CHAPTER THREE
Worth
“What’s up, son?” I asked him. Mark was at that transitional age when boys became men. I had noticed from time to time that he wanted to have man to man interaction but wasn’t sure if I was open to that quite yet. I had never related well to children, and we hadn’t been terribly close before this. Marga was a little manipulator; pure Auggie in that girl. Mark was different. Serious and a deep thinker.
“Dad, don’t know if it’s anything, but you know that farm to the west over the ridge?” He sat up straighter, telling me he had something serious to discuss.
I nodded. “Yes, the one that sold recently?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Well, I was exercising one of the horses out that way earlier today, and a guy was sitting on a horse looking in our direction. He just stayed in one place; wasn’t riding anywhere. He seemed to be nosy, if you know what I mean.”
“I see,” I answered and thought a moment. “Did you feel as though he was up to something?”
“No, not really, but I don’t know. It’s just that Mom is boarding some pretty expensive animals, and it seems like a coincidence that he’s so interested in what’s going on over here. You think he’s a competitor?”
I shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe he’s just interested in your mother’s operation. It’s the only one of its kind in this half of the country, you know.”
“Yeah, I guess. He just kind of creeped me out, is all. False alarm probably.”
I could tell he wasn’t ready to let it go that easily. “Why don’t you keep this between us and just sort of leave one eye in that direction?” I suggested, which seemed to appease his concern.
“I’ll do that, Dad. Well, better get that shower.” He popped up, and his body language suggested he was feeling some sense of relief now. I watched him go inside. He was a younger version of me except he had Auggie’s hair. His shoulders were broadening, and I had a fairly good idea he was attracting some attention at school from the girls. He was playing basketball on the school team, and basketball ruled in Kentucky. We’d be talking about college soon.
I followed Mark into the house, and the aroma of fried chicken caused my stomach to growl. I’d been too busy to get lunch and even if I had, Letty’s fried chicken was famous around these parts. Her mother worked for Harlan Sanders years earlier when he started his first restaurant down in Corbin. She knew the recipe and had passed it down to Letty, and consequently my grateful dinner plate.
I thought about our previous housekeeper for a moment, and a pang hit. Betsy passed on two years earlier from cancer. It had been rough. For the last year, she’d been in hospice, and there wasn’t much we could do to help her. She’d taken care of us the entire time we were married and had been a part of the family. I missed her.
Letty was different from Betsy. She was opinionated and not afraid to voice it. She’d raised a son who had gotten into trouble and was now a permanent resident at the reformatory on the other side of the county. Letty had come to Oldham County to find a job so she could be closer to him for visiting days. Someone had sent her over to our place, and she turned up one day at the door.
Auggie had invited her in, and I happened to be home that afternoon doing some paperwork. Letty was school simple but street smart. That made a nice contrast to our household and we’d hired her that same day. She immediately moved into a bedroom-sitting room combination off the kitchen and pretty much ruled that part of the house. I think Auggie was even a little afraid of her, but Letty’s presence made it possible for Auggie to spend more time down at the barns, so it was an agreeable truce between the two of them.
I washed up in the downstairs bath and had enough time to check my email before heading to the dining room. It wasn’t a particularly elegant room. That was Auggie’s desire, though. She wanted understated, comfortable living for the family and I didn’t care so I let her have carte blanche. My office was my territory, though, and she knew enough to stay out.
Everyone had wandered in when the swinging door from the kitchen burst open, and Letty steamed in with a tray filled with bowls and a platter of exactly what I’d hoped — fried chicken.
“Smells good, Letty,” I complimented her, but she just sniffed.
“When ain’t it?” she popped back at me in her salty style.
“I remember a couple of times, but I know better than to mention it,” I handed her back, and she cursed under her breath. “Letty, no one can beat your chicken,” I thought to add in case she was planning revenge.
“Nobody alive,” she confirmed, referring to the Colonel’s demise years earlier. She scuffled back to the kitchen and reappeared with pitchers of milk and sweet tea.
Auggie sat at the opposite end of the table and kept quiet. She was in one of her sadder moods and wasn’t up to taking on Letty’s snappy wit. I knew how she felt, and I knew why. What I didn’t know was what to do about it.
After dinner, including apple pie ala mode, the kids disappeared, and Auggie and I went into the home theatre room to put on something relaxing. We opted for a screening of Casablanca, and I mentally compared Auggie to Ingrid Bergman’s character. She was like the fictional woman in her defense of her husband. She would have shot Bogie if it’d meant getting what she wanted. I was glad to be married to Auggie. She would always be loyal to me. She might be furious with me, but she’d never compromise our relationship. We’d been through too much and learned very harsh lessons. While Bergman had a recessive grace, Auggie was bold and independent. Bergman’s character would have bored me to death.
Auggie was pensive as we went to bed and I was glad that Mark hadn’t mentioned the nosy neighbor. I knew who she was thinking about, and I wanted her to focus on positive things. Mark and Marga would be off to school before too long, and she’d have a lot of time on her hands.
“Auggie…” I began as she emerged from the bathroom in her pale blue night shirt and sat on the bed next to me. Her breasts were rounded beneath the fabric, and she could only be described as ripe.
“Yes?” she answered, stifling a yawn.
“Do you want more children?” I asked in a tentative voice.
My question took her by surprise. “More children? Why do you ask? Do you?” She was flustered, and I took the opportunity to graze her nipple with my fingertip. That always excited her.
“Wouldn’t matter,” I murmured, busily swirling my fingers over her. “Just thought I’d leave it on the table for you to think about.”
“I don’t think so, Worth. We could be grandparents before too long, you know,” she started and then went on, “in fact, we might be right now.”
I knew that was it. I knew she was thinking of Ford. I had no desire to have more children, but I figured it would be priming the pump if I got her thinking about the topic. I moved my lips down and lifted her sleep shirt. I dragged my tongue over her swollen nipples, and she went silent and a little limp in order to enjoy the sensation.
“That feel good?” I whispered.
She nodded and laid back upon the pillows. As my tongue lingered on her breast, my hand slid into the waistband of her panties. She was wet and swollen, and I knew she wanted me. “I love you, Auggie,” I whispered into her ear as two fingers entered her warm body. She shuddered. I knew her ears were sensitive and felt her response as her nipples hardened even more beneath my fingertips.
“Worth,” she breathed out and her eyes closed halfway as she fumbled for my cock. “I need you,” she whimpered.
“I know, baby, I know,” I said and pulled off her night shirt. My pants found their way to the floor, and I lowered myself between her legs, entering her in one sharp thrust. She wriggled and sighed. The yearning she knew so well was being fed with a fire hot burning in my groin.
Auggie’s body had ripened with motherhood. Her breasts were fuller, and her hips had softened from equestrienne bones to the contours of womanly hips. I lifted her bottom, and she answered by wrapping her legs around my waist. This was not the normal sweet lovemaking. This was a reclamation of something we’d lost along the way. I claimed her, over and over and she was submitting. Her nails raked down my chest and folded alongside my neck as she hoarsely repeated my name.
Feeling the rising in both of us, I sank myself within her more furiously than I’d done in a long time. She met every thrust with a raising of her hips. I heard the orgasm in her voice and let it wrap me in convulsions before I released my own. It was like that with us — it always had been. We were timed like an orchestra and perfectly in tune. I stayed inside her warmth and brushed her nipple with my tongue. She convulsed again, and it gave me a helluva turn-on to know I still remembered her magic buttons.
I didn’t pull out, but rolled her with me to our sides, her legs still wrapped around my waist. I pulled her more tightly against me as I naturally softened and eventually left her. It was a small thing, but important between us. She never felt abandoned; she felt completed. I turned her over so I could spoon her, tucking the blankets around us so we were cocooned. I heard the golden words just before she dropped off to sleep.
“You’re all I need,” she sighed, and I nodded and kissed the top of her head, smelling the sunshine in her hair.
“You too,” I answered and leaned over to kiss her cheek.