Loving Lydia

I smirk. Maybe proud is a better word. "What would I even do in the classroom?" I picture myself sitting in the front row as Lydia instructs the class in front of a blackboard. I stop my thoughts before they turn crude.

"You have a lot of skills. Wouldn't hurt to show the little ones things that could help them in the future. Or even now." She walks by my side as we walk back towards Lydia's place.

"I'll see if I can find anything useful to share." I don't want to promise anything I won't be able to do.

Lydia is showing Joseph out when the house comes to view.

"My dear, Jody." Joseph rushes to take her hand and kisses it.

Jody gives me a troubled look but he lets go fast enough not to torment her any longer. "Mr. Bingham." She gives him a stiff curtsy.

"Please, I've told you to call me Joseph." He gives her a grotesque smile.

"I'll see you soon, Jody." I pull her into a hug and whisper in her ear. "Do you need me to walk you home?"

She faintly shakes her head and turns to smile brightly at Lydia. "I'll see you tomorrow at church."

Lydia smiles back and waves her hand.

I give him a small nod as he passes by but he doesn't acknowledge me.

******

I turn in early that night and avoid running into Lydia for the next couple of days.

It's pretty hard to do when we sleep only a few feet away from each other but I am at odds with myself. If I am being completely honest, I'm wasting my time here. If I wanted to make more money I would have moved to the next town over and started doing some actual labor. I've been dragging my feet long enough. I can't stay here any longer and I can't keep pretending to be Lydia's stand-in husband. I've done more than enough to put her in a comfortable spot.

And then there is the sinking feeling I get when I see her. Because she might not be as pure as I once thought she was. Yes, she saved my life and nursed me in my time of need. But she also spends time with people like Joseph and his circle of friends who are obviously in favor of slavery and the mistreatment of hundreds of innocents. She could love her neighbor as the bible says but not feel the same way of those who do not share the same skin tone. It hurts me deep inside to see her in that light. All along I thought she might be understanding but everything points to the opposite. She's just as bad as they are.

And yet, it pains me not to talk to her. It's not like we had long conversations in the past but we did talk. I miss her voice, her looks, just being around her. I've deprived myself of anything that will allow me to find excuses to forgive her. Not that she needs my forgiveness. If she ever found out about what I do and have done in the past, she could turn me in. She would probably be even more disgusted with herself to have saved me instead of letting me die. Do I really want to stay here any longer? Eventually I'll start to resent the fact that she gives people like Joseph any validity. To believe that they are right in their way of thinking. Maybe one day I won't be able to hold my tongue and I'll out myself.

I need to leave.

There is a knock on my door. "I'm going to bed now."

That's new, she doesn't usually announce it. Do I hear a hint of concern in her voice?

"I know you come out to eat when I'm usually in bed." She definitely sounds nervous.

I turn away in my bed and resist the urge to open my door and see her on the other side. I'm strong enough to stay away from her throughout the day because I have other things to distract me but at night it is brutal. I know she wants to ask me what is wrong and once or twice she has tried talking to me but I've been a coward and have stayed away. She can think whatever she likes about my behavior. It is not like I will be here long enough for her to care.

I hear her bedroom door close and wait a minute or two before going to the kitchen.

She left my plate on the table, just like she has the past couple of nights. There are two candles still burning as well. This is when I feel the most troubled. She cares for me. In some ways she does because she always makes sure I have something to eat, even if I am blatantly avoiding her. There is always warm water for me in the morning. Even if I am up before her, she makes sure to make coffee for me. We used to take it together but now I take it in my room. And I miss it. It's really upsetting.

I'm about to dig into my plate when I hear her door open. I force myself to stay seated and watch as she walks over to the counter. She leans back against it. She's wearing a white nightgown that falls at her calves. It is worn down enough that I can see her curves underneath. The soft glow of the candles dance around her body. Her bright hair is parted down the middle, pulled forward so that it covers her breasts. Her eyes are slightly puffy and the tip of her nose is red.

I place my silverware down and stare at her, unsure of what to say.

"Is the food good?" She's wringing her fingers, clearly nervous.

That just puts me more on edge. I nod but continue to stare ahead.

I don't move and neither does she.

"How have you been?" She forces her hands to her side.

"Good." My hand grips the fork with unnecessary force. I don't understand what is happening. Why is she upset and why is it messing with my head? "Lydia, I have a question," It's now or never. Her answer can be the catalyst I need to leave.

She jumps a little at my voice. "What is it?"

"Do you agree with Joseph?" I raise my hand before she can say anything. I need to tread carefully. If she believes slaves get what they deserve and even catches a hint of hesitation on my end, she could turn me in to the sheriff herself. It's hard for me to believe it but I've seen it happen with husbands and wives in the past. "Do you share his beliefs?" Still not specific but it's getting closer to what I'm looking for.

"I rarely do." She takes a step closer and I look down at my plate.

"What is your take on slaves?" To Hell with it. If she is dumb enough to turn on me, I'll just leave at the first chance I get. I just need to know now.

I can see this isn't what she expected to talk about tonight. She pauses before speaking.

"Are you a sympathizer?" She whispers.

"Do I think that no human deserves to be treated like an animal who is beaten when they are forced to work against their will? Not to mention they were taken from their homeland into these barbaric conditions." My anger is hard to check.

"Oh." She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "No, I don't think it's right."

A calmness washes over me and for the first time in days I feel like I can breathe all right. The heavy weight on my shoulders is starting to dissipate. She can't know just what type of effect that sentence has on me.

I decide to make eye contact and assure her everything will be fine between us.

Her lower lip starts to tremble and she comes to my side. She practically falls on her knees and presses her forehead against my thigh. My eyes and mouth widen in shock. What is happening?

"I'm sorry." She sniffles against my pants.

I bring a hand down the side of her face and guide her to look up at me. I'm at a total loss.

"Whatever I did to upset you, I'm sorry." Tears roll down her cheeks. She leans against my leg again.

When I can't lift her chin up, I pull her onto my lap. She welcomes my arms around her. I place her legs across my thighs and hold her as she sobs into my neck. Her body trembles and I find it hard to say anything to make her feel better. I don't know what to do. She's really hurting, all because of me. I hush her and kiss her temple to ease some of the pain in her voice. Her cries turn silent the more I rub her back. I run my lips against her hair. She smells like flowers and sunshine. A smell that will torment me for the rest of my days.

Just when I think she has fallen asleep, she pulls back enough to look at me. Her honey, brown eyes are bright with fresh tears. Her lips are swollen and her cheeks are flushed. She leans in and kisses me timidly.

I'm too late to respond, trying to process what she's doing.

She jumps from my arms and stands on shaky knees. "I'm sorry." She covers her mouth and looks frightened.

I shake my head. "You did nothing wrong."

Her eyes don't believe me but she nods. She points to my dish. "Finish that up and I can clean the dish in the morning. Good night."

She runs to her room and closes the door behind her.

******

After that night we fell back into the same routine. As if nothing changed.

She tends to her duties around the house, goes to school, and church on Sundays. I work around the house, help others in the community, and continue to save as much as I can. Of course, nothing is the way it used to be. Now that I know how her lips feel against mine, that is pretty much all I can think about when we're in the same room. She can hardly look at me without turning as bright red as her hair. I still keep a healthy distance from her in case she decides to try something like that again. Although I would love nothing more, it doesn't change who she is. The least I can do is accompany her during lunch and dinner and talk to her when she wants to. We don't bring up that conversation again. Each knowing where the other stands.

Unfortunately, I have to bring up a conversation that I wish to have with anyone else her. Yet, I wouldn't trust anyone else with a sharp object around me.

"Have you ever cut hair before?" I ask her during dinner a few days later.

She looks at my hair and nods. "Archie said I was good with scissors." I can see the guilt in her eyes at mentioning her husband, who she rarely ever talks about. Does he send her letters? Money? Where the Hell is he? Why doesn't she talk about him more? It might help us ignore the tension between us. Probably not, but maybe.

"Do you mind giving me one?" I haven't had my hair past my shoulders since I was a teenager.

"Sure." She's curt.

Spending more time together seems like a great ordeal to us both. Hopefully she can do it swiftly and we can move on from this awkward phase. She's still nervous around me and I don't know how to act to make her more comfortable. She also keeps me on my toes. If only she hadn't kissed me. Why am I lying? If only she would kiss me again.

After dinner, she clears the table and asks me to sit on a designated chair. She runs some water through my hair and then puts a cloth around my neck.

"Do you want it as short as you had it when we first met?" She's walking around me, turning her head this way and that, trying to estimate how much she will cut. I'm sure her husband never had his hair this long.

"Maybe even shorter if you can manage it." I avoid meeting her eyes. I avoid looking at her all together. Having her this close to me, running her hands through my hair is unsettling.

"Ok." And she starts.

We don't say anything as she cuts and hums and moves my head in whatever position she needs. I let her do whatever she wishes. Once or twice her fingers will tail down my neck or against my cheek as she runs the locks through her fingers. Each time I can feel the shiver of desire blossom at the base of my spine. I just grind my teeth and shake it off.

I'm practically a puddle by the time she puts the scissors down.

"Look up at me." She stands right in front of me.

I am at eye level with her big round breasts. I tear my eyes away from her cleavage and look up at her brown pools. There is a faint smile on her lips. She runs a hand through my short hair and pushes it to the side. It is just barely long enough to brush against my cheek. I see the dark hunger in her eyes as I continue to stare up at her.

My hands wrap around her waist and I pull her close enough to rest my cheek against her soft breasts. I lay there long enough to hear her heart beating at an alarming rate. I wait to see if she pushes me away but her hand remains in my hair. Her fingers tighten a bit. I turn my face and dig my nose into her cleavage. Oh, fuck. They're so big and soft. I want to stay here forever. Her hand comes up to cradle the back of my head as I continue to rub my cheeks, my forehead, my lips against her perfect globes. Her breathing is coming out in short, shallow, breaths.

Without thinking it through I bring my hands down her spine and begin to pull on the strings just above the curve of her ass. It is the only thing keeping me away from her soft skin. With less patience, I tug on the knot she created, just to get enough wiggle room up front. Once I am certain I have loosened it enough, I bring a hand forward to pull her neck line down. Her perfect breasts pour out of her dress and I barely give myself the chance to admire their fair color, the way her soft pink areolas are a healthy round size. Her nipples are hard and oh so perfect. I dive in and latch onto the nipple nearest to me and groan at the sound of her moans.

I look up and watch as she looks down at me, holding my head in place. I continue to suck on her delicious peaks. I lap my tongue against the hard pebble and enjoy the squeal that escapes her lips when I pull against them with my teeth. My hands hold her firm against me, but her body squirms against my lips. My hands grab her round ass to hold her still. I move onto the other breast and nibble and lick and suck. Just when I'm about to pull away to kiss her, she holds my face firmly against her breast and lets out a long, satisfied moan. Her orgasm snuck up on us both but we take advantage of its presence and do whatever we can to prolong it. I use my fingers to pleasure her other breast while I flick her nipple with my tongue. She moans and moans and withers against me until I feel the last few shivers of her climax.

Before she can think too hard about it, I move her dress around. With reluctance, I put her breasts away. I step behind her to fix the knot I loosened and kiss her on the cheek before going to bed.

If I stay out here any longer, I'll be doomed.

******

She goes to church the next day.

I stay in bed a while longer, trying to figure out what I can do to speed up my process. I need to leave. I'm blurring all of the lines, ruining everything I've worked so hard to build. The longer I stay the harder it will be to turn my back and leave all of this behind. Leave her. She doesn't know it yet, but every day that I prolong my stay is another day I fall deeper into her honeyed eyes. Her scattered freckles are more familiar to me than my own face. Her soft lips and round curves will surely be the death of me.

I force myself out of bed and start my day.

I'm tending to Jerry when I see Lydia walking up with Jody. They both have on matching gray dresses. I'm sure that is coincidental but it's a cute sight to see. Jody walks up to pet Jerry's neck and then gives me a quiet hello. Lydia stands a good distance away, unsure of how to address me. I'm sure sitting in church after what we did yesterday is probably eating her up.

Another reason I need to leave. I'm causing as much havoc in her mind as she is in mine. I've always known I've been attracted to women. Just as our little group back home fights for human rights and against slavery, we allow each other to love who we wish with no judgement. It is why I am willing to die for my crew. Why I want to fight with every ounce of my life. I want a better country. One where we're not prosecuted for loving someone of the same sex, their religion, or because of the color of their skin.

"Will you ever join us in church?" Jody purses her lips. I know she's just giving me a hard time. She's told me herself she only goes because her mom forces her.

I shake my head. "Not if I can help it."

"Will you at least come to school then? The girls would really like to meet you." Her eyes plead under her lashes.

"Jody," Lydia finally steps closer and takes Jody by the elbow. "Let's let her tend to Billy. She is busy all day." I ignore the fact that she calls Jerry by his old name.

"Sure." I smile at Jody. "I'll stop by Tuesday morning. How does that sound?"

Jody claps and jumps up and down in excitement. "Oh, the girls are going to love this!"

******

I should have thought it through.

Tuesday morning, I stand in front of twelve little girls between the ages of 6 and 12. All in their little dresses and rosy cheeks. Their eyes are curious, they can hardly sit still while having a newcomer in their classroom. Jody sits in the back with eager eyes. I know she's loving every second of this. And then there is me. Lydia is quick with my introduction. On our way to school she barely said a word, probably nervous about me seeing her in her place of work.

"Why do you dress like my daddy?" A girl with blonde curls asks after she raises her hand.

I smile, trying to contain my laughter. "It helps me climb up ladders, fix leaky roofs, and ride horses."

Another brave girl raises her hand. She has a small face, very skinny compared to the others. "But isn't it a man's job to do all of that?"

"Sure," I nod and place my hands behind my back. "But sometimes when a man isn't there to help, you have to do it yourself." I hope this doesn't turn into a life lesson about not needing a man to do everything for them, to save Lydia from dealing with angry fathers, but I want the kids to feel comfortable to ask me any questions they may have.

Another hand shoots up. She is a little girl, no more than 6. Her brown curls have stands of red in them when the sun shines on them. She is precious and for a moment I imagine that is how Lydia's child would look if she ever had one. My throat tightens.

"Will you teach us how to fix a leaky roof?" There is no hesitation in her voice. She is a strong one.

I look over at Lydia who has a beautiful smile on her face. My chest tightens as she looks at me and shrugs her shoulders. She looks completely at ease, nothing like how she did this morning.

"How about I teach you other things that don't require you to climb on roofs?" I'm sure that won't go over well with their parents.

"Like what?" She crosses her arms.

"I can show you how to plant some vegetables." I think on my feet.

There is a wave of claps and girls jumping up and down at the prospect. It is endearing to see the twinkle in their eyes as they think about the possibilities of learning something they can help their parents with. I think about the trip I'm going to have to make to buy some seeds and little pots for each girl. It will dig into my savings but it will be worth it.

They ask a couple of more intrusive questions and then I'm being escorted out by Lydia while Jody stays with the girls.

"Thank you, so much." Lydia stops just at the edge of the front entrance. "I know the girls won't be able to talk about anything else until you come back."

I lean against the door frame and smile down at her. "I'm glad I came."

We stare at each other for a long time before I hear a man clear his throat behind me.

I turn and see Joseph standing close by. He doesn't bother looking at me and gives Lydia a predatory smile. "Good morning, Lydia."

She bows and smiles back. It doesn't quite reach her eyes and her hands are trembling. "Good morning, Mr. Bingham. Kit was just here allowing the girls to ask her some questions."

He reluctantly acknowledges my presence and bows his head. "How do you do?"

I do the same and turn back to Lydia. "I'll see you at home."

She nods and watches as I walk away. Joseph walks into the school behind her.

******

The next evening, I gather my coins and get Jerry ready for a ride.

His limp has significantly improved and I know this trip will be a good work out.

Lydia is sitting on the porch, watching the sunset with a warm cup of milk in her hand.

"I'm going to go into town and buy the supplies for the girls." I walk over to her.