Midnight Whispers (Cutler 4)

"I could never hate you, Christie. It's not possible." His lips found mine again.

"Gavin," I said. "I'm not drunk; I'm not."

"I know," he said.

"Gavin, make me forget," I pleaded. "I need to forget."

His fingers found the clip on my bra and undid it. Then, he moved his fingers up, pushing the bra over my breasts until they were uncovered and his fingers slipped softly over my nipples, stiff and tingling. I slipped the bra off my arms.

"Christie, Christie . . ." His fingers inched my panties down over my hips and thighs. I lifted my leg so he could slip it off completely. Naked beside him, I felt my heart pounding so hard I was sure he felt it too.

He wiggled out of his own underwear and kissed me again as he wedged himself gently between my legs. I felt his throbbing manliness and closed my eyes and then opened them wide so I could look into his eyes and into his face.

"Christie?" he said once more.

"Make me forget, Gavin," I whispered and threw all restraint out the window, telling myself this was love, not mad animal sex. This was the ecstasy I expected. Soon the ugly memory of what had happened to me sunk deeper and deeper, driven down and away by every kiss, every moment of passion until all I saw before me was Gavin's loving face, his eyes so full of love they glowed.

My heart was full of love, too, and hope. Perhaps the love I had for Gavin and the love he had for me could, after all, defeat all the curses befalling our families.

I fell asleep beside him, dreaming of a brighter tomorrow.

13

A SERPENT IN THE GARDEN

WHEN I AWOKE IN THE MORNING, I WAS ALONE. Sometime during the night, Gavin had returned to his own bed. It was early, just before sunrise, and almost immediately my thoughts went to Mommy. Ever since I had had my first period, she would find an excuse to come into my room to talk about intimate things. Sometimes she would sit beside me at my vanity table and brush her hair; sometimes she would come in to show me something new she had bought to wear, but inevitably, we would have one of our private talks about sex.

I recalled asking her how does a woman know she has made love instead of simply having sex. She put down her hairbrush and gazed at herself in the vanity table mirror for a moment, a small smile forming on her lips.

"There's a sense of fulfillment," she began, speaking in that soft, melodious voice I loved so. "Your heart and soul join in a wonderful and magical way, Christie," she said, turning to me, the light in her eyes revealing her own precious and personal memories.

"Magical, Mommy?"

"Yes, honey." She took my hand and grew as serious as a Sunday School teacher. "Magical because it makes you aware of things that were so obvious, but things you were blind to or deaf to or simply ignored. Women who are loose with their bodies, who pursue sexual pleasure as an end in itself are only half-alive their whole lives through.

"When I fell in love, really in love, everything was more intense. Suddenly, I noticed things for the first time, even though they had always been around me. I had never realized how beautiful the stars could be, how sweet a bird's song sounded, how wonderful and majestic the ocean was, and how awe-inspiring a simple thing like a sunrise could be. I was never bored. Every moment was as

precious as the next.

"Most importantly, Christie," she said, her eyes small but intent, "I respected myself. I wasn't ashamed of my feelings and the pleasure my body gave me. Do you know what I've learned?" she added almost in a whisper. I shall never forget the look in her eyes when she told me. "Girls who give their bodies to men for the pleasure of the moment don't value themselves; they don't even value sex. They've choked and suffocated the best part of themselves; they've closed the doorway to the soul and to love.

"They take the stars for granted; they resent the song of birds waking them in the morning; the ocean is monotonous to them, and they think getting up early enough to see the sunrise is stupid and exhausting. It's as if . . . as if they've missed the ride with the angels and are doomed to drift from one shallow thing to another.

"Do you think you understand what I'm trying to say?" she asked.

"I think so, Mommy," I told her, but it wasn't until now that I did.

Slowly, as the first rays of sunlight lifted the shadows from the trees and the earth absorbed the darkness like a sponge, I felt in tune with everything. I realized that every morning the flowers, the grass, the forest and all the animals were reborn. I opened the window wide and inhaled the warm morning air as if I could also inhale the sunshine. I embraced myself and closed my eyes and remembered that moment when Gavin and I touched each other's souls and with our bodies promised to be true and loving forever and ever. I had not missed the ride with the angels.

"Good morning," Gavin said, coming up behind me. "I went back to my own bed last night because I thought Jefferson would be looking for me otherwise," he added and kissed me on the cheek.

"Where is Jefferson?"

"Would you believe he got himself up, washed and dressed and went downstairs with Luther and Charlotte already. He can't wait to dip his hands into pails of paint. I'd say he and Charlotte are hitting it off real well, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. It's made it all easier and kind of wonderful," I said, sighing. Gavin smiled and then turned serious.

"But you must understand that as happy as we are here, we can't stay here forever and ever like Charlotte thinks. Jefferson needs friends his own age and he has to go back to school and . . ."