The Mulberry Tree

“Carol has to tell her children that their father is dead. She has to—”

When Bailey started to cry, Matt pulled her into his arms, then waved at Violet to let her know that they were leaving. They didn’t say anything on the ride home.

At home, Matt treated Bailey as though she were an invalid, putting her on the couch, wrapping a quilt around her, then scrambling her some eggs that were heavy on the butter.

“You’ve had a hard time of it,” he said softly as he sat down beside her and smoothed back her hair.

“You know,” she said, putting her empty plate down on the coffee table, “I lost my husband, and because of the money, I wasn’t allowed to mourn him. Did you hear what they said about me on the news today? That what Atlanta and Ray are doing might be my fault. Yet after Jimmie died, they talked about how I was a ‘master controller.’ I saw shows where therapists talked about ‘women who manipulate.’ And now—”

Matt was smiling at her.

“What’s so damned funny?”

“You,” he said. “When I first saw you, you looked like you were scared of everything in life. You looked like you were afraid to step foot out of the house, but look at you now. You’re ready to fight the world.”

“Maybe—” she began, then said, “You have something on your chin.”

Matt wiped at his chin. “Did I get it?”

“No. Come here, let me,” she said; then, when Matt leaned toward her, she grabbed his shirt collar and pulled his lips to hers.

There was something about being so close to death that made her want to live. Today Carol had cried and said all the things that Bailey had thought after Jimmie’s death, that she’d never hold him again, never laugh with him.

Bailey had wanted to say, But at least you have friends who will mourn with you. Bailey hadn’t had that luxury after Jimmie’s death. Instead, she’d been labeled by the world as such a horrible person that her husband had disinherited her.

Matt kissed Bailey back, but he pulled away quickly, then looked into her eyes. “I’m not an easy make,” he said softly. “I play for keeps.”

She stared right back at him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

With that, Matt smiled, then swooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, where he put her on the bed. When he made a motion as though he meant to leave the room, Bailey grabbed his arm. “Where—” she said.

“To get some protection,” he said, his eyes hot.

Bailey didn’t let go of his arm. She didn’t say anything, but she looked up at him, her eyes asking him not to leave.

“Are you sure?” Matt said, and his voice was husky.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He smiled at her in such a way that she thought maybe there were tears in his eyes.

Then, the next moment he was on her. Weeks of pent-up desire made them tear at each other. Clothes went flying about the room. It was a happy, joyous time, with both of them wanting to block out the last horrible hours.

Bailey wanted to forget the many weeks of loneliness. The joy of feeling a human body against her own was what she needed.

“Beautiful,” she said when she saw him nude, her lips on his skin.

“Sure?” he asked. “I thought maybe the water trick had turned you off.”

All Bailey could do was laugh, a low, throaty laugh, as her lips and hands ran over his skin, felt the muscle of him, felt his hips between her thighs, and the weight of him— Oh, heavens, but the deliciousness of a heavy man on top of her!

“I love you, you know that, don’t you?” Matt said into her ear, just before he sucked her lobe into his mouth.

All Bailey could do was nod, because when he entered her, all thoughts fled. She was a primal being, and she was at the very basis of what life was all about.

Matt slammed into her until Bailey’s head hit the headboard; then, somehow, she was hanging over the bed, her head hanging down toward the floor. To brace herself, she put her hands on the wall, and Matt kept going.

When he came, Bailey screamed, and her body went so limp that if Matt hadn’t caught her, she would have hit the hardwood floor headfirst.