He moved slowly through the open areas. The intense odors confused him, and the vehicles that roared down the long sheets of tar/rock composite added their own noxious fumes, overwriting her scent.
The heat was horrific; he had needed to take shelter several times in some of the boggy copses to cool himself. Though he tried to move through the burning hours, it proved too intense and he decided to shelter in a small pond until the flaming star passed beyond the horizon line.
Her grandmother had been right. A day in the city had been fun, and spending time with Doctor Smith had been even better. He’d been a delightful lover, spanking her bottom, which had surprised her greatly, and given her an amazing orgasm. One of many, many orgasms; as it turned out, the good doctor was well versed in which points on a woman’s body were “responsive”. Who knew med school could turn a geek into a wonder-lover?
Instead of rushing back via the interstate, they’d decided to take the scenic route home, driving up the more northerly Route 2. This road also cut through the state from west to east, but rambled through a variety of small cities and towns, including the historic towns of Lexington and Concord. Standing on the village green, they had looked at the old clapboard and brick homes bordering that central common, imagining the hastily dressed villagers assembling to face the fastidiously dressed British Army, and the ensuing rout of the hated Red Coats down the roads and through the woods. They stood on the “Rude bridge that arched the flood” and read the inscriptions on the granite obelisk that marked the second battleground of the young colonial revolution in 1775.
From there they drove through a host of small towns, from Boxborough to Fitchburg, to Orange, heading towards home. They took another detour to peer at the massive Quabbin Reservoir that sent water 65 miles eastward to serve the city of Boston. During the building of that controversial site, four small cities were disincorporated, dismantled, and eventually, buried beneath the sweet, clean water from the Swift River.
“I’ve heard that if you take a boat out you can still see some of the buildings under the water.” Sarah held onto Zach’s arm, feeling a deep sadness for all the people who had been moved from homesteads that had been in families for generations. God knew how attached she was to her farm. The loss these people endured bit deep into her heart.
“Ghost towns under water. Pretty damned sad.” Zack kissed the top of her head, feeling her sadness. Turning from the view of sparkling water, she caught movement from the corner of her eye.
“Look!” She pointed at the soaring object as it rose, hovered, then caught a thermal. Even from this distance, the distinct head and tail, snow-white, showed clearly.
“A bald eagle!” Shading his eyes with his hand, Zach watched as the eagle soared, then plunged to earth, soaring behind a thickly treed island.
“Well that was neat!” Her eyes were glowing, her cheeks flushed from the sun and warm breezes. He smiled at her, his finger brushing an errant lock from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear.
“Wow, are you pretty.” He leaned forward and kissed her soundly.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Doctor Sexy.” She giggled as he rolled his eyes.
“Okay, back to the car for you, Farmer Smartass.” Fingers interlocked, they strolled back to the car, the smell of pine and water weaving around them.
Rising into the northern hills of the Berkshires, Route 2 took them along the Mohawk Trail, with one of the rivers burbling along beside the road. Flush with snowmelt the water looked more like toffee than water, a rolling turbulence that drew the eye again and again as it rolled over river rocks. Ahead, breakout views of the Taconic Range made them ooh and ah.
“It’s been forever since I’ve done this. Thank you.” Sarah turned to Zack. “I’ve had a wonderful time, Zach.”
“I hope it won’t be the last wonderful time.”
“Well, you timed this perfectly. Still too soon for planting and I won’t be doing the greenhouse “starts” until next week.”
“Good timing from Moma you mean. I’m not sure I would have asked you out for at least another month …or two.”
“Hey, when you’ve had a crush on someone this long, it takes time to work up the nerve to ask.”
“Zach. It’s been years!”
“And your point?” He looked at her smiling, then frowned as she rubbed her belly, wincing.
“I’ve seen you do that several times now. Are you okay?”
“I…it’s just a..”
“It’s not your period. I have empirical proof of that!”
“I thought it was a stomach bug.”
“You’re not rubbing your stomach. You’re rubbing mid-belly, which makes me think ovaries, uterus, perhaps even bowel…”
“ZACH! I am NOT going to talk to you about my bowels!” She blushed crimson.
He laughed as he turned onto Route 7, heading south and west back to home.
“Okay, no more bowel talk. But if it isn’t better by Monday? I expect you to call my office…”
“I am NOT letting you poke in my VJJ…”
“I believe I already have.” He let that sink in, then when she giggled, he continued. “I was going to say, before I was so rudely interrupted by your embarrassment, that you could see Nancy Williams…she’s the OBGYN who works twice a week out of my office.”
“Oh. Well…Okay. But it’s not like I’m preggers. That’d take a miracle!”
“But even if you have ovarian cysts…that could cause the discomfort. And we’ll figure it out if it doesn’t clear up.”
“Yeah yeah yeah…I have another pain you know.”
“In my empty stomach!”
They laughed, then debated the merits of Chinese food versus pizza. Settling on the latter, they ate a companionable meal before taking the last leg of their journey home.
He felt the easing of the heat as the sky moved from bright to deep blue, fading into black. He took little note of the stars. In moments he was on the move again, heading east. Her scent was very faint, but still discernible.
When the sun raised again, he was standing in a body of water. The scents here were confusing. The fainter scent continued east, but this new infusion was from the west.
He didn’t sigh, merely accepting the change in direction, as he sank into the slowly flowing water of the Concord River to wait out yet another sun cycle.
As his tentacles floated in the water, catching and consuming small fish, frogs, and the occasional duck, his thoughts returned to the egg-bearer, and the feeling of her body as his had taken her, and bred upon her.