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"It's Chicken Parmigiana. Do you like Italian?"
Jewell nodded. He opened a cupboard door to take down two plates and two wine glasses. She moved to his side and pressed her palm against his shoulder blade. Despite his attempt to hide his immediate physical reaction to her contact, Benjamin sucked in a short breath. The tenderness of her touch was near unbearable. It set him off balance. He dared a look over his shoulder at her.
"Benjamin."
His name on her lips, the way they pursed and wrapped around the word, grabbed his gut like a fist. Benjamin let his gaze wander over the delicate planes of her features. Small, scant freckles danced across the bridge of her dainty nose. Her eyelashes were dark and thick, with the slightest whisper of an auburn tint at the end of each. He laid his palm against her cheek and rubbed the pad of his thumb across the soft skin.
"Benjamin, do you want to tell me about what happened earlier?" she asked. Her face expressed the tentativeness her hands could not. "The things your father said were horrible."
"Not tonight," he said, not wanting to take his hand away from her cheek long enough to sign. "I want to spend the evening with you. Is that okay?"
She nodded and smiled. The smile was accepting, reassuring, and sincere. Her palm moved up and down his arm. Needing to hold her, Benjamin turned and pulled her against him. Responsive to his touch, Jewell's arms circled his neck, their bodies aligned from knee to chest.
She tasted so damn sweet!
He pressed his hands against her back and pulled her against him as close as possible. Jewell's body was pliant against him. Benjamin's lips parted hers in a desperate hunger and searching massage. Monday morning he would worry about the consequences. Tonight he needed to hold her and forget.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Mom sent me out with a sweater for you," Garnett said as he walked across their parents' backyard.
Jewell sat in the A-frame swing in a corner of the yard. She smiled as her brother approached and scooted to the end of the seat to give him room. A crisp autumn breeze stirred the dry leaves littering the lawn and the scent of earth and rain hung heavy in the air. October was halfway gone and November was just around the corner. It was Jewell's favorite time of the year.
Garnett sat down and wrapped the bulky sweater around her shoulders as she slipped her arms into the big sleeves. Jewell smiled as the comforting scent of pipe tobacco and cologne coming from her father's sweater wrapped around her heart and warmed it as surely as the wool warmed her arms. A hundred wonderful memories came back to her in an instant, all triggered by the smell of Daddy. Sweet emotion tightened her throat and Jewell wrapped the rough wool close to her chin. Her brother's arm moved around her shoulders and squeezed gently, and Jewell let her head fall against him.
"Are you okay?" he asked, a concerned, questioning tone in his voice. "All day you've seemed quiet. Is there something bothering you?"
Jewell sighed. No one in the world knew her like Garnett did. From the first day she walked into the Kincaid home he assumed the position of big brother in full force. The first few months, when she woke during the night crying, he came to her, told her stories, and stroked her hair until she fell asleep again. He told her nothing bad would ever happen to her again because Mama and Daddy loved her. Their love was special, and that made her special. For a long time, it was just Jewell and Garnett.
"Garnett, do you remember much before coming here?"
"You mean before I was adopted?"
She nodded.
"Some. Not much. Just some quick images and feelings more than anything else."
"Do you remember your parents?" It was his turn to nod. "What do you remember about them?"
Garnett looked off across the yard to the tree house they built in the oak tree. Small smile wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes. "I remember going to a Red Sox game at Fenway Park. My dad bought me a foot-long hot dog and nachos. We were on the third base line and he caught a foul ball for me.
"I remember my mom tucking me into bed at night. She always kissed my forehead, then my cheeks, then my nose. We'd say our prayers together and she'd sing to me before leaving. And she smelled like roses. Just little memories like that. I remember feeling empty and black inside until the social worker brought me to this house." In emphasis, he nodded toward the large farmhouse they all grew up in.
The sway of the swing soothed Jewell like the rocking of a cradle. Her brother's embrace made her feel safe and at ease. Jewell smiled when she saw her mother's face peek through the kitchen curtain to check if she wore her sweater.
"Do you remember anything?" Garnett asked in turn.
"Nothing like you remember, no. I never lived with my mother. I have no memory of her at all. All I remember was moving. Leaving one foster home for another. Lots of faces, but no names. The first really clear memory I have is the day I came here.
"I was scared. I was always scared when I went to a new place. But the lady who brought me told me I wouldn't move again. I don't think I believed her. Then we came into the foyer and I was amazed at the size of the house. It seemed huge to me. And Daddy seemed even bigger. He picked me up and hugged me so tight." Jewell's throat constricted around the powerful emotion the memory created. "He called me Pipsqueak and his beard tickled my cheek. His jacket was rough, but it smelled so good. Then Mama held me, and she was so soft and warm. It was the first time in my life I ever understood what love felt like. I didn't have a name for it then, but it wrapped around me and made me feel safe."
Garnett kissed her temple. "What got you thinking about this? It seems like more than just recalling old memories."
She nodded slowly. "It's Benjamin. I witnessed something at his house Friday night. Ever since, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."
"What happened?"
"I was walking up the front walk and all I could hear was yelling and screaming. It was Benjamin's parents. His father called him all kinds of horrible names. Said terrible, terrible things. He wasn't signing, just yelling. And Benjamin's mother just stood there, doing very little to stop any of it. Benjamin tried to tell him he didn't understand. His sister was there and the man kept calling her a little whore and as stupid as her brother." Tears choked Jewell's words.
