Wyoming Winter. Diana Palmer
sensual techniques. Lucy would know why she wanted to know, and she’d tease Colie, who was too shy to invite the attention. Still, she wondered why J.C. had been so hesitant to kiss her, when she knew he wanted to. Muffled gossip, movies and explicit television shows hadn’t really educated her about how men felt and why they behaved in odd ways.
She started clearing the dining room table.
“J.C. get off all right?” her father asked.
She nodded and smiled. “It’s snowing again.”
“I noticed.” He was still sitting at the table, with his second cup of black coffee. He took a breath. “Colie, I know how you feel about J.C.,” he said unexpectedly. “But you have to remember that he’s not a marrying man.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. Her expression made him wince.
“You’ve never really been exposed to anybody like him,” her father continued quietly. “Most of the boys you dated were like you, innocent and out of touch with the modern world. J.C. has seen the elephant, as the old-time cowboys used to say. He’s well-traveled and he’s lived among violent men...”
“I know all that, Daddy,” she said softly. “It’s just that...” She bit her lower lip. “I’ve never felt like this.”
“You’re nineteen,” he replied. “Such feelings are natural. But you should also remember that despite what you see in social media, people of faith live by certain rules. Ours teaches that we get married, then we have children. We don’t encourage intimacy outside marriage.”
“I remember.”
“It’s natural to feel such things. We’re human, after all. But just because a lot of people do something immoral, that doesn’t make it right. Any man who truly loves you will want to marry you, Colie, have kids with you, go to church with you. If you interact with a man who has no faith, you risk falling into the same trap that many young women do. I’ve seen the result of broken relationships where illegitimate children were involved. It is not something I want my daughter to experience.”
She wanted to mention that there was such a thing as birth control, but she bit her lip. Her father, like many of his congregation, saw things in a different light than the rest of the world. He was out of touch with what was natural for young women today.
She wanted J.C. Why was it so wrong to sleep with someone you loved? It was as natural as breathing. At least, she imagined it was. She’d never been intimate with anyone. One date had fumbled under her blouse, but his efforts to undress her had been interrupted and Colie hadn’t been sorry. She was curious, but the boy hadn’t stirred her with his kisses.
J.C., on the other hand, made her wild for something she’d never had. She wanted him. Her body burned, for the first time. He felt the same thing for her, she was sure of it. Except she didn’t understand why he’d drawn back so suddenly, why he hadn’t kissed her. It was disturbing.
“Think of your mother,” the reverend added, when he saw that his arguments were having no effect.
She lifted her eyes. “Mama?”
“She was the most moral human being I ever knew,” he said. “She waited for marriage. So did I, Colie,” he added surprisingly. “I loved her almost beyond bearing.” He lowered his eyes. “Life without her would be empty, except for my faith and my work. I carry on, because that’s what she’d want me to do.” He looked up. “She’d expect you to live a moral life.”
Yes, she would, Colie agreed silently. But perhaps her mother hadn’t been as hungry as Colie was, as much in love. Her parents had been together in a different time, when things were less permissive in small towns. Goodness, half the young people in town were in relationships. Few of them actually married.
“If you live with someone, you get to know them and you find out if you’re suited enough to get married,” she ventured without looking at him.
He drew in a slow breath and sipped his coffee. “It’s your life, Colie,” he said gently. “You’re a grown woman. I can’t tell you how to live. I can only tell you that many people who live in an open relationship don’t eventually marry. There’s no real commitment. Not like there is in marriage, where you bring children into the world and raise them. J.C. doesn’t want children.”
“He could change his mind,” she said.
“He could. But I doubt he will. He’s how old, thirty-two? If he still feels that way, at his age, he’s unlikely to change. There’s something else,” he added quietly. “You can’t involve yourself with someone with the idea that you can change things about them that you don’t like. People don’t change. Bad habits only grow worse.”
“Not liking children,” she began, moving silverware around on an empty plate. “That might change, if he had a child.”
He closed his eyes and winced.
Colie saw that. It wounded her. “Daddy, I can’t help how I feel,” she ground out. “I’m crazy about him!”
He drew in a long breath. “I know.” He looked up at her and saw her stubborn resolve. He finished his coffee and got to his feet. He brushed a kiss against her cheek. “I’ll always be here for you. Always. No matter what you do. I’m your father. I will always love you.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. She put down the plates and hugged him, tears bleeding from her eyes.
He patted her on the back and kissed her hair, as he had when she was very small, and hurt, and she ran to him for comfort. It had always been like that. She loved her mother very much, but she was Daddy’s girl.
“It will all work out,” he said, trying to reassure both of them.
“Of course it will,” she replied, fighting more tears.
COLIE WAS DRESSED and ready to go by three o’clock on Saturday, and so nervous that she could hardly settle anywhere. J.C. had said they’d eat at the fish place, but she didn’t know if he’d want her to wear a nice dress or jeans or what. She’d never seen him in a suit or even a conventional jacket, so she assumed he’d wear jeans, as he always did.
She wore jeans, nicely laundered, with lace inserts on the side from the hem up to the knee, with a pretty white blouse, also with lace inserts. Against her dark hair and light olive skin, she looked exotic. The excitement made her green eyes sparkle. She looked almost pretty, even without gobs of makeup, which she detested. She had a naturally smooth complexion, which she touched up with just a little face powder and a glossy lipstick. She couldn’t abide mascara. In fact, she was allergic to most of it. But she had thick, black lashes that looked as if she used it.
Her hair had a natural wave. All she did was wash it and comb it. She grinned at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look half-bad, she thought. Maybe J.C. would kiss her. She caught her breath at the anticipated pleasure. J.C. had been around. He’d know how to kiss. Hopefully, he’d teach her, because she hadn’t a clue.
“Primping?” Rodney teased as he joined her in the hall. “You look fine, sis.”
She laughed. “Thanks.”
“You know, J.C. isn’t big on family,” he said unexpectedly. “He doesn’t have any left. His mother is dead, and he and his father don’t speak. I’m not sure he even knows where his old man is.”
She turned and looked up at him. “Why?”
“He doesn’t talk about it,” he said. “He let something drop, just once, about a family that adopted him when he was ten. A man and wife, up in the Yukon. She was a teacher. So was his mother, so maybe they knew each other or something. Anyway, he lived with them for a while. Tragic thing, there was a fire. Both of them died. J.C.’s been alone for a long time.”