Callaway Country. Annette Broadrick
I get. It isn’t that far. Just a few hours. And you can come see me.”
She sighed. “I know. I’ve known I’d have to face this day for months. It just got here too fast.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. So why don’t we watch some funny movie, then get the richest concoction of ice cream and syrups made and forget about tomorrow for a little while?”
“Something with chocolate ice cream…and chocolate syrup.”
“Man, you drive a hard bargain, but okay.”
It was barely eleven by the time they got back home that night, but Clay was pleased to see that Pam had enjoyed the movie and the huge, custom-made banana split.
As soon as he pulled up in front of her house, she said, “It’s too nice a night to go inside. Why don’t we sit out in the gazebo for a while, unless you need to go?”
“Sounds good.” He helped her out of the truck, took her hand, and together they wandered into the large backyard of the McCall family home. The gazebo could not be seen from the house, giving them the illusion of being alone in a night filled with stars.
“You promised to write,” she reminded him.
He made a face. “Or call. You know how much I hate writing letters.”
They sat down on the padded cushions of the gazebo. Pam began to tell him about her memories of growing up with the Callaways. They laughed at some of the silly things that had happened—the water pistol fights, playing dress-up with the old clothes found in the attic, telling ghost stories late at night. Finally, she said, “I hate to think what my life would have been like if I hadn’t known all of you.”
He hugged her to him. “Well, just think about this time next year when you’ll be the one leaving, going out of state. Time seems to fly by so fast.”
He kissed her. He loved kissing her, loved the way she gave herself up to him, returning his kisses with enthusiasm. Only tonight their kisses had to last for weeks and weeks. When he realized that his control was getting away from him, Clay straightened and pulled away from her.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered.
“I have to,” he replied, his shaky voice revealing how much his body trembled.
But he didn’t. Even now, so many years later, Clay couldn’t remember exactly what had caused them to lose the control that had always been in place before. They’d been innocent kids, dreading the idea of not seeing each other for a while, wanting to express the love they each felt for the other.
By the time he left her that night, they’d made love—awkward, fumbling, terribly uncertain, neither of them knowing what to expect. He’d been scared, and later worried about the fact that he hadn’t used any protection.
They’d lucked out, and from that time on, he was never without protection. For the next year, whenever they could be together, they explored this new realm they had discovered. They learned what gave each of them pleasure and they talked about the time when they would marry—after both of them finished college and were settled in their careers.
Their futures were planned…until the night Senator McCall found them together in the gazebo wearing nothing but moonlight, and demanded an immediate wedding.
The rattle of ice against the glass brought Clay back to the present. He glanced at his watch and was surprised to discover it was almost two. He had actually forgotten about Melanie waiting for him upstairs. What did that tell him about his frame of mind? He shook his head. He’d been awake too long, had crossed too many time zones, and had had too much to drink.
It was time to go upstairs; even though at the moment the most appealing aspect of the idea was that he could get horizontal for a few hours and pass out.
He left the bar and checked at the concierge desk for his bag. Once he had his belongings, he stopped at the front desk and asked for a key to the suite.
He was given a card that was programmed to unlock their room and took the elevator to the ninth floor.
At this time of night, very few people were stirring. His footsteps made no sound as he walked down the hall and paused in front of his room. He let himself into the suite without making any noise. Faint light glowed at the windows and he spotted the open door to the bedroom without need of further illumination.
Melanie had no doubt been asleep for hours.
He couldn’t help but be relieved. Too many things had happened to him tonight to be able to deal with his feelings for Melanie. If anyone had asked him yesterday, he would have said that he was ready to make a commitment to her. However, at the moment he was battling ghosts from the past that weren’t fair to bring into their relationship.
He probably should get another room for the night, but the truth of the matter was, he was too tired to go many more steps without some sleep. Melanie would be perfectly safe with him tonight. He’d make his apologies tomorrow and go from there.
By the time he reached the doorway to the bedroom he’d already removed his jacket and tie. His shirt and belt soon followed, leaving a trail of clothing into the darker room. He felt his way to the bed and gingerly sat down on the side.
Melanie didn’t stir.
He quickly removed the rest of his clothing except for his briefs, then slipped between the covers with a silent sigh. The pleasure of feeling a bed beneath him was all he needed to drift into a deep sleep.
He and Pamela were in the gazebo. It was dark, with only a sliver of a moon to cast a soft light over the area. This wasn’t the Pamela he remembered from his teenage years. This was the Pamela that he’d seen in the ballroom…still wearing the shimmering silver dress.
“I didn’t expect you to be here,” he said, reaching out to touch her hair.
“How could I not come, Clay? I wanted you to know that I…” Her voice trailed off.
“What, Pam? What did you want me to know?”
“That I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve never wanted that. I’ve loved you for years and years. You were my first love…my only love.”
She shivered and he slipped his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. “I find that hard to believe, given the circumstances,” he replied.
“I wish I’d been better equipped to explain. How does an eighteen-year-old find the words, the maturity, to tell you that she’s fighting for her life? There was so much I wanted to accomplish before we were ready to discuss marriage.”
“Yeah, and that was my fault. I couldn’t keep my hands off of you.”
“It was what we wanted, Clay. It wasn’t just you. Once I’d actually made love to you that first time, all my fantasies were about doing it again.”
“We were such kids back then. I thought my dad was going to kill me for touching you.”
She stroked his jaw. “We’re adults now, Clay. No one will interrupt us.”
He stared at her in shock. “You want to make love with me?”
She reached behind her back and caught the zipper that slid down her spine. The dress fell away from her, leaving her standing in a lacy, see-through bra and matching panties. “Very much.”
“I don’t know, Pam. So much has happened to both of us since those days. We can’t just—” Somehow he couldn’t keep his mind on what he was saying as she unfastened his pants and slid them down his legs.
As soon as she touched him, his body responded. She cupped him, crooning her admiration and satisfaction.
He scooped her up and laid her on the padded bench, rapidly disposing of the remaining items of clothing they both wore. He slipped his hands through her hair, removing hairpins until it fell like a veil around her head.
“Do you