Bone Deep (2 page)

She awoke gasping for breath, wet between the legs and her nipples hard with arousal. Sweat
dampened
her hair and molded her nightgown to her
body
. She steadied her breath until it was back under control
,
then
rose and
shook out her twisted sheet.
With the covers smoothed, she lay down again
and tried to sleep, but images of colorful skin continued to tease her imagination. Her
own
skin
ached and burned as if she had a fever
, especially where her thighs pressed together.
At last,
she pulled off her nightgown and tossed it on the floor.

When she closed her eyes, the tattooed man was staring back at her. She caressed her breasts, pull
ing
and roll
ing
her nipples between her fingers. She slipped
a
hand between her legs
and
touched herself delicately
at first
, then moving her finger in
rapid
circles over her clitoris.
Sparks
of pleasure exploded in colorful bursts and s
he
gave a quiet
moan, arching up
toward the sky
before
tumbling down onto
sweat-damp sheets.

Afterward, s
he stared at the ceiling, following the crack
in the plaster
that traveled across the south corner of the room.
For
a moment
, the release of tension left her feeling better,
more like herself. But when she closed her eyes again, the tattooed man was
still
looking at her.

After another hour of fruitlessly
pursuing
sleep, Sarah rose
, dressed
, and went outside. The chill, pre-dawn air
filled
her lungs like ice and slapped her wide awake. Stiff, frost-covered grass crunched underfoot as she walked across the pasture and
over
the hill once more.

The field below was empty,
trampled, muddy and trash-strewn. Deep ruts led from up a dirt track to the road. The carnival
had
moved on
, but the memory of the tattooed man lingered.
She felt as if something precious had been snatched away from her, like the brass ring on a carnival ride always just out of reach.

But it wasn’t as if s
he
could’ve
gone down there anyway
,
sought out the tattooed man
and introduced herself.
“Hi there. My name’s Sarah. Let’s talk.”

Exhausted and drained, s
he turned and trudged
on leaden legs
back to the farm.

Chapter
Two

By the time she reached home, the sun was up. She made coffee and
listened
to the morning news on the radio, then went out to the barn to milk the cow and feed the horse. She missed
Sheba
plodding along at her side. The old dog had died the previous winter and Sarah hadn’t had the heart to replace her.
Sheba
had been John’s childhood pet and Sarah’s last link with
her husband
. To get a new pup felt like a betrayal. She wasn’t ready for it, but the place was lonely without a pet.

Inside the barn she filled the water troughs for the livestock
and
put grain in
Edison
’s feedbox. She patted the horse’s velvet nose. He huffed a warm breath from his huge nostrils before dipping his head to eat.

Sarah forked out the dirty hay from both stalls
then stopped to milk Millie before pitching down
fresh hay from the loft.
Millie gave her
only a half pail of milk. Maybe
she could
put the cow in with
Bill Peters’s
herd for a while to mate with his bull. Millie needed to calve again in order to start producing more milk.

After covering the pail and setting it aside, Sarah climbed the ladder to the haymow. The sweet
scent
of
dry
hay tickled her nose and
made her sneeze
. She
jabbed
the pitchfork into a pile of hay.

Something moved.
Something
much bigger than the occasional rat Sarah
roused from the straw
. A
man
scrambled
away from the pitchfork and leaped to his feet
.

Sarah screamed
and
jumped back.
She felt the edge of the loft beneath her foot and empty space beyond it. She
dropped the pitchfork as she
teetered on the edge
, arms waving
. The man lunged for her, grabb
ed
her arm and pull
ed
her back from the
edge
.
Then h
e put a hand over her mouth to silence her screams.

She bit his palm and twisted in his grasp. He jerked his hand
free
with a wordless cry
,
released
her arm
and backed away
.

The tattooed man from the carnival
stood in her barn loft, hands
raised
as if
she was the sheriff in so
me Western come to arrest him. He
wore black pants and shoes and a navy wool coat to which hay
clung, but the colors blooming on his hands and head made him look like some nightmare creature come to life. T
he strangest part was that
he remained utterly silent
. He hadn’t cursed when she bit him
n
or
did he try
to calm her or explain his presence. He
stood
gazed
at her solemnly like he would wait all day until she
gave
him
permission
to move
.

Sarah’s hand went to her chest, covering her racing heart. “What...?” She couldn’t find any more words.

The man remained
frozen in place
.

“You
may
put your hands down.”

He slowly lowered
them
to his sides.

“
Why are you
here?”
She waited for an answer but he gave none. “Can you speak?”

“Yes.”
It was a quiet murmur, but so deep it seemed to reverberate through the loft.

She was relieved. She
’d
been afraid if he wasn’t mute he
might be
so mentally defici
ent he couldn’t understand her.

“What are you doing here?” she
asked again
.

“Sleeping.”

“You’ve left the carnival? Why?”
Escaped
, her mind whispered.

He remained silent, but his
gaze
continued to
lock onto
hers.
His eyes
were the saddest she’d ever seen. She clenched her hands.
Logic told
her to dive for the pitchfork or
run
for the ladder, but his demeanor was non-threatening.
She couldn’t believe this man was dangerous.

“Did they mistreat you there?” She felt foolish asking. He was
a grown man
who
’
d probably chosen to leave unsatisfactory employment
, s
o w
hy did she have images of cages
and beatings
in her
mind
?

His jaw tightened, making the blue swirls undulate and
, almost imperceptibly, he inclined his head.

“Oh
.
” Her eyes widened as a thought struck. “Will they come looking for you?”

“Maybe.”

She
moved
toward him. “We should go to the police.”

He shook his head, backing up a step. “No.”

“But
were you
held
against your will?
For how long?”

“Always.”

“Always.” She repeated, trying to comprehend it. “Always? You were raised there?”

“Yes.”

“
Good
God.” Sarah had no idea what to say or do next so she said the first thing that popped into her mind, the easy way to make things better. “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?
Come to the house and I’ll
make you breakfast.”

He nodded.

As she climbed down the ladder, Sarah realized she had just invited this stranger into her ho
m
e. But the idea of this
meek
man attempting to hurt her seemed
ridiculous
. She was struck by the
strangeness of
the situation
.
People supposedly ran away to j
oin the circus
. W
ho could imagine a real-life
circumstance
where someone would be running
from
it
?

The man climbed silently and gracefully down the ladder. As she waited for him at the bottom, she noticed how worn the
soles
of his shoes were and how threadbare his pants and jacket. He looked like a
well-used
scarecrow.

They walked across the yard together, and s
he
watched
him from the corner
of her eye, fascinated by the
flame
s
that followed the line of his jaw.

He glanced over and his eyes met hers. Sarah quickly looked away, embarrassed to be caught
star
ing. She opened the back door
and scraped
her feet off on the mat in the mud room before going inside. She took off her coat and hung it on the hook before
she realized the man
hadn’t followed her. He stood on the bottom step, waiting.

She reached
out
a hand as if coaxing a wild animal. “It’s all right.
You can c
ome in.”

He brushed at the hay clinging to his coat
and
looked down at his muddy shoes.

“
Take
off your coat and hang it
, a
nd you can leave your shoes in the entry.”

Slowly he walked up the steps, unbuttoning and
removing the coat. The long-sleeved, blue
cotton shirt he wore underneath was thin with age and ripped at
several of the seams
. Sarah caught a glimpse of bright colored skin through the
gaps in the
fabric before she ushered him into the kitchen.

“Please, sit down.” She
indicated
the metal kitchen table
covered by a
red-flowered oilcloth
. M
atching metal chairs upholstered in faded red vinyl
were gathered around it
.
Chairs she’d once hoped would be filled by children, but which would continue to remain empty now.

“Eggs and bacon?” She pulled a
skillet
from the cupboard and set it on the stove.

The silence as she moved around the kitchen
preparing breakfast
was awkward. She wished
her guest
would say something
—
anything. She laid bacon in the skillet.

As it started to sizzle, she
leaned
against the counter, arms folded
, and looked
at
the stranger
. “What’s your name?”

He
’
d been staring at the
floor
,
and looked up
as if startled to be addressed. Again she was struck by the vivid blue eyes
in that
exotic face.

“Tom
.
”

“I’m Sarah.” She
worried her lower
lip. “Can you tell me more about yourself, why you left the carnival, where you’re planning on going?”