Evergreen by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 17

It was Saturday afternoon and as during every weekend, the mill was closed. The woods fell silent, temporarily devoid of the chainsaws mechanical screams and the loud crackling of trees, as the hand of industry rented them from their lofty places. Katie was, as usual, out with Bobby. This left Tom to his own devices and after a long week of ten-hour days, he was in urgent need of some rest and relaxation. At least now, it wasn’t something that was medically necessary. But after finding his way to his favorite chair, he turned on the television and quickly became involved in the game between the Patriots and the Redskins. Naturally, the Patriots were mopping the field with what they considered a notorious enemy. He had arrived in his chair prepared with two chilled bottles of beer. Setting one on the floor, he held the other firmly in his grip and twisting off the cap, it released a short hiss and a metallic pop. As the cap tumbled through the air, the bottle let go a soft waft of chilled air. About to take his first sip, he was taken by surprise by a knock at the door. With Evergreen being as small as it was, they rarely got visitors, especially on the weekends when everyone was out enjoying the weather. Once winter set in, people would be largely housebound, so they took advantage of the snowless seasons while they could.

Setting his beer on the floor, he muted the sound on his television. He got to his feet and started toward the door as another few raps were heard. Tom’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise at the site of Christine, standing in the doorway.

“Hey!” he began. “What brings you by Sheriff?” She smiled slightly as she pushed a lock of her red hair behind her ear.

“Um, hi,” she responded.

She tried, with great difficulty, to hide her nervousness at the prospect of a date.

“I’ve been thinking about...um, what we talked about.”

“You mean dinner?” Tom gently interrupted. She blinked her eyes and brought her head down slightly in embarrassment. Christine was accustomed to being in control of, not only her emotions but everything. That particular trait was almost a requirement of the job. But now, she displayed the girlish side of her personality. It had been so long since she’d had the opportunity to reveal her feminine side that she forgot what it felt like. “Yeah,” she answered. “Dinner.”

She tried to recover from the fall she’d made over her own words and in doing so, managed to bring herself back to the beginning. Tom, noticing her obvious degree of tension, invited her in. But, she was in uniform and therefore on the clock.

“I was thinking we could have dinner at my place. It would be a little more private.”

Tom looked at her quizzically.

“I was thinking I’d do something for you,” he said. Her intention was to keep their date away from the curious eyes of the town. She felt it was necessary to keep her personal life well separated from her professional life, and although it was never stated as such, Tom understood. “Well,” she replied. “You can help with dinner.” They smiled warmly at each other.

“So... Saturday, at seven?” Tom asked. Christine gave his suggestion some thought. Saturday evenings were relatively quiet, save for the occasional bar squabble and Chuck could easily handle Main Street for one Saturday night.

“Um...yeah,” she answered. “That sounds great.” Another awkward moment passed. They felt like teenagers struggling for words and emotional self-control, trying to fight their body’s response to each other, as their faces became flushed. Their blood coursing hot through their veins, they both took a deep breath in an attempt to relieve their mounting tension. Finally, it was Christine who broke the silence and pointing a thumb back over her shoulder, said, “Well...um, I have to get back to work. So...see ya’ Saturday.”

Tom replied with an uncomfortable suddenness. “Yeah...yeah, see you then.”

Christine turned and started back toward the street as Tom closed the door. Unbeknownst to the other, they both chastised themselves for an almost juvenile reaction to what was clearly a heightened degree of sexual tension. Yet, it was a feeling neither had experienced for a very long time.

After closing the door, Tom turned and leaned his back against it. He felt a multitude of sweat beads quickly forming on his forehead as his face continued to flush. He took another deep breath.

“Well Tom,” he said to himself. “That was smooth.” But at the same time, Christine had driven a couple of blocks and pulled over. She turned on the blazers air-conditioning and repeatedly pulled the front of her uniform top away from her chest, trying to force the heat of sexual tension from her skin.

“Well Christine,” she said to herself. “That went well. He has no idea how horny you are.”

They were both caught up in the same desire -- their attraction to each other, the need that lurked just beneath the surface. At this point, their date would likely not be uneventful.