And when it came to John Corcoran, she realized, that was no small thing.
Cha
pter Five
Their dinner finished, John and Jennifer cleaned up using the spring water and the hand sanitizer. She checked her cell phone for coverage while John filled her thermos and then spread his coat by the fire.
“Oh,” Jennifer called out in excitement, but then immediately moaned in disappointment.
“What?” John asked.
“I thought I had a bit of a signal on my cell phone for a moment, but now . . . nothing.” She turned off the phone and put it away. So much for the advances of modern technology. She glanced at the tiny flames.
“Maybe we better put out the fire,” she said in a threadbare voice.
John straightened from his task of arranging their meager belongings in a small pile—the cleaned plastic first aid box, the hand sanitizer, her folded scarf, panties, shirt and bra, the thermos of water, his cane and the cooking stick. She understood that he was so orderly and neat because of his blindness, but she found his methodical manner reassuring, solid . . . secure.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She hesitated. “No. But I know we should. There isn’t much wood to burn. We shouldn’t waste it.”
He looked sober as he gathered some soil. She watched him smother the flames, preserving whatever burnable wood was left. Slowly, the smoking fire dimmed. John began to recede into the shadows and, finally, the pitch blackness.
She listened hungrily to his every move in the darkness.
“Come here,” he said after several seconds.
Jennifer sprung up from her kneeling position and went toward him, her hands outstretched. Her fingertips encountered his waist. He covered her hand with his own, guiding her down to the ground with him. They sat on his coat, Jennifer in front of him between his sprawled legs and encircling arms, his hands on her hips.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured near her ear.
She complied, leaning back and sighing at the feeling of his solid warmth. He moved his right hand along her hip. Her heart leapt in excitement until she realized his movements weren’t really caresses.
“What are you doing?” she asked, laughing.
“I’m looking for those Certs you mentioned.”
“Are you trying to tell me something?” she wondered wryly as she reached in her left jacket pocket and found the half-used roll of mints. She placed them in his hand.
“No. You smell great,” he said. “I was just going to give you dessert.”
“After cooking me that gourmet meal, I get dessert as well?”
“This is a classy joint.” She heard him rustling in the darkness and the sound of tearing paper.
“Lean back,” he coaxed a moment later, his left hand opening along her jaw and urging her against his shoulder. He smoothed back her hair, taking time with his task. “Now open your mouth.”
She parted her lips. Anticipation swelled in her for some reason. He placed one of the mints on her tongue. “Close,” he said, his hoarse voice near her ear making her shiver. She pressed the hard mint between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, agitating it slightly back and forth. The sharp flavor of peppermint and the sweet taste of sugar filled her mouth.
“Hmmm,” she murmured. She’d consumed two or three of the mints almost every day for the past decade, but she’d never really tasted one until now.
“Good?” he asked, his mouth not far from her right cheek. She caught the scent of peppermint on his breath and knew he was sucking on one of the mints too.
“Yeah, really good,” she said, a trace of surprise in her voice.
“Some things are better in the dark. The darkness doesn’t have to hide nightmares.”
She paused in her sucking, hearing something in his tone.