Copyright @ calibeachgirl
All rights reserved, 2012
Thanks to estragon and deepblue...
*
Chapter 15
The low-pitched, gravelly sound brought everyone out of the house to the front porch where they saw two black stake-bed trucks making the long drive up from the coast road. Eventually, they parked and the two drivers approached them.
"We're sorry it took a few extra days," said the older man, wiping the road dust from his face with his sleeve. He pointed to the hundreds of tomato plants in the back of the trucks, "but you wanted tomato plants and we had to go get them."
"I said a couple of hundred. How many do you have here?" asked Jack, scratching his head at all the foot-tall green plants he saw.
"Exactly five-hundred. Mr. Johnson said the extras were on him and thanks for buying the truck."
"All right, I guess. That's a damn lot of tomato plants, though."
"Where do you want them?"
"Might as well bring them around the back."
A half-hour later, all the plants had been unloaded and lined up against the outside of the carriage house. Bill stood there, counting his way through the rows.
"Don't bother," Jack said. "There's supposed to be five-hundred."
"I can believe that. It's going to take forever to get these all in the ground."
"Not really. If you and I take a couple of shovels and dig holes about a foot apart a couple of rows wide the girls can get them into the ground without too much work."
They eventually dug five rows to keep the plants closer to the house, making it easier for them to be watered. Three girls, wearing their new Levis, were on their knees, putting the plants into the ground and pushing the soil back into each hole while the other three brought new plants to them. Halfway through, they changed.
By the time noon had arrived, all the plants were in the ground and while Susan was making sandwiches for everyone, bucket after bucket of water was brought from the outdoor wellhead.
"Well, I'm glad that's over," said Catherine. "My knees are killing me. We need a long hose."
"Tomorrow, the grapes are coming," Jack said to their astonished groans. "Haha, just kidding." Looking at all the plants, Jack whistled. "You know, we could go into the tomato business, selling them in town. Give the girls a little pocket money and an excuse to go into town instead of staying out here all the time."
"You're the boss," Bill said, laughing. "It's either that or learn to cook Italian and quick."
At that moment, a smiling Susan, her golden blond hair shining in the early afternoon sun, returned with a tray of sardine sandwiches. "I hope you like them, Mr. Crawford. The fish are fresh from Monterey."
"Thank you, Susan," he replied, taking one, mindful of the blister on his hand.
Jack walked into the house to shower. It had been a long day and his back was strained from all the digging. He wondered how the girls felt. Today, he knew, had to be a one-time event. It turned out to be more strenuous than he had ever imagined and was glad that he wasn't a farm worker.
That evening, even though he was just becoming stiff, he walked downstairs for dinner.
"I've prepared roast chicken, with potato salad and biscuits and honey," said Susan, smiling. "And for dessert, peach tarts and whipped cream. I noticed you liked them the last time I prepared them."
The clatter of knives and forks competed with the conversation that evening meal and as the dishes were being cleared in time for the tarts, Jack said, "You've outdone yourself tonight, Susan. Thank you."
"You're welcome, sir," she replied, touching his arm suggestively. "Anytime you want something special, you just ask."
"Uh, yeah, sure." He watched her retreat into the kitchen and return moments later with dessert.
"And a specially big scoop for you." Spooning the cream over Jack's tart, she passed the dish to him. "I'll let the rest of you take care of yourselves," she said, passing the tarts down the table.
Bill watched Susan go quickly to the kitchen to take the tray back and then return. She sat to Jack's left and stared at Georgia, a smug look on her face. Georgia just smiled, turned to Catherine sitting next to her and spoke to her about the film "Ben Hur" they both wanted to see.
Susan put her hand on Jack's arm again, vying for his attention.
"What?" he asked, surprised at her attention.
"I said, 'did you plan on going to see the next Buster Keaton film?'"
"Oh, I don't know, probably not... that doesn't mean you can't go to see it. We can arrange something to take you girls into Carmel."
"No, that's OK." She tried again to find something to talk to him about but his attention was lost; he spent the rest of the evening talking to Ellen about 'The Great Gatsby'. His contention was that no one in the novel was a good person while she felt the narrator was at least better than the rest.
Jack went outside, threw his head back and stared at the sky. There were no stars and a new moon peaked out through the coastal fog. He was unsure if that was how his life, their life, was to be... hazy and dark.
That night, after everyone had gone to bed, he heard his bedroom door slowly open and the soft patter of bare feet pause at the threshold and then approaching as the door clicked close. He opened his eyes, knowing who he would see. He leaned back on his pillow and took her gently by the shoulders. "I was hoping you would come."
She took her first trembling step toward the bed, her eyes focusing on his smile, just visible in the dimness. She stood there, gazing at him, memorizing him, embarrassed that she had stopped.
"How could I not? I've been thinking about you all day, ever since..."
"You're not too tired from the tomatoes?"
"A little but that's OK. I brought you some berries," she said, her fingers tight on the plate. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"
When she reached the side of the bed, he winked and slid over on the bed and eased her toward him. "I'm flirting with you, Georgia. We moved so fast that we skipped through the rituals that lovers have."
"Oh," she said, quietly, still afraid that one of the girls might hear. She couldn't think clearly with him holding her so closely.
Slowly, he eased away a bit, giving her room to breathe but only enough to reach a strawberry from the plate. He brought the berry to her mouth, touching it to her lip; he tempted her with its scent.
He rolled the berry along her lower lip, his gaze riveted to her mouth, just visible in the darkness of the room. A cool drop of juice rolled down her chin. Before she could wipe it off, Jack bent over her and licked it away with his tongue.
It happened so swiftly, she might have thought she imagined it, if not for the way her flesh sizzled in that one, moist spot.
He held the berry above her mouth, his voice low and inviting in her ear. "What do you think, Georgia? Are you ready for a taste?"
She wanted a taste of him so badly. She hated every moment she wasn't in his arms. At that instant, all her nerves leaped to life, as if every one of them reached and thirsted for his touch.
Arching her neck, she lifted her head to the dangling fruit and snapped it from the stem with her teeth. Sweet juice burst over her tongue and seeped down her throat as she chewed.
Jack watched Georgia like a starving man. She licked her lips to seek out every bit of juice. She cupped his cheek in her hand and titled his gaze to her eyes. "I'm ready for more than just a taste."
He swallowed nervously as he fought to continue breathing. He placed one finger over her lips and tossed a strawberry into his own mouth to quell his sudden thirst for the taste. "This time," he said, "we're taking it slow."
She nipped his finger with her teeth to free her lips. "Just don't make me wait any longer."
Picking up another strawberry, he slid the fruit into her mouth. "I'm going to love you like you've never been loved before."
He wanted to feed her berries, to wrap her in silk, to comb every inch of her hair with his fingers. He forced himself to focus on her wide, dark eyes and not her mouth.
A slow smile curled around the lips he was definitely not looking at. He moved to lock the door, wondering what they'd do when they had to confront the outside world again. They couldn't stay locked in his bedroom forever.
Georgia moved closer to him, her hip to his, her curves burning his skin, scorching his flesh with her heat through the almost innocent brush of her nightgown.
He took a strawberry to her throat and slid it down to the neck of her gown. She shifted beside him, arching upward at his teasing touch.
He ate the skin-warmed berry off his finger and took another. Sweeping her fallen hair away from her ear, he bent over her to whisper, "You know, it's not really enough to eat one of these by itself."
"It's not?" she asked, radiating heat like the California sun.
"I'd rather lick the taste off you."
Her breathing sped up.
Slowly, he tugged her nightgown up to expose her breasts. He smiled to see them. Sliding off the bed and onto the floor in front of it, he pressed her back onto the sheet. Her dark hair cradled her like a blanket, conforming to her body.
He fought a primitive urge to rip her panties off, to feel her thighs around him again. He knew her nervousness would vanish when they touched. He grazed the softness of her stomach with her fingertips and squeezed a single strawberry over the top of her navel. The juice filled the slight indentation, just trickling over both sides.
Jack bent his head to her midriff, taking in her clean, sweet scent. The only trace of strawberry left rested in the dark pool at her waist.
Moving his lips over her taut flesh, he rejoiced in the small jump of her body when he inserted his tongue into her navel. Her hips curved up against his shoulder, her fingernails raked the sheet.
Still, he took his time cleaning every drop of juice from her skin, trailing his tongue along the sides of her waist to the top of her panties. Georgia whimpered when he stopped there, wriggling her hips in unmistakable invitation.
Pulling her white panties down, he promised himself he wouldn't rush. He was simply trying to tempt her all the more.
