insisted intently.
"He said he did. He
said that's why he t-touched me. That touching was the price I had to pay for
being.. .loved."
"Dammit, get it
through your head that love is not like that!" Joe's tone was hard and
driven, and Mattie seemed to shrink into herself.
"You're angry,"
she said flatly.
"Hell, yes, I'm
angry!" Joe exploded in pain and frustration, his eyes fierce.
Mattie wretched herself
from his hold, her face crumbling. "It wasn't my fault," she cried
pitifully as the sobs finally came, racking her slender body with a force that
frightened Joe. "It wasn't my fault. I didn't want him to.. .I hated
him!"
"Mattie! Oh,
Mattie," Joe whispered brokenly, afraid to reach for her. "I know it
wasn't your fault. I know. You were a child, an innocent child. Oh God, Mattie,
let me hold you," he begged helplessly, his eyes burning. "Please let
me hold you—"
Joe knew what he was
asking of her. More important, Mattie knew that he was asking her to put aside
the nightmare of what that man had done and turn to another man for comfort,
which was a frightening move. She had lived alone with the memories for so long
they had become a part of her. Now Joe was asking her to share that part of her
with him. Joe, she thought achingly. Her best friend, Joe. She didn't hesitate,
throwing herself into his pleading arms and burying her tear-stained face
against his throat.
"Thank God," Joe
whispered tightly, pressing a gentle, soothing kiss to Mattie's temple.
"Mattie, cry.. .let the tears heal you. I'm here to hold you, to keep you
safe. I'll always be here for you."
Mattie barely heard the
soothing words or felt the desperate, consoling kisses he pressed to her
burning face. She only knew that finally she had shared the pain and she could
feel the poison seeping from the wound. She would always bear the scars, but
maybe now, because of Joe, she could begin to heal.
They stayed like that for
a long time, clinging tightly to each other as the dawn began to break on the
horizon. Sometimes they spoke, and sometimes they were silent. But even in the
silence, an almost tangible wave of communication flowed between them.
"You were touching
me," Mattie's voice was husky with confusion as it rose from his shoulder
where her face was buried.
Joe smoothed a careful
hand over her short dark hair and searched for a defense to the accusation in
those four simple words. He could hardly tell-her about the need, the hunger,
the love he felt, when in Mattie's mind those words, those emotions were only a
prelude to violation. He could hardly claim friendship, when she must have felt
his body trembling with the uncontrolled desire he felt with her in his arms.
"I didn't mean to
frighten you," he finally evaded quietly.
"There—there's not a
price for friendship, too, is there, Joe?" Mattie's uncertain and
frightened tone clawed into Joe's heart like razor sharp talons.
"No." He
swallowed tightly and pressed his lips into her wavy tresses. "No price
for friendship."
Mattie sighed and drifted
to the edges of sleep.
Joe tightened his hold and
stared into the darkness for a long, long time.
When Joe awoke a few hours
later, Mattie was still in his arms. Her quiet, shallow breaths brushed against
the warm cord of his throat like the most evocative caress, and her head
nestled trustingly against his shoulder. He shifted carefully to study her
sleeping form.
She was so pretty! She
looked so fragile asleep and vulnerable in his arms. But now he knew that there
was nothing fragile about Mattie Grey. Something hurt and lost and sad, but
never fragile or insubstantial. She had survived a nightmare and somehow found
an inner strength to carry her through the memories. Maybe she had lost a part
of herself, as she had told him so desparingly last night. He wondered if she
understood that she had found something, too.
Easing carefully out of
the chair, Joe left Mattie still sleeping. They had spent all of the night
holding each other, talking and
"He said he did. He
said that's why he t-touched me. That touching was the price I had to pay for
being.. .loved."
"Dammit, get it
through your head that love is not like that!" Joe's tone was hard and
driven, and Mattie seemed to shrink into herself.
"You're angry,"
she said flatly.
"Hell, yes, I'm
angry!" Joe exploded in pain and frustration, his eyes fierce.
Mattie wretched herself
from his hold, her face crumbling. "It wasn't my fault," she cried
pitifully as the sobs finally came, racking her slender body with a force that
frightened Joe. "It wasn't my fault. I didn't want him to.. .I hated
him!"
"Mattie! Oh,
Mattie," Joe whispered brokenly, afraid to reach for her. "I know it
wasn't your fault. I know. You were a child, an innocent child. Oh God, Mattie,
let me hold you," he begged helplessly, his eyes burning. "Please let
me hold you—"
Joe knew what he was
asking of her. More important, Mattie knew that he was asking her to put aside
the nightmare of what that man had done and turn to another man for comfort,
which was a frightening move. She had lived alone with the memories for so long
they had become a part of her. Now Joe was asking her to share that part of her
with him. Joe, she thought achingly. Her best friend, Joe. She didn't hesitate,
throwing herself into his pleading arms and burying her tear-stained face
against his throat.
"Thank God," Joe
whispered tightly, pressing a gentle, soothing kiss to Mattie's temple.
"Mattie, cry.. .let the tears heal you. I'm here to hold you, to keep you
safe. I'll always be here for you."
Mattie barely heard the
soothing words or felt the desperate, consoling kisses he pressed to her
burning face. She only knew that finally she had shared the pain and she could
feel the poison seeping from the wound. She would always bear the scars, but
maybe now, because of Joe, she could begin to heal.
They stayed like that for
a long time, clinging tightly to each other as the dawn began to break on the
horizon. Sometimes they spoke, and sometimes they were silent. But even in the
silence, an almost tangible wave of communication flowed between them.
"You were touching
me," Mattie's voice was husky with confusion as it rose from his shoulder
where her face was buried.
Joe smoothed a careful
hand over her short dark hair and searched for a defense to the accusation in
those four simple words. He could hardly tell-her about the need, the hunger,
the love he felt, when in Mattie's mind those words, those emotions were only a
prelude to violation. He could hardly claim friendship, when she must have felt
his body trembling with the uncontrolled desire he felt with her in his arms.
"I didn't mean to
frighten you," he finally evaded quietly.
"There—there's not a
price for friendship, too, is there, Joe?" Mattie's uncertain and
frightened tone clawed into Joe's heart like razor sharp talons.
"No." He
swallowed tightly and pressed his lips into her wavy tresses. "No price
for friendship."
Mattie sighed and drifted
to the edges of sleep.
Joe tightened his hold and
stared into the darkness for a long, long time.
When Joe awoke a few hours
later, Mattie was still in his arms. Her quiet, shallow breaths brushed against
the warm cord of his throat like the most evocative caress, and her head
nestled trustingly against his shoulder. He shifted carefully to study her
sleeping form.
She was so pretty! She
looked so fragile asleep and vulnerable in his arms. But now he knew that there
was nothing fragile about Mattie Grey. Something hurt and lost and sad, but
never fragile or insubstantial. She had survived a nightmare and somehow found
an inner strength to carry her through the memories. Maybe she had lost a part
of herself, as she had told him so desparingly last night. He wondered if she
understood that she had found something, too.
Easing carefully out of
the chair, Joe left Mattie still sleeping. They had spent all of the night
holding each other, talking and
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