Chapter 4
When Mary came back to the present, she could feel Josiah chuckling under her. "What are you laughing at? You think I’m funny, don’t you!" She raised herself up until she was sitting on him, made a fist and punched him playfully. "Don’t you laugh at me, you...!"
He put his hands on her hips, holding her lightly. "No, no, Mary, It’s not you I’m laughing at, it’s me!" He shook his head, laughing again. "I try to be so careful, not to scare you, or push you too hard, and then you do something like this! You surprise me endlessly!" He laughed again, shaking his head in wonderment at her. Then he sobered and said softly, "I love you so much, Mary...I love that you’d do that for me."
She smiled a little shyly. "It wasn’t just for you." As he watched, her face turned pink again. "Josiah, does this happen to you, too? When you do something that...excites me, does it excite you too, just as much?"
He grinned. "Oh yes...oh yes, it does! When you moan, or shiver, or make those charming little noises you make, it goes through me like a tornado! It even makes me shiver to think about it." His grin widened. "So it got you going when you...did what you did, huh?"
She didn’t answer right away. She rolled off his body to lie beside him, and when she did speak she looked away from him, without her usual open attitude. "Josiah? Am I...unnatural? It seems like I have too much...I don’t know, I feel like I’m being... licentious."
"No! Don’t ever, ever think that! You’ve got the healthiest, most open, most loving responsiveness I’ve ever seen in a woman." He reached over to kiss her lightly, his hand stroking her hair. "You’re a wonderful lover, Mary. The very best in my experience, and I’ve..." He hesitated, stopped for a second or two, then began again a bit awkwardly. "Well, I’ve been around for a long time."
She looked up quickly, her curiosity roused by his odd hesitation. "That’s not what you were going to say. What was it that you changed your mind about saying, Josiah?"
After a moment’s silence he answered, looking at her steadily with the serious level gaze that she loved. "I was going to say, ‘I’ve had the best.’"
"What...how does that happen, Josiah? How can someone know if they’ve had the best?"
He shrugged. "Well, in this case, they came with credentials."
"What!"
He sat up. "I’m not ashamed of this, Mary, but I’m a little bit nervous that you’ll be ashamed for me. I hope not, but if you are, I hope you’ll tell me."
"I’ll be honest, Josiah. I don’t think I could be anything else, with you."
He settled down with his back against the boulder, his legs stretched out, ankles crossed. "I left home when I was sixteen. I just walked away, I had no money...nothing. I lived on the streets for a couple of days and slept in a park; in San Francisco at that time there were a lot of people doing the same. I was more fortunate than most of them, though. While I was wandering through Chinatown I met a wonderful woman. Her name was Pearl, and she was more of a parent to me than either of my blood parents ever thought of being. She took me home with her, and I lived in her house until I was twenty-two.
"The house that Pearl took me home to was a whorehouse; Pearl was the owner and operator of the place. In her native China what she did for a living was a valued profession, not perhaps the most respectable, but perfectly legal. Her mother had been a madam before her, and Pearl knew her business. She ran the best operation in the city; it was universally well thought of.
"I was big and strong even at sixteen, and I just naturally evolved into the peace-keeper of the house. What I did was stand around and look capable of throwing people out, most of the time. It was such a high-class place that most of the clientele was pretty well-behaved, but liquor will sometimes make the meekest soul into a lion. When I had to do it, I used violence, but it didn’t happen very often. If there was trouble I looked menacing and loomed over people; that usually calmed things down.
"Most of the girls were Chinese; many of them spoke no English at all when they came to Pearl. She bought them in China, and paid their passage to San Francisco." He held up his hands as Mary bristled. "I know, I know, I raised hell at first, too. But...a different culture, a different time. Pearl’s girls weren’t girls, they were women. She didn’t buy children; she didn’t buy virgins. When one of Pearl’s girls got off the boat, she had credentials. She was an experienced prostitute, and she knew her business.
"Pearl was one of the kindest people I have ever known, she never mistreated anyone. If a girl couldn’t fit in, wasn’t happy, she had a choice. Pearl would give her five hundred dollars and she was on her own, or find another house to take her, or pay her passage back to China. Those were the only choices open to Pearl, as well as the girl. But it only happened maybe three times while I was there. Most of the girls left to get married."
"Who..." Mary stopped suddenly.
Josiah grinned. "Who’d marry them? Some of them married very well. They were beautiful, smart, and very skilled at what they did. Good reasons for choosing a wife, don’t you think?" He thought a minute. "I guess you could say men like me married them. I would have, if I’d wanted one of them in particular, and I’d been older. Always supposing she’d accept me. They turned down more men than they accepted."
"I spoke a little Chinese: my father ran a mission in Chinatown. I could communicate with nearly everyone right off, and the girls liked me. I’m not sure why yet, but I suspect a big strong young body had a lot to do with it. Most of the men who came to Pearl’s were old. It was the best whorehouse in the city, so of course it was the most expensive; in most cases only older men could afford it.
"The girls started taking me to bed the first night I was there. In six years, I had a lot of experience. And I learned a lot about women. They weren’t shy! They knew exactly what they wanted and they gave clear instructions; some of them never quit talking, all the way to the end." He smiled, remembering. "I don’t know if all prostitutes are the same, but Pearl’s girls almost all really liked sex. Not with their clients, that was business. I was their recreation. There were usually from seven to nine of them, and I was...it. All there was." He grinned. "It’s a good thing I was so young!"
He stopped then and waited for her to tell him what she thought. She didn’t disappoint him; she said just what he had hoped. "That’s the strangest story I’ve ever heard, Josiah. What a different life you’ve had from...from anything I’ve ever dreamed of. But…Pearl, Josiah! You were so lucky to find Pearl! When she took you in she probably saved your life. I’d like to meet her, to thank her...for you, for saving you."
Josiah reached over and touched her face. "You’re wonderful." Then he looked away, frowning. "She’s dead. She died---I wasn’t there, and a drunken client shot her. If I’d been there, it wouldn’t have happened." He looked down at his hands. "I should have been there."
"Where were you? Wait; you don’t have to answer that. I don’t mean to pry."
"Mary, you can’t pry into my past. It’s there for you to take or leave, all of it. I have no secrets from you. I don’t want to." He looked up at her and continued. "I went to see my sister. At my parents’ house. I was only gone that one evening; when I got home Pearl was dead."
Mary put her hands over his. "I’m sorry. And sorry I’ll never meet her; I wish I’d known her. She was a wonderful person; that’s very clear from what you’ve said."
"She would have liked you, a lot. You’ve got spunk. She loved ‘spunk’---it was her favorite English word. She said there was no word in Chinese that meant the same thing as ‘spunk’." He smiled tenderly, remembering.
"You loved her very much."
"She was my mother." he said simply.
*******
They
bathed together, an activity productive of much laughter. On the
hottest days they spent hours in the pool, lazing in the hot sun and the
cool water. Sunburn was inevitable because Mary was so fair, but
her skin was surprisingly resistant. The first day in the pool saw
her burned badly enough that they didn’t make love at all for twenty four
hours. After Mary was incautious enough to apologize for her inability
to do so, Josiah complained bitterly for about twenty three of them.
"A real woman would submit, even if it killed her. To think I believed that you really loved me! Look at me, a shadow of my former self, haggard and pale, deprived of all that’s necessary to me; I’m probably going to have a convulsion any minute now from backed up glands. A man could die from that you know, and I’m beginning to feel faint already!"
While he complained he tended her sunburn with gentle care, trying everything he knew to make her more comfortable, but his resources were limited. As a last resort, he reluctantly left her alone for half an hour, and came back with a spiky, fleshy desert plant. When she was liberally smeared with its juices, the discomfort of the burn diminished immediately. Then he complained again. "You’re all sticky. You can’t expect me to make love to a sticky woman!"
******
"Josiah? It’s been three weeks,
and the food is nearly gone. What do you think we should do?"
They were lying on the blanket in the afternoon shade of their boulder. Josiah lay on his side, looking at her. One hand was on her stomach, rubbing it now and then with lazy sensuality.
"Don’t be worried. We can stay alive living off the land indefinitely. It won’t be exactly tasty, but we’ll live. Chris knows that, that we won’t starve up here, or be forced to come down. But it won’t be much longer. They’ll get him. I’m surprised it’s been this long, I thought a week when we came up, or maybe even less."
He watched her face for a moment, then brought up something he’d wondered about. "Mary? About Chris...did you have any kind of...understanding? Anything agreed on?"
"No! Chris has never said a word to me that he couldn’t have said to anyone at all." She looked pensive. "I’ve wondered sometimes if you thought about that. When I first knew all of you, I thought maybe Chris...but in a few weeks I knew it wasn’t going to be. He’s a good man, but he’s not right for me, and I’m not right for him. I think he feels that too. Billy was disappointed though, he thinks Chris is wonderful." She smiled at Josiah, and reached out to touch the side of his face. "You’re right for me. You’re just right."
Mary was wearing the petticoat that was her usual garb since she had discovered the freedom of fewer clothes. Josiah held her eyes with his, while his hand moved from her stomach down to the hem of the petticoat, then up again under it, pulling the cloth up as his hand moved. He slowed to caress the light brown curls at her groin, but continued, his hand touching her lightly, lovingly as it moved up her body. When he reached her waist she sat up and pulled the garment over her head, sitting quietly then while he gazed at her.
"I never get enough of looking at you. You’re so beautiful...these..." He touched one breast lightly, stroking its under-surface with the tips of his fingers. Her nipples hardened immediately, and as he looked at them he could see her quickening heart begin to make them tremble with each beat.
Desire surged in him, powerful and compelling. "Lie down, Mary. I’m going to make such love to you..." She laid down quickly, eagerly; and he moved his body until he was directly on top of her, but held his weight off her, leaning on his elbows. His mouth touched hers gently, short soft kisses, teasing a little. Her hands came up to his head as he knew they would, to hold his mouth against hers, affirming her desire for him. He kissed her deeply then. In seconds they were both lost in the kiss, feeling the blissful contact, knowing that it was only the beginning of the pleasure to be had, anticipating the more intimate contact to come, but still loving the present sensual pleasure.
He lifted his head at last, his heart pounding, needing to breathe as she did also. They smiled at each other wordlessly; their intimacy had progressed quickly to communication without the necessity of words. He shivered as he felt her hands begin to move over his back. She reached down, her hands touching his buttocks, sliding into the division between them, down as far as she could reach. He threw his head back and gasped. This was a new caress; she was learning fast. Her hands moved next around the sides of his hips, reaching under him to brush against his erection; he lifted his hips to make further access to his body possible for her. She caressed his genitals, touching them lightly everywhere; stroking his scrotum, her fingers running lightly up the shaft of his penis, just brushing the sensitive tip, soft feather touches that tantalized.
"You’ll drive me crazy!" He laughed down at her, seeing her smiling. She knew what she was doing to him. "I hope so," she said softly.
Her mouth called to him irresistibly. He lowered his head to make that connection, his lips and tongue warm on her mouth. She opened to him as she always did, quickly and with generosity; more responsive than any woman he had ever kissed. He lifted his mouth from hers and smiled as he looked down at her. "The impulse to tell you how much I love to kiss you makes me stop kissing you!" She laughed and reminded him, "There’s plenty of time for both. Please don’t stop either one!"
Before he dropped his head to nuzzle her neck she saw a shadow cross his face. There! she thought. For the first time, he’s let himself think about what’s going to happen in the future. He’s wondering if there is plenty of time. He’s wondering if there’s any time at all. Oh Josiah, I’m yours forever; don’t you believe that yet?
Her arms tightened around him, cradling him fiercely, wanting to protect him from even a thought that could make him unhappy. But she said nothing; his self-doubt was deeper than words could reach. Only time would show him that she was indeed his forever.
In a moment her thoughts blurred and disappeared, as Josiah’s mouth moved to her breast. She hadn’t yet learned to take for granted the sensations that came to her when he made love to her this way. The stimulation made her gasp as his mouth moved over her nipple, sucking gently, his teeth biting just short of pain, his tongue never stopping, moving on her with hot, slippery motions.
Suddenly, with enormous power, a new thought came to her. If his mouth were...where he had wanted to put it, where she knew he still wanted it...if he were doing there what he was doing to her breast? What had he said? ---One of the greatest pleasures of all!
Without thinking about it further she brought both hands up to his head to clasp it between them. She began to put pressure on him to move downward, firmly pushing. He looked up at her, questioning.
"Please?" she whispered.
"Oh, querida...my dear love," he answered, and he began to kiss her body, moving downward now without her hands’ guidance, slowly approaching that most desired part of her, his heart racing in anticipation of this great pleasure for both of them.
When she felt his warm breath on her nether lips, the thrill that shivered through her body with lightning speed was not quite fear, not quite arousal, but an incredibly exciting combination of both. The warmth of his breath on her merged into the warmth of his mouth touching her, without her being aware of the transition; but when she felt his tongue she gasped. In a moment his tongue was making smooth movements up and down, with each reversal reaching a little deeper. She began to breathe with long slow shaky breaths. Anticipation was continually outshone by realization; her body relaxed little by little until she floated limp and helpless, while his mouth gave her pleasures not ever dreamt of.
Josiah had been taught by the best. He slowed as he felt her excitement nearing the point of no return. Gently he moved away to kiss the insides of her thighs, moving back and forth between them, stopping in between only to breathe a warm breath on her. That breath alone was enough to drive her to distraction, she thought hazily, through her fog of almost unbearable excitement. As he moved between her thighs, he spread them farther and farther apart, opening her body more fully to his gaze and to his mouth.
When he felt her breathing settle into a steadier rhythm, he moved back to resume stroking her with his tongue, now dipping inside her with each repetition. His tongue delved into her, then moved up to stroke lightly that small knot of nerves that was the center of sensation for her. Every instance of that light touch caused her to moan and raise her hips to his mouth. Soon he began to concentrate there where the sensitivity was greatest. His own level of arousal was so high now that he knew they must both explode very soon. In a fever of excitement he stroked her, and as her climax drew nearer, she began to move with passionate intensity. She arched her back, pushing herself into him, making the contact deeper, closer...until at last she went over the edge into orgasm, with a long wailing cry, and convulsive thrusts of her hips.
Josiah had not a prayer of stopping himself from following her. His climax was as violent as hers, his body convulsing along with hers; then both of them slowly relaxed to collapse in an entwined heap.
Neither of them moved for many seconds, while heartbeat and breathing slowed to normal. Then Josiah, ever concerned for her well-being, raised his head. When he looked at her, he found her eyes just opening. As awareness returned she smiled sleepily at him. His face glowed with his love for her as he said softly, "Are you all right?"
"I’m...wonderful. Come here, up here to me."
He raised himself up to take her into his embrace, and she snuggled close, sighing as she felt his arms close around her. She looked up at him, raising her face for a kiss, and found him smiling down at her with tender amusement. She smiled back. "I know, I know! You think I’m funny. Well, you were right...‘one of the greatest pleasures.’ I love you. Could we have a little nap?" She snuggled even closer, got the kiss she’d wanted, and closed her eyes.
In moments they both slept, content.
*******
"Mary? Unless we want to be
caught in our present state of undress, maybe we’d better start putting
some clothes on, at least in the evening." He grinned. "We’ll sure
embarrass Chris if he rides in here and we’re looking like this."
He burst into laughter at the look on her face; she was horrified. "Embarrass Chris! What about me? I’d die right then and there! It hadn’t occurred to me at all, Josiah. What have I been thinking of?" He grinned at her knowingly. "All right! Don’t you give me that evil grin of yours; I don’t think about that all the time!" As he had been willing to bet a large amount she would, she blushed.
That made him laugh harder. "My innocent little love! You blush so beautifully; I’m always trying to think of ways to make you do it."
With mock seriousness she snapped at him. "You don’t have to tell me that! You’re just...just impossible! I don’t know what I see in you at all!"
Those words, so lightly meant, tripped that foreboding of coming sorrow that Josiah was having increasing trouble banishing. As she laughed and shook her head, the shadow that she had learned to dread in the last few hours crossed his face again. Mary’s heart sank
"Oh, Josiah, don’t! Don’t, my dear love. I love you with all my heart! You know that! You know it!" She began to kiss his face almost frantically, pulling herself into his arms, tears in her eyes.
"It’s all right, querida mia...don’t worry or be afraid. It’s all right." His arms went around her and he pulled her head down onto his shoulder, stroking her hair as he said the comforting words to her. But above her head his face was a mask of pain.
********
He made love to her that night with
an intensity that frightened her. His mouth moved over her face and her
body continually; he seemed to be trying to stretch himself over all there
was of her, striving to kiss and caress and love and satisfy her completely
and for all time. She felt his tears along with his kisses.
What he was doing came to her finally. He was saying goodbye.
When passion had come to its incandescent end and their bodies relaxed, both of them were exhausted more by emotional intensity than by physical exertion. Josiah lay on his back, staring upward, silent and somber.
The time had come. Mary asked the question at last, the question that had hung between them for days. There was no easy way; she asked it plainly. "Tell me what happened, Josiah. What did you do that you’re not forgiven for?"
Josiah said nothing.
She waited for several minutes; then, "Are you going to tell me?"
Nothing.
"What’s happening? Please, Josiah, you’re frightening me."
That made him respond. He turned to her, drawing her into his embrace. "My dear love...I’m sorry! I...I don’t know how to tell you. I must...but I...." He stopped, shaking his head, then with a deep breath, he began.
"I’m going to tell you all of it, from the beginning." He stopped again; this was very hard for him, she could see, but it had to be told.
"I have a sister. Ruth is her name; she’s four years younger than I am. We were close when we were youngsters, in spite of the age and sex difference between us. I think we drew together because of our parents.
"My father was a missionary. He wasn’t an unkind man, but he served an unkind God. My father’s God was a cruel, vengeful God, hard and unforgiving." The biting harshness in Josiah’s voice told Mary of his savage hatred of that God, but when he spoke of his father his voice softened. "But to my father he was God, and whatever he commanded, my father did. It tormented him, but he did it. I hated him for many years for that, but not any more. He only did what he had to do in the light of his conscience." His mouth turned up in a little crooked smile and his voice was as bitter as anything Mary had ever heard when he continued, "I had no right to hate him. He followed his conscience; that’s more than I could do!"
He put her gently away from him and got up. "Let’s sit by the fire." When they were settled across the fire from each other, he stared into the flames for a few seconds. Then he took another deep breath and started again. "My mother didn’t love anyone or anything. At the time I blamed her for that, but now I believe that she was another victim of my father’s God. I don’t know what exactly, but…something happened between them that made her give up all interest in life. She existed, but there was no joy in her, and no love. My father told me once that she had been ‘a happy person’ when he married her. He sounded almost wistful when he told me that. I think he had no idea what had happened to her."
He shook his head, not looking at Mary, staring into the fire. "Their unhappiness...and my cowardice!...killed Ruthie. Not physically; she’s still alive, but she’s not...there any more."
"When I left home, Ruthie was twelve.
She was all right then. I didn’t go home again for more than two
years. When I finally nerved myself to open that front door once
more, it was already too late. The battle between Ruth and my father was
far advanced, and she was barely fifteen. She asked to come away
with me, but all I thought of was how could I bring her to a whorehouse?"
He stared into the distance. "I should have taken her then.
I should have made a place for her, left Pearl and my nice, comfortable,
selfish life. I could have gotten a job on the docks. I could
have taken her!" His face darkened again in self hatred. "But…I
walked away. I walked away from her pain and her need.
"The last time I went home, the war was...total. She had committed her life to her battle with that old man. She drank, she went with men, she taunted him with her ‘evil ways’. And his life was dedicated to subduing her; he locked her up, starved her...beat her. When she begged me to take her away with me, she showed me...bruises, bloody stripes...her back...!" His head went down into his hands. "I promised her! I promised her I’d come back for her the next day. I thought I needed to talk to Pearl first. But I promised I would come back!"
He raised his head then. "When I got home, Pearl was dead."
His face showed the stunned, helpless look that she thought must have been on it when he heard that news. Mary’s heart twisted in pain for the man so tormented by the past, and for the boy just entering manhood who faced too many mortal blows, too quickly. How could his youthful heart have dealt with what had happened? Only Josiah’s stern conscience would hold him responsible for whatever impulsive action he took at such a time, when the pain of tragic events was unbearable.
"I walked away. One more time, I walked away!" His face was expressionless, but slow tears were sliding down his cheeks. His eyes returned to their stare at the dying fire. "I walked down to the docks; someone offered me a job. I stacked bales for a while, I guess; I don’t remember much. But I remember this: when the man asked me if I wanted to ship out, I said yes. I walked up that gangway, knowing what I was leaving behind. Before daylight the next day we weighed anchor for Hong Kong."
"I left her. And when I came back, she was...not right in her head. She’s...not there any more."
"Sometimes...sometimes she knows me. Those times are the hardest...she begs me to...take her away...." His face crumpled, and he gave way to his pain at last. "Oh, Lord God forgive me, forgive me...." . His words were nearly unintelligible as he cried out in his agony. He wept then, great difficult sobs erupting from deep inside him.
Mary came to him, and as she embraced
him he turned to her, pulling her against him with his powerful arms, heedless
of hurting her, needing only to feel her tight against him. She stroked
his hair, and kissed him, and spoke soft words of comfort.
Comfort only, she didn’t try to excuse his actions; nor did she try to
make him understand how she felt, that he was not at fault. He’d
not hear that now, she knew. Her words were those with which she
comforted her child: "It’s all right…I love you…it’ll be better soon…don’t
cry, my love, don’t cry."