Threads by Patsy Brookshire Read Free Book Online Page B

to get it up enough to cook the coffee.
He offered to help but I brushed off his offer, I needed to do something with my hands.
    My clearest memory of him is the way he looked that day. He was wearing a blue shirt
that set off his eyes and tan prettily. His hair seemed more red, but as usual, it was wild on his
head. If I hadn't grabbed the coffeepot I'd have reached for his hair. I always wanted to touch it,
pat it, pull my fingers through it.
    He walked around the room, then stopped in front of the window. "I like your view." He
smacked his lips like he was disappointed. "I tried to get this cabin. This land."
    I watched him taking in the view, until he turned his head quickly, the sunlight flashing
off his hair. His eyes caught mine.
    "Oh, really?" I said, just to keep him talking. I didn't care what he was saying. My hands
moved to the stove so I could open it and stir the wood about, reaching to the box for another
small piece to shove in.
    "Un huh," he said, "but our landlady, Mrs. Hope, said she'd rather rent it out and have
some income than sell it and probably waste the money. The land our house is on was hers, too,
but she wasn't making anything on it. She was glad to get rid of it."
    He came to the shelf Zack had put up for me. I'd put my shells on it, and other doo-dads,
just stuff I'd found. Now they took on a glow as he admired and fingered the trinkets with his
easy hands. He had his back to me when he said, "How's the quilt coming along?" He whirled
around to pull some sheets of paper out of his back pocket.
    The drawings. In the excitement I'd forgotten them.
    "Oh, David. Let me see!" I took the papers to the window and looked at each one,
comparing them to the original, the Rock. They all seemed perfect to me. Then I remembered the
scraps in my bag. Were any of them large enough? The reddish-brown from my good dress
maybe? Leaving the papers on the windowsill and without even thinking of David, I went to my
bedroom closet. I had the dress on the bed when David's hand touched me on the shoulder. "I
guess you like them? Do I get a thank you?"
    I whirled around and straightened up quickly. I was face to face with him.
    "What? I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." He didn't step back.
    His breath was warm on my face. His hand reached up to my hair, smoothed down to
stroke my face.
    My hands went to his hair. I was rigid, but my whole body felt alive, pushing towards
him. In a last second questioning of myself I pulled back, but he looked at me and pulled me to
him, easy.
    "Relax," he whispered, "I won't hurt you." His kiss was like velvet, soft and warm, but
strong, too. I had the strangest feeling, like I was melting into him. He unbuttoned my dress
while I kissed his face. I felt the stubble of whiskers on my lips. I opened his shirt while his
hands moved over my body.
    By the time we were down to nothing I didn't want to stop him, or myself. He kept
whispering, "So beautiful, so beautiful," as we lay together on my small bed, the brown dress
among the heap of clothing on the floor.
    I don't know how it was for you, Annie, your first time. I'd heard that a virgin is
supposed to feel pain, but I didn't feel any. Only joy, and, afterwards, contented and wrung out.
No remorse. That David loved me as completely as I loved him, I never had a doubt.
    As we lay easy against each other I was at total peace but I felt a tremor startle him.
"Oh, Sophie, dear, I hope you don't think when I said to thank me that I meant--"
    "Well, no, but now that you mention it..." I shoved him over the side of the bed and he
landed on the floor with a heavy thump.
    "Sophie!" he yelled in a hurt tone as I laughed. His dignity and sense of humor
sometimes clashed. When I'd do something a little rough or laugh at him when he wanted to be
serious, his nose would get out of joint. A little kiss always smoothed him down. Sometimes I'd
catch a wary look in his eyes when he got serious and, he'd warn me, "Now, So? Don't get
mischievous." It