This is not a quick read, nor is there lots of gratuitous sex. There's some depictions of sex, but as this is a story of love, the sex is more of an extension of that love, than a simple physical activity. So, if a quick stroke piece is what you're looking for, this is not the read for you. The characters are all above the age of 18.
*
No one knows why my sister Marcy is so shy. We think it may be because she was held back a year in 3rd grade when she took sick with pneumonia. Her case was severe and took her to deaths door. She spent two weeks in the hospital, four days of which were in intensive care, and eight weeks to recover at home.
By the time she was strong enough to go back to school, there were only 10 days left in the term, and as she'd been too weak to do her lessons at home, mom and dad decided to keep her back. She cried for hours, but eventually accepted the fact she'd need to repeat the grade.
Marcy's a good student. She's also a great daughter and a wonderful little sister. We adore her and had her illness taken its final toll, it would have destroyed my mother. They're more like sisters than parent and child.
We live on a farm, about five miles out of the nearest town. About a year after I was born, dad invented something that all computers use and as a result of its financial success, we're what you would call very well off. So, in their late 20's mom and dad bought a huge spread in a stunning part of the Pacific Northwest, and retired to learn farming.
They're the perfect mixture of urbane and bumpkin. Though they can and do travel the world every other year, I think they're much more comfortable with small town festivities than anything else. If the town banker didn't know my folks financial situation, it would be hard to tell how wealthy they (make that we) are. But despite the wealth and the trips mom and dad have taken Marcy and I along on, in public, either here or abroad, Marcy is shy. But not at home.
At home, especially with the livestock, Marcy runs around giggling while doing chores, dances while she feeds the chickens, and sings to the cows when she milks them. On the farm, she's a hoot.
But in town, and from what the teachers have told us, she's withdrawn, almost to the point of concern. If it weren't for her superior intellect, perfect attendance, and highest marks, we'd all be more worried, but as it is, we figure, she's never gotten over the awkwardness she feels around her younger classmates. You'd think one year shouldn't mean that much, but apparently, in Marcy's case, it does.
No one at school or at church has ever asked Marcy on a date and as a result, I became her go to guy for male companionship. We'd go on picnics, to movies, and make runs across the state to check out livestock options as Marcy had a knack for picking undervalued specimens she knew she could nurture to become prize winning animals.
Two and a half years ago, when Marcy was 16, I left for college. In a letter mom wrote to me (she still writes letters), she said Marcy was morose for a week. But when mom showed her the receipt for all the airline tickets they'd purchased for me in advance, tickets that would bring me home for all holidays and some weekends, Marcy's spirits picked right up.
As it turned out, Marcy and I became seniors at our respective schools in the same year. But during the Christmas/New Years break, I sensed something was wrong with Marcy. I even took the unusual step of asking her. It was unusual, because up to that point, I'd pretty much given Marcy her privacy when it came to matters of emotion.
She said "nothing" like someone who doesn't want to talk, so I didn't follow-up on it. But then, a week after I got back to school, I got mom's letter.
Sam, mom wrote. I need a favor, a big favor.
I finally got Marcy to open up. You know she tells me everything. You also know she's never dated. Well, it seems there's a big Valentine's Dance at school, and she'd like to go, but no one has asked her.
I told her, she should ask someone, but you and I both know that won't happen.
I suggested you'd be okay coming home to act as her date. I thought she'd balk at the idea, but she looked at me with so much hope in her eyes and asked if I thought you'd do it.
You guys are close, at least as close as anyone can be with our shy little Marcy. Do you think you could take a few days off from school and help out? Even though Valentine's Day is officially on Tuesday, the school is having the dance on Friday, the 10th.
Let me know your thoughts. If you say yes, I'll start on her dress right away.
Love Mom...
Wow. My sister wanted to go to a dance. She must want to go really bad, or she wouldn't consent to let her older brother take her. This was a new side of my sister I'd not considered. It took me about an hour to work through the pros (many) and the cons (a few) and fashion my affirmative response.
I called mom (I don't write letters). "Okay," I said. "I'll do it."
Mom was grateful and promised she'd surprise me and guaranteed the whole family would be smiling every time in the future the Valentine's Dance would come up in conversation.
I made arrangements with my professors to get a week or so off and on the 8th, I flew home. I needed to be home a couple days before the dance. I wanted to get fitted for a tux and have the florist in town make a special bunch of flowers for Marcy. If I was going to do this, I was going to make sure Marcy had the best time I could provide.
Dad picked me up at the airport like he always does as it's our time to bring each other up to date on our 3 hour drive home.
But we mostly talked about Marcy and though she was trying to hide it, dad said he could tell she was excited.
"You know she adores you?" dad asked.
"And I adore her," I answered.
"No. I mean, you are her world. She has the sweetest crush on you, and though she tries to hide it, your mom and I think it's wonderful and just love how you treat her, how you protect her, and how you are willing to spend time with her. It means the world to Marcy. And," dad paused. "It means the world to your mom and me."
Goodness, I thought. I'd never really considered the implications of being nice to a younger sibling. I guess, as we were growing up on the farm and somewhat isolated from the other kids in our school, it seemed as if our friendship may have developed out of necessity as well out of mutual love and respect for one another. But a crush?
When we got home, mom and Marcy were waiting on the porch. As soon as I got out of the car, Marcy came running up to me, jumped up into my arms, and gave me the biggest hug and wettest kiss on the cheek, she'd ever done before.
After I squeezed her and kissed her back, I let her down. Then I hugged mom, and we went inside to have lunch.
For the next two days, there was much hustle and bustle; so much so, an outside observer would have thought we were getting ready for a wedding, or some other grand celebration. But I guess for Marcy, preparing for the dance was a lot like that.
The night before the dance, Marcy and I had climbed up to the roof of the barn and laid there looking at the billions (trillions Marcy would say) of stars that blanketed our night sky.
"Sammy."
"What?"
"Thank you."
"Are you kidding? Thank you. I feel like a school kid going to their first dance."
"No you don't."
"I do. I'm going to a dance with the most beautiful girl in a thousand mile radius of where we live, I got out of class to do this, and dad said I could take you in the 'vette."
"We're taking the 'vette?"
"Yup."
"Will it turn into a pumpkin at midnight?"
"No. Dad said, as long as we don't drink, we can stay out as late as we want."
"You want to push some boundaries?"
"What boundaries? What are you talking about?"
"You'll see."
For some reason, (I think a shooting star distracted me) I didn't follow up with more questions.
We climbed down off the roof, and walked back to the house. As we were approaching, Marcy stopped, turned and gave me a hug.
I gently pushed her back a step and looked at her. The glow from the lights inside the house caused her eyes to sparkle.
Then Marcy took my hand and shook it.
"Thank you Samuel, for a most delightful evening," she said in her affected 40's Hollywood movie star's voice. "But there will be no good night kiss this evening."
With that, she turned and went into the house. I just chuckled.
The day of the dance, I went into town to retrieve the floral arrangement for Marcy. I saw a few of the high school guys who I guessed were from Marcy's class, buying flowers for their dates. I looked at what they were buying, and suddenly realized I'd gone way overboard in what I'd ordered. I hoped it wouldn't embarrass my sister.
Over lunch, mom suggested we take a nap while she put the finishing touches on the dress. Marcy had mentioned we may stay out late, and mom wanted us to be rested and alert if we were taking dad's "fun" car.
When I woke, it was after 5:00. I took a shower, shaved, dressed and went down stairs.
Dad was at the dining room table. There was a big plate of fruits, cheeses, and a charcuterie of meats for snacking from which he was picking. He gestured for me to sit.
"You look dashing Samuel."
"Thanks."
"What are you doing waiting here?" I asked.
"Your mom said I needed to be here for the big reveal."
"The what?"
"We went to two towns and one city looking for a ball gown Marcy could wear. We came up with nothing."
"What do you mean - nothing?"
"We couldn't find anything any of us liked. So Marcy went on line and showed mom a couple dresses, one cost almost three thousand dollars, and I guess they picked out something that would, and I quote: 'rock everyone's boat' but it needed to be made from scratch."
"Wow."
"It gets better."
"How?"
"Your mom took Marcy's measurements, ordered some fabric she said would highlight her eyes..."
"Marcy has beautiful eyes," I interjected.
"Yes she does, so then she made a pattern that was very much like the dress they liked on line, and she's actually spent the last week sewing, modifying the pattern, and adjusting the fit with Marcy. She promises unveiling a work of art."
So we waited.
About 20 minutes later, mom came into the dining room and motioned for us to follow her. She led us to the back porch. When we stepped outside, Marcy was standing off to the side where the last of the setting sun's rays illuminated her. It was a vision mom, dad, and I would remember for the rest of our lives.
Marcy's eyes are green. The dress was green, the deepest, darkest most beautiful forest green.
Marcy has deep, dark, red hair and a smattering of freckles and the dress complimented her coloring perfectly.
Marcy has a spectacular body. She and mom had chosen a dress design that featured all her assets, especially her breasts, and though there was more than a hint of cleavage, it was not enough to cause one to stare.
The swell of her breasts, the cleavage, the chocker around her neck, her red hair and exquisitely beautiful face, all sat atop a dress that could have been inspired by a Rene Lalique vase cicada.
This was a vision of perfection, and perfection was standing just a few feet away from us.
Now I'm ashamed to say what my thoughts were at that moment, but I couldn't help it. It was too much for a local high school dance. But I couldn't say anything could I? Well could I? But I had to, for if I didn't, Marcy would sense something was on my mind and it might ruin her evening.
