Seashells

Copyright @ calibeachgirl

All rights reserved, 2012

Thanks to estragon and deepblue...

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Chapter 11

"I should be ashamed of myself," Georgia said to herself, in the privacy of her own room. "To be attracted to a man, merely because he has." She sat down on the edge of the bed. "It's just sinful lust, that's all," she continued, thinking back to that single kiss that stood between them all this time. She wondered what her father would have thought... kissing a white man.

"I must just keep my distance, that's all, and I will come to my senses and leave him alone." She wanted to believe what she was telling herself but knew it was a lost cause. There was no denying that kiss, as simple as it was. No, that was the wrong word. As wonderful as it was, that was the word. Wonderful...

He had to be a good man, she thought. Why would he go to so much trouble to deceive her, a mere colored girl, when he could have almost any woman he wanted? She was sure that either Liza or Ellen would have gladly gone to his bed. Other than kissing her, he had made no effort to seduce her and if she wished to admit the truth, his behavior was more restrained than her own.

It seemed most likely, she thought, that he never had wished to seduce her and his motives for keeping her there were just what he had said, that he needed the help, her help, to keep the household running.

The thought should have been a comfort to her but in fact, she found it depressing... profoundly depressing. This, more than anything else, served to enlighten her to her own feelings.

"I'm a fool," she said as she finally removed her clothes, got into bed and tried to sleep. She no longer wore her nightdress, finding it too confining, too restricting. Why would he waste his time trying to seduce a colored woman when he could have his pick of any one he wanted, especially now that he had his uncle's wealth?

The rhythmic ebb and flow of the waves below the house should have lulled her to sleep. In a perfect world this would have invited soft whispers and confidences, romance even. Sometime during the night, her fingers found her dampening warmth.

It was early the next morning when the fattening smell of bacon permeated the house and Georgia found herself strangely, intensely hungry after such a long, deep sleep, a sleep this time without vaguely remembered dreams. Washing quickly, she dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen, where she found Susan and Ellen, both wearing new dresses, putting scrambled eggs into the oven to keep them warm while they anxiously waited for Jack and Bill to finally arrive.

"Good morning, girls," she said, trying to sound cheerful, though strangely tired from her imaginings of the night before.

"I feel," Susan said to her, "like I've escaped from life-long prison. You can't imagine how happy I am to be here. I feel like my life has just begun. This is quite the house, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Georgia answered. "Yes, it is." She looked self-consciously at her own drab dress, and wondered if she should change her clothes before Jack arrived.

She turned, hearing the sound of shoes across the black-and-white checker-board linoleum. "There you are," he said. "I've been looking for you." She glanced down at the floor, so similar to her existence, so separate and yet so together.

"Good morning, sir," she said, well aware of the other girls so obviously listening in the kitchen, determined not to call him 'Jack,' probably ever again.

"A place this size must certainly take a great deal to run and I am glad that you now have, I hope, enough help to keep it going." He searched her face, looking for answer to questions unasked.

"Yes, sir."

With his hand on her arm, he pulled her out of the kitchen and into the dining room. "Has anyone spoken to these girls about their salary? I don't know what you told them and I should have asked about that yesterday." They both knew that wasn't why he was still holding her arm, gently yet firmly, so tightly that she couldn't leave, didn't want to leave and yet couldn't stay.

"No, sir, I haven't and neither did Mr. Doyle. They were so happy to leave the orphanage that they never asked and I just forgot to bring it up." How could she have made such a mistake? It could be embarrassing... it WAS embarrassing how she had let him down in such a simple task. What was he thinking?

Bill appeared in the doorway, breaking the tension. "Breakfast is ready," he said, "and it smells pretty good."

Her feelings for Jack created more problems than she wanted to admit. After breakfast, Susan approached her while Liza was washing the dishes. "Is there something I should know?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen how he and you look at each other. I don't want to create any problems, is all."

Was that a smirk she saw on the girl's face? "Uh, no, of course not. What problems?" Georgia inquired, worried now. It was hard enough living here with him without this.

Susan smiled. She didn't believe the woman, no matter how much she might have protested. It remained to be seen, though, what would come of it. The idea of marriage was impossible for them. However, that did not preclude the man taking Georgia for his mistress. Would she, as a potential wife, be able to accept that her husband had a mistress, a colored one at that? She looked at Georgia. It was something to think about, something to think about, indeed.

Chapter 12

Liza, Betty and Catherine settled into the routine housework, working easily together despite their initial misgivings. By working as a team, not only did the work go faster with each girl responsible for the same things in each room, but being able to talk together made the day pleasant. Betty and Catherine had grown up with the Sisters, who told them work was a form of prayer and therefore, to be done quietly. Liza, on the other hand, loved to sing and soon had her new companions accompanying her as each morning progressed.

Susan and Ellen stayed in the kitchen and that became their domain, their kingdom. Susan, with her ability to read well, started working her way through the cookbook and each day was an experiment, perfecting a dish for everyone's enjoyment or realizing that it wasn't going to work, no matter what. There was a new entrée every day, and the ones no one cared for were crossed out in the book.

Ellen put all her efforts into biscuits, rolls, breads, cakes and pies, finding herself covered with a perpetual dusting of flour.

Bill made ice cream once a week, using the raspberries from the vines growing near the house. He had already talked to Jack about planting cherry trees for pie and ice cream.

"We need," he said, "to start planting some tomato plants, maybe fifty or so. You know, there're eight people living here and we need to start preparing for winter by canning some food. There's going to be times when the food deliveries aren't going to make it here on time because of the weather."

"I can see your point. Want to take care of it?" Jack smiled at his friend, wondering just how much Bill was willing to do.

"Sure. I can see myself now: the gentleman farmer." Bill laughed. "You know, with eight people here, we're going to need another car or maybe a truck."

"I've been thinking the same thing. Tell you what... let's go into Monterey and take a look. Maybe a car and a truck. The Model T is getting along in years and we could definitely use a truck around here."

"Great. When do you want to go?"

"How about tomorrow? A trip like that's going to take all day."

"OK, I'll tell Georgia; we'll leave after breakfast."

"You're bringing her along?" He looked at his friend, wishing he could read his mind.

"Yeah, I thought I'd give her a chance to get out of here, maybe take her to the cinema, you know."

"What's going on with you two?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, you two. Now you want to take her to a picture show."

"There's nothing going on." Jack's face reddened. "Just be ready to go."

Later that morning, Jack approached her. "Georgia, I'd like you to start teaching the girls that can't read. We've plenty of books here. They need to be able to read."

The girls learned, that afternoon, that for the other four hours, after they had finished with their housework, were to be given books to read and expected to discuss them at dinner. They were still surprised that everyone ate together at dinnertime. It was not what they had expected when they had climbed into the Ford for the long drive back to Windcliff.

That evening, after dinner, Jack was listening to the radiola, hoping to hear the San Francisco Opera.

"Stupid thing," he said, giving the set a rap.

"What's the matter?" asked Bill, coming into the room with a plate of cookies.

"There's too much static for some reason. It was clear earlier and now, I can hardly hear anything."

The signal waxed and waned as Jack tried to tune the station in. "This is ridiculous. I give up." He turned the set off. "Gimme one of those oatmeal cookies, will you?"

"Ellen's doing a good job with the baking. I've gained five pounds since I've come here." He patted his stomach.

"Better watch out. Trying to stay in shape isn't all that easy. We're mostly just sitting around during the day and of course, at night, well."

"Tell you what. We'll get those tomato plants you've been talking about and put them into the ground. That ought to be good for something." Jack looked at his own stomach. "I don't know why I haven't gained any weight."

"Ah, shut up, Jack. You're just lucky, that's all. Where is everybody, anyway?"

"I don't know. Maybe they're in their bedrooms reading. I hope so. I know that Susan has been reading through that cookbook. She asked me for some more."

"Maybe she's trying to show you what a good wife she could make." Bill laughed and then stopped, wondering how close to the truth he was. Could it be possible, he wondered. But didn't she know it was unlikely Jack would be interested in the cook?

Georgia lay in the bed, her arm across her eyes. She needed his touch and his arms around her and she knew it wouldn't happen... it couldn't happen... it never would happen. Turning on her side, she opened her eyes. The moonlight shining through the bedroom's windows kept her awake. She could sense he wasn't asleep, either.

Her heart won out. She pulled the covers aside and slowly sat up. Her hands were damp and she wiped them nervously across her thighs. She pulled on her robe and left the room.

Jack heard his bedroom door creak open and moved his head slightly, aware of the noise. His heart began to beat a little harder in his chest. The moonlight coming in through his own windows highlighted her coming into the room.

"Georgia?" His voice was like a low, rumbling thunder in the room. His covers fell away and exposed his naked upper body as he sat up. Now, with his hand resting on the side of the mattress, he studied her face.

She was trying hard to be brave and tried to speak. Opening her hands helplessly, she forced herself to look directly at him. "I..." she started to say and then ran from the room.

Back in her own room, in her own bed, her tear-filled eyes belied her attempt not to cry. She had tried so hard to be brave, to love him.

Before she could see him, he had moved into her room and settled down beside her. A sigh escaped her as the warmth of his near-naked body brushed against her arm. She felt the strength of his embrace as he drew her toward him. A small cry of relief left her lips and she turned and moved fully, completely, into his awaiting embrace. It was so easy to surrender once she had silenced her screaming mind, which told her she was a fool twice over.

"Just let me hold you... if only for a little while," he whispered, holding her against him. Shutting his eyes, he pressed his lips to her damp hair and she surrendered effortlessly to him. She slid her arms around him, her cheek pressed between his neck and his shoulder. The feel of her soft but firm breast against his flesh, separated only by the thin barrier of her robe, made him tremble in anticipation.

"Just let me hold you..." he whispered again and began to gently rock her back and forth in his arms. He wanted the tension to leave her body as he held her tightly to him. And then, suddenly, she turned from him, crying. "I can't," she said, tears flowing down her face. He still held her, moving his hand over her hair, telling her it would be all right and when she finally fell asleep, he left and went back to his own room to think about what had happened.

The next morning, Jack was standing at the kitchen door. "Come on," he said. "I don't want to spend the whole time waiting around." Georgia hurried out the door and sat in the back seat of the Ford. "Damn it, Bill, hurry up, will you?"

"Mr. Crawford, I made you some sandwiches for your trip."

"Why, thank you, Susan. That's very considerate of you." Jack took basket and walking to the door, turned quickly, only to be met by Susan's moist lips. She kissed his cheek and hurried back to the kitchen before he could say anything.

Jack put his fingers to his cheek, now blushing bright red as he watched the girl retreat into the house. What brought that on? he wondered.

"Gonna stand around all day?" asked Bill. "I thought you were in a hurry to go?"

"Ah, shut up."

The ride to Monterey took several hours and they didn't arrive until just before noon.

"I understand they're going to pave this road. Then it won't take so long to go anywhere." Jack felt the steering wheel twist in his hands.

"That would be great, especially on my back."

"Let's stop for lunch and then go to the automobile dealer. I think we'll get both a car and a truck. Right now, it's impossible for all of us to go anywhere together. There's just not enough room."

After a lunch of fried fish and potatoes, they went to the dealership and Jack bought another Model T car and a stake-bed truck. Bill said he would drive one back and the dealer said he would have the truck delivered the next morning.

"Bring a couple hundred tomato plants with it, will you? Here, this ought to cover it," he said, handing the man twenty-five dollars.

As Bill drove away in the new automobile, Jack turned to Georgia and said, quietly, "We need to talk."

She could only nod her head and he drove the automobile south along the coast road until he found a secluded place to park.

"About last night," he started to say when she leaned into his arms and crying, kissed him.

"Jack..." was all she could say as he kissed her back. "I don't..." she couldn't continue. What was she doing? She was doomed, she knew and didn't care. "I love you, Jack."

"I love you, too, Georgia." His mind wasn't functioning at all, his heart, which was beating rapidly, was guiding him now. He grappled with his emotions. Trying to listen to the wisdom in his head, and not the emotions that were moving wildly through him was impossible.

Georgia sighed. How good he felt to her. She nestled more deeply into his arms and savored the strength he held her with. He was strong yet held her gently, as if she were a fragile crystal that might break. She felt safe. The idea circled her aching heart and made it soar with a joy that thrummed through her as she felt his warm, moist breath on her cheek.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded, unable to speak. Reaching up, she slid her hand his roughened jaw in response. Words were useless now. Instead, she enjoyed the safety of his embrace and the gentleness that she had hoped from him. Just touching him in such an intimate way... a wonderful warmth spread throughout her lower body.

Georgia marveled at her body; it seemed to have a will of its own. A wonderful hot sensation throbbed through her abdomen and like the light of a million stars, fingers of pleasure began to move upward through her to her face and downward to her toes. She unconsciously pressed her lips to his as her fingers trailed down his jaw to his neck.

Jack didn't know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, but was it wise? Was it moral? Was it the right thing to do? Her touches were awakening feelings for her. Should he make love to her? That was what she was asking in the way she was touching him. His skin burned where her lips traced a path across his face. Her fingertips reached down and held him. There was no mistaking what Georgia was asking of him now. He closed his eyes and shuddered as she pressed herself more insistently against his chest. He felt himself hardening to such a degree that it was almost painful. He wanted her... all of her. In his heart, he knew that loving her was the most right thing in the world at that moment... but, he knew it had to be her choice. She had to initiate that choice, not him. And whatever it took, he had to go slowly, not make any moves that might destroy her, but it was a personal hell to sit there quietly with her in his arms as she slowly reached out to him in so many silent, satisfying ways. He had never been more afraid in his life as that moment. One wrong move, one wrong decision and she would be lost to him forever.

She felt him tense as she moved her fingers from his pants to his face. She was lost in a joyful haze. There were no words, nothing that she could say to him. Each time she touched him, pressed a small, exploratory kiss here, one there, on his now damp, tense flesh, it was heaven. She had no idea if she was making a mistake; she was simply driven by the spreading warmth that throbbed in her lower body and the yearnings of her heart, which cried out to him.

Rubbing her cheek against his neck, she sought refuge in the joy that moved through her each time she touched him. Sighing, she closed her eyes and continued to trace the rest of his arm. There was so much dark hair covering his forearm that she smiled a little to herself. Her hand unbuttoned his shirt and went inside. His chest was covered by a thick carpet as well, and as her fingers touched him he drew in a deep, ragged breath.

He sat in the automobile, afraid to move as she touched him, exploring his body and as her fingers glided across his, he gently threaded his fingers between hers. She was exploring him like a wide-eyed child. He knew that she would have to initiate everything, she was that important to him. She had lost whatever fear she had had and when she was done, she moved back to her side of the seat.

He sat there, his breath coming in ragged gasps and he couldn't think clearly. He gripped the wheel tightly, holding his eyes closed, not wanting to face the world and lose the fantasy that had become real.

It was a quiet drive back to Monterey.

"Wait here," he said, going into the hotel by himself to get a room for the night. A while later he returned with a room key. "I promised to take you to a picture show and the 'Phantom of the Opera' is playing at the Orpheum and then we can have dinner."

The film was scary enough, with Chaney playing the scarred man hiding in the bowels of the city, holding the girl enthralled. Georgia wondered if that was what she was: a girl enthralled by the chains of his charm.

Dinner at the hotel was a blur, even more so than the picture show. She had no memory of what she ate, let alone how it tasted. He left money on the table and they took the elevator to the fifth floor. They passed a porter carrying some bags to another room and he looked at them. Seeing Georgia's fine clothing, he was at a loss for words, as if he were to speak to a guest without permission, not knowing what she was... a prostitute... a mistress... what?

She said nothing about the single room, not even asking if it had two beds. It was as if her entire life was leading up to this night.

She walked into the room to the window overlooking the street, watching without seeing, listening without hearing. All she saw was him and all she heard was her own heartbeat, pounding now louder and louder and louder.