Letters to Lincoln

“I don’t want you to apologise,” I said to his retreating back.

“I have to. I’d hate for you to think badly of me. Shall we?” He held the door open for me.

The walk back to the truck was in silence. My legs felt heavy, I felt weary, and I wanted to reach out to him. I wasn’t sure if that was physically or verbally. I didn’t want his apology, because deep down, I knew I wanted his kiss. I needed him to understand, it had absolutely nothing to do with my date with Daniel, and I wasn’t even sure why I’d mentioned that. The date part was a joke, I thought. I wanted Miller to understand that although it had been nearly a year since Trey had died, and at that moment I hated Trey, a part of me felt I was betraying my marriage.

Miller held the truck door open, he gave me a smile but I saw that it didn’t reach his eyes; there was no sparkle to them. I thanked him as I climbed in. I watched him walk around to the driver’s side. He removed his jacket and threw it into the back before taking his seat.

“So where are you off to tomorrow?” Miller asked as he turned the truck around.

“It’s not a date, I’m not sure why I even said that. I just agreed to go to the pub with him, that’s all. Why don’t you join us?” I asked.

Miller laughed, although it wasn’t in humour. “No, but thank you for inviting me.”

He mumbled something under his breath and I didn’t ask what it was. I guessed it wasn’t intended for my ears.

I didn’t want for anything to sour our friendship but I was at a loss as to what to say. I’d had one boyfriend, and I’d married him. I had no idea what to do in that situation, but I knew I had to make amends; I had to get our relationship back on track.

We arrived home way quicker than I was prepared for. Miller climbed from the truck but I stayed put in my seat. He opened my door for me, expecting me to climb out also.

“Miller…”

“It’s okay. I did something stupid, I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“Well, I wish you’d keep your mouth shut for a moment now,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows at me.

“Miller, I would have loved nothing more than to have kissed you back then. I need to tell you why I didn’t. It has absolutely nothing to do with Daniel; there is nothing other than friendship between us. I’m confused. I hate my husband, yet just as your lips were about to touch mine, guilt washed over me. I’m pissed off at that guilt because I don’t think I have anything to feel guilty for. That’s where the confusion comes. Why should I feel guilty about wanting to kiss another man, when my husband spent two years fucking another woman? And it’s not like he’s alive, I’m not cheating on him, but…”

I didn’t get to finish my sentence. Miller pulled me from the truck and I stumbled into his chest. Before I could get a breath, he had one hand wrapped in my hair and pulled my face to his. His lips crashed down on mine with enough force for me to know they’d bruise. His tongue swiped across my lips as if requesting access. I gave it to him. I kissed him back as furiously as he was kissing me. My tongue tangled with his, I tasted him, and I inhaled him. Our teeth clashed and I could hear my ragged breath trying to pass between the seal his mouth had made. I could feel my heart beat so hard in my chest, and I could feel his as he pulled me closer. His hand tightened in my hair and I felt his other cup my chin, holding me in place.

I raised my hand and gripped the hair at the nape of his neck. I wanted to force him closer to me, not that it was possible. I wanted to feel his body against mine, and I cursed the bulky coat I wore. I heard the low moan as it left my lips and it startled me enough to pause my assault on his mouth. I was aroused, so very aroused. More than I think I’d been in many years. I wanted to cross my legs to quell the ache, the need that pulsed through me.

Miller stopped kissing me, but not abruptly. Although I’d stopped moving, my mouth partly closed, he gently kissed my lips. First my upper lip, then my lower one. He gently kissed across my cheek before whispering in my ear.

“That was everything. More than I ever dreamed possible.”

I released my grip on the back of his hair, all of a sudden conscious that I was standing in the driveway to my house. My dad could very well be staring from the living room window. I swallowed hard as he took a step back. He ran his hand through his hair and looked around. In fact, he looked anywhere other than me. Although I didn’t want to, my eyes scanned down his chest. I could see his arousal through his jeans. That sight didn’t help to settle the ache between my thighs.

“I think I should go. I just wanted to show you the house,” he said quietly.

“Maybe you’ll take me back there, please?”

He looked up at me; a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “If you want to.”

“I do.”

He nodded, just the once, and then walked around to his side of the truck. I stepped to one side and closed the passenger door. I watched as he drove away without a backwards glance. I stood for a while, even when he’d turned the corner and was out of view. I touched my lips, still warm, with my fingertips and gently ran my hand through my hair where he’d gripped it. My scalp was a little sore.

“Fuck,” I said.

I ran my hand through my hair again, retying it neatly before walking towards the front door. I fished around in my pocket for my front door key and before I had it in the lock it opened.

“Good walk?” Dad asked.

I paused before answering, not sure whether he’d seen what happened.

“Yes. Miller bought an old house that we used to play in as kids, I had written my name on the wall. The house is by Harleson Falls, do you know it?”

“I do, you used to run home crying that it was haunted, or that might have been Christian, you were the tougher of the two.”

“Well, he bought it a couple of years ago but hasn’t done anything with it. He’s going to renovate it after the barn,” I said, removing my jacket and not making eye contact.

“I’m pleased that you’ve made a friend in him. You both deserve to have that friendship.”

I wondered what Dad had meant by that statement, but I didn’t want to talk about Miller. I changed the subject.

“Did you hear from Christian?” I asked.

“No, I tried again, left another message. If I don’t hear tomorrow, I might ring around a couple of his friends, find out exactly where he is.”

“I think that’s a good idea. But I don’t think you need to worry. I’m sure he’s just hiding out, ignoring the festivities. Did you call Colette?” I asked.

“I did, she invited us both to visit tomorrow.”

“I think you should go, I’ve got plans,” I said.

“Plans?”

“Daniel invited me for a drink.”

Dad chuckled and shook his head.

“What?”

“Miller and Daniel, now there’s a box of fireworks you’re about to ignite.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, following Dad into the kitchen.

“You don’t know?”

“No, so tell me.”

“Miller’s wife, who was having an affair, eventually left him, and it’s rumoured, took up with Daniel for a while.”

“No way. Hold on, Miller told me his wife had left him for a criminal or someone.”

Dad shrugged his shoulders. “Well, that’s not what I heard. It’s why they don’t get on.”

“I’m sure he said his ex-wife was with someone who was in prison.”

“Maybe she is now, but she ran straight into the arms of Daniel for consoling, told him a bunch of lies, according to Colette, then she divorced Miller and took his dog. Or was it his record collection, I can’t remember.”

“His dog.”

Miller had told me his wife had an affair; he omitted the part about Daniel, if it was true of course. Mrs. Hampton was either the font of all village knowledge, or a terrible gossip.

“They only started talking again a few months ago and I think it’s still very strained.”

“He told me that he met someone else after his divorce,” I said.

Tracie Podger's books