Esther's Story

She squared her shoulders and reached out a hand to steady the woman. "Cassie, I don't know what you are talking about. But don't you think you ought to go home and sleep it off?"

"I'm talking bout the welfare lady that picked Joey up at school today. They won't even let me see him until some fucking court day. But Daddy says not to worry he'll get me the best lawyer. He's gonna show everyone what a vindictive bitch you are." Rising up to her full height, which was several inches shorter than Esther anyway, she looked into her eyes as she threw the ultimate bomb. "Just because God took your son, don't give you no right to try and take mine from me, nigger bitch."

Esther froze. Her heart stopped. She feared that air would never again pass through the tightness in her throat. Her fingers went limp. The woman swayed, almost taking them both to cold concrete beneath their feet.

Suddenly an arm wrapped about her waist. It was the only thing holding her up. From somewhere far off, she heard a deep voice.

"I think you better leave now."

It was steely quiet. The half a dozen young people did not move. Several were so embarrassed that their eyes stared at the ground. She wondered, how many times have they heard something similar. How many times had her students heard their parents talk about the Negro whore?

The worst flashed through her mind. It was right after Tommy's funeral. People had followed her home after the church service. Food lined all the counter tops in the kitchen and people milled about her house as if they visited every day. It was an intrusion that she did not want or need. But it was also a custom, one that she did not have the strength to balk at that moment.

Instead she had taken refuge in his room, hiding out in her own home from strangers that cared nothing for her. People that did not even accept Tommy. It felt like the ultimate affront to her life.

She was getting ready to leave. She had made up her mind that she would ask the reverend to have everyone leave. She had endured enough of their 'Southern hospitality' to last her a life time. But her hands froze to the door handle as she listened to two unidentified voices on the other side of the wood.

"Yeah well, seems to me like the woman got what was coming to her. You can't flaunt your sins in front of God and everyone for all these years and expect the good Lord to just take it. Oh no, I suppose it is just his merciful justice, taking that boy the way he did."

Another voice joined in the vitriolic chorus, "Tommy was a good man, despite having that woman as a mother. But still I wonder if she'll be so damned high and mighty now. Like she looks down on the rest of us with her Shakespeare and Greek mythology. Ain't like kids even need to know any of that stuff in the real world."

"I'll give the woman one thing, she kept her sins quiet in this town. Of course, you heard about how she practically threw herself at Joshua didn't you? All because he was the boy's Little League coach. And him a married man. No, that woman deserves everything she gets and then some."

Esther had fled their lying words then. Curling back up in Tommy's bed to cry until the Methodist preacher and his wife came to tell her that they were going. That everyone else had left. As the woman reached out her hand in Christian kindness to comfort her, Esther had recoiled. She recognized the voice, knew what this woman really thought of her. The couple had excused themselves, mumbling beneath their breaths about gratitude. Esther could only imagine what else they said as they walked home that evening.

She had pulled herself out of bed and walked into the living room to face an utter mess. Her normally neat home looked like the VFW hall after one of its big to-do's. Paper cups and plates piled high with half eaten food were strewn about the place. There were several spills on her couch and carpet.

Actually, she supposed she owed the Right Reverend and his congregation a debt of thanks after all. She really did not know how she would have made it through that first night if it had not been for the hours of cleaning that took her through until dawn. She was so exhausted that by the time she fell into her bed, sleep overcame even the heavy burdens on her heart and mind.

This night was as bad. But she realized something else as those hateful words flew around her. The other voice, she recognized it now. It had been Cassie Monroe who was speaking with the preacher's wife in the hall that day.

Esther's palm itched. She wanted nothing more than to slap the woman. How dare she of all people pass judgment on her? At least she had raised her half-breed bastard as they called Tommy with love, not bearing bruises and marks and not with a drunk for a mother. She longed to tell it all to the nasty creature that was half bent at her feet.

But it was the faces of her students about her that held her back. They did not need to see another adult in their lives acting with such shame.

Instead she took a step back putting some distance between them. "Like I said, you should go home and sleep this off."

As she turned towards the porch, she heard the Sergeant take command. It came so natural that not even the drunken man hesitated when he was ordered to take the woman home. Her students beat hasty retreats home. But Esther knew that the story of this night would fly about the school halls, reaching every ear and young mind even before the homeroom bell rang in the morning.

It all hung like a super cell over her head, dread of another tornado of the soul consumed her. She had made it through this storm once when she returned to teaching after the funeral. But she was not certain she could do it all again. Not now.

She did not even think about the cookie plates, punch bowl or dozens of other things that she had left outside. She practically ran to the bathroom. The spaghetti that Michael had insisted she eat for dinner tasted even worse coming up than it had when she forced it past her lips hours earlier. She was certain that strands of it were tangled in her dark brown curls.

It was hard, crying and vomiting at once. Her body shaking and trembling, not from the cool chill that hung in the Texas autumn air, but from the cold hearts and closed minds of this place that had been her home for most of her life, for practically all of Tommy's brief life. Didn't these people see? It was one thing to hate her, but what had that little boy ever done to deserve their ire?

At last the sobs slowed. Esther reached up for the washcloth that hung from the white porcelain sink. It was still damp from washing up before dinner. She passed it over her face, but it did nothing to clean off the taint of this bitter and hateful place.

It had been almost thirty years since she felt like this. The need to plunge her body beneath water as hot as she could stand it. Hotter even. To wash ever trace of him, of them from her body and soul. But unlike last time, Esther knew that there would be no precious gift to ease this pain.

She stripped the white blouse over her head, taking the red bandana that had held her mane back from her face as she bent to read the cards. She tore at her bra, not caring if she broke the straps. She pushed the flowing skirts down her tanned legs, taking her underwear with them. She realized that she had kicked her shoes off somewhere along her journey from the front yard to the bathroom, but had no idea where.

She had no idea how long she stood beneath the scorching hot water as rivulets raced down her body to pool and swirl down the drain, the steam wrapping about her body like the quilt she had sewn from scraps of Tommy's clothes collected over a life time. The corner of the blue baby blanket in which she had brought him home from the hospital. The white shirt that he had worn on his first day of school. His Scout uniforms. His football jersey. His black graduation gowns. His Marine Uniform. They had all become squares and many more.

The comfort was scant. But eventually the heat pounded through to her shattered mind. Her body was a bright pink beneath its toffee brown and her fingers and toes had begun to wrinkle. But still she stood beneath the hot spray, the need to escape, to wash it all away warred with commonsense and self-preservation.

Even as the water turned colder she battled beneath its rivulets. She began to shiver. Her teeth chattered as it got colder and colder, matching the temperature of a late fall Texas night and the cold hearts of this place.

Then there was a voice and hands gently tugging her from the tub. A towel wrapped about her. Arms scooped her up into a strong embrace, carrying into the bedroom and tucking her beneath that quilt.

He was there. Drawing her into his arms, holding her as he worked the towel over her hair drying it. His hands moved quickly up and down her arms, trying to warm flesh that she would have sworn was long dead.

Except when he touched her, she felt alive. Truly alive. She moved closer to his warmth, snuggling against the hard plains of his chest, the roughness of the hairs on his chest abraded her cheek.

His fingers stilled on her shoulder. "I should probably go back out to the couch."

Esther froze. New tears glistened in her eyes. She could barely breathe, this new rejection cutting deeper any. She started to move away, pull away. But his fingers came up to hold her chin, lifting her face to his gaze.

"I won't take advantage of you again," he whispered into the darkness as his soft lips pressed against her nose.

Esther shook her head at his words of self-incrimination. "But..." she began.

"You are hurting right now. I can't. Not like this. Not now," he mumbled.

She shook her head, her grip on his shoulders tightening at his words. "Don't go. Please don't go. I don't want to be alone. Not now. Please." Her words burst forth like a river flowing with flood waters.

She felt him exhale. Felt him collapse back against the pillows. His arms wrapped around her shoulders as he drew her against him. He pressed light kisses to the top of her head. "I hadn't thought about that, sweetheart. Of course, I'll stay."

Esther swore for a moment that he added 'if it kills me,' but it must have been part of her dreams as exhaustion and the late hour overtook her. Cocooned safe in his strong arms the dreams dared not haunt her this night.

CHAPTER FIVE

It took her a moment to realize where she was as she woke up. There was hardly any sunlight filtering through the sheers in her bedroom. But she could feel the comfort of the quilt wrapped about her.

Her bed was empty though. There was still an indention in the pillow next to hers and it was still warm she noted as she ran her hands across the spot where her lover had slept. She frowned. Was he her lover? He had after all turned her down last night. More than likely the man could not wait to be away from her outbursts.

To him that one magical night was probably nothing more that scratching an itch. To her, it would have to be a lifeline. A memory to get her through the tough decisions that were to come.

Turning over in the bed, she looked out the window. The weather certainly matched her mood. Dark and grey. She considered crawling deep beneath the quilt and staying in bed all day. But she knew that would solve nothing. The problems would still be there when she woke up. Waiting for her tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that.

No, it was better to face them now. Get a handle on the extent of this situation and begin to formulate plans. In all probability, there would be repercussions for her actions at work. But even if there were not? Did she want to stay here? Did she really want to wallow day after day in her grief? Longing for something that could not be.

A part of her longed for the type of freedom that Michael had made for himself. The ability to just hop on the back of his motorcycle and go. New people, new places. New problems?

She supposed some things would follow her wherever she went like Tommy's death. But other things like Cassie Monroe, she would be happy to leave behind. The prejudices of this place and its mean-hearted people. But then again if she left who would be there for the Joey's and her students?

Her mind was so caught up in the dilemmas that faced her that she did not even notice him until he sat on the edge of the bed next to her. Two cups of steaming hot coffee emitted the most delicious aroma. It wrapped about her wiping her mind of all else, except its richness.

She took the cup he offered her in silence. Bringing it to her lips, she blew softly across its dark surface then sipped softly. She moaned at the taste which more than matched its aroma. He shifted on the bed. "I love it when you moan."

She blushed, aware that the quilt had slipped down and that the thread bare night gown revealed far more than it hid. "Sorry."

He chuckled, "Don't be. Like I said I like the sound of it. Although I would rather it be something besides my coffee that had you moaning like that," he blushed. The redness going all the way to his ears.

She looked up at him quizzically. "But last night..."

"You were upset. I meant what I said. I feel bad enough for taking advantage of the situation the other night. I don't want to keep doing it."

"And if I told you that you had nothing to apologize for? Michael, I'm a grown woman. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions about who I take for a lover and when."

"Yeah, but I can't help but wondering if you would. I mean if things were different someone like you wouldn't even notice a guy like me. You're fancy books and lacy curtains. I'm t-shirts, jeans and I'd sure as hell rather wait for the movie than read a book."

Esther sat the coffee cup on the table next to the bed. "You are also that most rare of breeds in this fucked world, a real life hero. A man of honor, who does whatever he needs to care for people, sometimes even people he does not know. So if you ask me, it is you that got the short end of the stick. Heroes don't end up with old-maid school teachers. They end up with beautiful sirens, whose calls touch their very souls."

Their gazes held for a moment. Then he sat his cup down on the table next to hers. The old bed creaked as he shifted, aligning his body so that he was inches from her. His fingers entwined with hers on top of the patchwork.

"Sing for me," he breathed against her lips. His touch was so light that for a second Esther feared that she was still asleep, dreaming. He nibbled lightly at the corner of her lips and the slight sting convinced her that this was no dream.

She opened her mouth beneath his. This time she did not wait for him to take the lead, her tongue slipped inside his mouth as he moaned into their kiss. She tugged her hands free of his, bringing them to his neck, drawing him deeper, holding him still for her bold onslaught.

She pressed her body upwards the thin cotton chafed at her skin as she rubbed against his chest. She moaned at the tightness in her dark nipples. She sucked in a lung full of air when his calloused fingers found the hard tips and rubbed gently over them. Heat raced through her body causing her to rub against the man like a kitten wanting to be petted.

She whimpered when his fingers abandoned her nipples. The aching need that his touch ignited raged on with nothing to extinguish its flames. His hands slid down her body. Throwing back the quilt, his hands slipped beneath the edge of her nightgown lifting it over her head and tossing it across the room.

Esther spread her thighs as he half stood, pushing at the elastic waistband of his sweat pants. Within seconds he was between her legs, pushing deep inside her body. Her eyes closed, her head thrown back as she gripped the sheets between her fingers until her knuckles were white. She used them as a perch to lift her hips, grinding against him, drawing him deeper and deeper inside her.

She moaned as he filled her completely. Her breath caught in her lungs as the base of his shaft rubbed against the sensitive nub of her clitoris. She screamed out as her orgasm hit her fast and hard. Her hips found his rhythm as she rode out the wave and the next and the next. She was trembling and weak, but totally mindless as he plunged deeper within her waters sending her over the edge yet again, joining her in his release.

Her fingers released the sheet as she felt him roll to the side a bit, so that he did not crush her. Her breathing was ragged and shallow. An annoying sound registered for the first time. Looking over at the table next to the bed, she could not see the time because the two cups blocked her view of its neon orange numbers. But its shrill warning could not be denied.

She lifted her hips, driving his half hard cock deeper. She whimpered at the feel of him, tempted to call in sick. She smiled as she remembered her earlier train of thoughts. This would be a decidedly different reason to spend the day in bed.

He brushed a kiss across the soft brown skin of her cheek, whispering the temptation into her ear. "You know no one would blame you if you called in today."

She sighed as she pushed at his shoulder, rolling him onto his back in the center of her bed. If his words had not given her reason to pause the sight of him more than half naked certainly did, his chest glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration from their efforts, the head of his semi-erect cock peeking above the top of his pants.

She hesitated for a moment, standing naked beside her bed. Then she realized how exposed she was. The sag in her large breasts. The roundness in her tummy that never went completely away after giving birth, not even after twenty five years. The cellulite in her thighs. She blushed beet red at what she must look like to this Adonis. What was she thinking?

She practically ran from the room. "I'm late," she tossed over her shoulder as she sought the safety of the shower. Beneath its refreshing spray, her mind raced with options. For a woman that just three days before did not think she had any, they seemed overwhelming then. But she did not have time to consider them all or dally over a shower.

She grabbed a towel and wrapped it about her. She wondered if he would still be in her bed. The thought in itself was disturbing on some level. The idea of prancing around the room wearing only a towel as she collected her clothes and dressed was more than a bit daunting.

But he was nowhere in sight as she picked out a matching set of pale blue bra and panties. She refused to pause and consider why matching should matter. She threw open her closet door and pulled out a non-descript printed dress that hugged her ample chest and flowed softly about her tummy and hips before flaring out to dance about her calves.

Standing in front of the mirror that graced her dresser she applied the lightest of make-up, just some eye shadow, mascara and lip gloss. Of course, even that was more than she usually bothered with. But she would not give that a thought either.

Eyeing her reflection in the mirror, she supposed it would have to do. For a woman approaching fifty, it was not half bad. But certainly no Helen of Troy or even Diana, goddess of the hunt. She was just plain old Esther, who taught English and ancient mythology to teenagers whose only interest in such things was in video games and television shows. But it was her lot in life, she thought as she turned and walked into the living room.

He was coming from the kitchen with two more cups of coffee in his large hands. "We never finished them. Figured you might need some caffeine in you before facing all those kids," he smiled.

She took the cup and brought it to her lips. It was hot but not as hot as before. The aroma and taste pleaded with her to tarry and savor their goodness. But she did not have time as she chugged the liquid as quickly as its heat would allow.