Seashells Ch. 02

Copyright @ calibeachgirl All rights reserved, 2012

Thanks to estragon and deepblue...

Chapter 4

The call of the rooster woke up Jack the next morning and after shaving and showering, he went to the breakfast room to eat. Bill was already there, a plate of eggs and bacon before him.

"I cooked breakfast, Jack. Give me a minute and I'll fix you up."

"Take your time. I'm not that hungry, anyway. I'm going to take a quick walk outside and maybe then we'll take a look at that generator." He walked out the front door and walked around the house, looking at what condition it was in. If the building was in need of repair, he was unable to see where. Reaching the back door, he went in and found himself in the mudroom next to the kitchen.

"Good morning... Ellen, wasn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I will tell your friend that you are back." The girl left to get Bill, who quickly came into the kitchen and striking a wooden match, lit the propane stove to warm up the skillet.

"How many eggs?" he called out.

"Just two, I guess. I'm not that hungry." He leaned against the wall and looked at the two girls standing next to Bill.

"I'm giving them some cooking lessons. We'll have some grilled fish for lunch and something for dinner... I haven't decided yet. Any suggestions?"

"Not a clue. What do they have here?"

"Not much, that's for sure. Between one thing and the other, we're going to have to go to Carmel and get some real food. They told me there are regularly scheduled deliveries but without permission, they've only gotten the bare necessities to live on."

"This is ridiculous. Damn that Higgins. All right, where's Georgia?"

"If you mean the girl we spent the evening with..."

"Who else?"

"I haven't seen her, yet. Maybe, your late night..."

"Shut up, Bill. There was... nothing happened. What do you take me for, anyway?"

"Just joking. You didn't mind it before."

"Yeah, well, this is different."

"Sorry, Jack."

At that moment, Georgia walked in and Jack wondered how much of the conversation she had heard. He hoped none at all but from her stance in the doorway, it was obvious she had heard enough. He could tell she was torn between entering the kitchen and returning to her room. He considered apologizing but she began to speak before he could.

"I have a list of things that we've run out of and need and things that we've run out of and it would be nice to have." She held out the paper and after he took it, she turned and left, disappearing down the hallway.

Jack angrily looked at his friend. "Damn it, Bill...!"

After breakfast, the two men walked outside to the generator, housed in its own building next to what was the carriage house. Alongside the wall were empty five gallon drums labeled 'kerosene.'

"Let's see what's wrong with this thing?" Bill said, checking the oil level in the generator. "This thing seems to use kerosene for fuel. I think they just ran out of it. I guess we can't expect three girls to know how to work this thing."

Bill stood up from his crouch. "I'll go into the kitchen and get some and we can find out if that's all that's wrong with it."

A few minutes later, Bill returned with a small jar of fuel. "This is all they had left. You really need to get some provisions delivered to this place." He poured in the kerosene and gave the generator a crank. Several cranks later, it was running and lights in the house came on.

"Good job, Bill. Now we can see. How long do you think that thing runs before it runs out of fuel?"

"I don't know, that's something else we're going to have to find out after you get enough fuel delivered."

It was well after lunchtime when he saw her again. "How do you get things delivered here? There's no telephone and it's too far to walk."

"Your uncle has... had an automobile. It's in the carriage house."

"Good. Then let's take one last look around and go into town."

"But..."

"No buts... come on." He went into his bedroom and got his coat and then waited at the door for Georgia to join him.

"Good, you're ready." He held the screen door open for her and then followed her to the carriage house, her black hair moving softly in the morning breeze, her hips moving with a catlike grace. All he heard was the wet gravel crunching under their feet. After rolling the door open, he stared at the Model T. "Well, a Tin Lizzie. Get in." He walked to the front of the Ford and after checking the choke, gave the crank a half-turn. The engine refused to start. "When was the last time this automobile was used?"

"Before your uncle was sick, I'm afraid. Won't it start?"

He took off his coat, opened the engine hood and checked the oil and gasoline levels. "Is there more... never mind, I see some." Jack walked over to the side and picked up a glass bottle of oil. Returning to the Ford, he carefully poured some in, checked the level and then poured in some more. "That ought to do it," he finally said and went back for some gasoline he saw along the wall.

Eventually, he was ready once more and very carefully gave the engine a half-turn and stood back, mindful of the kickback on the crank. The fourth time, the engine started up and he put his coat back on. After getting in, he put the Ford in gear and they drove out and down the graveled lane.

The rutted way looked much different in the daylight, especially going in the opposite direction. He tried to make small talk to pass the time but his companion remained silent. After a while, he stopped talking and put his full attention to where they were going.

An hour and a half later, after a bumpy ride, they arrived in Carmel and she gave him directions to the grocery store. Pulling up in front of the market, he turned the motor off and getting out, went to hold her arm as she alighted. Several passing people stared at his gesture but he failed to notice their attention.

Inside the store, he made arrangements to have the list, plus several hundred gallons of kerosene, gasoline and fuel oil for the boiler delivered early the next morning. Before leaving, he bought a goodly amount of chocolate and an ice cream maker and then asked where the nearest department store was.

"You can't," she protested, looking at the dresses he had pulled from the rack. "I..." He liked the way she ran her tongue along her upper lip.

"Yes, I can and yes, you will. Come on, turn around." As she turned her back to him, he held the dress against her to see the general fit, knowing full well that it would be impossible for her to try them on. "I like them," he said. "We need to get some dressmaker patterns and cloth for the others. What they are wearing is too drab for my liking."

With the dresses draped over his arm, he walked down the aisle to the bolts of cloth lining the back wall. "Here," he said, pulling out some brightly colored cloth, "this is pretty, don't you think?"

Caught by surprise, she could only nod her head in agreement.

"Let's get enough for everyone to have at least three dresses each. Now, where's that clerk?" He wandered off, looking for the girl who had met them near the door. "Hello?" he called.

The girl came from the other end of the store. "Yes?" she asked, not quite sure what to do.

"I want to buy these dresses and a good amount of cloth, please, and thread and needles and whatever else Georgia says we need."

Hesitantly, she said, "Yes, sir."

While the two women hesitantly discussed patterns and colors, he wandered about the store, seeing what was stocked, realizing how miserly his uncle had been. He wondered what it must have been like for the poor woman who married him and probably died because he would have refused to have a doctor come. He shook his head in astonishment, feeling a great sadness for her and knew he could only guess what desperation led her to accept his hand in marriage.

"Sir, we're finished," he heard Georgia say, "unless there's something else you wish to buy."

"Do you see anything else we need?"

"Well..."

"Well, what?"

"The girls could use new shoes."

"We'll have to bring them in, then. Anything else?"

"No, sir, although I'm sure I'll remember something when it's too late."

"Well, you'll have to just make a list, all right? It's getting late. I don't see us returning tonight. I don't want to drive that rut in the dark." He turned to the clerk. "How much?"

While the girl was adding up their purchases, he looked at Georgia. "I'll get us a couple of rooms for tonight and we can return tomorrow morning." To the clerk, "We'll pick this all up tomorrow morning."

She started to protest, knowing that finding her a room was easier said than done but decided to be silent. He would find out soon enough, she knew.

"I'd like two rooms for the night, please."

The innkeeper took one look at Georgia and with a straight face, said, "There are no rooms available."

"Surely, you're joking. There's no one here."

"I said, there are no rooms available."

"Who owns this place? You realize what you're doing is against the law, don't you? I can have you shut down with one telephone call."

"There are no rooms available. Please leave."

Knowing there was nothing else he could do, at least at that moment, he turned to Georgia. "Let's go. This isn't over." Why did it bother him so much? Before meeting Georgia, he never really had anything to do with colored people; they were always on the periphery of his existence and now he was in the middle of things.

Still, that didn't help them find a room for the evening and it was getting late.

Outside, he formulated a plan. "Look, I'll go in somewhere and get a room and then come and get you."

They drove down the street until he found another hotel. Although not as nice as the first one, it was passable and as he thought about it, 'any port in a storm.'

"I've got a room. Come on." Taking her by the hand, they went inside and up the stairs to the fifth room down the hall. Putting in the key, he opened the door. "Come on, before someone sees."

The room wasn't as bad as he thought and was clean. Cleaner, he thought, than his own room back in Los Angeles. The only problem was there was only one bed.

"Well," he said, looking at her, "I guess I'll sleep in the chair."

"Oh, no, you can't do that! I'll take the chair."

"Of course not... don't be silly. You take the bed. I'll be fine. It can't be any worse than the trenches I slept in during the War."

The atmosphere between the changed in a heartbeat. One moment they had been talking, and now a sharp awareness slipped between them, stealing his smile away. She looked at him, suddenly larger than life, suffocatingly close. Georgia stared at the way his eyes looked in the evening shadows of the room and could smell his cologne, still present from the morning. She could feel him reaching out for her, urging her, pulling at her. And she couldn't pretend not to understand the look in his restless eyes.

She couldn't step back; she couldn't pull her eyes from his. Her lips parted on a strand of breath, her eyes widened with awareness.

Georgia wasn't a woman who carelessly took risks and she suddenly realized she wanted to walk the knife-edge between safety and danger. He was virtually a stranger, which added an unknown element. He was charismatic, he was confident, he was completely male. And even if she wanted to, she couldn't back away from him. He was temptation in the finest manner possible.

As she studied his face, she deliberately allowed her imagination to wander into unfamiliar and reckless curiosity. She had never been with a man, that way.

Fate is what you make it, she thought.

He took a step forward, standing so close to her that he could smell the faintest trace of her soap. He spoke, breaking the moment. "We've only known each other for only a little more than a day. I'll sleep on the chair."

He didn't bother to hide the look in his eyes that gave an intimate meaning to his words. For a moment, they locked gazes and then she looked away, suddenly dry-mouthed and uncomfortable. She felt as if she were drowning, thrashing her way through the water.

"Did I make you nervous?" he asked gently. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. But you can trust me. You know that by now, don't you?"

Her dark eyes kept to his face, avoiding his gaze. "We barely know one another." At that, she immediately bit down on her full lip. Before she had been reluctant to look in his eyes; now she couldn't look away. His words caught her straight in the heart. "I know," she whispered. "I know."

There was an immense appeal in the way his clothes hung, in the way his hair tangled across his forehead. The flatness of his stomach was lean, hard and tight, each muscle well-defined beneath his shirt. His lips were elegantly carved with the sweetest symmetry and his eyes locked on hers. His face carried the signs of a lifetime of smiles, as well as the unmistakable dark glitter of sensual yearning.

Hypnotized, Georgia felt herself tumble right into his eyes, falling as deep as she could go. She wasn't certain if she was floating up to him, or if he was drifting down to her but they came together by slow, dragging inches. And when his lips closed gently over hers, she felt as if she was being fed honey after years of starvation. Her hands reached out instinctively for support, hands gliding over the satin-smoothness of his chest. She could feel the warm throbbing of his heart, a rapidness that matched her own hectic pulse.

His lips were deliciously coaxing, while at the same time sweetly hesitant. Strangely, Georgia had no fear he would try and take the kiss too far. She truly felt she could almost taste him where they touched lips to lips. Her breasts felt lush with a delicious newfound weight, softly aching to be touched. The kiss opened his soul to her, revealing himself to be a gentle weaver of sensual spells that left her dazed.

Magic... and all from a single kiss.

When Jack reluctantly broke from the kiss, his eyes were glazed with the soft heat of passion. He slowly lifted his hand, touching her hair. His expression was intense and he was overwhelmed by such a simple act.

He surprised her then, slowly sinking to the floor on his knees, as he tipped his head back to study her face. His gaze moved over her features as if he had never seen her before. Her skin was hot, her eyes shining with desire and her wet lips were curved in a sweet, self-conscious smile.

How many women had he known who deliberately disguised their emotions, to the point where they weren't sure themselves what they were feeling?

Georgia was different from anyone he had ever met, in so many ways. She was still breathless and shaky and reveling in it.

"Something's happening to us," he said quietly. "Can you feel it?"

She tilted her head sideways, her damp lips softly parted. "Yes..." she whispered, her breath wispy.

And then he stood up, knowing far better than she did how close he was to losing control. The last thing he wanted to do was to lose that soft look of trust in her eyes. "Unfortunately, it's time for me to be a gentleman."

Georgia gave him a shaky little smile, still sensitive to the demanding feelings thick in the air between them. She knew he cared enough to stop when he wanted to continue.

"Good night," he softly said, making his way to the chair and after taking off his shoes, did his best to become comfortable, turning the chair away from the bed and putting his feet up against the wall.

"You have no idea how hard this is," he said, not realizing how she could have interpreted his words.

"I think I do," she answered softly, a slight smile crossing her lips.

"Do you think..." he started. "When you look at me like that..."

"All you want is...?"

"Nothing. We should get to sleep; tomorrow will be here soon enough." He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Chapter 5

Even as she lay in the bed, Georgia wasn't able to sleep until the very early morning. She couldn't forget she was alone in the same room with him. She could hear him sleeping, finally. She barely got three hours or rest before the light of a new day slanted through the room's window, nudging her back to awareness.

Fortunately, she had always been able to get along with very little sleep and she woke, still wearing her now rumpled clothes from the previous day. She debated whether to wake him but found he was already watching her.

"Let me," he said, "find the bathroom and get you in there. Stay in the doorway." Jack left the room and went down the hallway to end and found the bathroom. Waving his hand at her, he waited for her to join him and then he waited in the hall for her to wash.

When it was his turn, he just splashed water on his face and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I think we should get out of here before there's a scene." Taking her by the hand, they left down the back stairs and after reaching the car, they drove over to the store to pick up their purchases from the day before.

"I don't suppose there's some place to eat around here."

"Probably not," she said. "We could stop at the market and get some bread and cheese, if you want. They already deliver to the house."

"That's a good idea. Where is it?"

Returning to the house, he drove with one hand while eating his roast beef sandwich with the other. Every now and then, he glanced over to Georgia, wondering what she was thinking.

The long ride back still wasn't long enough for him and when they finally reached the house, he knew it would be a while before he had an excuse to spend time alone with her again.

He pulled the automobile around the back of the house and parked. A few honks of the horn brought the other two girls out to bring the parcels in.

Georgia brought in her dresses and carefully placed them upon her bed. Looking at them, she was reminded of what had transpired the night before and wondered what the change in their relationship would bring. She wasn't so idealistic as to believe that she might have a future with him. There was such a chasm between them it was ridiculous to dream about anything but what it was: an exciting happenstance that would never be repeated.

And yet, she could still feel the touch of his lips upon hers. The stronger her attraction for him, the more she reminded herself to keep a tight hold on her heart. There was an insurmountable barrier between them. For the moment she could visit his world but she knew without a doubt she could never live there. It was a good thing to remember.

A few hours later, the grocery delivery truck arrived, bringing fresh meat, vegetables and the ice cream maker. The girls in the kitchen smiled in delight, for it had been an impossibly long time since they had had any ice cream.

Bill looked at the new provisions and directed the girls to put things so he could easily find them. 'Finally,' he thought, 'we can eat some decent food.' "And now," he said to them, "I'll show you how to cook."

He took them outside to the grill and started a fire. "We're going to grill some steaks for tonight. You have to be very careful and watch the time. Only eight minutes to a side, all right? Liza, that's going to be your job; you watch and come tell me when it's burned down to charcoal. Ellen, come with me and I'll show you how to make biscuits... and some vegetables that aren't boiled to mush."

That afternoon, they had a respectable dinner for the first time since the deaths. Jack patted his stomach. "That was good. Thanks, Bill."

"It wasn't me. The girls did all the work; I just showed them what to do. I think the days of horrible meals are over. Tomorrow, we'll try something new. I think a cake would be appropriate, don't you?"

"A cake would be splendid! I need to speak to Georgia about the estate. Can you spare me for a few hours?"