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Seashells Ch. 01

By: calibeachgirl



Part 1 of 6 Copyright @calibeachgirl

All rights reserved, 2012

Thanks to Lewis, Bill and Elliot for their support...

*

There was an urgent knocking on the apartment door. William Doyle, Bill to his friends, finally waking up into the morning sun, pulled on a pair of trousers and went to answer it. A Western Union boy was there, holding out a telegram in his left hand, his open right palm waiting for what he considered the customary tip.

After taking the telegram, Bill reached into his pocket and flipped him a nickel. "Here."

"I'm to wait for a reply," the boy said, leaning against the door-jamb.

"Wait a minute," replied Bill as he shut the door in the boy's face.

In his own room, Jack was just sitting up in bed, suffering through another faulty rendition of 'When My Baby Smiles At Me' playing in the apartment below. God, he thought, let me sleep. Wondering who would be knocking on the door so early in the morning, he looked at the nightstand clock. Seven o'clock! It was too early on a Saturday morning to be awake, he thought, especially following a late Friday night. The girls the night before had been so friendly as the liquor flowed in the speakeasy. His throat was still hoarse from the cigarettes he had smoked. He decided it was time to quit smoking.

"A telegram came for you," said Bill, looking in from the room's doorway, laughing at his friend's plight. "It would seem to be a matter of some urgency since the boy is waiting for an answer."

"A telegram?" he asked in surprise. "Who would send...?" He wondered if it were from some angry father demanding the righting of some perceived wrong upon his daughter. God, he thought, it's 1925! Things were different, now, the War had seen to that. If some wonderful young girl wants to bestow her favors upon him, who was he to complain?

Making an effort to conceal his concern, he took the telegram and opened the light yellow envelope. If it were about some girl, wouldn't it have made more sense for the angry father to arrive in person?

A single glance at the telegram was enough to relieve Jack's apprehension. It was from someone named G. Lincoln, whoever that was, about his uncle whom he had not seen in more than ten years.

"This comes from someone working for my uncle. It seems he's quite ill and wants me to come see him." He looked up, confused. "Why now? Just because he's sick?"

Bill hesitated. Jack's uncle was quite well-to-do, incredibly well-to-do, but a grim, rigid, humorless man, prone to condemn anyone whose nature differed from his own and quick to condemn any fancied immorality which he perceived in the conduct of those around him. The moral and religious principles that Jack's father had possessed in a more moderate degree had been transformed by his uncle into a kind of fanaticism.

But, Jack knew, his uncle's fanaticism was inconsistent. While he constantly preached about the virtues of humility and speaking against the pursuit of worldly wealth, he still had condemned Jack's father for marrying 'beneath' him. In the meantime, he, himself, had amassed a huge fortune.

Jack had not wanted to accept the summons. He had been sixteen, the first and last time he had spent time with his uncle, and the circumstances of his having so recently lost his mother made him all the more determined to have nothing to do with the man who had loudly failed to appreciate her merits and beauty.

"You know," his uncle had said, "that you're my heir should anything happen to me. Someday, all this will be yours." 

"Well," said Bill, "you might as well go on and see him and see what's what. Stay a week or so, and if you don't like it come back early but it would do you good to get away from here, if even only for a little."

"I guess I could go and see him. I thought he had gotten married a while ago. I wonder what happened there." Of course, Jack thought, all talk of inheritance had changed when his uncle remarried following the death of his wife... a quite young woman, Jack had heard.

He remembered his visit so many years ago. His uncle was a man of unbending... Jack really had no word for whatever his uncle was. The man was a miser, never spending an unnecessary penny even if his life depended on it.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed, finally getting out of bed. "I might as well go. Tell the boy to send a reply saying so, will you?" He went into the bathroom, soaped his brush and lathered his face, then shaved and finally started the shower, waiting for the water to warm up. A half-hour later, shaved, showered and dressed, he went into the kitchen for breakfast.

"I fixed you a couple of eggs and some bacon. Anything else, you're on your own," said Bill as he set the dish down on the table. "Eat up."

He wondered what circumstances could have motivated his uncle to renew his relationship with him.

That morning, Jack reluctantly went to the Southern Pacific Railroad station to arrange for a ticket from Los Angeles to the coastal community where his uncle had his manse. He thought about taking Bill with him but decided not to. He didn't want to subject his friend to his uncle's whims about life and religion.

The next morning, as he was packing his valise for the trip, there was another knock on the door. Opening the door, Jack looked at the Western Union boy who had returned, yet again. He held out a second telegram.

Jack opened the second telegram and his eyes widened as he read the typed letters. "Oh, my God!" he exclaimed to Bill and the waiting boy. "My uncle's dead and evidently, so are his second wife and child. Damn!"

"What happened?" asked Bill, just leaving the bathroom.

"They died from diphtheria, all three of them. Damn, the boy couldn't be more than six. That's horrible."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know, go there I suppose. What else can I do, now?"

"Who's been sending these telegrams, anyways?"

"The same as the first one... G. Lincoln." Jack sat down, silently staring dazedly down at the telegram. He tried to absorb its contents. Bill, hovering nearby, tried to look disinterested, yet was burning with curiosity.

Jack said nothing but passed along the second telegram to Bill. As he watched his friend peruse the message, he knew that nothing would ever be the same.

"A very sad telegram," Bill observed. "I'm sorry, Jack. I guess there's no way you could have possibly gotten there in time, could you?"

"No, not at all. Eventually, I'm going to have to go."

"I wonder who this Lincoln person is?" asked Bill, still holding the disconcerting telegram.

"I don't know but I suppose I should send a telegram telling him that I've gotten his news and will attend to it as soon as possible." Jack stood up from the kitchen table. "I think I'll go lie down. What with one thing and the other, it's been an exhausting kind of day, don't you think? Damn!"

With the announcement of his uncle's death in the newspaper, Jack's whole life underwent a sudden and dramatic change. He continued to live in his downtown apartment with his friend, but that was the only part of his life that remained the same. His landlady suddenly became much friendlier, suggesting that a late night rendezvousi would not be rebuffed but he privately thought that he'd rather die than take advantage of her offer.

The greatest change and in some ways, the greatest irritation, was the way he was treated by his acquaintances who now appeared either ill-at-ease in his presence or those whom he had little to do with who were suddenly polite to a fault.

Letters of condolence came from all quarters, accompanied by invitations that would have astonished and gratified him a few years earlier. Astonished as he was, it was now mixed with contempt rather than gratification. So evident was it that his newfound popularity was linked directly to his newfound wealth that he was in no danger of having his head turned by it, regardless how lovely the invitation or the young lady came wrapped.

His cynicism was heightened when he received a letter from a former lady friend, one whom he had once offered marriage, who ostensibly was offering condolence for his loss but ended her letter with a few lines, which alluded delicately to the possibility of reconciliation. He left the letter unanswered, throwing it into the wastebasket. When she had turned him down, it had been solely on her perceived need for a wealthier suitor and at the time, he did not fit her image of a husband financially.

There could be no doubt as to the extent of his new wealth, as Jack discovered after a meeting with his uncle's lawyers in San Francisco. His late uncle's annual income had numbered in the several tens of millions each year and was derived not only from the rents of many properties but also from stocks in mining, oil, and railroads, and government bonds.

"I had no idea," Jack said, "that my uncle owned so many properties in the city," when he learned of the full extent of his uncle's holdings. "I must say I am surprised. When I visited him years ago, all he could talk about were the evils in the city. And this property around the harbor, you can't mean to say that belonged to him? It's common knowledge that the whole area is given up to speakeasies and brothels."

John Everett, the attorney who was attending him at this meeting, coughed slightly and spoke in a repressive voice. "Your uncle was a shrewd man who did not allow his religious values to stand in the way of making a profit, shall we say. It is true that the property you mention is not the most affluent quarter of the city but I assure you it brings in its rent quite regularly, without fail. Mr. Crawford, it would be in your..."

"I have no doubt that it does," Jack said, "but I would prefer not to derive my income from the kind of businesses that are there. It just doesn't seem right."

"If I may... such a move would remove both legal and illegal business. The illegal ones would have no trouble finding somewhere else to establish themselves but the legal ones... they would probably be out of business forever and the financial pain you would cause the hardworking people..."

Jack looked at the attorney, taking the time to consider what the man was saying.

"Perhaps, Mr. Crawford, it would be best to just sell the properties in question. I am sure we could find a buyer for the lot." The lawyer's mind was already considering ways to turn a quick profit if the properties sold.

After receiving a reluctant consent to pursue the matter, the lawyer moved hastily onto other matters. "There's also your uncle's townhouse at Pacific Heights, which at present is empty with just a caretaker staff and another house in San Diego. I have already let them know that there has been a change in ownership. I suppose, as you live in Los Angeles, you will wish to have it available for your own use? That is, if you wish to move to San Francisco or San Diego."

"I don't know," said Jack, frowning. "I hadn't thought that far ahead. I suppose I had better take a look at the places before I decide what to do about it. What's the caretaker's name?"

Everett passed over a sheet of paper with all the information requested and then walked him to the door of the office. Getting into a taxi, he rode over to the townhouse. He wished he had brought Bill along, if nothing more than for the company.

He made a quick tour of the house and saw the dark rooms would need to be refurbished as soon as possible before he would consider living there.

"And what would you want new furnishings for?" demanded Higgins, the caretaker, a small man with bushy eyebrows and a belligerent manner. "These were all bought by your uncle's first wife and there's nothing wrong with them. He's never had a word of complaint about me in all the forty years I've worked for him."

Jack was taken aback by the man's attitude. "That's very nice, Mr. Higgins, but tastes change over time and with different people. Please have these dust sheets removed and see that everything has a thorough cleaning as soon as possible. I'll come back in a week or so and look it over and decide which of the furnishings I want to dispose of."

The old man glowered at him in silence. Jack considered firing him on the spot but decided to see what would happen. Forty years of service was a long time, he thought, and endeavored to give the man one more chance.

He already felt it might have been hasty to have talked to Higgins before understanding completely the dynamics of the household.

He returned to Los Angeles.

Chapter 2

"While you were gone, there was another telegram from Lincoln. He still wants to know when you're coming to settle the affairs of the coastal estate. What did he call it?"

"Windcliff, it's called Windcliff, between Carmel and Big Sur. But first, I want to go to San Diego. You want to come with me?" 

It was true that for a time he debated whether to go to Windcliff first but the memory of his earlier visit had caused him to delay as much as possible. Instead, he decided to travel south to his uncle's house in Coronado. He had received a letter from the housekeeper there, inquiring politely if he meant to come and see the property there. After his miserable time with Higgins, a change of scenery was what he needed and sunny San Diego was just what he wanted.

"Sure, that sounds like fun. Let me pack a case. When do we leave?"

"This afternoon, if we can get tickets. Let me call the Santa Fe station."

Bill looked out the window at the endless blue of the Pacific as the train journeyed south. "Thanks," he said. "I appreciate your taking me along."

"That's all right. I'm glad for the company. I wonder what this place will look like. At least the housekeeper seems to be nicer than that ogre Higgins in San Francisco. I'm going to let him go as soon as I can."

At Coronado, the property overlooked the water on the Pacific side and the view was tremendous. 

The housekeeper there, Mrs. Smith, was as nice in person as she was in her letter and the rest of the small staff were equally polite and accommodating to his needs. It was even more pleasant to find himself the owner of a wonderful home overlooking the ocean surrounded by large trees.

It had not been his uncle's habit to spend much time at Coronado, so the house had little influence from his dubious tastes. It seemed, on the contrary, a warm and friendly house and it soon became apparent that the staff preferred the new owner.

For the first time since inheriting, Jack felt as though he were coming to terms with his new position in life and he finally entered eagerly into the business of running the small empire his uncle had left him. He found so much to interest him that he and Bill spent the entire winter there and it wasn't until early March that he began, reluctantly, to think of finally visiting Windcliff.

He knew he could not put off visiting the estate south of Carmel any longer. He had not received any further telegrams from Lincoln but his conscience reminded him that he had neither visited his uncle's grave nor the people still waiting for him to come.

Jack supposed there were other matters to keep his attention as well so, after sending a telegram to Lincoln, he and Bill packed their bags once again and set off on the long journey to Monterey, stopping at Los Angeles to change trains.

The train ride up the coast took most of the day. After leaving Los Angeles early in the morning, the train made its way north and in the late afternoon they finally reached Castroville where they caught a branch train to Monterey.

"I'm for spending the night. I don't fancy trying to drive to the place in the dark," Jack said, watching the sun set into the Pacific. The two friends walked from the station to the nearest hotel and booked two rooms for the night and after having dinner, retired for the evening, tired from the long trip.

The next day, after breakfast, they arranged for a hired car to take them south to Windcliff. "Are you sure," Jack asked, "that we can't leave any earlier?"

"Yes, that's the earliest. It's already been hired for the morning."

"I wasn't expecting this," Bill said, later as the new Ford touring car arrived in front of the hotel. "Good, he has the top down. It should be a beautiful day for the ride." As exuberant as Bill was, though, his enthusiasm died quickly after the car began to bounce along the ruts in the road.

Jack was conflicted about returning to the estate he had once visited ten years earlier and the closer to the estate they were, the quieter he became. By the time they arrived, it was early evening and he had been almost silent for the last hour.

"Cheerful looking place, isn't it?" asked Bill upon seeing Windcliff for the first time. 

The hired car came to a halt at the top of the drive, which opened into a courtyard fronted by the mansion's large covered porch. Jack got out, followed by Bill who continued to stare at the building and its elegant rooflines now fading into the twilight.

"I don't see any lights. I wonder if your telegram went astray, somehow and there's no one here. It doesn't look like we were expected."

The air was chilly, something he still wasn't used to, especially coming from Southern California.

"No, it doesn't, does it?" said Jack, also looking at the house. "But, maybe it's too early for them. I don't know." He walked up to the front door and was going to knock when it suddenly opened inward so that he had to catch himself to keep from falling into the arms of the woman who had opened it.

She was a young woman of perhaps twenty-five years of age, though dressed in a manner that made her seem much older and whose skin was the color of fine chocolate. Her high-collared brown dress reached to her neck with nothing to enliven its lines and her dark hair was drawn back into a knot at the back of her head without a single curl or wave to soften its severity. Notwithstanding this, she was a pretty woman whose features were better able to withstand a look than others. But it was her air of self-possession that distinguished her, even more than her smooth oval face, high cheekbones and large dark eyes. As he tried to right himself in the doorway, she surveyed him with a look that was at once interested and highly critical.

He wasn't there to start any kind of relationship, especially one with a colored girl but this one was catching his interest... at least a little, he told himself. Was it a happenstance of just being there? He didn't know. Why was he reacting as he was? He never had any interest with colored girls.

"Good evening," she said, blocking the doorway. "May I help you?"

"Good evening," he replied, smiling at her in a tentative manner. "My name is Jack Crawford. I'm..."

The woman seemed too young to be the housekeeper but she was obviously not a housemaid, unless it was a housemaid of a very superior attitude. She made no effort to help him and stood regarding him with a slightly critical gaze.

"I sent a telegram," he said, awkwardly. "I have been receiving telegrams from one of my uncle's servants here, a man named G. Lincoln. Perhaps you would be so good as to inform him that I have arrived?"

The woman regarded him a moment longer and then with a faint smile, said, "I am Georgia Lincoln. I have been expecting you. Please, come in."

"Bill, ask the driver if he wants to spend the night or is he going to drive back tonight."

While his friend went to talk to the driver leaning against his black automobile, Jack walked in and followed the woman into a great room with a dark and cold fireplace, his mind whirling with startled speculations. It had never entered into his head that the unknown G. Lincoln might be a woman, let alone a colored one.

Looking at her slim, straight back in her brown dress, he wondered what position she had filled in his late uncle's household. It struck him that she was a very attractive woman, in spite of her drab dress and severe hairstyle. He was regarding her legs with a slight sense of arousal when she turned to address him.


Seashells Ch. 01



"I will take you to the drawing room, sir," she said. "It's the most comfortable of the rooms we have available and there's a fire burning there, which should be most welcome after your journey from Monterey."

"Err... thank you," said Jack, smiling at her once again. She did not return his smile but merely gave him another of her cool, critical stares before turning and leading the way toward the drawing room once more. He followed her, puzzled by her air of disapproval and was a bit miffed by her attitude. Did all his uncle's servants have such rude manners? It was bad enough to put up with Higgins' attitude but now...

He noticed all the lit candles and wondered why the lights weren't turned on. He went to the wall and flicked one of the switches. There was no response and the room remained in candlelight. 

If he had only known that Georgia's state of mind was not much different from his own. The new owner's appearance had come as a shock to her. She had been unconsciously expecting him to resemble his uncle, a pale, stern looking gentleman with a stooping physique. Besides, she had been expecting him to look like a libertine, for his late uncle had not been sparing in his criticisms of his nephew's character.

But the young man whom she had just admitted to the house looked nothing like a wild man indulging in immoral pleasures and promiscuous liaisons. He was fair in color with dark blond hair, vivid blue eyes and quite the handsomest face she had ever seen. She shivered, realizing that those thoughts were the death knell to every servant, because to bed her master... especially, a colored servant... There was no future there, she knew.

Try as she might, though, she could see no signs of dissipation about his face. Indeed, as she had surveyed him at the doorstep, she had been reminded of a knight in shining armor she had once seen in a book as a child. She couldn't help but look at his strong nose, what looked to be a firm, sensitive mouth and square jaw. He seemed to be a pleasant and personable man, not in the least looking like a wastrel. 

She knew she had to stop her dreaming. What she had imagined could never happen, not if she wished to remain free of encumbrances such as child and no husband. She was a colored servant, nothing more.

As she led him toward the drawing room, Georgia could not resist the urge to look back at him, under the pretext of addressing to him a commonplace remark about the drawing room fire and in doing so her feelings had suffered a shock. She had caught him looking at her legs and this had instantly destroyed whatever favorable opinion she might have had about him.

Clearly, she thought, he was as his uncle had described. Georgia told herself sternly that she would have to be very careful in her dealings with him and not say or do anything that might be construed as encouragement. Her remark about the fire was made with great coldness and she would not allow herself to return the friendly smile that accompanied his reply. It was hard to do so, she soon realized. He did not seem like a bad man, not at all. If she had not had the old man's warnings about him to put her on guard, she could have easily found herself succumbing to his charm.

She opened the drawing room door, inviting him into its aging elegance with its scuffed but well-maintained floor.

"Here you are, sir," she said formally. "Dinner will be ready shortly. Do you wish to see your room so you may change first or would you prefer to dine as you are? Will your friend be staying?"

"I would like to change, thank you," he said looking at his dusty clothes. "And Bill will be staying. I don't know yet about the driver. What is wrong with the lights?"

"The generator isn't working. When... we don't know how to make it work."

"Bill and I will take a look at it in the morning. What room have you put me in? Not my uncle's, I hope."

"No, I thought you would probably prefer to occupy some other room until you have had a chance to go through your uncle's things. I have put you in the south wing with a fine view of the sea. It's..."

"I know where it is," Jack said, pleased. "That's where I stayed last time I was here. It seems a lifetime ago." He cast a glance around the drawing room, lingering on the bright furnishings and watercolors on the walls. "This place looks so much livelier than I remembered it."

Georgia stoked the fire, satisfied with the warmth that rushed through the room. The flames in the fireplace danced as the wood crackled. A log split, sending a shower of embers up the flue.

"That would be your uncle's second wife's influence, I expect," said Georgia, turning to leave the room. "She did quite a lot toward improving the house, I understand. If there is nothing else, sir, I will go see to dinner. I thought, perhaps, the breakfast room, there being the two of you?"

"Don't go yet, Miss Lincoln," he said, laying a hand on her arm to detain her. She gave such a look that he removed his hand immediately but continued to speak to her in what he hoped was a winning manner. "It is Miss Lincoln and not Mrs.?"

"That is correct," she said, looking at him suspiciously.

"I was wanting to ask you... who are you, exactly? Or rather, what do you do here... what position did you fill in my late uncle's household?"

"I was nanny to his son," she replied and taking a lit candle with her, left the room hastily, leaving him with as many unanswered questions as before. Deciding he would have an opportunity to question her further at dinner, he took off his coat, warmed himself by the fire and then, taking a candlestick himself, went to his room in the south wing where Bill was busy unpacking their cases in the dimly lit room.

"The driver decided to return to Carmel. I don't know what he was thinking but he said he'd driven the road plenty of times."

"Tomorrow morning, we need to take a look at the generator and get some lights working in this place. Walking around with candles like we're characters in a Dickens novel is not to my liking."

A short while later, after shaving, washing and dressing in clean clothes, he went with Bill to the breakfast room. The room, although only lit by candles, was pleasant, having been transformed like the drawing room. With surprise, though, he saw that only two places had been set for dinner.

"Where's Miss Lincoln?" he asked of the maid, another colored woman, who had just come into the room carrying a tray with two soup bowls. "I would like to speak with her."

"Georgia usually eats with the rest of us, sir. Before, she would eat with young Master John but..."

"Would you please ask her to join us? Thank you."

The maid was shocked and did her best not to let it show, although Jack could tell she did not approve. He wasn't surprised. To have a colored woman, especially one nominally a servant, eat with the owner of the house was not something that was done.

The maid put the two soup bowls on the table and departed with his message for Georgia. She returned a minute later with Georgia, whose face wore a worried look. "You wished to see me, sir?"

"Well, yes, I do," he said. "Not to put too fine a point to it but I would like you to dine with us. There are some questions I would like to ask you over dinner."

She drew herself up and regarded him with the same expression she had before. "I hardly think it would be proper for me to dine with you, sir. Besides, I am needed in the kitchen."

"Nonsense. You are the nanny, not a cook. Why should you be needed in the kitchen? This girl..."

"The name's Ellen, sir."

"Ellen, here, said that you used to eat with my young cousin so you have no excuse not to eat with us now."

"Sir, there's a difference between eating with a small boy and the..."

"Yes, there is and I need to know what's been going on around here and since you were the one to send the telegrams, you're elected. I'm sure they can manage without you in the kitchen for one meal. Sit down, please."

Georgia felt she should continue to assert the need for her presence in the kitchen but that was difficult in face of his insistence. In fact, she wanted to sit down at the table but had never done so, knowing her place in the household.

She looked at Jack. He seemed so sincere and eager for her company and so anxious to ask her about the house. It was enough to crumble her attempts to stay out of his way even though she was still wary.

"I'm afraid I have nothing suitable to wear."

"It's just us and there's no company, Georgia. Please, sit down and dine with us. Your clothing is not an issue with me. Besides, you look fine to me. Sit down. Ellen, please bring another bowl of soup."

She sat down, defeated.

"This is Bill Johnson, my friend. Now, tell us about the house and what has happened since my uncle has died."

"Yes, sir. Ellen, go back into the kitchen and help Susan with the fish. I will take care of the plates," said Georgia, looking at the young servant girl who had been standing there.

Jack watched curiously as she picked up more plates from the sideboard and set another place at the table.

"Why are you doing that? It surely is not the job of a governess any more than cooking is. Are all the staff here colored? Why isn't the butler here?"

Georgia gave him a strange look as she sat down. "The butler is in jail, awaiting your decision on his fate," she said.

"What?" Jack asked, confused by Georgia had just said. "Why is the butler in jail?"

Chapter 3

"Ellen, go back into the kitchen and help Bethany with the fish," said Georgia, looking at the young servant girl who had been standing there watching the interplay between the newcomer and herself.

Bill had nearly spilled his soup from the bowl, he was so astonished. "How can he be in jail and how is it our business?" he asked.

"What did you say, Georgia? That can't be correct," Jack said, just as surprised as Bill to hear such news.

"A few days after your uncle's death, the butler and the cook made an attempt to steal the house silver but we found out about it early enough that the sheriff was able to catch them before they could leave the area. They were attempting to reach San Francisco and sell the silver. Ever since, they've been sitting in jail, awaiting your arrival to press charges. I had written to you about it."

"I've heard nothing about it until now. I've only received your telegrams."

"I was told that you were staying in San Francisco and sent the letters there. Surely, Higgins gave them to you."

"Higgins! That... it's all right, Georgia, I understand exactly what happened." Jack looked at his bowl of soup, wondering what other surprises were going to spring out at him.

"I know one thing, though," he said to himself, "Higgins has to go." Satisfied that he had at least come to a decision about the San Francisco house, he tasted the soup. "God, this is wretched," he said, putting down his spoon.

"So, you've been without a butler or cook all this time?" he asked.

"Yes, and without half the staff for even longer," she replied.

"What? Are they in jail, too?"

"Oh, no, they left when the first case was diagnosed," explained Georgia.

"This is insane." 'No wonder,' he thought, 'she wasn't exactly overjoyed to see me, thinking I have ignored their plight all this time.' "I'm so sorry, I really had no idea."

In spite of herself, she found her opinion of him improving. He might be all that his uncle had described but he had not been as remiss in his duties as she had once thought. Instead of living a scandalous life in San Francisco, he had been in the relative quiet of Coronado.

'Maybe,' she thought, 'he isn't the person I believed.'

"You must not feel badly about what happened, sir," she told Jack. "There is nothing you could have done to help your uncle or his family. Perhaps, later, you would like to see where they are buried? It is just a short distance from the house."

He nodded his head. "Yes, I would like to pay my respects. That is the chief reason I came here."

"Excuse me," said Ellen, "I have the fish."

"God, I hope it's better than the soup." Jack and Bill looked at Georgia but she seemed to have accepted poor food as her lot along with the other servants.

Another girl brought in two bowls of vegetables and set them down and after carefully looking at the two men, left for the kitchen.

"Thank you, Ellen," Jack said as the girl left them.

"I've tried to tell Liza not to boil everything for an hour but she doesn't listen."

"Liza is the cook, then?" Bill asked Georgia.

"No, she is just another of the maids but we had to find someone to take her place and she seemed to have more experience in the kitchen than the rest of us. I think that was a bad mistake."

For most of the next hour, Georgia related what life was like living at Windcliff and how she had come to be the nanny for the small boy, now dead. Although he was shocked by her refusal to gloss over unpleasant facts, he found her honesty refreshing. Other than calling him 'sir', she had not treated him as had so many of his other acquaintances once they discovered his new found wealth.

She seemed an altogether unusual woman and he was curious to know more about her personal situation.

"My father was a preacher," she began, "and as long as he was alive, we did all right but, unfortunately, he was not a great man for saving money. When he died, he left me with barely enough to live on until I came here as nanny. My mother had died some years earlier, you understand."

"You've had a good deal of education, haven't you?" he asked.

"Some, mainly I read a lot, starting, of course, with the Good Book and newspapers and whatever I could get."

"There were no relatives you could have gone to?" asked Bill.

"I did not wish to live off the charity of people that didn't want me. I had to work for a living, not so easy for..." She left the words hanging between them.

"A colored woman, you mean?" Jack tried to give her a friendly smile.

"Yes."

"Forgive me for saying so, but you are an handsome woman. There was no one interested in marrying you?"

"There was one..." her voice trailed away, "but he died. I came here, answering an advertisement in the newspaper. I was surprised to find everyone here was colored. It was probably the only reason he hired me, I think."

Jack lost his smile. "I'm sorry for bringing up such unpleasantness. It sounds as though you have had a great deal to suffer through no cause of your own." He knew he should not pursue the subject but so strong was his curiosity that he could not resist the urge to question her further.

"And so you were going to be married," he continued. "What sort of man was he?"

"He was a preacher like my father. He was a good man, the best I've ever known." He voice softened as she spoke these words. "He was good and kind and generous. He was poor but he had a good position and it would have been enough for us to live on, in the beginning. But he caught the flu in 1919 and died and then my father died a few weeks later and so I had no choice but to come here."

The tone of her voice made it clear she wanted no sympathy for what had happened.

Bill, who had been silent through all this, offered to do the cooking until they could find someone more qualified. "Anything," he said, "to not repeat tonight." He stood up. "You'll have to excuse me but I'm off to bed. It's been a long day and that bouncing car didn't do my back any good. Good night, Miss Lincoln. Jack."

As Bill walked to his room, he was surprised at his friend's attitude toward the woman. While he had nothing necessarily against her, he still felt uncomfortable in her presence. His grandfather had fought in the War Between the States... for the South, and had been adamant about the place colored people had in society.

While they had been eating their dubious dinner, one of the maids had turned down the bedding and had hung his clothes in the armoire. He brushed his teeth in the bathroom and then went to bed but several hours later he found himself still staring at the ceiling, wondering what his friend was going to do.



Seashells Ch. 02



Copyright @ calibeachgirl All rights reserved, 2012

Thanks to estragon and deepblue...

Chapter 4

The call of the rooster woke up Jack the next morning and after shaving and showering, he went to the breakfast room to eat. Bill was already there, a plate of eggs and bacon before him.

"I cooked breakfast, Jack. Give me a minute and I'll fix you up."

"Take your time. I'm not that hungry, anyway. I'm going to take a quick walk outside and maybe then we'll take a look at that generator." He walked out the front door and walked around the house, looking at what condition it was in. If the building was in need of repair, he was unable to see where. Reaching the back door, he went in and found himself in the mudroom next to the kitchen.

"Good morning... Ellen, wasn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I will tell your friend that you are back." The girl left to get Bill, who quickly came into the kitchen and striking a wooden match, lit the propane stove to warm up the skillet.

"How many eggs?" he called out.

"Just two, I guess. I'm not that hungry." He leaned against the wall and looked at the two girls standing next to Bill.

"I'm giving them some cooking lessons. We'll have some grilled fish for lunch and something for dinner... I haven't decided yet. Any suggestions?"

"Not a clue. What do they have here?"

"Not much, that's for sure. Between one thing and the other, we're going to have to go to Carmel and get some real food. They told me there are regularly scheduled deliveries but without permission, they've only gotten the bare necessities to live on."

"This is ridiculous. Damn that Higgins. All right, where's Georgia?"

"If you mean the girl we spent the evening with..."

"Who else?"

"I haven't seen her, yet. Maybe, your late night..."

"Shut up, Bill. There was... nothing happened. What do you take me for, anyway?"

"Just joking. You didn't mind it before."

"Yeah, well, this is different."

"Sorry, Jack."

At that moment, Georgia walked in and Jack wondered how much of the conversation she had heard. He hoped none at all but from her stance in the doorway, it was obvious she had heard enough. He could tell she was torn between entering the kitchen and returning to her room. He considered apologizing but she began to speak before he could.

"I have a list of things that we've run out of and need and things that we've run out of and it would be nice to have." She held out the paper and after he took it, she turned and left, disappearing down the hallway.

Jack angrily looked at his friend. "Damn it, Bill...!"

After breakfast, the two men walked outside to the generator, housed in its own building next to what was the carriage house. Alongside the wall were empty five gallon drums labeled 'kerosene.'

"Let's see what's wrong with this thing?" Bill said, checking the oil level in the generator. "This thing seems to use kerosene for fuel. I think they just ran out of it. I guess we can't expect three girls to know how to work this thing."

Bill stood up from his crouch. "I'll go into the kitchen and get some and we can find out if that's all that's wrong with it."

A few minutes later, Bill returned with a small jar of fuel. "This is all they had left. You really need to get some provisions delivered to this place." He poured in the kerosene and gave the generator a crank. Several cranks later, it was running and lights in the house came on.

"Good job, Bill. Now we can see. How long do you think that thing runs before it runs out of fuel?"

"I don't know, that's something else we're going to have to find out after you get enough fuel delivered."

It was well after lunchtime when he saw her again. "How do you get things delivered here? There's no telephone and it's too far to walk."

"Your uncle has... had an automobile. It's in the carriage house."

"Good. Then let's take one last look around and go into town."

"But..."

"No buts... come on." He went into his bedroom and got his coat and then waited at the door for Georgia to join him.

"Good, you're ready." He held the screen door open for her and then followed her to the carriage house, her black hair moving softly in the morning breeze, her hips moving with a catlike grace. All he heard was the wet gravel crunching under their feet. After rolling the door open, he stared at the Model T. "Well, a Tin Lizzie. Get in." He walked to the front of the Ford and after checking the choke, gave the crank a half-turn. The engine refused to start. "When was the last time this automobile was used?"

"Before your uncle was sick, I'm afraid. Won't it start?"

He took off his coat, opened the engine hood and checked the oil and gasoline levels. "Is there more... never mind, I see some." Jack walked over to the side and picked up a glass bottle of oil. Returning to the Ford, he carefully poured some in, checked the level and then poured in some more. "That ought to do it," he finally said and went back for some gasoline he saw along the wall.

Eventually, he was ready once more and very carefully gave the engine a half-turn and stood back, mindful of the kickback on the crank. The fourth time, the engine started up and he put his coat back on. After getting in, he put the Ford in gear and they drove out and down the graveled lane.

The rutted way looked much different in the daylight, especially going in the opposite direction. He tried to make small talk to pass the time but his companion remained silent. After a while, he stopped talking and put his full attention to where they were going.

An hour and a half later, after a bumpy ride, they arrived in Carmel and she gave him directions to the grocery store. Pulling up in front of the market, he turned the motor off and getting out, went to hold her arm as she alighted. Several passing people stared at his gesture but he failed to notice their attention.

Inside the store, he made arrangements to have the list, plus several hundred gallons of kerosene, gasoline and fuel oil for the boiler delivered early the next morning. Before leaving, he bought a goodly amount of chocolate and an ice cream maker and then asked where the nearest department store was.

"You can't," she protested, looking at the dresses he had pulled from the rack. "I..." He liked the way she ran her tongue along her upper lip.

"Yes, I can and yes, you will. Come on, turn around." As she turned her back to him, he held the dress against her to see the general fit, knowing full well that it would be impossible for her to try them on. "I like them," he said. "We need to get some dressmaker patterns and cloth for the others. What they are wearing is too drab for my liking."

With the dresses draped over his arm, he walked down the aisle to the bolts of cloth lining the back wall. "Here," he said, pulling out some brightly colored cloth, "this is pretty, don't you think?"

Caught by surprise, she could only nod her head in agreement.

"Let's get enough for everyone to have at least three dresses each. Now, where's that clerk?" He wandered off, looking for the girl who had met them near the door. "Hello?" he called.

The girl came from the other end of the store. "Yes?" she asked, not quite sure what to do.

"I want to buy these dresses and a good amount of cloth, please, and thread and needles and whatever else Georgia says we need."

Hesitantly, she said, "Yes, sir."

While the two women hesitantly discussed patterns and colors, he wandered about the store, seeing what was stocked, realizing how miserly his uncle had been. He wondered what it must have been like for the poor woman who married him and probably died because he would have refused to have a doctor come. He shook his head in astonishment, feeling a great sadness for her and knew he could only guess what desperation led her to accept his hand in marriage.

"Sir, we're finished," he heard Georgia say, "unless there's something else you wish to buy."

"Do you see anything else we need?"

"Well..."

"Well, what?"

"The girls could use new shoes."

"We'll have to bring them in, then. Anything else?"

"No, sir, although I'm sure I'll remember something when it's too late."

"Well, you'll have to just make a list, all right? It's getting late. I don't see us returning tonight. I don't want to drive that rut in the dark." He turned to the clerk. "How much?"

While the girl was adding up their purchases, he looked at Georgia. "I'll get us a couple of rooms for tonight and we can return tomorrow morning." To the clerk, "We'll pick this all up tomorrow morning."

She started to protest, knowing that finding her a room was easier said than done but decided to be silent. He would find out soon enough, she knew.

"I'd like two rooms for the night, please."

The innkeeper took one look at Georgia and with a straight face, said, "There are no rooms available."

"Surely, you're joking. There's no one here."

"I said, there are no rooms available."

"Who owns this place? You realize what you're doing is against the law, don't you? I can have you shut down with one telephone call."

"There are no rooms available. Please leave."

Knowing there was nothing else he could do, at least at that moment, he turned to Georgia. "Let's go. This isn't over." Why did it bother him so much? Before meeting Georgia, he never really had anything to do with colored people; they were always on the periphery of his existence and now he was in the middle of things.

Still, that didn't help them find a room for the evening and it was getting late.

Outside, he formulated a plan. "Look, I'll go in somewhere and get a room and then come and get you."

They drove down the street until he found another hotel. Although not as nice as the first one, it was passable and as he thought about it, 'any port in a storm.'

"I've got a room. Come on." Taking her by the hand, they went inside and up the stairs to the fifth room down the hall. Putting in the key, he opened the door. "Come on, before someone sees."

The room wasn't as bad as he thought and was clean. Cleaner, he thought, than his own room back in Los Angeles. The only problem was there was only one bed.

"Well," he said, looking at her, "I guess I'll sleep in the chair."

"Oh, no, you can't do that! I'll take the chair."

"Of course not... don't be silly. You take the bed. I'll be fine. It can't be any worse than the trenches I slept in during the War."

The atmosphere between the changed in a heartbeat. One moment they had been talking, and now a sharp awareness slipped between them, stealing his smile away. She looked at him, suddenly larger than life, suffocatingly close. Georgia stared at the way his eyes looked in the evening shadows of the room and could smell his cologne, still present from the morning. She could feel him reaching out for her, urging her, pulling at her. And she couldn't pretend not to understand the look in his restless eyes.

She couldn't step back; she couldn't pull her eyes from his. Her lips parted on a strand of breath, her eyes widened with awareness.

Georgia wasn't a woman who carelessly took risks and she suddenly realized she wanted to walk the knife-edge between safety and danger. He was virtually a stranger, which added an unknown element. He was charismatic, he was confident, he was completely male. And even if she wanted to, she couldn't back away from him. He was temptation in the finest manner possible.

As she studied his face, she deliberately allowed her imagination to wander into unfamiliar and reckless curiosity. She had never been with a man, that way.

Fate is what you make it, she thought.

He took a step forward, standing so close to her that he could smell the faintest trace of her soap. He spoke, breaking the moment. "We've only known each other for only a little more than a day. I'll sleep on the chair."

He didn't bother to hide the look in his eyes that gave an intimate meaning to his words. For a moment, they locked gazes and then she looked away, suddenly dry-mouthed and uncomfortable. She felt as if she were drowning, thrashing her way through the water.

"Did I make you nervous?" he asked gently. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. But you can trust me. You know that by now, don't you?"

Her dark eyes kept to his face, avoiding his gaze. "We barely know one another." At that, she immediately bit down on her full lip. Before she had been reluctant to look in his eyes; now she couldn't look away. His words caught her straight in the heart. "I know," she whispered. "I know."

There was an immense appeal in the way his clothes hung, in the way his hair tangled across his forehead. The flatness of his stomach was lean, hard and tight, each muscle well-defined beneath his shirt. His lips were elegantly carved with the sweetest symmetry and his eyes locked on hers. His face carried the signs of a lifetime of smiles, as well as the unmistakable dark glitter of sensual yearning.

Hypnotized, Georgia felt herself tumble right into his eyes, falling as deep as she could go. She wasn't certain if she was floating up to him, or if he was drifting down to her but they came together by slow, dragging inches. And when his lips closed gently over hers, she felt as if she was being fed honey after years of starvation. Her hands reached out instinctively for support, hands gliding over the satin-smoothness of his chest. She could feel the warm throbbing of his heart, a rapidness that matched her own hectic pulse.

His lips were deliciously coaxing, while at the same time sweetly hesitant. Strangely, Georgia had no fear he would try and take the kiss too far. She truly felt she could almost taste him where they touched lips to lips. Her breasts felt lush with a delicious newfound weight, softly aching to be touched. The kiss opened his soul to her, revealing himself to be a gentle weaver of sensual spells that left her dazed.

Magic... and all from a single kiss.

When Jack reluctantly broke from the kiss, his eyes were glazed with the soft heat of passion. He slowly lifted his hand, touching her hair. His expression was intense and he was overwhelmed by such a simple act.

He surprised her then, slowly sinking to the floor on his knees, as he tipped his head back to study her face. His gaze moved over her features as if he had never seen her before. Her skin was hot, her eyes shining with desire and her wet lips were curved in a sweet, self-conscious smile.

How many women had he known who deliberately disguised their emotions, to the point where they weren't sure themselves what they were feeling?

Georgia was different from anyone he had ever met, in so many ways. She was still breathless and shaky and reveling in it.

"Something's happening to us," he said quietly. "Can you feel it?"

She tilted her head sideways, her damp lips softly parted. "Yes..." she whispered, her breath wispy.

And then he stood up, knowing far better than she did how close he was to losing control. The last thing he wanted to do was to lose that soft look of trust in her eyes. "Unfortunately, it's time for me to be a gentleman."

Georgia gave him a shaky little smile, still sensitive to the demanding feelings thick in the air between them. She knew he cared enough to stop when he wanted to continue.

"Good night," he softly said, making his way to the chair and after taking off his shoes, did his best to become comfortable, turning the chair away from the bed and putting his feet up against the wall.

"You have no idea how hard this is," he said, not realizing how she could have interpreted his words.

"I think I do," she answered softly, a slight smile crossing her lips.

"Do you think..." he started. "When you look at me like that..."

"All you want is...?"

"Nothing. We should get to sleep; tomorrow will be here soon enough." He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Chapter 5

Even as she lay in the bed, Georgia wasn't able to sleep until the very early morning. She couldn't forget she was alone in the same room with him. She could hear him sleeping, finally. She barely got three hours or rest before the light of a new day slanted through the room's window, nudging her back to awareness.

Fortunately, she had always been able to get along with very little sleep and she woke, still wearing her now rumpled clothes from the previous day. She debated whether to wake him but found he was already watching her.

"Let me," he said, "find the bathroom and get you in there. Stay in the doorway." Jack left the room and went down the hallway to end and found the bathroom. Waving his hand at her, he waited for her to join him and then he waited in the hall for her to wash.

When it was his turn, he just splashed water on his face and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I think we should get out of here before there's a scene." Taking her by the hand, they left down the back stairs and after reaching the car, they drove over to the store to pick up their purchases from the day before.

"I don't suppose there's some place to eat around here."

"Probably not," she said. "We could stop at the market and get some bread and cheese, if you want. They already deliver to the house."

"That's a good idea. Where is it?"

Returning to the house, he drove with one hand while eating his roast beef sandwich with the other. Every now and then, he glanced over to Georgia, wondering what she was thinking.

The long ride back still wasn't long enough for him and when they finally reached the house, he knew it would be a while before he had an excuse to spend time alone with her again.

He pulled the automobile around the back of the house and parked. A few honks of the horn brought the other two girls out to bring the parcels in.

Georgia brought in her dresses and carefully placed them upon her bed. Looking at them, she was reminded of what had transpired the night before and wondered what the change in their relationship would bring. She wasn't so idealistic as to believe that she might have a future with him. There was such a chasm between them it was ridiculous to dream about anything but what it was: an exciting happenstance that would never be repeated.

And yet, she could still feel the touch of his lips upon hers. The stronger her attraction for him, the more she reminded herself to keep a tight hold on her heart. There was an insurmountable barrier between them. For the moment she could visit his world but she knew without a doubt she could never live there. It was a good thing to remember.

A few hours later, the grocery delivery truck arrived, bringing fresh meat, vegetables and the ice cream maker. The girls in the kitchen smiled in delight, for it had been an impossibly long time since they had had any ice cream.

Bill looked at the new provisions and directed the girls to put things so he could easily find them. 'Finally,' he thought, 'we can eat some decent food.' "And now," he said to them, "I'll show you how to cook."

He took them outside to the grill and started a fire. "We're going to grill some steaks for tonight. You have to be very careful and watch the time. Only eight minutes to a side, all right? Liza, that's going to be your job; you watch and come tell me when it's burned down to charcoal. Ellen, come with me and I'll show you how to make biscuits... and some vegetables that aren't boiled to mush."

That afternoon, they had a respectable dinner for the first time since the deaths. Jack patted his stomach. "That was good. Thanks, Bill."

"It wasn't me. The girls did all the work; I just showed them what to do. I think the days of horrible meals are over. Tomorrow, we'll try something new. I think a cake would be appropriate, don't you?"

"A cake would be splendid! I need to speak to Georgia about the estate. Can you spare me for a few hours?"




Seashells Ch. 02



"Certainly, I've got it under control. Take your time. We'll be OK."

Jack and Georgia walked along the beach. "This property is beautiful," he said, "almost as beautiful as you."

"Please don't say that. You know there can never be anything between us."

"Georgia..." He wanted to be someone special in her life and it made him angry and frustrated; he didn't know how to make that happen.

"Please, don't..." she pleaded.

He turned to her and took her into his arms. His hands held her close and he could feel her breath upon his face.

"Don't look like that," she said, quietly pulling from him.

"Look like what?"

"Like you're enjoying all this."

"I am enjoying all this," Jack whispered. Then he took a good look at her and decided to ease up. She had a look of panic to her that he had never seen before. "Georgia, you've got to believe me... you've got to trust me. I would never take advantage of you."

She shifted in his arms and looked up into his face, hoping to find something... honesty, perhaps.

"I would want to, of course. You're a beautiful girl... and... I like you... very much."

Georgia's mind was going in every direction at once. She wasn't woman enough to admit that she, too, had thought about what had transpired between them. He might take that as an invitation to continue and she might not be able to discourage him quite as much as she should.

She wasn't immune to him... to his charm.

"What if I were to kiss you, again?" He brought her close to him once more. "I'd never hurt you, never. What can I do to convince you of that?"

"You could be my friend," she whispered. "Just my friend, more than anything else that's what I need now. I'm not ready for anything else, not now. Part of me wishes I were but I'm not."

"If that's what you want from me, Georgia, that's what I'll give you. Friendship."

If she was honest with herself, she knew there was more she wanted from him but that was impossible, now or later. They were together because of accidental circumstances, that was all, she knew. It was just an accident.

He wanted desperately to go beyond that single kiss, so it wasn't easy. Having someone's trust put a different twist to things. It demanded something of him far beyond his simple desires.

It was a new feeling.

The touch of his lips on hers was as gentle as an afternoon breeze, lingering almost imperceptibly before he pulled away. It was a chaste kiss, a friend's kiss.

"It's getting chilly; we should go back." He put his arm around her shoulders and walked her back to the house.

"Thank you," she said, softly, leaning into him. He stirred feelings in her she never knew existed, feelings she seemed powerless to control and helpless to stop. He had kissed her and awakened in her a passion she had not known herself capable of.

Jack and Bill sat in the drawing room, listening to San Francisco's KQW on the radio. "I'm surprised it comes in clearly, let alone at all. This RCA radiola is pretty good."

The static in the background couldn't overwhelm the dance music that the station was playing. Jack wanted to dance with Georgia but she was in the kitchen pantry, taking stock of what had been delivered from the market. She could hear the music from the other room but stayed where she was knowing that if she joined them, he would want to dance with her and she couldn't do that, no matter how much she would have loved it.

She looked at the wall clock in the kitchen. It was after nine o'clock in the evening and she used that as an excuse to go to her room... to go to bed... to dream of his arms around her, his kiss on her lips.

Chapter 6

The next morning, the smell of bacon, eggs and biscuits filled the house as Jack woke, the morning sunshine already filling his room with light. He stretched out his arms, sat up in the bed and then swung himself off. He looked around for his underwear, wondering where he had dropped them.

He looked everywhere he could, including under the bed and finally, giving up, went into the bathroom.

"Good morning," he said, walking into the breakfast room. "Boy, that smells great! Where's Georgia?"

"Good morning to you," answered Bill. "Yes, it does and she's outside, somewhere."

Liza entered, carrying his breakfast, a smile on her face. Setting the plate down, she asked, "Would you like some orange juice, sir?"

"Yes, please. Thank you." Turning to Bill, he asked, "What do you mean, she's outside, somewhere?"

"She's outside, somewhere. She ate early and went outside. What's the problem?"

"Uh, nothing. Just asking, that's all. I, uh, wanted to ask her something... about the house."

"Well, you better eat; your food is getting cold. Want some jam for those biscuits?"

Georgia walked down to the beach and continued north along the gravel. The shore there was so rocky that she couldn't ever see trying to swim, no matter how inviting the water looked. The breeze coming in from the ocean blew her hair apart and she put a hand until she gave up, it was too cold. She pulled her heavy sweater around her, putting her hands up under her arms and bent her head against the wind.

It was soon too cold to continue and she headed back to the Windcliff.

He had gone outside four times, looking for her and then returned four times to the drawing room, pacing back and forth as he waited for her. He needed to talk to her.

Jack, however, did not see Georgia until it was late in the afternoon. She had come in while he was looking for her outside and went to her room, closed the door and lay on the bed. What was she going to do now? She had no clue. If he was a colored man, she would have accepted his attention and allowed him to court her, but he wasn't. That fact would never change no matter how much she wished it away.

She put her arm over her eyes and her sleeve soon became damp with her tears. 

That evening, she joined the two men for dinner in the dining room. To her surprise, Jack rose from his chair as she entered and pulled out her chair. No one had ever done that for her and she didn't know what to say except 'thank you'.

"I was looking for you," Jack said, sheepishly, as if that explained everything.

"Oh," she replied, "I didn't know." That was a lie, she knew. The other girls had told her he was looking for her and she purposely went to her room. 

"I understand you went for a walk."

"Yes, I, uh, needed the air. What did you want to talk about?"

He was at a loss and wasn't going to say anything in front of Bill. He glanced at his friend, nodding his head to the side.

"I'll be going, now," said Bill, getting up and heading toward the breakfast room.

She looked at him in amazement. He had eaten nothing of his dinner. In fact, dinner had not even been served.

"Georgia," Jack started to say, only to be interrupted by Liza bringing in two dinner plates with baked fish and potatoes.

"Would you like something else?" the girl asked.

"A little salt, maybe some lemon?"

"Yes, sir." She looked toward Georgia but Georgia just shook her head.

After the girl left for the second time, Jack looked at Georgia. "I wish things were different, for both you and me. I want to be your friend but I'm finding extremely hard to do so."

Georgia did not look up from her plate, slowly cutting her fish into bite-sized pieces and eating them, one at a time as she listened, unable to speak. Why, of all the men in the entire world, did she have to fall in love with this one? She saw no viable solution to her situation... their situation. She had no idea what to do.

She knew he was speaking but couldn't hear a word of what he was saying.

Suddenly the room was silent. He had stopped talking, both hands gripping the edge of the table. She glanced up from her plate, astonished at how quiet it was.

"Georgia..." he tried to say but couldn't, having said it all already. 

She looked at her plate, once more. "Yes?"

"You know what..." he started but then stopped, knowing he could not just say it. They both knew any relationship other than friendship was doomed and yet...

Chapter 7

"Bill's doing a great job of teaching Liza how to cook something decent. I can't believe you were all eating..." Jack put down his fork. "This is much improved. Do you think we still need to find a cook or can she handle it?"

Georgia gazed at him, wondering what it would be like to actually be the woman of the house, knowing it could never happen. "We'd still need another girl to help around the house. That is, if you're planning on staying here very long and having guests. It IS a big house."

He took out a small notebook from his pocket, flipped through it until he found a blank page and wrote down 'maid'. He followed that with 'visit graves, arrange for monuments' and 'visit jail.' "You know, we went all the way to Carmel and forgot to see the sheriff. We'll have to go again. This time, I'll make sure I get two rooms ahead of time. Looks like we'll have a full day next time." He smiled. "In the meantime, let's have Liza take these away and bring on the dessert. Bill tells me that he taught her how to make apple pie. Maybe I should just hire him as cook! I could use a drink, too."

Georgia shook her head, a smile on her lips. "You will have to be content with water," she said. "You will find nothing like that here, not even beer."

"My uncle followed the Prohibition laws?"

"He was quite diligent when it concerned liquor. He broke with the local minister when the man allowed a drink to a dying servant."

"Good grief," he said and shook his head. "I just don't understand the man at all. Then, where did he go on Sunday?"

Georgia looked grim. "For the past few years, he was in the habit of conducting his own services, sir."

"I've told you, you don't have to call me 'sir,' especially after what transpired between us. Well, you needn't worry about that. I don't know where we're going to get any wine around here, though."

Liza came into the room with the pie.

"That looks quite good, Liza. I trust it will taste as good." After serving a generous piece to both Georgia and himself, he sampled a bit and smiled across the table at Georgia. "This is delicious. Thank you, Liza, it is very good."

"Thank you, sir. I will tell Mr. Doyle that you are pleased."

"Where is he, anyway?"

"He decided to eat in the kitchen. He said it was easier to keep an eye on the food."

"This is an excellent pie. I wish we had some ice cream to go with it." As the girl left the room, he returned his attention to Georgia. "I suppose you nursed my uncle and his family in their last illness."

She felt an inward flush of pleasure that he thought so highly of her. "I did a little but, please don't make too much of it. It was the least I could do for him, considering what he had done for me." She looked soberly across the table at Jack. "In his way, your uncle was very good to me. He paid me decently for being a nanny and when he needed something additional, he always paid me for my time. He had many business dealings that he occasionally needed me to write letters and other such things."

"I am sure my uncle found you quite valuable." He looked approvingly at her. She was an intelligent, level-headed attractive young woman, in spite of her efforts to disguise her looks. At least this evening, he noticed, she was wearing one of the new dresses bought in Carmel.

Georgia found his gaze uncomfortable. A few minutes earlier, when they had been laughing and talking in such a friendly manner, she had come close to forgetting that she was a colored girl and he was a white man and now, for some reason, she was reminded of the fact. Pushing her chair back, she rose to her feet.

"I hope you will excuse me, I must go and assist the other girls with their evening duties."

"But, you will come back when you are done, won't you?" he asked. "There are still a great number of things I would like to speak with you about."

"I am afraid I can't," she replied, "I'm sure I will be busy for the rest of the evening. I hope that you will excuse me." She hurried out of the room and retreated into the kitchen pantry.

Disappointed, Jack watched her move to the doorway. He hurriedly got to his feet, went into the drawing room and turned on the radio but could only find the hiss of static. Disappointed, he turned it off, looked for something to read and finally, giving up completely, went to his room and lay on the bed. Life had been so much simpler in Los Angeles... before he cared.

Georgia had been able to avoid him for the rest of the evening and finally, when she was sure that he had retired for the night, went to her own small room, still furnished with only a small bed, a light, chair, table and an old chest of drawers.

She had washed her face in the bathroom down the hall and then, returning to her room, changed into her nightgown and knelt to say her prayers for her father and fiancé.

The silence in the room led her to think about her personal loss and she wondered what she had done to deserve such a fate. Then she remembered how bravely the small boy had faced his own death. Although she remained with her head bowed for several more minutes, she realized that it all could be so much worse.

She turned off the small light and lay in the dark, waiting for sleep to come as she thought over the events of the day. Ever since she had met him, her life had turned upside down. How different he was from his uncle and how had she expected him to be. He was more personable, more intelligent and more handsome than she had believed. In her mind, she thought how he had looked at dinnertime, his hair swept back and his eyes, intensely colored, delving into her own until she had to leave the table to escape his gaze.

She knew she was falling for him and didn't know what to do to stop it. It could only lead to grief; it would be a disaster. "This won't do," she said, opening her eyes and sitting up in bed. "This won't do at all," she said, starting to sob in the lonely darkness of her room.

She stared once again at the unseen ceiling, finding herself doing that more often than not since the arrival of Jack and Bill. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked, trying to push them away. "He has no children," she said to herself, "so he doesn't need a nanny, no matter what he says, so my leaving should not come as a shock to him."

The idea of leaving Windcliff, her home for the last three years, made her sad. She had thought of leaving several times in the past but now that she faced the possibility, she was sadly reluctant to do so. This reluctance had nothing to do with the new owner, she tried to reassure herself. It was not possible to form an attachment to him in such a short period of time, to a man that she had only known for a few days. And even if she had, it was just one more reason to leave as soon as possible. She resolved to give him notice early in the morning; pulling her covers up to her chin, she finally slept.

His smile stretched across his face; so did hers. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Jack to pull her close again, his chest making a caressing weight on her breasts. His hips found hers, pushing with the faintest, unconscious yearning. Seeking against her mouth, his lips carefully urged hers into a heated openness, as if she were a rare delicacy he was tasting for the first time. His tongue touched inside her mouth, and he heard the sudden hiss of her indrawn breath. He thought nothing had ever felt so good in his entire life.

He couldn't bring himself to pull away completely. Instead, he rested his forehead on hers, his lips parted on uneven breaths. His hands stroked her hair, again and again.

Her throat was tight and burning. It was amazing, discovering how his touch was affecting her. And, it was frightening.

She awoke at the first call of the rooster outside. She had dreamt of him, a dream that made her blush to remember it and was astonished to find her nightdress bunched up above her waist, one hand still between her still damp thighs.

Splashing cold water on her face, she pulled her hair to the back, and held it in place with a dark blue scarf. It took her several minutes to decide which of the new dresses to wear, finding herself leaning toward the light yellow one that he had bought for her but then examining her motives for wearing such a fine dress, she put on one of her old dresses, instead.

Looking in the small hand mirror, she found herself as dowdy as she could ever be. Learning from Ellen that he was eating in the breakfast room, she took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the room.

He looked up in surprise as she practically burst into the room; the door swung open before her but then his look gave way to one of pleased recognition.

"Good morning," Georgia said, feeling suddenly shy. Since leaving him the night before, she tried to convince herself that she must have been mistaken in her attitude toward him. 'But', she asked herself, 'how was that possible, seeing how he had already kissed her and kindled a fire of passion that she was hard pressed to extinguish, that it was already crowding her dreams?'

She was determined to tell him, no matter how hard that would be.



Seashells Ch. 03



Copyright @ calibeachgirl

Thanks to estragon and deepblue

*

Chapter 8

"What is this?" he demanded, finding his voice at last. "You say you're leaving? But that's impossible, totally unacceptable! I just arrived here a few days ago and I am depending on you to help me. Surely it's not necessary for you to leave now, before breakfast? How will you even reach Carmel? You can't walk it."

"I'm afraid it is. It's not possible for me to stay. I have to leave." Georgia spoke quietly... her eyes downcast, not daring to meet his eyes... she knew she would be lost if she did. "I don't wish to inconvenience you but I cannot see that my presence here is all that necessary. You have no need for a nanny, as you must admit, and your friend is teaching Ellen and Liza how to cook."

"Maybe, not for a nanny, Georgia... but, I have a need for you. You're the one who's held the house together all these months since my uncle died, as far as I can see. And, if you leave now, I am quite sure it will fall apart." Jack was silent a moment, pulling his fingers through his hair and looking at her in confusion. "Look here, Miss Lincoln," he said at last, making an effort to appear businesslike. "There must be some way to keep you here. I'll do whatever it takes, I promise. I'll double your salary, triple it even, to begin with. How's that?"

"But my salary is not an issue, sir. An increase would be welcome, I don't deny, but..."

"Then, consider it increased. I'm sure you're not being paid half of what you've deserved, considering everything you've done. Name your own terms, only say that you'll stay on here for at least a few weeks more. If you still feel you have to leave then, then of course I'll accept your notice. But, please, you can't leave now. You seem to be the only one who knows anything about running this place. Please, reconsider." He was determined to say anything to keep her there.

Georgia knew she should just give a firm and decisive refusal. The longer she waited, the greater the likelihood that her resolve to leave him would weaken, and she would give way to temptation. She knew she would be doomed if she stayed.

But even as she reminded herself of how she felt, she knew it was too late. Whatever strength she had disappeared as he looked at her. She tried to tell herself it was her duty to stay since he needed her so much. It would not be Christian to abandon him in his time of need. Whatever excuses she could think of ran through her heart.

"Well, I don't know," she said hesitantly. "If you really need me..."

"I do need you," said Jack, with such sincerity she forgot everything she had been thinking. Both of them knew there was another meaning to what he had said and it lay there between them like a burning flame. Their kiss lay between them, at once pulling them together, at once pushing them apart.

"If you really need me, I suppose I could stay a while longer." A slight smile passed her lips.

"Good... now that we've settled you're not leaving, there's no reason why you should not join me for breakfast. Please, sit down and I'll pour you a cup of coffee."

"Thank you," she said, sinking slowly into her chair. "I would like something to eat." Her dream had taken a toll... she was still exhausted.

A few minutes later, Ellen brought in a plate of scrambled eggs, hash brown potatoes and a breakfast roll. Jack wondered again why Georgia had gone to such lengths to make herself unattractive. Before he realized what he was doing, he asked the question aloud.

"Why are you so determined to look unattractive?" he asked and then mentally kicked himself, knowing how rude his words were. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

"What do you mean, sir?" she replied, knowing full well what he meant.

More embarrassed than ever, he gestured at her clothing. "Why would you wear such clothes when I've bought you new dresses and the like?"

"Most employers do not wish their servants to look too fine, sir," she said. "It makes their wives uncomfortable."

"I suppose not, but that situation is over and as you may have noticed, I don't have a wife to be jealous. As you stated, I have no need for a nanny but I do have need for a... a friend, someone who can help me. Now, after you've finished eating, why don't you go change and I'll meet you in the library and we can go over the books."

"Yes, sir..."

"Jack..."

She hesitated. "Yes... Jack."

Ever since he had arrived, she had found herself infatuated with him, even though she had tried hard to repress her feelings. Georgia told herself that this desire would have to be forgotten if she was to work for him. It would only lead to despair and heartbreak and if she gave in, who knows what the result would be? She couldn't afford to have a child out of wedlock, and marriage to a white man was unthinkable, no, impossible. She needed to preserve a proper decorum at all costs or it would be the death of her.

As charming as he was, she had no intention to succumb to his charms. She would be a fool if she did. And yet, except for that one excruciating wonderful kiss, he had done nothing improper. She was torn. As much as she was afraid of him, as a woman she wanted his attention.

"I wish to go to Monterey again and hire another girl. How did that work before? Is there a service that my uncle used or did he put an advertisement in the newspaper?"

"There was a service he used. He was most adamant about hiring colored girls to work in the house. I'm not sure why. Perhaps he thought he could save money, I don't know."

"What do you want to do?" Jack asked, watching her expression change as she pondered the question.

"I don't understand your question."

"Do you wish to hire another colored girl or someone else?"

"I don't know if a white woman would want to work with colored girls." She set it before him, letting it sit there.

"I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps we should just stay the way things are, then. Do you have a list of any new things we might need?"

"Yes, as you asked, along with this one from Mr. Doyle. He says we're going to need more flour for he wishes to start making other things besides bread and pies. He also wants corn meal and more ice for the ice box. He's written a list."

"Well, that shouldn't be too much trouble, then. Please write down Milky Way candy bars. I forgot to get some last time we were in town as well as Hershey's Kisses. And, I want to tell the grocery store to bring more cream and ice so we can make some ice cream. And of course, we'll need rock salt. If it's not written down, I'm afraid I forget." Subconsciously, he touched the back of his head where he had been wounded during the War.

"Yes, sir... uh, Jack. Is there anything else?"

"Do you know how to... of course, not. Ask Bill to come here for a moment, will you?"

As she walked out of the library, Jack couldn't help but watch her as she left. He felt himself becoming aroused and chagrined, crossed his legs and scooted closer under the table.

"Ah, there you are, Bill. I was listening to the Betty Crocker show the other day on the radiola and you didn't happen to find a cookbook or something in the kitchen, did you?"

"Not really. I've been just using what I learned during the War and the Boy Scouts. We really could use a cookbook. I'm running out of ideas. We can't eat steak and pie forever, you know."

"Great. We need to hire another girl for the house and maybe a cook, too, unless you plan on staying in the kitchen forever."

"I think that Ellen and Liza will do a creditable job of it once they learn. I'll have to teach them, though, because they don't read very well. Ellen didn't have much schooling and Liza, practically none at all."

"Do you want to go with Georgia, then, to Monterey and look into it? I know you've been cooped up here and haven't had a chance to get to town."

"Thanks. I'd like that. When?"

"Say, tomorrow morning? Then, you'd have time to get back before dark. Check the list you gave Georgia and add anything else you think we might need."

The rest of the day went quickly and Jack discussed with Bill his idea of starting or buying a vineyard in Carmel Valley. He reasoned that an existing one would be easily purchased due to Prohibition and failing that, land. If he had to start from new, by the time the vines would be producing he believed that the insanity would be over and wine would once again be available. In the meantime, they could sell grapes for jelly.

He admitted, though, he didn't know the first thing about growing grapes and would have to find someone who was knowledgeable enough to be successful. It was another thing to add to his growing list of things to do.

The next morning, Bill and Georgia left for Carmel to place new orders for food and then to Monterey to hire at least one new girl, possibly two.

"You must be joking," Bill said, shocked, when Georgia mentioned possibly leaving Windcliff and seeking employment somewhere else. "You must not speak like that. He has offered you a generous salary as you say, and it would be foolish not to stay on. He's a good man, Georgia. Has he done anything to make you want to leave?"

How could she explain to Bill that she was attracted to Jack and worried that she would eventually do something to her detriment?

"I suppose a few more weeks won't matter. I've already spent three years there."

While she had misgivings, they were about herself and her feelings for Jack. She remembered the losing battle she had after they had kissed and could only see herself surrendering to him if they continued.

"I'm glad you think so. I've known Jack for a long time and he's a good man. He would never do anything to hurt you. As a matter of fact, I know he holds you in high regard and is greatly impressed with your skill and ability, especially under such trying conditions that you had to endure during the illnesses that took his family's lives."

With a forced smile, she looked at Bill as he drove along the road north to Carmel. "I shouldn't have brought this up. Please, Mr. Doyle, don't say anything."

"Georgia, your secret is safe with me. I won't say anything but please, don't leave. I think you're the reason we're still here rather than returning to San Diego or San Francisco."

After stopping at the grocery store in Carmel, they continued north to Monterey where Georgia directed him to the employment agency she had been hired from.

There were several girls waiting in the office but Bill wasn't impressed with any of them. "Isn't there anyone else?"

"This is a small town... not much call for servants that haven't already been hired," said the woman running the agency.

"Any suggestions?"

"There's an orphanage about two miles out of town run by the Sisters of Good Hope. They might have someone ready to leave. I know they train them there and we've had several of their girls get positions with us."

"Thanks. A couple of miles, you say?"

"Yes, just take the main road toward Salinas. It's on the south side. There's a sign."

"Well, what do you think?"

"About the orphanage? If you want someone now, it's a good idea. And if the sisters have already trained someone, that's even better."

"All right, let's try it," he said, as he drove the automobile toward Salinas. Soon, they found the turnoff to the orphanage and after a while came to the front of a large building.

"Here goes nothing," Bill said as he got out into the hot, still air and approached the heavy wooden front door. He knocked and waited, occasionally looking back at Georgia who had remained in the car's diminishing shade.

The door slowly opened and a nun in heavy dark-brown robe peered out from the dim, cool interior. "Yes?" she asked.

"Uh, good afternoon. My name is William Doyle and I was told that there might be girls looking for placement as cooks and maids. Is that correct?"

The nun inspected him like a squirming bug under a microscope.

Bill, needing to break the silence, went on, "I can present references, if you wish. I represent John Crawford who inherited his uncle's estate; perhaps you've heard of it, Windcliff? It's along the coast south of Carmel. Anyway, we have need of a cook and a maid and were told you train girls for work. May I come in?"

She glanced past him to Georgia sitting in the now hot Model T. Bill followed her gaze until he saw what had caught her attention.

"That is Georgia. She worked as a nanny and now she is helping us staff the house. May she come in? It's becoming rather hot out there."

The nun hesitated for only a moment. "Yes, please come in," she said, pulling open the door while Bill quickly went to get Georgia.

"Wait here," said the nun as she disappeared down a long hallway, her rosary beads clicking together as she went.

"Mr. Doyle, we usually work through placement services," said the elderly Mother Superior.

"I understand that, Sister, but I am in need of help now. Like I said, I can bring references from the sheriff if you feel that's necessary. You can come and see the house if you wish. We're about an hour south of Carmel by automobile. If you wish, you can ask Miss Lincoln, here, anything you want about... well, anything you want."

"Very well, why don't you wait outside and I'll come and get you when I'm finished with your..."

"I guess you could call her our housekeeper. Thank you." Bill left the two women and went outside into the heat of the late afternoon California sunshine. He pulled out his pocket watch, checked the time and walked toward the side of the building, curious to see what lay beyond his sight, his shoes scuffing up the dry dust of the yard. Turning the corner, he saw several children playing under some willow trees while others were tending to three long rows of tomato plants. He stood there for a while, seeing how they interacted with one another.

"Mr. Doyle?"

He spun around, startled. "Yes, Sister?"

It was a different nun, much younger this time, a novice he thought, all in white though still robed up to her face. "Mother Superior will speak with you now."

"Thank you." He stomped his feet free of the courtyard dust and followed her back into the building, this time from a side door, stepping around two little girls playing with a doll. "They seem happy," he said to her.

"It depends. If they are very young when they come here, they don't miss their family too much and eventually they forget, but if they are older, then it is a hard journey they must face."

"Ah, Mr. Doyle, thank you for rejoining us. I have had an interesting discussion with your housekeeper and have decided to help you out. We have three girls who are old enough to consider. I have them waiting in the refectory. Follow me, please."

Bill gave an inquisitive look toward Georgia but was only greeted with a smile.

"Mr. Doyle, this is Susan Fuller. She turns eighteen next month, can read, write and cook quite well." The nun indicated the dark-haired girl standing to the left. "We were hoping that she would join us but that is not meant to be."

The girl moved away from the other two and stood by herself, watching him as closely as he was watching her. Bill looked at Georgia, hoping for some sign that she approved the girl, or not, but was just met with that same smile.

"This is Betty Lewis, she is also going to be eighteen," the nun said, pointing out a shorter blond-haired girl. "She can also read and write but doesn't do arithmetic very well. She is a hard worker and has a good spirit."

"And this is Catherine Grant. She is nineteen and a good worker but doesn't read nor write well. I'm sure that one of these girls would do you well." The girl stood there, her lower lip trembling. Bill's heart went out to her, obviously the last choice out of the group.

"May I speak with Miss Lincoln for a moment, please?"

"Of course. Girls, wait over there and we'll speak with you shortly."

Bill took Georgia by the arm and they walked to the other end of the dining room to talk. "Well, what do you think? You spoke with the nun. What did she say?"

"She wanted to know if you and Jack were good, Christian men and how did you treat me and the other girls and if we had our own rooms and if you had ever..."

"Whoa... slow down. Come to the point. What did you tell her?"

"Well, we're here, so she must have been satisfied with what I said. She did indicate she was surprised that I was..."

"Colored?"

"Yes..."

"Did that bother you?"

"Not as much as I thought. I think she was more interested in how you and Jack treated us than anything else."

"Well, what do you think we should do?"

"Bill, it's your choice, after all. I noticed that she did present them in a certain order, though."

"All right, then." He walked back toward the elderly nun and the three girls. "If it's agreeable to you, I'd like to take all three with me but it's late, now, and there's no way for us to get back tonight and we still need a hotel room for the night."

"I see. I suggest that you stay the night with us and then you can have a fresh start in the morning."

Bill was surprised at the offer and was sure that it wasn't given lightly. He was sure that it would have been hard, if not impossible, finding a hotel room that late in the day, especially with Georgia accompanying him.

"That's very kind of you, Sister, thank you."

"Good. Then, we'll see you for vespers and dinner when the bell tolls. Sister Anne Marie will show you where that is."

That evening, after evening prayers, Bill and Georgia sat in the dining room, watching all the girls file in from the chapel. "This should be interesting," he said.

The Mother Superior used the occasion to allow the three girls to serve them dinner, showcasing whatever skills they had. He could tell that Catherine, or Cathy as he was already thinking of her, was extremely nervous, as the chicken noodle soup she was carrying spilled slightly over the edges of the bowls and down the sides. There was a look of panic on her face as she realized what had happened and she put the crockery down harder than she wanted, making a loud rap against the wooden table.

"Cathy," Bill started to say, his arm reaching for hers. "Don't be nervous; there's nothing to worry about."

"Yes... yes, sir, thank you, sir." She backed up, retreating as quickly as she could and headed back into the kitchen.

"This soup is damn... I mean, very good. If this is Susan's work, then I think we're in for some good food from here on out. That's great."

"Yes, it IS very good. Simple but good," Georgia replied. "I am sure she will work out quite well."

"Do you think that Ellen will feel put out... I mean, we're bringing in someone else, now."

"I think the two of them could work together. At least, I hope so. We haven't asked them how they would feel working with colored girls."

"They've seen you; it's not like it's a secret."

"Yes, but the real world is often different from what we wish to see. You need to ask them."

"Actually, YOU need to ask them for they all are going to be answerable to you."

"What? I told you I was going to leave soon enough... as soon as the house is in order."

"Georgia, who knows how long it will take to put the house into order, especially if we start to entertain guests?"

"Guests? You are considering guests?"

"See, even you accept the fact that the house is not ready for guests. Let's not argue about it. Look, there's cake."

"Betty, isn't it?" he asked, as the girl set down two small plates with a simple chocolate cake.

"Yes, sir."

"If you agree to come with us, Miss Lincoln would be your supervisor. Do you have a problem with that?"

"This's her?"

"Yes."

The girl stood there for a long moment, looking at Georgia. "Would you be treating me fairly?"





Seashells Ch. 03



"Of course," Georgia said, wondering what brought such a strange response from her.

There was silence as the girl seemed to think it over. Finally, she said, "Yes, I will come with you if what you say is true."

"Good, then we'll leave early in the morning, after breakfast."

"Why did you ask me this? Is there something someone said?"

"No, why?"

"I just wondered, is all." The girl walked down the narrow space between the tables, picking up empty dishes as she went.

"Well, that was interesting," Bill said. "I wonder what brought that on."

Chapter 9

The next morning, as soon as the breakfast dishes were washed, the three girls, each carrying a small suitcase, walked out of the orphanage and waited by the Ford. The Mother Superior came out of the building and prayed with them, asking God to watch over them and protect them from harm.

With a hesitant wave, they got into the back of the Model T and waited while Bill spoke with the nun. "Sister, thank you for your help. I know that you probably had some misgivings about them coming with us."

"I spoke with Georgia and that changed my mind. I will trust in God and believe what she said, Mr. Doyle."

Bill reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "This is for your work," he said, handing her several hundred dollars, the large greenbacks bright in the morning sun.

It was a quiet journey back to Carmel where he stopped once again at the department store they had visited before. "Girls," he said, getting out of the automobile, "we're going to get you some new clothes. I want each of you to get five new dresses and a couple pairs of shoes. If you need, uh, you know, then get those too. Georgia, please get some new dresses for Ellen and Liza, will you?"

"Yes, sir," she said.

He handed her eighty dollars and said, "I'm going to get some gasoline and I'll be back shortly. If you're done before then, just wait here."

They did not arrive back to Windcliff until nearly dinner-time, the second half of the drive much noisier as they talked excitedly about what to expect. Georgia tried to be supportive, hoping to allay their fears about Jack.

Jack heard the approach of the Model T and as it came closer, the honk of its horn. Looking out the window, he could see what looked like three passengers crowded together in the back seat. "Thank God," he said to himself. "Where the hell have they been?"

'It's a good thing the Ford isn't bigger,' he thought. 'They might have brought even more home.' He caught himself. It was the first time he considered Windcliff 'home.'

"Georgia! My God, where have you been?" exclaimed Jack as they entered the house through the kitchen door. "I've been worried... I mean, we've been worried..." He saw the girls. "I take it your journey was successful. And who are they?"

"I'm sorry, it just took longer than we thought and we had to an orphanage between Monterey and Salinas and... I'm sorry; there just wasn't any way to let you know."

"It's just that I was... I'm glad you're home, that's all. I... so, tell me about these girls you brought me."

Georgia introduced each girl in turn. If he had qualms about what she and Bill had done, he was silent.

"Perhaps we should have waited before hiring anyone."

"Of course not... I am quite willing to abide by your decision in the matter. If I look surprised, it is only that I did not expect you and Bill to accomplish so much in such a short time, that is all. But, to be honest, I don't know why, I could tell from the moment I met you that you were able to accomplish many things. If this new girl can cook as well as you say, she will be a wonderful addition to the staff here. I figured you would be tired when you arrived so I'm fixing dinner tonight. Steaks and salad and some of that apple pie that Bill made yesterday, how does that sound?"

"Steaks and pie?" Georgia was so overwhelmed at his excitement that she didn't really know what to say beyond that. She felt such a glow of pleasure that when he had complimented her that it proved she was not as impervious to his charms as much as she had hoped.

"This won't do," she said to herself as she left to change for dinner.

Dinner that evening was a more successful affair than Jack had thought. He had neither time nor expertise to prepare a very complicated meal but the few dishes he had brought to the table were a vast improvement to what everyone had eaten before Bill took over the kitchen duties.

He handed around the dishes with a surprising efficiency and for the first time, the new girls were served all they could eat. They were quiet, somewhat mystified at his behavior.

"Most of what I bought," Bill said, "will be delivered soon enough. This dinner is excellent. If I had known you could grill like this, I would have let you take over the kitchen. Oh, well, we have a new cook, now, and I can return to my life of leisure."

Jack laughed at his friend, never having seen him laze about. He smiled across the table as he saw Georgia return. She smiled back and then caught herself. She was trying so hard to control her feelings for him and found it harder moment by moment.

For a moment, Jack sat silently. He had noticed the change in her face as she watched him. At last he looked up with an embarrassed smile. "My chief business tomorrow will be to go to the sheriff and see to the butler. I wonder what kind of excuse the man will have."

"I remember," Georgia started, "he was quite upset when your uncle died."

"Surely, that's no excuse for stealing."

"They had been here for more than twenty years. Perhaps, they thought they were owed more than whatever they had already saved. I don't know."

"I suppose my lack of response to your letters gave them the impression that I didn't care. I'm sorry about that. This could have all been avoided if that damned Higgins hadn't done what he did."

All through this exchange, all the girls sat quietly, listening as they ate. They were surprised that they, as servants, were all eating in the dining room, together with the owner of the house. Ellen and Liza were interested in whatever caused the change. Susan wasn't quite sure yet what the dynamics of the house were and resolved to be silent until she could decide for herself what was happening. She knew that the colored woman had a position of power in the household and seemed to be his friend. At least, that was how he treated her. As strange as things were, she was determined not to return to the orphanage.

"He didn't take all the silver, just a few pieces."

"You're not excusing him, are you, Georgia?"

"No, just trying to understand why he did what he did, that's all. So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure, probably ask the sheriff to let them go and give them enough to leave the area. They certainly can't return here, now. Theft is still theft, no matter how he might have tried to justify it to himself."

"You look surprised, Georgia. Do you think I should do more or...?"

"No, if anything, I would say that you are going to do too much. He did commit a crime, after all. Giving them money after seems like rewarding their behavior."

Everyone looked at him, now, wondering what his answer would be.

"I see what you mean. He's not a hardened criminal, though and he made a grievous error. I hope he will be able to put this behind him and find something, a fresh start, somewhere else."

"You are being very generous," she finally said.

The rest of the evening was spent having the all the girls introduce themselves and give a brief account of their skills.

"I'm looking forward to seeing what you are able to prepare, Susan. Ellen will be able to show you where everything is and as you become comfortable, you may move things around until they are how you would like them. I want... I expect the two of you to work together. Since you have the experience, you will be the cook and she will be your assistant. I want you to train her as you work together."

"Thank you, sir. I hope that you are not disappointed. What time do you wish to have breakfast?"

"Let's say, eight o'clock, that's good enough. Georgia, tomorrow morning, I would like to go over the accounts with you so I can see what everything has cost and how much cash I will need to get from the bank to settle with the grocer."

"Yes, sir," she said, setting the tone for the girls as to how they would address him. As Bill had said, they were going to be answerable to her and it was necessary that that be established at the beginning.

"This," Georgia said, "is your bedroom, Susan." The girl walked into the room, enchanted by what she saw. The room had a dormer window that overlooked the coast and she saw her own bed covered with a beige and blue spread. Near it was a closet where Liza had already hung her new clothing. There was a chest of drawers and a rocking chair to complete the furnishings. She twirled around, amazed at what she had and sat down on the bed, bouncing on the mattress. 

The other two girls were shown similar rooms; the only difference was the view from the windows. 

All three rooms were across the hall from those of Ellen and Liza and as curiosity struck Catherine, she saw they were nearly the same.

Chapter 10

The next morning, following a breakfast of pancakes and honey, Jack seated himself in the drawing room, waiting for Georgia to bring in the account books. A cheerful fire crackled and burned in the fireplace, and several lights had been lit, bathing the room in a warm light.

"Please, sit down," he said, patting the sofa cushion next to him.

Self-consciously, Georgia did so, clutching the ledger books to her to shield herself. She suddenly felt shy in his presence. As much as she tried to tell herself this was only a business discussion and he was only her employer, she could not help being aware that he was a man as well, a man that she had continued to dream about. The electric lights gleamed off his hair and touched his face with a subtle glow, making him look, if possible, even more handsome than she had thought. It was with an effort that she pulled her eyes away from him and opened the ledger.

He took the book and bent over it. She tried to keep her eyes on the ledger also, but in spite of herself they kept straying to his face. He read with concentration, his expression deeply absorbed. She caught herself and made herself look away again. Folding her hands in her lap, she fixed her gaze on the fireplace. She could herself his measured breathing and an occasional rustle as he turned over a page in the book. They were the only sounds in the room besides the crackle of the fire. As she regarded the dancing flames, she was conscious of a growing tension inside her. When he suddenly spoke, her heart gave such a start that it was all she could do to keep from jumping up from the sofa.

"This number here," he said, pointing to a figure in the book. "Does this represent the whole amount of fuel oil for the generator and firewood for the quarter year, or only for the month?"

She bent down and looked at the ledger. "It must be for the quarter, Jack," she said in a slightly breathless voice. "I am sure that it means for the quarter, it is too much for the month, I would think."

"But, look what he had written here," Jack said, pointing to another line in the ledger. Georgia bent down to read the line he indicated. He shifted the book to his other knee to allow her to see it more clearly and in doing so his arm brushed against hers. Its touch affected her like an electric shock. She drew back sharply, conscious that her heart was beating fast and there was an excitement running up and down her body.

"I don't understand... I am quite sure he meant it for the quarter," said Georgia. "He must have written 'month' by mistake."

"I don't think so. Look here. See how this total is? It must be for the month and it's an impossible amount for a month's worth of fuel, especially considering how cheap my uncle was. I think the butler was lining his pockets with the extra amount."

As she bent to look at the book once more, she could feel his breath warm on her cheek. This affected her even more powerfully than the touch of his arm had done a moment before. She became aware of his arm resting on the back of the sofa and his leg brushing against her dress. Even as she noted this, he shifted on the cushion so that his leg touched hers for a brief instant and that touch seemed to set her whole body trembling.

"I guess you're right. As you say, it's an impossible figure. He must have been stealing." She pulled out a second book. "Please, look at these later figures in blue ink. I can answer better for them for I have written them in myself since I've had to take over the housekeeping. But that might be just because we've had a mild spring and summer, and the reduced number of people living in the house and the lack of electricity."

She turned the page and tried to draw away from him on the sofa. He looked at the new page and bent over it, running three fingers through his hair with a frown. She felt a sudden impulse to reach out and run her own fingers through it. She wondered what he would do if she did. He might well respond by kissing her again and it was a serious question whether she could withstand his touch again. If he were to suddenly sweep her into his arms and lower his lips to hers...

"Well, this seems to be all in order and makes much more sense. You seem to keep accounts as you do everything else. Is there anything else you wish to show me?"

"No. Are you still going to the sheriff?"

"After seeing all this, I think he can sit in jail for a while longer. I think I'm going to press charges against him, now."

Afraid, she knew she should not watch him but she did, admiring his profile as he bent over the book. His vivid eyes were narrowed in concentration as he studied the columns of numbers. 

A fine line of perspiration formed above her upper lip and suddenly the room felt too warm, too close. She found herself imagining what it would be like to be kissed again, his arms around her, holding her close, his eyes looking deeply into her own as he slowly lowered his lips to hers...

The room was so quiet that she could hear the tick-tick-tick of the mantel clock.

Suddenly, she found she was not just imagining but hoping for such an embrace. Her skin tingled in anticipation of his touch and she felt as though a touch would be enough to assure her surrender to him. Already there was a hungry ache that reminded her of her dream the night before.

"Well, Georgia, I don't see..." Jack began, then stopped short as his eyes met hers. For a long moment he looked at her without speaking. She looked back at him, also without speaking. She felt as though a spell had been cast over her, making it equally impossible to speak or look away.

At last and with great effort, he withdrew his gaze from hers. "Uh, I don't see any problem, uh, here." He slowly looked down at the ledger again. "Your accounts are, uh, clear and everything seems in order."

There was a faint flush at the back of his neck. "That's good," she said, hardly knowing what she said.

"Oh, yes," Jack agreed, in a voice slightly less natural than before. With great care he shut the book, placed it on top of the other one and leaned back. "Well," he said, looking intently at her and then away again.

"Well," she began, then could think of nothing more to say. They sat in silence for what seemed a very long time. When a log in the fireplace suddenly collapsed, sending out a shower of sparks, both of them jumped at the sound. Jack cleared his throat. 

"Well," he began again.

But by this time, she was beginning to control herself again and the shower of sparks reminded her of her father's sermons about the fiery fate that waited for sinners in hell. A particularly hot place had been reserved for those who succumbed to the temptations of the flesh. She knew she was being tempted, tempted so it became a question whether she possessed the necessary strength to flee.

She rose shakily to her feet. "I must go," she said, in a voice as shaky as her legs. "Please, excuse me, uh, Jack, it is necessary that I go now."

"Must you?" he asked. She did not dare look at him; even the sound of his voice and the disappointment evident there, made it difficult to keep her resolution.

"Yes," said Georgia, keeping her face averted from his. Picking up the ledgers, she left the room as fast as she could.

After she had gone, he remained sitting where he was. He could not have explained what had just taken place between the two of them a moment before. He knew their earlier kiss had affected them both but what was he to do? It thrilled him when they had looked into each other's eyes. She had beautiful eyes, he thought, intensely dark and deep yet possessing a spark of fire in their depths.

He thought about what she might look without her clothing and then with a sensation of guilt, he caught himself. It was none of his business to imagine Georgia naked. She might be an attractive woman but she was also his employee and colored and it unacceptable to think of her in any other capacity, no matter that they had once kissed.

He reminded himself that she had come within inches of quitting and leaving, and if she knew the kind of thoughts that ran through his mind, she would run as fast as she could. However, he could not quite rid himself of the thought that something extraordinary had passed between them, but he had to tell himself it was only his imagination. He was playing with fire. 



Seashells Ch. 04



Copyright @ calibeachgirl

All rights reserved, 2012

Thanks to estragon and deepblue...

*

Chapter 11

"I should be ashamed of myself," Georgia said to herself, in the privacy of her own room. "To be attracted to a man, merely because he has." She sat down on the edge of the bed. "It's just sinful lust, that's all," she continued, thinking back to that single kiss that stood between them all this time. She wondered what her father would have thought... kissing a white man.

"I must just keep my distance, that's all, and I will come to my senses and leave him alone." She wanted to believe what she was telling herself but knew it was a lost cause. There was no denying that kiss, as simple as it was. No, that was the wrong word. As wonderful as it was, that was the word. Wonderful...

He had to be a good man, she thought. Why would he go to so much trouble to deceive her, a mere colored girl, when he could have almost any woman he wanted? She was sure that either Liza or Ellen would have gladly gone to his bed. Other than kissing her, he had made no effort to seduce her and if she wished to admit the truth, his behavior was more restrained than her own.

It seemed most likely, she thought, that he never had wished to seduce her and his motives for keeping her there were just what he had said, that he needed the help, her help, to keep the household running.

The thought should have been a comfort to her but in fact, she found it depressing... profoundly depressing. This, more than anything else, served to enlighten her to her own feelings.

"I'm a fool," she said as she finally removed her clothes, got into bed and tried to sleep. She no longer wore her nightdress, finding it too confining, too restricting. Why would he waste his time trying to seduce a colored woman when he could have his pick of any one he wanted, especially now that he had his uncle's wealth?

The rhythmic ebb and flow of the waves below the house should have lulled her to sleep. In a perfect world this would have invited soft whispers and confidences, romance even. Sometime during the night, her fingers found her dampening warmth.

It was early the next morning when the fattening smell of bacon permeated the house and Georgia found herself strangely, intensely hungry after such a long, deep sleep, a sleep this time without vaguely remembered dreams. Washing quickly, she dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen, where she found Susan and Ellen, both wearing new dresses, putting scrambled eggs into the oven to keep them warm while they anxiously waited for Jack and Bill to finally arrive.

"Good morning, girls," she said, trying to sound cheerful, though strangely tired from her imaginings of the night before.

"I feel," Susan said to her, "like I've escaped from life-long prison. You can't imagine how happy I am to be here. I feel like my life has just begun. This is quite the house, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Georgia answered. "Yes, it is." She looked self-consciously at her own drab dress, and wondered if she should change her clothes before Jack arrived.

She turned, hearing the sound of shoes across the black-and-white checker-board linoleum. "There you are," he said. "I've been looking for you." She glanced down at the floor, so similar to her existence, so separate and yet so together.

"Good morning, sir," she said, well aware of the other girls so obviously listening in the kitchen, determined not to call him 'Jack,' probably ever again.

"A place this size must certainly take a great deal to run and I am glad that you now have, I hope, enough help to keep it going." He searched her face, looking for answer to questions unasked.

"Yes, sir."

With his hand on her arm, he pulled her out of the kitchen and into the dining room. "Has anyone spoken to these girls about their salary? I don't know what you told them and I should have asked about that yesterday." They both knew that wasn't why he was still holding her arm, gently yet firmly, so tightly that she couldn't leave, didn't want to leave and yet couldn't stay.

"No, sir, I haven't and neither did Mr. Doyle. They were so happy to leave the orphanage that they never asked and I just forgot to bring it up." How could she have made such a mistake? It could be embarrassing... it WAS embarrassing how she had let him down in such a simple task. What was he thinking?

Bill appeared in the doorway, breaking the tension. "Breakfast is ready," he said, "and it smells pretty good."

Her feelings for Jack created more problems than she wanted to admit. After breakfast, Susan approached her while Liza was washing the dishes. "Is there something I should know?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen how he and you look at each other. I don't want to create any problems, is all."

Was that a smirk she saw on the girl's face? "Uh, no, of course not. What problems?" Georgia inquired, worried now. It was hard enough living here with him without this.

Susan smiled. She didn't believe the woman, no matter how much she might have protested. It remained to be seen, though, what would come of it. The idea of marriage was impossible for them. However, that did not preclude the man taking Georgia for his mistress. Would she, as a potential wife, be able to accept that her husband had a mistress, a colored one at that? She looked at Georgia. It was something to think about, something to think about, indeed.

Chapter 12

Liza, Betty and Catherine settled into the routine housework, working easily together despite their initial misgivings. By working as a team, not only did the work go faster with each girl responsible for the same things in each room, but being able to talk together made the day pleasant. Betty and Catherine had grown up with the Sisters, who told them work was a form of prayer and therefore, to be done quietly. Liza, on the other hand, loved to sing and soon had her new companions accompanying her as each morning progressed.

Susan and Ellen stayed in the kitchen and that became their domain, their kingdom. Susan, with her ability to read well, started working her way through the cookbook and each day was an experiment, perfecting a dish for everyone's enjoyment or realizing that it wasn't going to work, no matter what. There was a new entrée every day, and the ones no one cared for were crossed out in the book.

Ellen put all her efforts into biscuits, rolls, breads, cakes and pies, finding herself covered with a perpetual dusting of flour.

Bill made ice cream once a week, using the raspberries from the vines growing near the house. He had already talked to Jack about planting cherry trees for pie and ice cream.

"We need," he said, "to start planting some tomato plants, maybe fifty or so. You know, there're eight people living here and we need to start preparing for winter by canning some food. There's going to be times when the food deliveries aren't going to make it here on time because of the weather."

"I can see your point. Want to take care of it?" Jack smiled at his friend, wondering just how much Bill was willing to do.

"Sure. I can see myself now: the gentleman farmer." Bill laughed. "You know, with eight people here, we're going to need another car or maybe a truck."

"I've been thinking the same thing. Tell you what... let's go into Monterey and take a look. Maybe a car and a truck. The Model T is getting along in years and we could definitely use a truck around here."

"Great. When do you want to go?"

"How about tomorrow? A trip like that's going to take all day."

"OK, I'll tell Georgia; we'll leave after breakfast."

"You're bringing her along?" He looked at his friend, wishing he could read his mind.

"Yeah, I thought I'd give her a chance to get out of here, maybe take her to the cinema, you know."

"What's going on with you two?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, you two. Now you want to take her to a picture show."

"There's nothing going on." Jack's face reddened. "Just be ready to go."

Later that morning, Jack approached her. "Georgia, I'd like you to start teaching the girls that can't read. We've plenty of books here. They need to be able to read."

The girls learned, that afternoon, that for the other four hours, after they had finished with their housework, were to be given books to read and expected to discuss them at dinner. They were still surprised that everyone ate together at dinnertime. It was not what they had expected when they had climbed into the Ford for the long drive back to Windcliff.

That evening, after dinner, Jack was listening to the radiola, hoping to hear the San Francisco Opera.

"Stupid thing," he said, giving the set a rap.

"What's the matter?" asked Bill, coming into the room with a plate of cookies.

"There's too much static for some reason. It was clear earlier and now, I can hardly hear anything."

The signal waxed and waned as Jack tried to tune the station in. "This is ridiculous. I give up." He turned the set off. "Gimme one of those oatmeal cookies, will you?"

"Ellen's doing a good job with the baking. I've gained five pounds since I've come here." He patted his stomach.

"Better watch out. Trying to stay in shape isn't all that easy. We're mostly just sitting around during the day and of course, at night, well."

"Tell you what. We'll get those tomato plants you've been talking about and put them into the ground. That ought to be good for something." Jack looked at his own stomach. "I don't know why I haven't gained any weight."

"Ah, shut up, Jack. You're just lucky, that's all. Where is everybody, anyway?"

"I don't know. Maybe they're in their bedrooms reading. I hope so. I know that Susan has been reading through that cookbook. She asked me for some more."

"Maybe she's trying to show you what a good wife she could make." Bill laughed and then stopped, wondering how close to the truth he was. Could it be possible, he wondered. But didn't she know it was unlikely Jack would be interested in the cook?

Georgia lay in the bed, her arm across her eyes. She needed his touch and his arms around her and she knew it wouldn't happen... it couldn't happen... it never would happen. Turning on her side, she opened her eyes. The moonlight shining through the bedroom's windows kept her awake. She could sense he wasn't asleep, either.

Her heart won out. She pulled the covers aside and slowly sat up. Her hands were damp and she wiped them nervously across her thighs. She pulled on her robe and left the room.

Jack heard his bedroom door creak open and moved his head slightly, aware of the noise. His heart began to beat a little harder in his chest. The moonlight coming in through his own windows highlighted her coming into the room.

"Georgia?" His voice was like a low, rumbling thunder in the room. His covers fell away and exposed his naked upper body as he sat up. Now, with his hand resting on the side of the mattress, he studied her face.

She was trying hard to be brave and tried to speak. Opening her hands helplessly, she forced herself to look directly at him. "I..." she started to say and then ran from the room.

Back in her own room, in her own bed, her tear-filled eyes belied her attempt not to cry. She had tried so hard to be brave, to love him.

Before she could see him, he had moved into her room and settled down beside her. A sigh escaped her as the warmth of his near-naked body brushed against her arm. She felt the strength of his embrace as he drew her toward him. A small cry of relief left her lips and she turned and moved fully, completely, into his awaiting embrace. It was so easy to surrender once she had silenced her screaming mind, which told her she was a fool twice over.

"Just let me hold you... if only for a little while," he whispered, holding her against him. Shutting his eyes, he pressed his lips to her damp hair and she surrendered effortlessly to him. She slid her arms around him, her cheek pressed between his neck and his shoulder. The feel of her soft but firm breast against his flesh, separated only by the thin barrier of her robe, made him tremble in anticipation.

"Just let me hold you..." he whispered again and began to gently rock her back and forth in his arms. He wanted the tension to leave her body as he held her tightly to him. And then, suddenly, she turned from him, crying. "I can't," she said, tears flowing down her face. He still held her, moving his hand over her hair, telling her it would be all right and when she finally fell asleep, he left and went back to his own room to think about what had happened.

The next morning, Jack was standing at the kitchen door. "Come on," he said. "I don't want to spend the whole time waiting around." Georgia hurried out the door and sat in the back seat of the Ford. "Damn it, Bill, hurry up, will you?"

"Mr. Crawford, I made you some sandwiches for your trip."

"Why, thank you, Susan. That's very considerate of you." Jack took basket and walking to the door, turned quickly, only to be met by Susan's moist lips. She kissed his cheek and hurried back to the kitchen before he could say anything.

Jack put his fingers to his cheek, now blushing bright red as he watched the girl retreat into the house. What brought that on? he wondered.

"Gonna stand around all day?" asked Bill. "I thought you were in a hurry to go?"

"Ah, shut up."

The ride to Monterey took several hours and they didn't arrive until just before noon.

"I understand they're going to pave this road. Then it won't take so long to go anywhere." Jack felt the steering wheel twist in his hands.

"That would be great, especially on my back."

"Let's stop for lunch and then go to the automobile dealer. I think we'll get both a car and a truck. Right now, it's impossible for all of us to go anywhere together. There's just not enough room."

After a lunch of fried fish and potatoes, they went to the dealership and Jack bought another Model T car and a stake-bed truck. Bill said he would drive one back and the dealer said he would have the truck delivered the next morning.

"Bring a couple hundred tomato plants with it, will you? Here, this ought to cover it," he said, handing the man twenty-five dollars.

As Bill drove away in the new automobile, Jack turned to Georgia and said, quietly, "We need to talk."

She could only nod her head and he drove the automobile south along the coast road until he found a secluded place to park.

"About last night," he started to say when she leaned into his arms and crying, kissed him. 

"Jack..." was all she could say as he kissed her back. "I don't..." she couldn't continue. What was she doing? She was doomed, she knew and didn't care. "I love you, Jack."

"I love you, too, Georgia." His mind wasn't functioning at all, his heart, which was beating rapidly, was guiding him now. He grappled with his emotions. Trying to listen to the wisdom in his head, and not the emotions that were moving wildly through him was impossible.

Georgia sighed. How good he felt to her. She nestled more deeply into his arms and savored the strength he held her with. He was strong yet held her gently, as if she were a fragile crystal that might break. She felt safe. The idea circled her aching heart and made it soar with a joy that thrummed through her as she felt his warm, moist breath on her cheek.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded, unable to speak. Reaching up, she slid her hand his roughened jaw in response. Words were useless now. Instead, she enjoyed the safety of his embrace and the gentleness that she had hoped from him. Just touching him in such an intimate way... a wonderful warmth spread throughout her lower body.

Georgia marveled at her body; it seemed to have a will of its own. A wonderful hot sensation throbbed through her abdomen and like the light of a million stars, fingers of pleasure began to move upward through her to her face and downward to her toes. She unconsciously pressed her lips to his as her fingers trailed down his jaw to his neck.

Jack didn't know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, but was it wise? Was it moral? Was it the right thing to do? Her touches were awakening feelings for her. Should he make love to her? That was what she was asking in the way she was touching him. His skin burned where her lips traced a path across his face. Her fingertips reached down and held him. There was no mistaking what Georgia was asking of him now. He closed his eyes and shuddered as she pressed herself more insistently against his chest. He felt himself hardening to such a degree that it was almost painful. He wanted her... all of her. In his heart, he knew that loving her was the most right thing in the world at that moment... but, he knew it had to be her choice. She had to initiate that choice, not him. And whatever it took, he had to go slowly, not make any moves that might destroy her, but it was a personal hell to sit there quietly with her in his arms as she slowly reached out to him in so many silent, satisfying ways. He had never been more afraid in his life as that moment. One wrong move, one wrong decision and she would be lost to him forever.

She felt him tense as she moved her fingers from his pants to his face. She was lost in a joyful haze. There were no words, nothing that she could say to him. Each time she touched him, pressed a small, exploratory kiss here, one there, on his now damp, tense flesh, it was heaven. She had no idea if she was making a mistake; she was simply driven by the spreading warmth that throbbed in her lower body and the yearnings of her heart, which cried out to him.

Rubbing her cheek against his neck, she sought refuge in the joy that moved through her each time she touched him. Sighing, she closed her eyes and continued to trace the rest of his arm. There was so much dark hair covering his forearm that she smiled a little to herself. Her hand unbuttoned his shirt and went inside. His chest was covered by a thick carpet as well, and as her fingers touched him he drew in a deep, ragged breath.

He sat in the automobile, afraid to move as she touched him, exploring his body and as her fingers glided across his, he gently threaded his fingers between hers. She was exploring him like a wide-eyed child. He knew that she would have to initiate everything, she was that important to him. She had lost whatever fear she had had and when she was done, she moved back to her side of the seat.

He sat there, his breath coming in ragged gasps and he couldn't think clearly. He gripped the wheel tightly, holding his eyes closed, not wanting to face the world and lose the fantasy that had become real.

It was a quiet drive back to Monterey. 

"Wait here," he said, going into the hotel by himself to get a room for the night. A while later he returned with a room key. "I promised to take you to a picture show and the 'Phantom of the Opera' is playing at the Orpheum and then we can have dinner."

The film was scary enough, with Chaney playing the scarred man hiding in the bowels of the city, holding the girl enthralled. Georgia wondered if that was what she was: a girl enthralled by the chains of his charm.

Dinner at the hotel was a blur, even more so than the picture show. She had no memory of what she ate, let alone how it tasted. He left money on the table and they took the elevator to the fifth floor. They passed a porter carrying some bags to another room and he looked at them. Seeing Georgia's fine clothing, he was at a loss for words, as if he were to speak to a guest without permission, not knowing what she was... a prostitute... a mistress... what?

She said nothing about the single room, not even asking if it had two beds. It was as if her entire life was leading up to this night.

She walked into the room to the window overlooking the street, watching without seeing, listening without hearing. All she saw was him and all she heard was her own heartbeat, pounding now louder and louder and louder.




Seashells Ch. 04



She had lost her fear of him. She moved to his side. "Love me," she said. "Love me and make me forget."

"Come here," he said, patting the bed. He lay on his side. As she lay beside him, he saw the desire in her eyes, the warmth, the need of him burning in them. Her lips were parted, just beginning to be caught, tamed and kissed, but he tried to control his emotions. As her hand moved gently over his chest, he sucked in a ragged gasp of air. Eyes closed, he tried to control his need... but hot fire licked through his lower body. He hungered to have her in every possible way.

She reached for his shirt and grabbing it with both hands, pulled it apart, buttons flying across the room. Georgia felt him tense as she touched his chest. She felt as if she was caught in an extraordinary heat and joy. Her heart was opening rapidly, ravenously. All she could do was follow its overwhelming commands, follow her own senses as they filled her with a bursting demand for life.

Her dress was gone in a moment, falling to the floor, kicked under the bed. She felt her breasts brush against his chest. She wanted to kiss him; she needed to feel his mouth against hers. To kiss him was what she wanted more than anything else. As her lips glided against the hard line of his mouth, she felt his fingers dig deeply for an instant into her should, not painfully, but hungrily. Ecstasy spiraled through her. She felt his lips soften, accepting her exploration. How strong his mouth was, she thought, as she pressed her own more forcefully against his, feeling the power of him and savoring it completely. 

With a groan, Jack opened his mouth. He felt almost helpless beneath her, her seeking and when she moved the tip of her tongue across his lower lip, he groaned again. He moved his hand against her slender shoulder. He could feel her strength, her femininity as his fingers slid along and captured the back of her neck, bringing her down more surely against his mouth. He heard Georgia moan but it was a moan of pleasure. That drove him over the edge as her mouth blossomed hotly beneath his powerful, returning exploration. Her tongue met his and he captured her and drew her more deeply into him. The brush of her taut breasts against his chest, the way her hand slid down the line of dark hair in the middle of his stomach, her fingers finding entrance beneath his pants waistband, told him what she was asking of him.

She drowned in the splendor and power of his capturing kiss as he shifted her onto her back. She willingly lay beside him, her arms around his shoulders, her mouth clinging hotly to his. Yes, she wanted him in every possible way. Nothing mattered anymore, not that she was colored, not that he was white, not their fragile future.

The driving force within her was to create life, to feel alive. As she felt his hand move down her shoulder to remove the strap of her brassiere, she accepted that whatever would happen, would happen. As he stretched his long, hard body against hers once more, he smiled down at her. It was a smile of tenderness.

As his hand came to rest alongside her firm breast, she moaned. Then his thumb moved upward to encircle her nipple and she cried out softly, pressing herself wantonly against him. His smile was one of a man who loved his woman, knew what she wanted and what she would like. It was so easy to close her eyes and surrender to him in every way. Tonight, she knew she was safe with him. Tonight, he would love her and she could return that love.

Jack felt her hand move boldly beneath the band of his trousers as he lay above her, her head resting on his arm. He was the sparkle in her eyes and like the softness of her now pouty, well-kissed lips. Leaving her side for a moment, he removed his pants.

The instant his body met and touched hers, she moaned and closed her eyes. She felt him slide his arm beneath her shoulders and bring her fully against him once more. It was possessive. Just the burning touch of their damp flesh meeting made her sigh raggedly with need. Reaching out, Georgia slid her fingers downward across his hard, flat abdomen. Instantly, he tensed. As her fingers slowly, deliciously, curled around his erection, she heard him moan. It was a moan of pleasure. Opening her thighs to him, she lifted her chin upward. She was not disappointed. His mouth fell upon hers. Within moments, she felt his heavy warmth settling above her. It was so easy to open her thighs to him, to feel his knee nudging between them, opening her even more for that sweet assault. Yes, this was what she wanted. Needed so desperately that the ache in her lower body was becoming almost painful in its intensity.

When his lips tore from her mouth and settled on the hardened nipple of her breast, Georgia cried out. Instantly, her fingers dug deeply into his shoulders. As he began to suckle her in slow, deep motions, her hips automatically lifted to receive his thrust into her.

A cry of joy tore from her parted lips. She threw her head back; her spine arched to receive the power of him as he plunged deeply into her hot, slick depths. His suckling combined with the lightening-like bolt of fire that jolted through her and all she could do was moan with pleasure, surrender to him and meet him with equal fervor and driving need. Her fingers ranged upward and she gripped his hair as he teethed her nipple gently, his mouth sending wild sensations throughout her. She felt him groan as she closed her legs over his and captured him within her. They were joined; they were one. In that glorious, heated moment, as she offered her virginity she knew without a doubt that she loved him. He was deeply within her now and the driving force of his hips, the ragged breath near her ear, the powerful movement of him taking her, capturing her, was all she wanted.

Within seconds, she released his hair and grasped his long, powerful body. His flesh was damp, trembling, hard and she met and matched his driving thrusts. Their ragged breaths joined in tumult. Their hearts slammed in unison. Their flesh gleamed and they slid wildly against one another in an out-of-control ravenous hunger. Her blood pounded hotly through her as if with a raging fever as they breathed together with gasps of pleasure. Their moans mingled. One of his hands gripped her shoulder and he slid the other beneath her hips, lifting her at an angle. Instantly, heated pleasure exploded through her. She could do nothing but cry out, helpless beneath the power of her own surging womanhood as desire burst and moved powerfully through her. She felt him tense and continue to thrust into her, holding her in that position so that she could enjoy the explosion of pleasure now shimmering through her like hot sunlight.

Her world collided with his and the heat within her body was like molten, life-giving energy. She felt him moan again, louder this time and he gripped her hips and thrust even more deeply into her. She arched to meet him. The moment was magical, mystical for her. They were joined; they were together as she had wished for since the day she had met him at the door.

With a groan, he collapsed beside her in the aftermath. He heard her sigh raggedly as she moved to her side next to him. Just the small, fleeting touches of her fingers upon his spent, damp body made his heart sing. He kissed her flushed cheek and gazed deeply into her dark eyes, now filled with happiness. This was the woman he loved.

With a sigh, Georgia rested her head on his shoulder and curved her arm against his body. How wonderful it felt to be in his arms like this. He grazed her hair with his fingers. Her eyes were closed but he saw the soft play of her lips, the way the corners lifted and knew that he had given her pleasure. She had given him no less. He moved his hand across her abdomen, his hand splayed out against the chocolate tones of her flesh.

Moving his hand up to cup her breast, he listened as she moaned and then, barely opening her eyes, she smiled at him. "You are so beautiful," he said and then gently kissed her again. His words seemed so inadequate; he wanted to tell her so much, that it wasn't her beauty that had captivated him but her.

Chapter 13

The next morning came early enough; the early spring sun shining through the windows left undraped the night before. Georgia reached out, her eyes still closed, for Jack and found him gone. "Jack?" she called out. Startled, almost terrified, hoping he hadn't left her behind, she left the bed and went into the bathroom.

He was gone. She was alone. She sank back down on the bed, eyes closed, hands to her face, wondering what had happened. She put on her dress.

Several minutes later, there was the rattle of a key in the door and he entered, carrying a tray with covered breakfast plates

"Good morning," he said. "I've got breakfast."

Turning more toward her, he found her crying. "I thought you had left me."

"How could I ever do that?" he asked. "Georgia, how could you think that?"

"I..." She started to cry and rushed into his arms, forcing him to drop the tray onto the room's bed. "Oh, Jack, you were gone and I..."

"It's all right, Honey. I'm here." He held her to him, his arms gathering her in, her head now resting on his shoulder, her tears making his shirt damp. He rocked back and forth quietly, holding her tightly, embracing her, lifting her enough from the floor that she floated lightly above the rug.

The drive back to Windcliff was once again a silent affair. She had much to wonder about. What was she going to do now? Every once in a while, he stole a glance in her direction, wondering what she was thinking. Her silence had him worried

He pulled the automobile over to the side of the roadway. She wasn't even aware of her tears that trickled down her face until he ran his lips over her cheeks. Her heart thundered in her ears.

She felt like a fool.

And she felt like the most cherished woman on earth.

He sat with her, held her, stroked her hair and ran his thumb beneath her eyes, over her cheeks.

The air became charged and expectant. She looked over at him, expecting... expecting what? She found...

Intensity.

Seriousness.

Compassion.

And desire.

That last emotion registered an instant before his lips covered hers. Softly. So softly.

Her body went limp, melting into his, meeting the kiss and reveling in it. Her mind went blank of every responsibility she had, every care, every worry.

The smell of the sea and Jack wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. Yet comfort wasn't in any way the right description for what he made her feel. She curled into his lap, feeling his arms tighten around her, her own arms around his neck, her fingers delving into his hair.

Leaning in close, he kissed her in a manner that stole her breath away. The scratch of his beard against her face would leave marks but she couldn't think of that then. She only felt... heat, flashing and incendiary, whipping though her.

They sat there, kissing for what seemed like an eternity.

They arrived back at Windcliff in the early afternoon and as he put the Ford away in the carriage house, she sat, her fingers still touching her lips where he had kissed her, touched her, loved her.

She felt rather than heard the auto's door close and then he was next to her, holding hers open, waiting expectantly. She couldn't move, the events of the two days more than she could understand. She had freely given her virginity to a man that she had known for such a short time, regardless of the fact that she was in love with him and he had said he was in love with her. What future did she have with him? There was no engagement to enjoy, no marriage to look to, no chance to walk down the street with him without people watching, shaking their heads in disapproval. What kind of life was that? One of furtive glances, one of hidden meanings whenever they left Windcliff, one of despair and helplessness. 

And, she shuddered to think, what if someone else caught his eye, offering him what she couldn't... children he could acknowledge? Could she live with that?

Leaving him standing by the auto, she ran into the house and then her room, closing the door behind her, closing whatever naïve, foolish hope that she had once had.

She collapsed on the bed, her tears already staining her pillow.

There was a knocking on the door. "Georgia? Are you all right? Georgia?" Jack was met with almost silent sobbing. He knocked again and then noticed two of the girls watching him. A look from him scattered them down the hallway and then the stairs.

"Please, go 'way," she softly said.

Hesitantly, his hand just inches from the door, he stopped. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against the door's cool wood, both hands up against it. He questioned what to do. He was lost and never expected her reaction, especially after kissing on the way back.

Hours later, he returned, a tray of food with him. "Georgia, I have your dinner. Please, open the door."

He waited and waited and then, just as he was turning to leave, the door opened slightly and then enough that he could walk in. He looked around and after putting the tray down on a small table next to the bed, turned to her and pulled her into his arms. "Georgia, what's the matter? What are you afraid of?"

"As much as I love you, there's no future for us. I was just fooling myself, that's all."

"You're wrong. You and I can..."

"Can what? Can what, Jack? Walk down the street without people staring, making comments? Get married? Have children? Windcliff isn't the world, Jack, it's a dream, that's all, just a dream. Let's not turn it into a nightmare."

As hard as he tried, he didn't know what to say. No love is easy, no romance simple but her arguments cut him to the bone. If she wouldn't dream with him, then he was lost.

"I brought you dinner. Look, about last night..."

"Shhh," she said, looking at the food. "It's all right, it's over. It was beautiful... a beautiful dream and for a moment I was like anyone else and now it's over."

He turned her toward him and grabbed her shoulders. "Look, it's not over, it's just beginning. I'll wait as long as it takes for you to see that."

"Oh, God, what am I supposed to do?" she prayed, kneeling next to her bed like a small child. She had never been so confused in her entire life. She loved him. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone.

Georgia had time, perhaps too much time for thinking, for the arrival of the new girls had done a great deal to make her daily tasks less burdensome. Before many days had passed, she found that nearly all her household duties had been taken by them and she was left with little to do besides supervision, bookkeeping and teaching the girls to read fluently.

It was Susan who arranged the day's menus with Ellen and the others had fallen into a daily routine that soon needed no further input from her. 

In spite of her seemingly good fortune, she did not have a contented state of mind. Part of the problem was that she had so little to do. Now that the house was fully staffed, or nearly so, she had too much restless time. And more often than not, the subject of her thoughts was Jack.

She did her best to push him out of her thoughts whenever he appeared there, but the feelings she had acknowledged after their night in the hotel would not be so easily denied. Those thoughts lurked beneath the surface of her thoughts like a constant ache and that ache was a hundred times worse when she was actually with him. She often found excuses to go where he was, merely for the painful pleasure of seeing him and speaking a few words with him. It was a constant struggle to deny herself these small pleasures but for the most part she did deny herself and took care to keep out of his way during the morning and early afternoon.

In the evenings, though, it was a different matter. Georgia could not avoid seeing Jack then, for if she had tried to excuse herself from the dinner table, he would have urged her back. This was her excuse for appearing punctually in the dining room night after night, though she sometimes suspected that it was only another instance of self-indulgent weakness on her part, a weakness she could not deny herself, even though it brought her more pain than pleasure.

Jack was always kind to her whenever they were together and often made efforts to draw her into some sort of conversation and she could not resist the opportunity to see and listen to him. Many times, she sat silently at the table, picking over her food while the others spoke cheerfully about the day's events and the music they could hear from the radiola.

Chapter 14

Susan put the breakfast plate down before Georgia. "Would you like anything else, Georgia?"

"Uh, no... thank you." She looked at the girl, almost daring her to say something else. She picked up her fork and stabbed the egg, letting the orange-yellow yolk run into the pancakes. It was two days since they had returned from Monterey and although matters had not returned to 'normal' they had vastly improved from that first evening.

She was determined to talk with him, to tell him how she felt, to tell him what she would do...

The ocean's swash rushed ashore, its cold water getting their bare feet wet. She held up her dress out of the water as they walked along the narrow beach and dug her foot into the coarse sand.

"Jack? Do you love me? I mean, really love me?" There, she said it, bringing it out into the open.

He stopped walking and spun her around to face him. "Yes," he said, softly, looking into her eyes. "I do."

"Then, I will be your lover, your mistress, anything you want. I don't want to ever leave you."

He tried to imagine how hard it had been for her to speak to him, to admit what they both knew, to accept what would be.

He put his arm around her waist and drew her close as they continued through the shallow, rushing water. "Look," he said, bending to pick up seashells, beautiful but chipped.

She reached out and enclosed them in her hands, turning them over, scraping her fingernail across the broken edges. How like their love, she thought, beautiful but marred. She rinsed them in the froth, watching the last of the sand wash away, the water making them shine like polish.

Back in the house, she laid the shells down on her dresser where she would see them everyday, a reminder of her life to be.



Seashells Ch. 05



Copyright @ calibeachgirl

All rights reserved, 2012

Thanks to estragon and deepblue...

*

Chapter 15

The low-pitched, gravelly sound brought everyone out of the house to the front porch where they saw two black stake-bed trucks making the long drive up from the coast road. Eventually, they parked and the two drivers approached them.

"We're sorry it took a few extra days," said the older man, wiping the road dust from his face with his sleeve. He pointed to the hundreds of tomato plants in the back of the trucks, "but you wanted tomato plants and we had to go get them."

"I said a couple of hundred. How many do you have here?" asked Jack, scratching his head at all the foot-tall green plants he saw.

"Exactly five-hundred. Mr. Johnson said the extras were on him and thanks for buying the truck."

"All right, I guess. That's a damn lot of tomato plants, though."

"Where do you want them?"

"Might as well bring them around the back."

A half-hour later, all the plants had been unloaded and lined up against the outside of the carriage house. Bill stood there, counting his way through the rows.

"Don't bother," Jack said. "There's supposed to be five-hundred."

"I can believe that. It's going to take forever to get these all in the ground."

"Not really. If you and I take a couple of shovels and dig holes about a foot apart a couple of rows wide the girls can get them into the ground without too much work."

They eventually dug five rows to keep the plants closer to the house, making it easier for them to be watered. Three girls, wearing their new Levis, were on their knees, putting the plants into the ground and pushing the soil back into each hole while the other three brought new plants to them. Halfway through, they changed.

By the time noon had arrived, all the plants were in the ground and while Susan was making sandwiches for everyone, bucket after bucket of water was brought from the outdoor wellhead.

"Well, I'm glad that's over," said Catherine. "My knees are killing me. We need a long hose."

"Tomorrow, the grapes are coming," Jack said to their astonished groans. "Haha, just kidding." Looking at all the plants, Jack whistled. "You know, we could go into the tomato business, selling them in town. Give the girls a little pocket money and an excuse to go into town instead of staying out here all the time."

"You're the boss," Bill said, laughing. "It's either that or learn to cook Italian and quick."

At that moment, a smiling Susan, her golden blond hair shining in the early afternoon sun, returned with a tray of sardine sandwiches. "I hope you like them, Mr. Crawford. The fish are fresh from Monterey."

"Thank you, Susan," he replied, taking one, mindful of the blister on his hand.

Jack walked into the house to shower. It had been a long day and his back was strained from all the digging. He wondered how the girls felt. Today, he knew, had to be a one-time event. It turned out to be more strenuous than he had ever imagined and was glad that he wasn't a farm worker.

That evening, even though he was just becoming stiff, he walked downstairs for dinner. 

"I've prepared roast chicken, with potato salad and biscuits and honey," said Susan, smiling. "And for dessert, peach tarts and whipped cream. I noticed you liked them the last time I prepared them."

The clatter of knives and forks competed with the conversation that evening meal and as the dishes were being cleared in time for the tarts, Jack said, "You've outdone yourself tonight, Susan. Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir," she replied, touching his arm suggestively. "Anytime you want something special, you just ask."

"Uh, yeah, sure." He watched her retreat into the kitchen and return moments later with dessert.

"And a specially big scoop for you." Spooning the cream over Jack's tart, she passed the dish to him. "I'll let the rest of you take care of yourselves," she said, passing the tarts down the table.

Bill watched Susan go quickly to the kitchen to take the tray back and then return. She sat to Jack's left and stared at Georgia, a smug look on her face. Georgia just smiled, turned to Catherine sitting next to her and spoke to her about the film "Ben Hur" they both wanted to see.

Susan put her hand on Jack's arm again, vying for his attention. 

"What?" he asked, surprised at her attention.

"I said, 'did you plan on going to see the next Buster Keaton film?'"

"Oh, I don't know, probably not... that doesn't mean you can't go to see it. We can arrange something to take you girls into Carmel."

"No, that's OK." She tried again to find something to talk to him about but his attention was lost; he spent the rest of the evening talking to Ellen about 'The Great Gatsby'. His contention was that no one in the novel was a good person while she felt the narrator was at least better than the rest.

Jack went outside, threw his head back and stared at the sky. There were no stars and a new moon peaked out through the coastal fog. He was unsure if that was how his life, their life, was to be... hazy and dark.

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, he heard his bedroom door slowly open and the soft patter of bare feet pause at the threshold and then approaching as the door clicked close. He opened his eyes, knowing who he would see. He leaned back on his pillow and took her gently by the shoulders. "I was hoping you would come."

She took her first trembling step toward the bed, her eyes focusing on his smile, just visible in the dimness. She stood there, gazing at him, memorizing him, embarrassed that she had stopped.

"How could I not? I've been thinking about you all day, ever since..."

"You're not too tired from the tomatoes?"

"A little but that's OK. I brought you some berries," she said, her fingers tight on the plate. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

When she reached the side of the bed, he winked and slid over on the bed and eased her toward him. "I'm flirting with you, Georgia. We moved so fast that we skipped through the rituals that lovers have."

"Oh," she said, quietly, still afraid that one of the girls might hear. She couldn't think clearly with him holding her so closely.

Slowly, he eased away a bit, giving her room to breathe but only enough to reach a strawberry from the plate. He brought the berry to her mouth, touching it to her lip; he tempted her with its scent.

He rolled the berry along her lower lip, his gaze riveted to her mouth, just visible in the darkness of the room. A cool drop of juice rolled down her chin. Before she could wipe it off, Jack bent over her and licked it away with his tongue.

It happened so swiftly, she might have thought she imagined it, if not for the way her flesh sizzled in that one, moist spot.

He held the berry above her mouth, his voice low and inviting in her ear. "What do you think, Georgia? Are you ready for a taste?"

She wanted a taste of him so badly. She hated every moment she wasn't in his arms. At that instant, all her nerves leaped to life, as if every one of them reached and thirsted for his touch.

Arching her neck, she lifted her head to the dangling fruit and snapped it from the stem with her teeth. Sweet juice burst over her tongue and seeped down her throat as she chewed.

Jack watched Georgia like a starving man. She licked her lips to seek out every bit of juice. She cupped his cheek in her hand and titled his gaze to her eyes. "I'm ready for more than just a taste."

He swallowed nervously as he fought to continue breathing. He placed one finger over her lips and tossed a strawberry into his own mouth to quell his sudden thirst for the taste. "This time," he said, "we're taking it slow."

She nipped his finger with her teeth to free her lips. "Just don't make me wait any longer."

Picking up another strawberry, he slid the fruit into her mouth. "I'm going to love you like you've never been loved before."

He wanted to feed her berries, to wrap her in silk, to comb every inch of her hair with his fingers. He forced himself to focus on her wide, dark eyes and not her mouth.

A slow smile curled around the lips he was definitely not looking at. He moved to lock the door, wondering what they'd do when they had to confront the outside world again. They couldn't stay locked in his bedroom forever.

Georgia moved closer to him, her hip to his, her curves burning his skin, scorching his flesh with her heat through the almost innocent brush of her nightgown.

He took a strawberry to her throat and slid it down to the neck of her gown. She shifted beside him, arching upward at his teasing touch.

He ate the skin-warmed berry off his finger and took another. Sweeping her fallen hair away from her ear, he bent over her to whisper, "You know, it's not really enough to eat one of these by itself."

"It's not?" she asked, radiating heat like the California sun.

"I'd rather lick the taste off you."

Her breathing sped up.

Slowly, he tugged her nightgown up to expose her breasts. He smiled to see them. Sliding off the bed and onto the floor in front of it, he pressed her back onto the sheet. Her dark hair cradled her like a blanket, conforming to her body.

He fought a primitive urge to rip her panties off, to feel her thighs around him again. He knew her nervousness would vanish when they touched. He grazed the softness of her stomach with her fingertips and squeezed a single strawberry over the top of her navel. The juice filled the slight indentation, just trickling over both sides.

Jack bent his head to her midriff, taking in her clean, sweet scent. The only trace of strawberry left rested in the dark pool at her waist.

Moving his lips over her taut flesh, he rejoiced in the small jump of her body when he inserted his tongue into her navel. Her hips curved up against his shoulder, her fingernails raked the sheet.

Still, he took his time cleaning every drop of juice from her skin, trailing his tongue along the sides of her waist to the top of her panties. Georgia whimpered when he stopped there, wriggling her hips in unmistakable invitation.

Pulling her white panties down, he promised himself he wouldn't rush. He was simply trying to tempt her all the more.

He had been dying to glimpse her thighs again. He brought another strawberry to the slope of her breast, sliding the fruit downward, painting her skin in juice as he went. The thrust of her nipples against his palms was making his heart beat harder and he pulled the gown over her head and threw it on the floor.

"Please," she whispered, "I need you."

He paused to gaze into her eyes, seeing more deeply into her soul than anyone else had ever done. The first time, she had lost her innocence. This time, she knew she was going to lose her heart forever. She had made that choice when she told him he could have her as his lover, as his mistress, as whatever he wanted.

She pulled him to her, needing the heavy press of his body on hers; it was deliciously familiar and foreign at the same time. His solid male form didn't give an inch, yet her body molded to accommodate his. His strawberry-scented breath worked faster to heat her blood.

She reached for his nightshirt and dragged it over his back, off his body. The slide of his legs against her thighs shifted her attention from an emotional desire to a physical one.

Jack smoothed his palms down the length of her arms, and then lifted her hands to rest over her head. His lips moved down her neck to her breasts, tasting the flesh along the way. She couldn't find her voice and her hands remained wantonly stretched over her head where he had placed them.

Georgia put her attention on the play of his tongue over her skin, the slither of his hands along every inch of her body. When he had sampled every bit of her that was exposed, he grazed his stubbled cheek over her skin, igniting a deep shiver within her.

He put kisses along her waist. She wanted the satisfaction of completion, the fulfillment she had experienced only once before at the hotel.

He continued to administer lazy kisses along her hip where her panties had recently rested. 

"Jack?" She grasped at his shoulders with her fingertips, desperate to hold him in her arms, inside her. Damp heat pooled between her legs, a swirling, restless ache.

He ignored her plea, sliding off the bed to kneel on the floor beside her. She whimpered in frustration until he settled one thigh over his shoulder and kissed her in the most shocking, delicious way. 

"Oh, Jesus," she gasped, then whispered, then sighed and moaned in turn as his tongue flicked over her again and again. The restless heat built until it shattered, pounding though her like a tidal wave to drown her soul.

Jack gave no respite, gently biting the inside of her thigh and the slow, warm swirl began all over again, tingling though her legs and breasts.

He covered her with his body and positioned himself between her legs. He felt so good against her, so right. He combed his fingers through her hair and cradled her cheek with one hand, then eased his way inside her.

Georgia squeezed her thighs around him and reveled in the intense pleasure he brought with every thrust of his hips. He brought her to the brink she had already hurtled over once. This time, he held her there, stretching out the dizzying feelings so that her release launched her even higher than before.

He trailed her by only a moment, his body surging with the force of his final surrender. She closed her eyes and wished she could remain there, shielded by his strong arms.

"Jack?"

"Hmmm?" He paused in the middle of kissing a path from her chin to her ear.

"What made you love me?"

"I've been loving you so long, it's hard to say."

Chapter 16

The slight sizzle of pancakes as Susan poured fresh batter onto the griddle, accompanied the smell of fried bacon filling the kitchen. Ellen was busy squeezing oranges for juice and looked up just in time to see Bill walk in the back door.

After washing his hands in the sink, he got a glass from the cupboard and poured himself a glass of juice. 'It's pretty hot out there, already, so I watered the tomatoes for you."

"Thank you, Mr. Doyle." Ellen filled his glass once again and then turned back to the crate of oranges on the floor. 

"Good morning, Susan. How are you this morning?"

"Fine, Mr. Doyle. Thank you for asking. Is Mr. Crawford up?"

"Yes, he's been up. I don't know where he is, though. He'll be down for breakfast, I'm sure."

The two girls brought out the breakfast platters piled high with pancakes and bacon and set them down on the table. A few minutes later, Georgia came down and sat at her usual place. Everyone noticed the empty place at the head of the table. They all looked at Bill for some explanation but he just shrugged his shoulders.

"Might as well start eating," he said. "No reason to let the food get cold." He cut up his pancakes and poured the honey.

Georgia shook her head. Her heart sank. She would drink her coffee, she thought, exchange some light, mindless conversation and leave.

"Cream and sugar?" Jack's voice barely dented her thoughts. Georgia heard him as if he spoke from very far away. She nodded her head.

A moment passed. Her head came up. Her eyes opened wide. "I'd love some... some... if you have... coffee will be fine."

Her voice dwindled away and she whipped her gaze from Bill to Jack. He set the cup of coffee before her and went to the tray for some cream and sugar. Seating himself in his usual chair, he picked up his own cup.

For several long moments he sipped his coffee in silence and Georgia could feel him watching her. When he finally spoke, she jumped.

"Good morning." His tone was lazy and matter-of-fact.

Putting a bright, too happy smile on her face, she busied herself with the cream and sugar.

Jack laughed. His chest shook, his head fell back like he was enjoying a great joke and he laughed and laughed in a way that changed not only his mood but hers as well.

When he was able, he put his cup back on the table, leaned forward and asked, "How are you?"

Georgia looked at the broad white smile she remembered so well from the night before and found she was torn between feeling better and feeling embarrassed as the others at the table looked at her.

"My mind was on something else."

"Oh," he replied.

"I didn't mean... oh, never mind, please." She stood to leave, her coffee untouched, her breakfast uneaten. She started to walk past him. Jack remained in his chair but snaked a hand to grab her before she slipped by.

"What about your pancakes?" He nodded toward the table. His laughter had left but his smile remained. "I'm sorry. Georgia, please, stay... I'll be more civilized."

Her name never sounded so good as when he said it. She sat back down, her hands in her lap.

He lifted his coffee cup but paused before touching it to his lips. He raised a brow. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh, yes, thank you."

The others at the table watched the conversation move back and forth between the two of them.

He made no reply; there seemed nothing else to say for the moment. Sitting next to him was so different, now. She remembered the early hours of the morning when they had made love again. She almost sighed aloud at the memory. She had had so many plans for her life but had wound up here, sitting next to a man she couldn't marry and yet loved with all her heart.

She broke the silence. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to..." She stopped speaking.

Again they were quiet, but this time there was a returning warmth, of comfort in the silence, an echo of what they had done.

She ran her finger over a small chip in the cup's edge.

He was watching her with a look of loving interest. Something had happened, that was clear to the others, who all this time had kept a watchful silence.

Georgia linked her trembling fingers on the table, moistened her lips and met his gaze squarely. She grabbed her coffee and took a hefty swallow and then lifted her gaze from the table-top. "I'd like some pancakes, please."

Chapter 17

They had spent the day driving... and shopping. He had insisted on stopping in Carmel. Opening his wallet, he told her to buy anything she wanted. Although he had bought everyone new clothes before, having him buy clothes just for her was still an unsettling experience.

She had assumed he would leave her to her own devices while he made his own selections for their impromptu trip, but he involved himself in her every purchase. It practically paralyzed her, Jack looking at the lingerie.

Georgia stood immobile at the nightgowns. He purposely declined anything that was made of flannel and began to choose things that were lacy and enticing. She quivered at the intimacy of it all, even though they had become lovers the last few weeks.

Jack felt no such qualms. He had grinned at her hesitation, searching the shelved boxes until he found one he declared quietly would look wonderful on her. It was all clinging black lace with tiny red rosebuds on the bodice.

Even now, as they finished their meal farther up the coast outside of Santa Cruz, the nightgowns hung like portents of the future in the bedroom closet at the small inn they found.

"I've got a girl with me," he had said to the clerk as he checked in, laying down a fifty-dollar bill. "Is there a problem with that?"

The clerk just smiled and taking the money gave him a key.

Jack sipped his water and dropped an inquisitive glance at the dinner she had hardly touched. "Not hungry?"

"Not very."

"Would you like to leave?"

"No!" Thoughts of the nightgown made her answer a bit too emphatically. "I mean, you should finish yours."

"I have."

"Do you want some of mine?"

"No." He looked at her across the table. "Would you like some dessert? They have ice cream.




Seashells Ch. 05



Silence.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, finally, breaking the silence that was at the table like a third person.

"Everyone knows what we're doing."

"Everyone?" he said, knowing what she meant and not caring.

"Yes, everyone at the house, if they didn't know before, they know now. And, the people, here, looking at us. They know."

"Does that bother you?" He took another sip of water.

"I don't know. Sometimes."

"You look wonderful in red," he said, changing the subject as his eyes wandered over the dress he had picked out for her at the store.

"I look like a tomato."

"You look like fire."

Georgia swallowed hard. She forced a friendly laugh. On several occasions during dinner, she had tried to steer their almost silent conversation away from what they both knew was coming.

"Georgia..." He signaled to the waitress for the bill and then laid down the money.

The last vestiges of twilight were still clinging to the sky as they walked from the inn's dining room to their room. The night, full of tall pine trees, with its beauty and its implications, heightened her awareness of what was to happen. For some reason, this time it was different.

When they reached their room, she entered first and saw the flames dancing in the fireplace.

"I asked them to light a fire while we were at dinner. Even in spring the nights can be cold here." He walked past her, loosening his tie. "I'm going to fill the tub."

Georgia's head swiveled round as he brushed by her on his way to the bathroom. "But..."

Jack halted on the threshold of the bathroom and turned around to look at her quizzically.

She clasped her hands in front of her, pressing them tightly together. "I'm sorry," she said, "it's just that I'm a little nervous... a lot nervous. I'm just a little..."

Grasping her by the shoulders, Jack pulled her toward the bed. Seeing her eyes widen, he quietly swore, shook his head and took her to the sofa.

"Sit down."

She obeyed and he sat beside her. Carefully, gently, he took her hands in his.

"Georgia, I know you're nervous. We're not going to do anything you're not comfortable with. I just wanted you to relax in a warm bath... by yourself."

She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered as if the walls had ears. "I don't mean to be..."

"You're nervous. I understand. It feels different and new to me, too."

"It does?"

"Yes." His hands moved over the tops of his. "I'm going to run that bath for you."

True to his word, he prepared the bath and that was all. She got undressed alone and climbed into the tub alone. She was acutely aware of his presence just beyond the bathroom door, but as the hot, soapy water swirled around her hips and back, relaxation came quite naturally.

She could see her body, warm and supple and café au lait in color, beneath the water.

She remembered suddenly the times in her teens when she would stand before a mirror as naked as she dared, which meant she was wearing a brassiere and panties, and study her own body. What she discovered was that she felt herself nothing special, thinking her breasts were too small but her legs were long and slender and her arms were graceful like a dancer's. How, she used to wonder, would a man see her?

After a while, though, she had stopped looking at her reflection, ceasing to wonder what a man's opinion of her body would be, because it didn't seem likely that there was going to be a man, any man to worry about.

Now, she cared again. The veil of water was kind to her, she thought, softening the look of her body, but she still felt nothing had changed. How could he find her attractive?

Soon, she was surrounded by snowy mounds of soap higher than her chin, hiding her body from her.

Leaning back, the bubbles popping and crackling beneath her head, she tried to clear her mind but visions of his eyes and hands teased her behind her closed eyes.

She stayed in the water for more than an hour, letting the water lull her. She might have fallen asleep if not for the knock on the bathroom door.

"Georgia? How are you doing in there?"

Jerking straight up, she inadvertently sloshed watery bubbles over the side of the tub and onto the floor. "I'm... I'm fine."

"You forgot your nightgown in the closet. You want me to bring it in to you?"

Her gaze darted around the bathroom. All she saw was a towel and her evening clothes.

"Georgia, I'm coming in."

"Just a minute!" She could either wrap herself in the towel or hid beneath the bubbles.

"All right. Come in."

Surprised, Jack straightened away from the door. He glanced at the lacy material in his hands and to his amazement felt his heart beat harder in response.

Opening the door, he stepped inside the warm bathroom. His eyes sought out the tub and the woman in it. His breath caught and held.

No vision could have pleased him more. What he saw was not a nymph, naked and visible beneath the water, but a chocolate sprite, covered in a creamy white froth. The soapy bubbles revealed only her shoulders, neck and face but it was enough to make him hunger to touch her.

"Uh, here," he stammered, wondering why seeing her this way was affecting him so. He set the negligee down on the toilet seat and left, closing the door behind him. She wished for perfume but settled for the clean scent of the Ivory soap.

The nightgown went over her head like a symbol of her womanhood, changing even the way she looked at herself. The lace seemed to highlight her best features, a nightgown that her lover had picked out... for her.

More importantly, she felt beautiful. The lace wrapped around her body and her hair that she had never thought anything about suddenly became a glorious thing... and for the first time in her life, she really felt beautiful.

A few minutes later, she left the brightness of the bathroom as she came back into the bedroom to see flickering shadows dancing on the wall from the fireplace's light. Jack was lying on the bed, wearing only his pants. His arms were folded behind his head and his eyes were focused on the ceiling, watching the moody shadows move around to their own rhythm. When she closed the door behind her, he shifted his attention to her.

For a moment as he stared, he remained absolutely still. Then slowly he lifted his head, lowered his arms and rose from the bed. Then, there was less than a foot between them when he stopped before her.

"Georgia," he said, his voice low, "may I have this dance?"

He extended his left arm and with his right, reached for her waist.

Georgia could feel her own pulse, it was beating that hard; the whole room seemed to be pulsing with it. Carefully, she placed her hand in his and as he drew her forward, she summoned up her courage and told him, "I've never danced before."

"You'll love it."

With his hand on her back, he guided their steps. She didn't have to take many, they mainly swayed but she felt giddy as if she were dancing in a ballroom.

Jack pulled her closer in the silence, the only music playing in her heart. Jack pulled her closer. As her breasts pressed lightly against him, she stiffened and stumbled a step. Their bare feet tangled. He dropped a kiss into her hair and then lightly set her away from him and kept dancing.

She wanted him. She wanted him to make love to her. She knew he was seducing her... but her experience was so limited. They had only made love twice, three times if she counted the time in the car and suddenly what he wanted wasn't enough. She wanted more.

As her thoughts tumbled and crashed into one another, her feet grew clumsy. Finally, after several awkward attempts, Jack stopped and held her still. "Are you tired?"

His eyes held concern and she thought, a resignation. "I am getting tired, yes," she told him, and then realized, 'I have started my life with him with a lie.'

Jack merely pushed a dark curl away from her face and said, "Let's go to bed."

He stepped away from her, leaving her to climb into the bed on her own while he pulled new pajamas out of a drawer and retired to the bathroom to change.

Georgia lay in the bed with the covers tucked under her arms and her hands folded on her chest... and then on her stomach, because she thought that would look less... what? And then on her chest, again, because she didn't want him to think she was putting him off.

She closed her eyes when she heard him open the bathroom door. The mattress barely gave as he got in the bed but she felt the warmth of his body as he moved under the covers. Feeling silly for closing her eyes when she was wide-awake, she opened them. There was something she had to say to him.

"Jack?" she whispered into the fluttering shadows of the night.

"Hmmm?"

Georgia felt, rather than saw him turn his head on the pillow and though it was too dark to see clearly, she turned her head, as well.

"This was the nicest day I've ever had."

The words barely left her lips when his arm pulled her close. Turning her so her back was snuggled against his chest, he curved his body around her.

"Me, too," he whispered against her ear.

Georgia learned two things then as she lay against Jack, their bodies touching from head to toe... one, her lover did not wear pajama tops; and two, being held in warm, solid arms while you drifted asleep was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

The first full day of their new life dawned fresh and crisp, as spring mornings along California's central coast were apt to be. They ate breakfast in the inn's dining room and then at his suggestion, went for a walk. That afternoon was spent walking through the town. They bought sandwiches, pastries and drinks at a small shop and took the food with them along the beach.

If the couple had felt the lack of sexual expression on their first night publicly together, neither of them was aware of it. The entire day was marked by easy laughter and teasing touches. They looked for any excuse to make contact, heightening the sensations they both sought.

At one point they held hands and the sensuousness of it was so heady, Georgia thought she might faint.

More than once, Jack caught himself looking at his lover and thinking, 'this is the way it is supposed to be.'

The sun had begun to descend into the Pacific by the time they returned to the inn and they sat on a bench watching it grow dark.

He reached out to touch her hair. It felt wonderful to his fingers. He gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to turn the innocent touch into a full and sensual caress. He rested his hand on the back of her neck, just for moment and then...

She turned and before he could react, her arms were around his neck and her lips were flush with his. Unprepared, he fell back against the bench. Suddenly, every nerve was centered in their lips as they kissed. Georgia kissed him hard. She felt his surprise and realized that she was kissing him harder than she had intended, not that she had had a lot of time to think about it and then, she lunged at him.

All day long, he had teased her, touched her, looked at her and all day long, she had tried to concentrate on something other than how wonderful it had been to sleep in his arms.

The moment she felt his fingers on her neck, she lost all control. Now, with her lips pressed against his in public, albeit a darkened public, it was the way she had always dreamed it would be.

For a moment, they stared at one another and then he reached up and brought forward the back of her head. His fingers tangled in her curls and he pulled her to him.

His arm tightened around her waist and this time it was he who guided the kiss. He urged her lips to part and soon his tongue was engaging hers in a dance as old as time itself.

"Sun's down," Jack said, looking at the sky.

She nodded.

"Way past dinnertime."

"Way past."

"Too bad. We might as well go back to the room."

"Might as well."

Pushing himself off the bench, Jack stood up and reaching out, helped her up and without a moment's hesitation, Georgia took his hand in hers and followed him back to the room.



Seashells Ch. 06



Copyright @ calibeachgirl

All rights reserved, 2012

Thanks to estragon and deepblue...

*

Chapter 18

As erotic as last night had been, Georgia vowed that it would be the last time she slept with Jack without making love with him. Walking back to their room took longer than she thought, her mind rushing along like a river, splashing over rocks and changing direction at each new thought.

It wouldn't be the first time they made love but it would be the first time that he publicly acknowledged how he felt about her. What was to come of it, though, she had no idea, only that they were breaking the law in almost every state in the country.

Miscegenation was illegal in California... was it still against the law if there were no children as a result? Or was the very act of cohabitation enough to send them to jail?

She didn't know but determined to find out, one way or the other... or, would it just lead to trouble, bringing more attention to what they were doing? She didn't know and at the moment, she didn't care. She just knew she wanted him, needed him.

They arrived back at the inn's room after a curiously silent walk. Strolling up to the building, Jack saw many things he hadn't noticed before... how her curls framed her face just so, how her full lips captured her smile, how her dark eyes seemed as deep pools of love that he wanted to drown himself in.

He thought he understood the meaning of love more than any time he had ever been with one of his lovers in years past. No wonder he treasured her. She was one-of-a-kind, tangible proof that even he would be able to find true love.

For a while, he thought he was only borrowing a few precious moments in her life and then she would be gone, never to return, but with each day it became more and more obvious that he wanted her for his own, regardless of the peril. It was selfish, he knew, to endanger her in such a way but he saw no other outcome. He had to have her, and damn the consequences!

If he couldn't love her completely, he wasn't going to pursue her and here he was... here they were, publicly stating their intentions.

Georgia glanced at Jack, realizing he was lost in his thoughts. He had been silent ever since they headed back to the inn's room. "You look so far away," she remarked, wondering as she looked into his eyes.

"I am," he replied in a hollow voice. "At least two feet too far."

She expected him to move then, to take her into his arms and make the sensual magic that she craved. A succession of emotions flashed across her face.

And then, he took her into his arms and pulled her close, kissing her full lips like they were cool water to a dying man.

Georgia wet her shaky lips with the tip of her tongue, her fingers splayed across his shirt. "Maybe," she whispered, "we should go inside."

He was feeling only his most basic instincts as he held her closely. This was about desire and it was incredibly arousing because she there was more between them than just... sex. Even saying the word was erotic. It was a word that she just had never said.

"Love me," she whispered in an aching velvet voice.

"I do." Jack had never said that to a woman, not once in all the years that he had had lovers. He didn't know if she realized he was speaking from his heart. He swore he could feel the earth move beneath his feet. "I do love you, Georgia."

They entered their room and her eyes softened. The fireplace was ready to be lit and the bed had been turned down. She was going to say something, but Jack didn't give her a chance. His mouth moved over hers, drinking deeply from her lips that had tempted him all evening. He forced himself to forget everything else except the woman before him and what they were going to do that night.

Georgia kicked off her shoes, still kissing him. Being almost as tall had been nice but she would hate to fall and spend the night with a broken ankle instead of in the bed with the man she loved. She put kisses everywhere on his lips, his face. In the back of her mind she recognized the sound of a button flying off from his shirt.

"I'm sorry." She dipped her head and gave him a look from her dark eyes, pressing her lips against his skin, her darker flesh absorbing the heat there.

He wanted her physically, emotionally, completely, and knew that this night would be the point of no return for them.

Georgia clung to Jack's shoulders, shuddering as she felt his palms slide beneath her dress, pushing it to her thighs. The combination of silk stockings, warm skin and hungry fingers made her dizzy with wanting, with need.

She loved him, she knew it.

His mind was full of emotion and desire. He didn't pause; he barely gave himself time to breathe. His mouth was raining kisses on her mouth, her hair, her eyelids. He wanted to love her everywhere.

In her eyes, he saw clear, pure emotion. She hid nothing; he knew it would never occur to her to be anything but truthful with him. His craving for possession was insatiable. Since the first time he had seen her, he had wanted her, whether he knew it or not.

They kissed in lost, fierce ways, their lips barely breaking contact while they said quiet endearments and staggered toward the bed. In the room, lit with only the dance of the fireplace, two hearts had come together.

She had been so careful her entire life, with her time, with her heart, with her hope for love. Now, caution was only a vague memory, a burden she was relieved to abandon. Breathless, she sank down to the bed, her dress pushed high and her silk-clad legs tangling around Jack's. She felt as if hot, sweet honey was seeping deep within her.

He leaned against Georgia; her erotic weight against him was all he could feel and then they were on the floor in front of the fireplace's warmth. He kissed her sweetly, like a man who would kiss an earthbound angel; he kissed her hard and long, like a man would kiss a wanton temptress.

Her stockings disappeared and Jack felt a hard shock when he realized she had been wearing absolutely nothing beneath her dress. He stared down at her face, flushed with excitement.

Her shaky fingers framed his face, while an even shakier smile trembled from her kiss-swollen lips. "Take me," she whispered. "I want to be there with you, everywhere you go. Anywhere."

Jack was speechless. Their hands and lips made magic together. Now damp, with little limber motions, they explored each other.

"Say it," he said, softly. "Tell me you love me."

Georgia's passion-filled eyes looked at him. "I love you."

Her heat burned his face. He swallowed painfully, resting his forehead against hers, deliberately prolonging the union of their bodies and then, he moved, drinking in deeply the sweetness of her lips. Whatever clothes remained disappeared and then he could think no longer.

Slowly, ever so slowly he sank into her and the overwhelming sensation increased with each second. He tilted her hips with his hands, wanting to get deeper.

For her, the waves of pleasure began soft and gentle and then quickly grew stronger. She clung to him, gasping and crying and telling him over and over that she loved him.

The first time they had made love, it had been new and amazing and she could barely take it all in. This was different; this time they pushed each other out of their bodies and minds. A wonderful world had opened up for her.

Chapter 19

The change in their relationship was evident when they returned to Windcliff. While Georgia maintained the pretense of her own bedroom, everyone knew that she was sharing Jack's bed every night. As much as Susan was aware of what they were doing behind closed doors, she was just as determined to make Jack aware of the possibilities she could offer.

As she slowly walked away, her tight Levis accentuating her figure, Bill turned to Jack and quietly said, "You better watch out. That one's interested in you. What are you going to do?"

"What? No, that's impossible. She's just..."

"I'm telling you, she's interested. I've heard her several times tell the other girls what a good wife she would make for someone. What are you going to do? I know there's something going on with you and Georgia, don't try and deny it. Long walks on the beach, uh-huh. What's that all about? Have you thought this thing through?"

The last thing Jack wanted was strife in the house, especially between Georgia and Susan. He loved Georgia but he selfishly didn't want to lose Susan. Her cooking was excellent and he knew how hard it had been getting her there. He doubted the Sisters would allow them to have another girl to replace her. And, where would she go? The situation was giving him a monstrous headache. If he wasn't already infatuated with Georgia...

He shook his head. "I don't know," he finally said, his thoughts still rumbling around his mind. "Maybe... you could romance her?"

Bill looked at Jack. "You're kidding, right? That's..."

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Well, then, we better start looking for another cook. She's not going to stay, not matter how nicely I try to let her down."

Dinner that night for Jack was uncomfortable. Every move one of the girls made became suspect as he tried to determine what they really meant. Damn, he thought, they should have waited to find an older woman to be the cook, even if it meant eating poorly for a while. A dish hitting the table brought his attention back.

"Sorry, sir," said Catherine. 

Jack looked at the girl. For whatever reason, she always seemed clumsy whenever Bill was near. 'Oh, God,' he thought, 'she's sweet on him... another thing to worry about.'

The following Wednesday, they all went into Carmel to shop at the department store. The girls had their pay and although Jack and Bill tried to convince them to put some of it away in the bank, they insisted on spending it all. Ellen and Liza bought candy to take back to the house, carrying bags full of Abba Zabas, Bit-O-Honeys and Chuckles jellies. Susan and Betty spent their money on clothing and Catherine bought a new dress, saving the rest of her money for another time.

As they were walking out of the store, they were met by two men.

"We were wondering what was going on out at your place."

"Not much. Who are you to ask?"

"We're Monterey County deputy sheriffs." They flashed a badge to the group.

"What did you have in mind?" asked Jack, wondering why they were suddenly interested in them.

"You've got three colored girls there." The taller one looked around to see if anyone was watching.

"So? We've also have three white girls there. They all work at the house." Jack didn't like where the conversation was headed.

"Doing...?"

"Housework."

"You know there are laws..." the one deputy continued.

"Against having colored servants? Since when?"

"There's been talk, that's all."

"Talk is cheap. Is there anything else?"

"No... just letting you know."

"Thanks for your interest."

The girls had divided into two groups. It stood to reason the three from the orphanage would stay close but outside the house, they distanced themselves from the other three.

"We're going to see 'Ben Hur'," said Susan, leading Betty down the street to the theatre. Betty looked over her shoulder at them, stumbling as she walked away.

"Well, that takes care of that," Jack said, sadly looking at the four remaining girls and Bill. "What do you want to do?"

"Could we just go for a walk?" Ellen asked, watching them enter the theatre. "Not much chance in seeing the picture show."

"Why don't we take the automobiles and go for a ride up the coast a little and have some of that candy? Better yet, I'll find us some food and we can take it with us."

"This is good. What do you call it, again?"

"It's called Italian tomato pie. Have another slice." Jack held out another piece to Liza. It irked him that the two orphanage girls, as he thought of them, went off on their own. But, he realized, he had told everyone they could do what they wished and now he had to deal with the results. He had hoped that it would be an opportunity for them to do something outside the house together.

The small cove had a private beach and a small waterfall that brought a quiet rushing noise to counter the low whoosh of the waves. Jack took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pants and went into the cool water. Susan's attitude bothered, angered and worried him. What to do about it, though, mystified him and unless he was willing to let her go...

He was startled by a tap on his shoulder and as he turned he saw Georgia, her dress held up with one hand, the other now resting on his chest and then a two-foot high wave came in, getting them both wet. He reached for her, hoping to keep her from falling in the soft wet sand and she came into his arms, hers around his neck

He kissed her, his tongue deep in her mouth, hot, burning, searching, needing, demanding. Pure fire that seared and scorched until she wasn't sure there was anything left of her, leaving her helpless and clinging lest she fall into the water. And then his mouth was on hers again and she was indeed drowning, drowning in feelings only he could bring.

Catherine, sitting next to Bill, was listening to everything he had been saying for the last hour, spinning tales about the War. Jack was lying back, resting on his elbows, Georgia running her fingers through his hair. It was strange, he thought, that in this smaller group, there were no secrets. He wondered whether it remained a good idea to keep Susan and Betty in the house or let them go with a month's salary. It was something to think about, he thought.

"Damn, look at the time! We better get back or those two will think we went off and left them behind." Bill laughed and stood up and ate the last piece before scrunching up the paper plates and napkins they had used.

It was a short drive back to the theatre and they found the two girls standing in front of the theatre anxiously waiting.

Chapter 20

Bill drove the three orphanage girls home while Jack took the other three to the employment service.

"Wait here," he said, leaving the automobile and walking into the office.

"I'd like to hire some men, possibly permanently, for general work around my house and grounds. Who do you have?"

Nearly an hour later, after paying the agency's fee, he walked out, having hired four men to work at the house. Arrangements had been made to drive them out the next morning and he hoped that the new workers would solve his greatest problem, that being Susan's lack of companionship. He decided that if that didn't work, he would have to let her go.

"All set, Mr. Crawford?" asked Ellen, who had left the auto and had been walking back and forth along the side of the road.

"Yes, I certainly hope so." As the girl got back into the Ford, he turned and said, "There's going to be some new men working at the house. I hope that you like them."

There weren't any comments from the two in the back seat but Georgia looked at him, smiling. Her hand reached across the seat and took his, squeezing it. "Someone for Susan?" she asked.

"Somebody for everybody, I hope." As soon as he said it, though, he regretted it. What he was trying to do was arguably dishonest and hoped that everything turned out well.

Dinner that night was a noisy affair. The two girls who had gone to the theatre were anxiously telling the others what the picture was about and Jack wasn't sure if they were trying to assuage their rude behavior or continuing it.

For their part, the other four said nothing about their time at the cove and had sworn to never mention what they had seen between Jack and Georgia. Rather than listening to Susan's continued patter, they were thinking about who Jack had hired to come. Catherine, more than the others, knew the reason behind his decision and hoped that it would finally end Susan's bad-mannered behavior.

The rain came and it came hard as an early spring thunderstorm blew in from the Pacific, turning the road to Carmel into a muddy rut that remained impassible for many days.

Although there was an abundance of food and fuel, everyone was sequestered in the house and 'cabin fever' eventually set in.

Jack sat up in bed, his hand still resting on Georgia's lower back as she lay on her stomach. His fingers traveled slowly down toward the slight valley between her waist and her firm, round buttocks. "Mmmmm," he murmured, leaving his fingers there and then sliding them between her cheeks.

"What are you doing?" she asked, shifting around nervously.

"Nothing... just touching a little. Does it bother you?" His fingers continued tracing a path through that tight valley.

"No, it feels nice. Just don't..."

"I won't. I wouldn't." He felt himself become hard and pushing against the mattress.

A lightning flash and its accompanying thunder a few seconds later filled the house. It was so close that he wasn't surprised when she gave a startled jump from the mattress and screamed.

"It's OK, Georgia. It was just a little thunder, that's all. See, it's over already." And, just as he said that, the sun peaked through the opening clouds and lit up the bedroom through the windows.

She rolled over onto her back, her arms and hair outspread onto the pillows. "I like your touch."

His tongue parted her lips. A little sigh signaled her willingness to continue as she slipped her arms about his neck. Running his hands down the slender curves of her body the way he had wanted to do since he saw her wake. His hands moved to claim possession of her breasts. Georgia's gasp of delight was smothered against his mouth, her nipples now erect beneath his fingers as she let wave after wave of sensation wash over her.

Jack's breath caught in his throat to see her act that way. His arousal intensified, his skin straining, hot, hard, and itching with desire. His mouth was on hers, kissing, tasting, owning her moist depths tongue to tongue. His hot, damp, nuzzling kisses descended to her throat and then down to her waiting breasts.

Her nipples stood like sharp, taut peaks as he licked one tight, dark one and then the other. A little moan escaped her full lips as he wetly began to suck as if he had drawn the last ounce of sweetness from her body.

He moved between her chocolate thighs... his mind made a poem... colored girls with chocolate thighs... dark full lips, dark brown eyes...

She had gone wet with anticipation. "Jack, I love you so much. Please, now..."

"This way first," he said, his head moving downward to insert his tongue into her velvety folds. She shivered with delight as he positioned himself between her legs. Instinctively, she lifted her body from the bed as she reached her breaking point. Seconds later, she was dissolving in ecstasy. Heat rushed to her face and she was only slightly aware that she was moaning.

"Jack, please, I want you inside me, now..."

Chapter 21

Susan showed him a smile as she put dinner on the table. Pot roast, new potatoes, canned peas, cherry pie for dessert... it all lay before him like a sacrifice to some ancient god. Sometimes, he thought, if it weren't for Georgia, Susan wouldn't be a bad choice but was he only making that choice based on her cooking skills. Other than that, he really didn't have much to do with her. What was she thinking, he wondered, when she wasn't in the kitchen? Not that it mattered, he understood, not that it mattered.

"Very good," Jack said. "Thank you, Susan."

The girl beamed with his simple compliment. Maybe that was a mistake, he cursed. He was only trying to be polite, not leading her on.

Although he had been gone with Georgia for more than a few days, there was no mention of the fact by anyone at the table. It was like the elephant in the room. Everyone knew it was there but no one wanted to admit it.




Seashells Ch. 06



Several quiet conversations took place around the table and Jack did his best to ignore all of them, preferring to put his attention to his dinner. Finished with his roast, he surprised himself and asked Susan for another helping.

After dinner, he took his cherry pie into the next room to listen to the radio. When it came in clearly, he enjoyed the San Francisco Opera. Startled, he looked up.

"I asked, 'would you like some ice cream'?"

"Yes, thank you, Susan. I would."

"Did you have a nice holiday? It was different... with you not here, I mean. Someday, I hope to travel. I've never really seen anything outside of Carmel and the orphanage. Have you traveled much?"

"Lately, yes. I've been down to San Diego and of course, San Francisco and I lived in Los Angeles... and there's Monterey."

"I'd like to see San Diego someday. Is it pretty?"

"Yes, very much and warm most of the year. So much more than here."

"Do you plan on returning?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." 

She touched his arm. 

When did she get so close? He tried hard not to jerk himself back.

"Thanks for the ice cream. You made a nice dinner, tonight. Thank you."

Susan backed away and walked out of the room, a faint smile on her lips.

Georgia slipped beneath the covers and snuggled up against him. "Penny for your thoughts," she whispered.

"I'm in love with you," Jack whispered back, sliding his head under the sheet, his tongue lightly flicking her breast.

"Mmmmmmm," she moaned. Her hands went to the back of his head and forced him against her as his lips opened to suck in her nipple. "Ah, Jesus..."

As the morning sun flooded the room, Jack turned to Georgia and asked, "Would you like to go to San Diego?"

"Oh, yes," she answered, her hand reaching for him, feeling him harden within her touch.

He moved again, this time behind her, his lips on the side of her neck, just below her ear, kissing, licking softly, sucking enough that he knew it would leave a mark.

"God, you know what that does to me," she tried to say, her words lost as her moans gained control and overcame them.

He pushed closer, his hands moving to her breasts, comfortable in his touch, his fingers arousing her enough that her nipples hardened and stood proud.

"We can go soon enough, I think. I'll have to arrange for tickets. I don't think we could just show up and hope for a sleeping compartment.

Chapter 22

Two days later, a mud-splattered truck arrived in the early afternoon, splashing dirty brown water out of deep ruts as it went and Jack left the house to greet it as several of the girls came onto the large porch to watch its noisy approach.

"Lester," he said to the driver as the man was leaving the truck's cab.

"Mr. Crawford." He tipped his hat and pointed to the men in the back. "I've got your workers and your supplies. Couldn't get them out any sooner, what with the rain and all. Your propane will be along next week."

"That's OK, I was out of town, anyway. Can you wait around a little, you know, in case one of them changes his mind or something?"

"Sure, Mr. Crawford, whatever you want."

Jack looked at the group, a mix of white, colored and Mexican men, all in their mid-twenties, and hoped that they would work out for what he had in mind, both inside and outside the house. While the girls unloaded the truck, he showed the men around the property, outlining their duties and then introduced them to the girls. When everyone was in agreement, the driver had lunch with them and finally returned to Carmel.

Jack had told Georgia to get them situated in the bunkhouse and then back in the house in time for dinner. When they came into the kitchen, they found the girls sitting at the large table there, waiting for them. Sitting down, they did their best to pass the time, telling tales of travels, the war and other jobs while Susan and Ellen brought the pot roast out to the dining room where Jack, Bill and Georgia were.

After dinner, Jack and Bill put on their coats and went out onto the front porch. Bill took out and lit his pipe while Jack patiently waited for him to say what he wanted.

"Uh, I'm, uh, interested in Catherine, have been ever since she came here. Is that going to cause a problem with you?"

"Don't see why it ought to... you're your own man and she's old enough to know what she wants."

"Thanks. I know that things are..."

"What?"

"I'm not stupid, Jack. You brought in these men to romance the girls." Bill took a deep pull on his pipe. "What about you and Georgia? Did you have a nice trip? There was plenty of talk after you left."

"Oh?" Jack looked closely at his friend.

"Yeah, for a while Susan was fit to be tied, that's for sure. This should stop that, I think, provided she likes one of the guys you brought in."

"Yeah, well, she..." stammered Jack.

"What?"

"Ah, the hell with it."

Late the next morning Jack watched the new men working outside, a few tending to the growing garden, planting onions and strawberries while several were building a larger henhouse and enclosure. He wondered if his plan to find boyfriends for the other girls would work out; it would be a shame to let anyone go but he considered this Susan's last, unspoken chance.

As lunchtime approached, Susan and Ellen brought the men's food to the tables beneath the shady eucalyptus trees. The men made small talk, attempting to interest the two women but to no avail.

As they walked away, Ellen heard one remark that he saw warmer ice at the drug store. She looked at Susan, wondering if the other girl had heard. Probably not, she thought, finding no response from her companion.

With the arrival of all the men, it soon took all day to prepare the meals, and Susan and Ellen rarely left the kitchen to do anything else. Picnic tables and benches were soon constructed so that as the weather improved, outdoor eating became the norm.

Jack looked out the window at the men settling down to an early supper. Georgia came up behind him and rested her hand on his shoulder, wondering what he was thinking.

"What?" he started to ask as her hand dropped down. His gaze stayed, following the men as they sat down to eat. Except for Georgia and Catherine, all the girls now ate outside. From what he could tell, there were three men actively pursuing Susan's attention and he wasn't sure which one she would choose, if anyone at all.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked him in a soft, husky voice.

He shook his head, his expression unusually somber. "I had things on my mind."

"Such as?"

"Remembering things. The way you look when you're sleeping. The way your pulse throbs just beneath your ear. The way your hair surrounds your face like a cameo. The world is beautiful when you're in it."

She studied him with her deep, dark eyes, a flush of love marking her cheeks. "Have you ever thought what your children would look like?"

No, he realized, he hadn't. The question of children was something that had never entered his mind. "No, not really..." When he saw the look on her face, he asked, "Is that strange?"

"No, just... well, I always thought everyone else was like me, thinking about their babies and wondering what they would be like... to leave something of yourself in the world when your time is over." She paused for an uncertain moment, wondering if she should say what was on her mind. Then she thought of the intimacies they had shared and decided their relationship was strong enough to allow her to be honest. It wasn't in her nature to hide her emotions. "Every time I look at you, I wonder what a child of ours would look like. I would like a daughter." Georgia smiled faintly, reaching out her hand and touching his face.

Jack was silent, unable to speak. His eyes grew dark and deep, his skin quickly becoming cold. He had never thought about children because he sincerely doubted he would ever have any.

"It's late," he said abruptly.

Georgia's eyes drew together in a little frown. "Jack? I wasn't... I didn't mean..."

"I know. It's fine, really." Now Jack knew firsthand why a love affair was called an idyll, when you pushed every logical thought from your mind and reacted only with your heart, a suspended moment in time when you pretended nothing could go wrong. It was fleeting and fragile. He wondered if his time with Georgia was running out.

He looked out the window again, watching the people outside sitting at the tables. He envied them for that. He never thought he would covet the life of an ordinary laborer. He couldn't remember feeling bored with his own life but neither did he know what it was to be truly content. His love affair with Georgia was fraught with problems, all based on the color of her skin.

During supper, he barely took his eyes off her, filling his mind with the look of her face. When she laughed, she wrinkled her nose. When he had kissed her in the morning, there remained the rough burn from his stubble. If there was anything wrong in her world, he couldn't see it by looking at her.

Jack began to feel a little uneasy. Before, he always knew what he had to do to solve his problems and he had always been capable of doing it. Even with his uncle's money, his attitude remained the same, even more so. But how on earth could he ever solve this? It was impossible.

A man of principle would not have entered this no-win situation to begin with.

His decisions no longer affected only him. He was facing the destruction of a lifetime's assumptions about himself and his role in the world. Actions that had always seemed so simple were now rather blurred and confusing. He had discovered, too late, that he was just as human as everyone else and didn't know what to do.

"Jack?"

He looked up from the newspaper he had been pretending to read. At least he wasn't holding it upside down. He was painfully preoccupied, intensely sensitive to the thick mood in the dining room. Georgia's cheerful banter had ceased abruptly as soon as he looked up. Apparently she had noticed his uncharacteristic reserve. In the space of just a few short months, he had become frighteningly easy for her to read. I'm happy. I'm depressed. I'm confused.

Jack muttered. "Some things never change." His eyes followed Georgia as she put the dinner dishes into the kitchen sink. The atmosphere in the room was awfully heavy for two people who were supposed to be in an ecstatic romance.

He watched Georgia's shoulders stiffen as she worked at the sink with her back to him. His eyes slowly closed. He felt hollow inside, scraped out by an old, rusty knife.

A glass dropped in the sink, shattering. Still she kept her back to him, bracing her palms on either side of the sink. He looked at her. She was wearing a simple, loose white dress that foamed around her dark, bare legs with a casual flirtatious air at odds with the emotion crowding the kitchen. Her hair was tied with a narrow white ribbon at the base of her neck. All these details Jack memorized, filled with a frantic sense of impending doom. Children. He wasn't planning on having children. He knew it and she knew it.

Jack stood up, moving in slow motion. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his dark blue denims, keeping his back to Georgia until he felt the touch of her hand on his arm.

"Tell me," she said tonelessly.

Jack turned to face her. He had never seen her eyes look so dark or so deep.

"Children... I hadn't thought about children."

"Is that all?" she asked with a stiff, unconvincing smile. "Here I thought something terrible had happened. You had a life before you met me. Right?"

She met this like she had everything else she had since he met her. Straightforward, consequences be damned. He could see more than he wanted to in the stiffness of her posture, the unnaturally high set of her head. He had taught her to love him and she did. The pain they were both feeling was a product of those lessons.

He felt like someone had pulled the world out from under his feet without warning. Even as he tried to identify his emotions, his mind was analyzing the black-and-white facts. And they were black and white.

And so, it comes down to this, he thought. He was white and she wasn't.

"I suppose we should be grateful for what we had," she said, quietly. Without either of them being consciously aware of emotionally prepared, a decision had been made. The only decision they felt qualified to make.

She was very, very still. Life continued around them in the kitchen; the gauze curtains at the window billowed with the afternoon breeze, the clock on the wall ticking away silent seconds. Her fingers were shaking; she hid them away in her dress. She hadn't felt pain like this since... since forever.

Jack felt like he had demons in his skull, each and everyone cutting away at him with vicious little knives. For her sake, there could be no vacillation on his part. The pain he was causing her now was at least finite... there would be an end to it when enough time had passed.

Why hadn't he been more careful at the beginning? He didn't mind the hurt he caused himself; he deserved it. But the look on her face was unbearable.

"I suppose nothing lasts forever," she said. She lied. What she felt for him would last forever. She knew it as she knew the sun would rise in the east and set in the west. For a full minute, the communication between them took place in silence.

"What happened between us... it wasn't planned. If I'd know... if I'd known..."

"What, Jack?" Georgia asked so softly. For the first time since he met her, her eyes looked flat and completely lifeless. "If you'd known what was going to happen, if you'd known I was going to fall in love with you, would you have acted differently? Would you have let me go that first night and forgotten about me? Is that what you're trying to say? Are you feeling trapped now, like you don't quite know how to slip out the door?"

"It's not like that," he snapped. "That's not what happened with us and you know it."

"What did happen with us? Explain it to me." She was looking at him in the way she would have looked at a total stranger. "Things get confusing at the end, don't you think?"

Jack took her hands in his. They felt cold to the touch, stiff and unresponsive. "You know damn well it wasn't... all my life I've tried to be honest. I've known who I was and what my life would be like from the beginning and then, I met you."

"Then," Georgia said with sudden fire in her voice, "that's where you failed."

"Failed?" Jack thought he was losing his mind. He thought it was so rational. He knew how he felt, even if he couldn't explain it. She just didn't understand. "I'm trying not to destroy your life any more than I already have. I'm trying to protect you."

"If you believe that, then you're a fool." In that moment, there was a clarity and maturity in her eyes that Jack had never seen before. "There's one thing I know about love, Jack. Real love. It takes away all your fear, giving you the ability to face anything. You're wrong if you think you know what life would be like, you and me."

"You don't understand. I'm not willing to put you through something like this, let alone any children we might have."

"You made that clear. We all know who and what we are. But some of us aren't willing to remain that way all our lives. Where you come from and what you were doesn't have to be where you end up. Haven't you figured that out, Jack?"

"You don't understand I'm making a sacrifice here! Because I love you!"

"You don't understand I'm not interested in your sacrifice! I don't need it. Do you have any idea what would have happened to me if I'd accepted what life handed me in the beginning? I'd be stuck somewhere doing God know what. But I waited and hoped and worked and gradually it all came true for me and even when my parents died, I refused to think my happiness went with them. I had their memories to keep me warm and I had my friends and what I was doing before I met you. It would have been easier to just give up but I didn't. It's always easier to give up but it's never right."

"Don't tell me what's right and what's wrong," he said softly. "Do you think I want to walk out of your life?"

"Yes." She was fast losing control of her feelings and the situation, feeling tears stinging her eyes. The last thing she wanted right now was to let him see her cry. "Because that takes the pressure away from you. You don't have to prove what you're made of. It's so much easier to just run away."

Instinctively, he reached for her then let his hand drop to his side. She didn't want his touch, not now. And it seemed that the only thing he could give her was the gift of his absence. He hated himself for allowing her to be put in such a vulnerable position. It was thoughtless. It was cruel.

"Georgia... I'll always love you," he said haltingly.

"Don't. If loving me means you have to leave me, then I'm not interested," she said coldly. "That kind of love I don't need. I will leave. I'll be fine, I really will. I always am."

"I know you will." Blind with tears, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Chapter 23

Her arms hung limply at her sides listless and tired. She wasn't sleeping any more than she was eating. When Jack left Windcliff, he took her energy, her joy and her heart with him. Still, she was a fighter. She wouldn't let this make her bitter or resentful. If she knew then what she knew now... she would have loved him anyway. God help her, she would have. She winced at the thought.

"Are you all right?" asked Catherine quietly. "You don't look so good." Catherine realized that wasn't probably a sympathetic remark but she only spoke the truth.

"Fine... I'm fine," Georgia muttered, scattering her thoughts like dust in the wind. She hadn't said much about Jack's departure beyond a simple "He's gone." How did something that had felt so perfect end so badly. She had been so certain that Jack had felt what she had felt.

Unconditional love. It had turned out to be an empty dream, a wishful fantasy that had disappeared just as he had. 

Even Susan had tried to speak to her, to no avail. "I knew he was a fool the first time I saw him," she had said, knowing it wasn't true but had to be said.

Georgia had asked Bill if he knew where Jack had gone. "All I know is that he said he had to return to Los Angeles. I would do anything to help you but I don't know what's going to happen. I wish there was something I could do."

"I have to leave," she finally said, weeks later. "I can't stay here any longer."

No matter what Bill said, he couldn't convince her to stay at Windcliff and so, resigned that she would soon leave, gave her several hundred dollars to help her.

The next morning, he drove her to Carmel to catch the train.

Georgia, holding her few possessions in a small case, stood on the platform and eventually boarded the coach as the engine farther ahead chuffed its billowing dark smoke into the cool morning air.

"You'll have to move," said the conductor. "You're in the wrong car."

Georgia looked at her ticket. "But..." she started to say.

"Look, you have to move. Follow me." 

She could feel the blood rush to her face as she stood, picking up her small bag and following the man into the next car. "I don't understand," she said. "This is a sleeper compartment."

"Yes," he said, his fingers touching the hundred-dollar bills in his pocket. "In here, please." He knocked on the door and stood back as it opened. A hand reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into the compartment.

"What?" she screamed. "Jack?! What are you...?"

Jack covered her mouth with his as he kicked the door shut. "I saw you on the platform, waiting. I've been such a fool. I only ask one thing, Georgia."

"What do you want, Jack?"

"Forgiveness," he whispered, carefully lowering her onto the fold-down bed. "I came back for you. We're going to New York."




Seashells Ch. 06



"New York? What do you mean?"

He kissed her again. "We can get married in New York. We can live in New York... or, California, if you want, although that won't be as easy. Or, we can go to Europe. Please, say you'll marry me. I know I've been such an idiot and I'm sorry. Please say you'll forgive me."

"Oh, Jack," she cried. "You broke my heart. I wanted to die."

"God, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to say anything until I knew what I could do."

"Yes, I'll marry you, Jack, if that's truly what you want. And, I'll go wherever you want just as long as we can be together."

He kissed her once again and shutting the window shade, pulled her into his arms.

*

Thank you for reading...