Living Next Door to Heaven 2Introduction to Part IX Heaven s Gate
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Living Next Door To Heaven 167: Run! free porn video
I stood in the gravel parking lot at Rhonda's church and watched the moving van leave, followed by Rev. and Mrs. Gordon in their car. Rhonda's face was pressed against the passenger window of Donna's old Mercedes as the two slowly followed their parents. Tears were streaming from Rhonda's eyes and the window was fogging. I don't think Donna was in any better shape and she wiped her eyes so she could see to pull out onto the highway.
It had been a week-and-a-half since we got the news that they were moving. Rhonda and I spent all the time we could together and with the rest of our girlfriends and boyfriends. I helped her pack. Everything we put in boxes was accompanied by a tear. When I looked into her eyes I saw desperation ... maybe fear. Now she was leaving. Leaving.
"Son, we'd better go now, too," Dad said with his hand on my shoulder. We were just one of the many families who had come to give the Gordons a tearful send-off. Tears weren't all. They were streaming down my cheeks and I couldn't breathe. I kept taking short little gasps of air, not able to get enough air to fill my lungs. My whole body was trembling. I'd kissed both girls tenderly and hugged them to me.
"We'll make it work somehow," I'd said. I'd even believed my own words.
Now the powder blue Mercedes was out of sight and people were returning to their cars.
"No," I whispered. "No! NO!" I screamed. I wrenched myself out from under Dad's hand and started to run. I ran out of the parking lot and turned to follow them, knowing they were already a mile ahead of me. Something shifted in my mind and I kicked my legs out into an all-powerful stretch as I yelled again. "No!"
Of course, there was no way I could catch them—nothing I could do if I did. Once I hit the highway, I didn't even contemplate following them. I just had to run. I had to do something and it was the only thing I could do. I wasn't thinking. My body was just doing.
When I saw the creek trail, I turned and headed down it behind the development where Judy lived and along the path behind the elementary school and the pond where Rhonda and I had sat with the horses last summer and she'd told me she loved me. I splashed through the water after I crossed Highway 20 and hit the path on the other side, somehow avoiding the roots that stretched out across the path as my legs ate up the ground. Every few steps, I'd repeat again, "No." Before long, my shirt was soaked and salt stung my eyes as sweat dripped into them. I shook my head, repeated my mantra and kept running. I turned right on Early Road, already more than a mile from the church and headed out on the country block where we'd ridden our bikes together. Every step was filled with something funny she'd said. Every thought was of her challenge to race on our bikes. The hill where we'd managed to get up to forty miles an hour on the downslope and then shift our bikes down to first gear by the time we made it to the top on the other side. I ran it, my legs stretching out and my arms pumping as I kept gasping more air into my lungs. When I turned onto Cedar, I cut through a freshly plowed field and headed back toward the woods. I stretched to run harder screaming out my frustration as I pounded through the furrows. No! No! No! I was aware of the old oak as I passed it and leaped over the tree across the trail where Rhonda had lain in ambush for me on my treasure hunt. When I hit the other side, I pounded back along the trails where we'd ridden the horses together and all too soon I was running through the back pasture toward the barns, the startled horses turning to run with me. As I came even with the barn I gave out. I was running and running and then my legs weren't under me anymore and I was face-down in the pasture with the horses standing beside me snuffling as I tried to fill my lungs enough to cry some more.
Gone. She was gone.
Apparently Mom and Dad saw me or heard me come out of the woods. Dad said later that he got a phone call from the neighbor whose field I ran through asking if I was training for cross-country this year and if I was all right. They were on the lookout for me and when I fell in the pasture, they came running with a bottle of water. I think Mom was ready to call for an ambulance. I wasn't coherent when Dad picked me up and carried me to the guest room. He wasn't going to climb the stairs with me. When I woke up and drank more water, Mom shoved me into the bathroom to take a shower and immediately stripped the sweat-soaked sheets off the guest room bed.
"I ran like that once," Dad said when we sat down to dinner. Neither he nor Mom had said anything about my display. I'd spent a lot of time in the afternoon with the horses. Samantha had come over to work with them because she'd be house-sitting and caring for them while we were all gone this summer. It was supposed to be her and Rhonda again. We were both quiet and only had a kiss and a hug before she went home.
"You never ran," Mom laughed. "You didn't even walk. You drove the tractor to come across the road to visit me."
"No. There was the first time Pops tried to teach me to drive. You remember the old blue Falcon station wagon? Pops and I went to an auction over in Nappanee and he decided it was time to teach me to drive a stick shift. I figured what the heck. It must be just like driving the tractor. But it wasn't. That car lurched and bucked and ground all the way back home with Pops sitting in the driver's seat screaming at me. I killed the car turning in the driveway, jumped out and took off running and screaming at the top of my lungs. I probably didn't run as far as you did, but I ended up under an apple tree out in Barone's orchard."
"How'd you learn to drive a stick?" I asked. It was kind of funny to hear Dad tell the story. He suddenly looked embarrassed.
"You probably don't remember Mrs. Stackhouse," Dad said. "She went to our church and was pushing seventy when I was a kid. I'm trying to think. She must have died nearly ten years ago. Anyway, she asked if I'd be interested in a summer job mowing her lawn. Five dollars a week, which was big money in the sixties. I agreed, not thinking about how I was going to get to her place out by the lake. It was a good four miles away and I had to take the lawn mower."
"What did you do?"
"I stole the truck," Dad said. He laughed. "Pops was in the field cultivating the corn and I loaded the lawnmower and a gas can in the pickup, got the keys from the rack in the house, and drove it out to the lake."
"You didn't have a license yet!" Mom squealed.
"Yeah. There's my dark criminal past. Auto theft and driving without a license."
"But you weren't caught?" I asked. "Got away with it?"
"Oh no. I was caught. Pop was waiting for me on the back porch when I pulled into the drive. He sat there chewing on that old cigar. You know, I don't remember him ever smoking one of those. He'd just pull one out of his pocket and bite off a hunk. He waited until I'd put the mower away and cleaned it up. Then I went to face the music. In this instance, it was percussion. His belt on my ass for ten strokes."
"I didn't know Granddad beat you, Dad."
"It was a different time back then. And it was the last time. He never said another word about it, but the next day he drove me, in the truck, to the license bureau to get my license."
"I'm glad you didn't try to teach me to drive," I laughed.
"It wasn't a bad summer after that," Dad said. "You know that walnut headboard we have behind our bed. Of course, it doesn't fit the king-size mattress, but I'll never give that headboard up. I fastened it to the wall and just moved the bed up against it. Anyway, Mrs. Stackhouse gave that to me. Said it was all she had left of the bed she'd had when she was a girl. The rails had split and she'd given the footboard away, but loved the headboard. It was in her basement and she said if I could get it out, I could have it. Spent most of the fall refinishing it."
I don't know how they did it, but just talking at the dinner table—something related but not related—helped me at least not be so sullen and desperate. I still hurt. I still cried myself to sleep while whispering words of love and comfort to Rhonda hoping she'd just feel them. But I slept. I woke up in the morning at four-thirty and went out to run.
Running in the morning became my new routine. I didn't run as far or as hard the next morning, but I put in a good three miles before I showered and fixed breakfast. Mom and Dad went to work and Sam showed up about ten. She gave me a big hug and we just went out and took care of the horses.
"Can we go for a ride?" she asked.
"It's going to be your call when the horses get exercised," I said. "I'm leaving Tuesday. It's all up to you."
"Brian..." I looked at her and saw the tears sparkling in her eyes. I held out my arms and she rushed into them.
"I'm sorry, Cutie. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm a little frayed around the edges."
"We all are, Brian. I love her, too, and now I'm going to be alone here this summer to take care of the horses and I can't even cook for your parents worth a damn. I'm afraid they'll hate me and I'll mess up and hurt the horses and burn the house down and wreck the truck. How am I going to survive without her and without you?" The words were out in a rush and Sam was silently crying against my shoulder.
"We'll make it, sweetheart. Somehow we'll all survive this. I don't know how. Somehow." We saddled Princess and Jingo. Gypsy seemed content to head for the pasture to graze. Princess seemed to know that she was going to be Sam's horse this summer.
"I'd invite someone to come stay with me," Samantha said as we felt the comforting movement of the horses beneath us. "But even Liz isn't that interested in the horses. My little sister keeps chanting how lucky I am and how unfair it is. I don't feel lucky right now." Princess side-stepped a little and Sam reached down to pat her neck. "Yes, sweet girl. I am lucky. You make everyone lucky."
"Princess is calmer with you on her than anyone," I said. "Have you been letting her snuffle your smooth, pretty legs?"
"You dog! I wouldn't do ... Hmm." We laughed.
"Maybe you should invite Lexie to be here with you. Could you keep from killing your little sister?"
"Oh, we get along fine. She is so out there on the edge of girlie stuff. She's really envious of the horses, though."
"You're kind of a girlie girl, too," I said. "I can't think of anyone else who would take the time and energy you do to be sure your legs are so soft and silky. And even today you put on makeup before you came out to the barn."
"I didn't think you noticed."
"You were crying. There's little black streaks on your cheeks."
"You didn't tell me that!" She started rubbing furiously at her cheeks.
"Hey." I nudged Jingo over close to her reached out to stroke her cheek. "There are streaks on my cheeks, too. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I love you, Brian. I know it's different from Rhonda and you, but I still love you."
"There's nothing wrong with different. I love you, too."
"Maybe I will invite Lexie to join me if it's okay with Nona-Mom."
"Would it feel too much like babysitting if you invited Judy, too?" I asked with a sudden inspiration.
Nadene
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