Walking with an erection is uncomfortable, so Bill moved slowly, uphill to the edge of the forest.

Faith caught up. "Where are you going?"

"I'm looking for the right tree."

"A tree?" Faith asked, as she reached around and grasped his bobbing cock. "This is all the wood you need to make me a happy fairy, Bunyan."

Bunyan, she hadn't called him that since the fire. The playful name swelled his heart. "Well, thank you for that, Tink. But I have something else in mind." 

He continued walking and Faith continued to grip his erection while pressed up against his back. On the hill's incline her lips kissed his shoulder blades as they wandered conjoined.

Approaching a maple with a low limb, Bill announced, "This is perfect," and pulled Faith in front of him saying, "Put your hands on the branch, Tink."

Obediently, she complied. When Bill moved close behind her, standing a little lower because of the hill, and his cock pushed between her legs, she understood his engineering objective. 

"Oooh, Sweetie, you're so right. This is perfect." Reaching between her parted legs she guided his entry. 

His hands were free to touch. And they did. Encircling her once again with his arms, his fingers toyed with each pleasure spot, as she clung to the limb for leverage, pushing back and pulling forward, setting her own pace. As their passion increased, the leaves on the branch rustled in time with each forceful thrust, adding an erotic whooshing rhythm to their coupling. 

Faith bent further, adjusting the entry angle to meet her need. Bill followed, kissing her sweaty back, focusing his caresses on her clit, as his time grew near. Hunching into her with every backward thrust.

Faith's grunting, "Nnnn, nnnn" grew louder and the pitch higher, until the final, "Oh, God..." and she stood quivering, under the coming shower of sensation. 

Grabbing her hips, Bill continued to drive in and out, faster and faster -- loving the hot, wet pleasure she gave. With one last deep thrust, he exploded inside her, bent over her back and pulled her hips tight, thrilled by the contractions spending into his love. 

They stood linked for a few moments. Supported by the tree and their own trunks. 

Bill straightened.

Faith pulled away, and groaned, "Ohhh, I hate it when you have to come out," then turned and hugged him... forever.

***

Dull and throbbing pains everywhere. Burning heat. Can't breath. Can't move. Why can't I move? Gotta move, gotta get out! Oh, God, I'm gonna die! Somebody help me, please!

"Faith... Faith, shhh, you're all right. You're safe."

Eyes fluttering open, momentarily confused, Faith said, "Bill?"

"Right here, Babe."

Now she remembered. A flickering candle provided enough light to see Carol's old room. Rolling over inside the protection of Bill's arms, she smiled at her man. "Mmm, I love being rescued by you," and burrowed her face against his neck.