Chatterton Place: The Inheritance

  Excrete from Chatterton Place.
Chapter 7. 
Copyright Patricia C Garlitz

Handle With Care


"Then why‘d you pull away?" he asked taking the cup she offered, with a puzzled look upon his face "I don't understand, what have I done to make you fear me, if you don't blame me for the marks?"
She starred down into the blackened water, searching for just the right words.
"I told you – I fear myself." that was as clear as she could put it. Her hands and bottom lip were trembling.

Sitting his cup down, he reached out and cupped her face, tipping it up to look at him, his hands still radiated the warmth of the coffee. She felt as if she would burst if she didn't tell him how she felt, but what good would that do? Admitting her feelings, would only leave her open to get hurt. What could he do to change the situation?
She felt he was searching her soul, as he gazed down upon her trembling lips, wetting his own as if in anticipation. "What else do you fear?" He questioned softly.
Didn't he know, hadn't he already searched every avenue of her brain, she wondered. Closing her eyes, she turned away, breaking his entrapment. "That you‘re going to kiss me – that you don't want to – that place, and all the silly stories that go with It." looking back at him she continued on "Must I even tell you these things. Don't you already know, all that's stored up inside of me?"
When his strong hand encircled her neck and pulled her up to meet his burning lips. There was nothing she could do or wanted to do. Even when his forceful tongue, parted her trembling lips and explored her mouth, she didn't pull away. It was he that suddenly released her and walked to the window. The air seemed cold, against her searing chest, in his absents. "You don't understand and I can't explain It." he finally stated, turning back to her. "As God as my witness, Emma I wish I could."
She‘d already crossed the threshold of sin, what was to hold her back now. "Please. You did want to do that. Didn't you?" It was she that was now trying to read his mind, through his suddenly stormy eyes.
"Oh God yes‖ He exclaimed "from the moment I meet you."
"Then why can't you tell me." She asked the question, not even sure of what he‘d been referring to.
He only turned to look back out the window, she wasn't about to take his silence as an answer, crossing the room, she pressed herself against his back, and whispered.
Immediately he reversed their positions and held her close to his body. But it was she that was now looking out the window, as he laid his chin down on her head.
"That morning at the pond, you looked like an angle sent from heaven." he continued on, nuzzling his nose deep into her hair.

"Your hair laid like silk across your shoulder, dipping to cover even your chest at times, as you starred down into the clear water." he paused as if to collect his words. "Moonlight played across your angelic body." His lip was trembling, almost as fast as hers was. "When I sat down and you were bare footed, I just knew God was tormenting me with something that wasn't real – " His voice broke and she could almost feel the lump in his throat. "But then I saw the marks, the ones I, if not personally placed there – allowed to happen" he struggled with each word. "I – I knew I wasn't ready for this yet."
"What? You‘re not ready for what?" her voice was trembling too.
He merely rocked his head back and forth, before he spun her around, to look down into her tear stained face. "You're not ready either, I originally thought you were going to be too weak, but you proved me wrong didn't you." he asked with raised eye brows and a half chuckle. "You're ready to face up to your feeling and I'm not. But you‘re not ready to know all of it."
The puzzled look never seemed to leave her face, no matter what he uttered.
"Lord, oh sweet lord." he looked up to the ceiling as if for an answer, then looking back down at her, he said "I wish I could just tell you, but that would break the bonds of the legend."
At last he‘d said something that made sense. If anything of the stories about the magic of the valley made sense. "Emma, you‘re just going to have to believe me. That everything will work out. I promise I won't let anything happen to you."
"Jim you‘re scaring me."
"I know baby." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest, once more. "Just remember you‘re never alone — I'm only as far away as you want me to be."
When he tipped her back to look down at her, she understood what he was asking and she laid her face back against his chest, and felt him sigh as he placed his hands on her back and pulled her even closer.
Strapped securely to his chest, he locked the world out, but even the hot confining seat belts couldn't hold her emotions back, once alone in the car. She‘d made it barely into the canyon, before the tears became so over powering that she had to pull off the road.

What was she going to do? She‘d kept a brave face for him, but inside she was heaped with fear. The silly little poem rattled about in her head.
She couldn't make sense of it. She couldn't even remember the way it was suppose to go together.
"It doesn't make sense." she blurted out loud to herself. "Why in the world would I want a key to a book store?" Lowering her head to the steering wheel, to allow a few more tears to pass from her cheeks, she thought, that isn't even what he was referring to. He said the legend, not the poem. What was the legend, and what does it have to do with the pictures in my head. Am I supposed to somehow change the events of the past? Was I supposed to stop that rape?
She trembled, just thinking about it. Painfully, she‘d forced it from her mind every since that day. "And what about the things I saw with Jim." She found herself verbalizing the words again. Could they all be connected?
"WHAT PART DO I PLAY, SWEET LORD." she called at the top of her lungs, while starring up into the clear sky, through the windshield. It had worked for Jim, where was her answers? The sky lay silent as she‘d known it would. Why had she even bothered? She wondered if there was a God, or had her actions driven him off? She refused to pay penitence- ate pork and never fish on Friday- She still celebrated all the holidays, and had never set foot into the mighty temple of her father's. If she had the time, she could come up with a few more rules she‘d broken, including kissing another man.
If someone would‘ve stumbled upon the car that afternoon, they may have thought she was crazy or at least a non-believer. They would never have known just how much she did believe. They would‘ve considered her questioning a lack of faith, but would‘ve had no knowledge of the immense longing for what she knew to be true. The superior being was the only one that understood what she‘d been through, or what she was to embark upon.

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Last 3 and a half pages of chapter 7 from Patricia C Garlitzs new book. Chatterton Place: The Inheritance Paperback: 496 pages Publisher: CreateSpace (August 19, 2009) Language: English ISBN-10: 1448676622 ISBN-13: 978-1448676620
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Published Date
8/19/2009 12:00:00 AM
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