Under the Willow Tree

Richie smiled at me, hunger and desperation painted his lips. Icy tendrils careened passed my vision in ribbons on the window. The fog showed a heart I'd drawn there a week ago when he asked me to marry him.

It was December 11th when he proposed to me, and I couldn't have been more shocked. I always thought he would betrothe a woman named Cynthia. I mistook his fleeting glances of annoyance for him trying to hide his true feelings for her. That wasn't the case, as I'd later come to find out.

After he was done with work one afternoon, he came by my house and offered to take me out to dinner. I told him no, and when a look of dejection played across his face, I added "It's much too beautiful a day to spend it inside eating."

So, we sat in the garden that my father had built years ago for some time that day, just talking, drinking in each other's presence. There was a tree by the edge of the huge iron walls,and the roots seemed to make a perfect little bench for the two of us to sit on, like the willow was inviting us for tea.

After hours of conversation, I couldn't read his face--a gift of mine. Eyes were the portal to the soul, but this man knew how to hide everything. Even so, I couldn't stop looking at him, sure that every thought would beam itself across my face.

Finally, he spoke.

"Sherry Mae..."
"Yes, Richie?"
"I have something to ask of you, but first you must promise not to get mad."

I searched his face for the hundreth time that day, the skin tightened around my face.

"All I can promise is that I will try not to get mad."

He leaned to me, as if to tell me a secret, but instead of speaking it with words, he did it with a breathless kiss.

When he finally came up for air, he asked the words I never thought would cross his lips.

"Sherry Mae, will you marry me?"

I answered him with another wordless kiss, one that seemed to answer the questions his eyes could not, and once I'd started, I couldn't stop.

It was never enough. But even as my heart battered my ribs like a bird in a cage, I always hushed my needs before they took me too far.

Today was different. As I slid my hands down the legnth of his bare chest, he didn't pull away. When my lips basked in his, it was urgent and sticky sweet. No borders, no boundaries between us. Just skin.

"Wait here," he whispered, gently kissing my neck.

As he walked away, I could still feel his touch like a phanton lingering in the air. He slipped on his robe, completely naked underneath and I protested.

"Can't it wait?" I pleaded.
"Darling, please. I want to make this absolutely perfect. Be patient, I'll be back soon."

His soft footsteps padded swiftly down the stairs, and at the loss of his heat, I felt a cold shiver tangle up in my skin.

I curled up in the blankets, bliss welling in my eyes. Finally, I was Mrs. Reece. Sherry Mae Reece. Mrs. Richie Reece. I could feel my cheeks turn pink at the thought. I let my icy fingers sweep across the warmth of my face, pretending they were Richie's.

The little cabin smelled of dust and firewood, for it hadn't been used since last winter. It was homey, and if it weren't for Richie, I'd keep it this way forever. It reminded me of home. But my home was with Richie now, so I guess it didn't matter what it smelled like.

I wondered what he was doing, keeping me here alone without him. At that moment, I felt like I was the only person in the whole world. Like I owned nothing in this life, nothing but the brand of his kiss on my neck. And even though there was nothing wrong, I got the sensation that he was never coming back. That this glittering ring was the only thing I had that would link me to him. My bliss turned to shock, then pain. I nussled deeper into the blankets, breathing deep, taking in his clean, crisp scent.

Like clothes dried in the winter wind.

The sky outside was a cascading black, rippling with a hint of blue, dotted with lights that seemed to scavenge the Earth, like they were reaching out to help me.

I looked outside and saw Richie haunched on his legs, staring fiercly at the wine cellar. He rose seemlessly, building into a hurried stride.

When he reached the door, he paused, sticking his ear flat to listen before briskly opening it and dissappearing into the shadows. Smoke billowed around the cellar like friendly clouds being belched up from the nearby chimneys, and the rain quieted.

I sighed, looking away from the window and huddled over to the dresser, pulling out one of his button up shirts and wool socks to cover my naked flesh. I opened the door ever so quietly, trying not to make so much as a peep, but with no surprise to me, the door made a loud protest of a groan as I went to peer into the hallway.

I wasn't sure what I was worried about, exactly. I knew no one was home. I guess I was just partially scared Richie would be on his way back already and catch me doubting him, and the moment would be ruined.

I listened to the silence for a moment, making sure I heard no footsteps. As I passed through the hallway, I saw for the first time the family portraits mounted there. I'd never noticed them before, not when I had Richie's beauty competing with them. It seemed silly to look away when he was with me, but now that I finally got the chance to see the face of his mother, I thought exactly the opposite.

She was esquisite, long spiraling black hair that gave the hue of her electric green eyes an addition shockwave. They seemed to pierce right through me. But even though she looked like an angel, I felt a tickle of evil touch the depths of my thoughts. Something deep inside told me to stay away, that even looking at this woman was dangerous.

I shook the feelings away and tiptoed quietly down the corridor, shivering the whole way and wishing I'd thought to atleast put on a pair of pants. It didn't matter now, I was already at the backdoor, peering into the night sky from the sheer lace curtains.

And Richie was nowhere to be seen.

I opened the door with the cunning of a mouse, slid on my slippers and headed out into the night, the cellar my destination. As I grew closer, I heard a faint yelling coming from somewhere in the distance and stopped to listen more closely.

To my fine ears, it sounded like an ambush. The thudding of combat boots beat down on the soil like angry hail, and deep raspy voices shouted words of war into the heavens.

Ear shattering screams filled the Earth, singing of death, misery and loss. I could imagine a mother crying over her dead baby's body, it's soft pale skin skattered in drops of crimson red. I looked to the cellar as I ran towards the woods, my feet deciding where to take me before my mind had a chance to protest.

As I broke free from the waxen dewy leaves, the smell hit me. Strong, thick and sweet. Overwhelming like aged incents. Bodies lay shattered across the floor, but no blood stained their luminous skin.

I screamed, letting it fill the ever present hills, letting the chill of the nipping wind numb me. I didn't want to see this, didn't need to. Seconds began to feel like hours, hours in which my mind raced at light speed.

Question to question. What was going on? Why were these people not bleeding out? Why did they lay crumpled like concrete freshly destroyed by a mallot? The air began to sting, and my mind grew fuzzy and warm. The harder I breathed, the more giddy I felt.

The world took on a skittish edge, moving and twirling like a gray and green colleidescope. I fell to the floor, and as I hit the damp bottom, it seemed to disintegrate into ash under my weight. As the ground swallowed me whole, my vision grew darker and darker, robbing me the sight of the fall. Smiles and warmth. I was home.

I was with Richie.

* * * * * * * * * *

I awoke still completely nude in the blacked out gated garden and looked lappishly to the heavy iron door. The massive silver padlock indicated it's use, the garden was mine alone, and I looked up into the sun, squinting.

"Richie?" I called out, hoping wistfully that I wasn't here alone.
"Sherry-love," he called out gently. "Under the tree, dear, Over here."
"Why am I here?" I asked, lacing deliberate confusion and scorn across my face.
"You don't remember?" he questioned, the same look of confusing plaguing his features.
"Well...yes. But I meant more along the lines of 'Why am I here, instead of at the cabin with you?' "
"War broke out last night, Sherry. I had to take you here. The general would never mess with this place. He comes here to 'relax' with his suitors."
"That doesn't explain why I'm naked,' I added briskly. "Is everyone okay?"

"First off, you're naked because the rain picked up again last night and soaked you. I took off your clothes when the sun came up early this morning to warm you, you were freezing fervantly all night long. And second, I have no idea. I wasn't about to leave you alone and unprotected even for a second."

I frowned.

"You did last night."
"Are you still angry with me for that?"
"Yes, what were you doing out there that was so important it had to ruin our first night together?"

He sighed, suddenly looking very tired.

"I bought a bottle of wine sometime ago that I got for this very reason."
"How long is 'sometime ago?' " I asked, lacing mockery in with my words.
"Oh, two or three years ago."
"Oh, so you've been desperate to marry, have you?"
"Well, no. I bought it the very day I met you. I was going to make you my wife, no matter what it took."
"Oh? Could've fooled me," I said teasingly.
"It's not my predicament you're so dense, now is it? You couldn't see the most obvious of signs. I had to flat out ask you to marry me before you got the picture."

I sat up from the padded bench that perched in the middle of the lot and strode over to him, letting the tiny little rocked concrete make craters on my still moist feet, I kept walking until our lips met and kissed him until I felt dizzy from the lack of air.

"Well, don't you taste sweet this morning," he said mischievously, licking his lips.

I cocked my head to the side and thought for a moment before something hit me.

"Speaking of sweet, what was that smell last night?"

Richie looked shocked for a fraction of a second, his eyebrows wiggling up to meet each other in a staring contest. Then his face fell flat again, like the thought was never there in the first place.

"Smell?"
"Yeah, something really sweet, but rotten too. Like fermented peaches, or aged inscents."
"Oh, that. The old perfume shop on Dove street burned to the ground, we passed it as I was carrying you here after you fainted."
"Was anyone in it?"
"No, it was closed."
"Well, what about those dead, bloodless people lying everywhere?"
"Mannequins. They blew up the bridal store, too."
"Good thing we're already married then..." I said cynically.

He stepped froward to kiss me this time, and when he pulled away, he looked at me with eyes so green it reminded me of the picture I'd seen last night.

"You look just like her."
"Who?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Well, your mother. Who else?"
"So you've finally noticed the pictures. I was waiting for that realization to come."
"When can I meet them?"
"Sherry Mae, we've talked about this."

"I know, I know," I said defeatedly, feeling my heart sink into my chest. "I'm sorry."

He kissed my forehead again, I could feel his warm breath break over me like a sickness. My muscles began to ache, my mouth began to water, and my skin tingled at the touch of his.

The scent of roses snaked up from the ground around me, the caress of the sun inked like a brush into my skin, a hurt so good it made me lean with everything I had into Richie, stretching to the morning sky.

He smiled, looking at me again with those hungry eyes. His black curly hair lapped around his face with the gentle breeze, a day simply too warm for winter.

"I've had to watch you lie sinfully naked all morning, and now this?"

I smiled, pressing myself further into him, running my tongue smoothly against the nape of his neck and said in a purr "Well? What's stopping you?"

He produced the bottle of wine from his bag, how he'd managed it and me at the same time, I had no clue. He put the cork to his mouth and a tiny stream of spray hit us both when it finally popped.

He raised the bottle to his lips and drank, then kissed me with such passion I nearly fell backwards.

He tipped the bottle towards me, and I took a heavy swig before draping my thigh across his hip, nestling my nipples against the bare skin that peered out from his shirt.

We pressed our lips together again, wine on wine.