16

The dinner went on slowly. Jem was itching to leave her seat as soon as the rush of his touch had subdued. He'd removed his hand some time ago and was now acting as if he had done no such thing. Jem supposed it was good for him not to be reactionary but it still made her uneasy.

"...And do you remember his little soft spot for Jem?" Jem was snapped from her thoughts when she heard Mrs. Taylor mention her, "Or should I say 'Jemmy,' right Owen?"

Owen eyed Jem for a brief moment before turning to his mother, "What're you talking about, ma?"

She let out a good natured laugh, "Oh, you know... How all the church boys would tease your little Jemmy. You used to get so angry but then go right ahead and tease her yourself, like she was your own little sister," She looked over at her other son, "And how nicely that's coming along now," she said, pointedly, "And Ben, you were always on the side, watching Owen tell off those other boys." she smiled warmly at Jem, "He wanted to be just like his big brother, you know, but I think he was just so shy with you."

Jem nodded, sensing the embarrassment in Ben, "I loved playing with Ben when I was young but I remember dreading every game of tag since he ran so fast and I knew it was a guaranteed loss," she smiled and looked over to Ben. The tension had left him and he returned a grateful smile.

She let her eyes trail back to Owen who was already looking at her, a small smile playing on his lips, "Yeah, it wasn't too difficult to catch you though."

"Oh, Owen!" Misty smacked his hand from across the table, and gave Jem a sympathetic smile.

Jem smiled back but all she wanted to do was roll her eyes. Misty clearly didn't understand Owen or anything about their dynamic. How could she if their marriage was only based on duty instead of true honesty and connection? She found it hard to picture Owen ever making a teasing jab at Misty without her feelings being hurt. It had to be so boring never being playful with each other.

"Jem knows I'm only kidding," He defended himself, taking his hand back to avoid another slap.

"Still not nice to say," Jem mumbled down at her hands and stole a peak at Misty.

"She's right, Owen," Misty scolded and Jem had to bite back a smile.

She heard the beginning of a scoff from Owen but he must have thought better of it, "Yeah, sorry," he said, dryly.

"I agree with Jem too," Ben interjected.

"Uh—thanks Ben," Jem gave him a sincere look.

She knew Owen was going to be mad but he was the one making her sit through this right after all that had happened between them. He and Misty surely didn't have to come to this dinner.

~

Back at home, Jem lay in bed, smiling softly to herself and almost forgetting to say her nighttime prayer.

"Dear Lord, thank you for a good meal with the Taylors. Thank you for helping me to remain calm and collected and scorn me for what I've done wrong. Please help me to make the right choice. Amen."

And as she let herself drift off, she kept a crumbled paper napkin safely in her palm, the object of her last prayer floating in her head.

Tomorrow night-- the creek in the woods.

~

"Oh Lord, give me guidance," She whispered the next morning, "help me, Lord. I want to do your will. Give me a sign... give me a sign. Amen"

Her cheeks flushed. It was the first time he had ever asked for her like this. He'd spoken to her or invited her to talk on the off-chance that they saw each other, but never intentionally set aside time just for them. Her heartrate was hardly keeping a steady pace each time the thought occurred to her. He wanted to see her tonight, and he'd asked yesterday which meant he wanted to see her then. And that must mean he wants to see her even at this very moment. Who's to say he hadn't wanted to see her every other day but was only now asking? 

But she couldn't get so carried away. Maybe he was asking for her so that they could put an end to this. The thought made her stomach churn. If he didn't want this anymore then where would that leave her? He could go back to Misty but where would Jem turn? Ben? But he would only ever be a permanent reminder of what she'd lost. She felt horrible for feeling such things but it was true. He would never be who she wanted, especially not now. If Owen did decide he didn't want to be with her, Jem might not have any choice but to never speak to another Taylor again. Would her and Ben have worked out if she'd never kissed Owen? Jem thought so before, but now all her feelings and thoughts were jumbled and she couldn't remember anything about what she used to want because it was all clouded by what she had and could have now. And it was so much better.

She came to a conclusion with this. It was better to get things done and over with, whether it would make her happy or not. She would go to the creek tonight.

~

At near 3 AM, Jem put on a cardigan over her pajamas and quietly headed out through the back door of the house, but not before popping in a stick of gum. She wasn't sure what to expect but brushing her teeth would make too much noise. The clouds in the sky with stars peaking through gave a silver affect as she trailed her way down the path to her destination. Her heart hammered heavily in her chest as she made way. What was she thinking? Maybe it would be better to turn around now then to keep going. But she knew she couldn't. Her mind would never rest if she didn't hear what he had to say to her tonight. 

She stilled in her tracks, stopped chewing her gum, when she saw a glare reflecting from the backlights of Owen's truck. It took nearly every ounce of courage but she finally trudged forward again, not allowing herself to stop until she got to the passenger door, pressed the gum to the side of her mouth, and hesitantly tapped against the window.

Before she could register hers or his movement, she was seated in the passenger seat, right next to Owen. 

"So, Jem," his voice was oddly cool, "d'you want to explain last night?"

She was slightly caught off guard, "Last night?"

He nodded, "uh... yeah?"

A twinge of annoyance, "What could I have possibly done to make you upset? From what I remember, it's you who was making a scene."

"I didn't make a scene, Jem, I went to my family's house for dinner."

Her face reddened, "you were grabbing me under the table! Not to mention, only like a few minutes after you were cuddling up to your wife!"

He physically cringed at her accusations, "Yeah, well you made me out to be an asshole to her and now she's making me be all extra cautious about what I say. Sometimes it's not even what I say it's the 'way I say it'," he puts up air quotations with an exasperated expression.

Normally, hearing about the troubles Misty brings him gives Jem a pep in her mood but now it was just infuriatingly trivial to her.

"You really think that justifies any of what you did?" she scoffs.

Owen's expression remains annoyed, but after a second, he closes his eyes and draws in a long breath.

"Alright, I was being a jerk," He lets out his breath, facing her with warmer eyes now, "but I just didn't know how to handle the situation. I mean, you were right there and I thought it might be weird to just not acknowledge you at all, and that's all I cold think to do in the moment."

Jem's anger slowly started to simmer down but a new memory sprang up, "you could've said literally anything to me last night. The whole time we were in the living room you were sitting there, not even acknowledging my presence. And even when we got to the table, aside from you saying hi or doing whatever that was, under the table, you also barely looked at me or said anything to me."

He looked down, "I'm sorry, Jemmy."

"And you were being so weird with Misty, like you were putting on this mini show for everybody that you love your wife and you just can't keep your hands off each other," she had to compose herself, remembering the sight, "What is that, Owen? Really. I'm not stupid. I know I'm younger than you but my feelings are just as big as yours."

She saw the corner of his mouth turn up but he quickly returned to his sorry expression, "I'm sorry about that, I really am, Jemmy," he rests his arm over the back of her seat, looking intently, "I'm just not used to this, y'know?"

She sighed, though her heart was beating so hard it hurt. His oaky smell wafted over her as he laid his arm behind her, "neither am I..."

"And you gotta realize, Jemmy, I mean what I say to you. I wanna be with you but it's just not possible right now."

"That's the thing!" she exclaims, "this just isn't right, Owen," she knows it sounds like a plea and it almost stops her from continuing but it was too important, "I don't know if God would like this. I mean, it feels like I'm already facing the consequences of it now and we've only... we've only kissed." The word sends a shiver down her spine  and heat creeps up her neck. Neither of them had fully acknowledged what they'd done with each other and still, 'kissed' didn't feel like a severe enough word. 

He clears his throat, clearly put off by what she'd said. She wanted to take everything back but he spoke before she could start, "I know how you must feel, Jemmy, and I thought about that too but I know it's right. I prayed about it a lot, and I told you this already, but it just doesn't feel like a mistake to me. God wouldn't have offered this to us if he didn't want it to happen," His arm falls onto her shoulder and he squeezes it, "Jemmy, you know me better than anybody. I should have seen that before and none of this would be a problem, but I had a duty to fulfill and if I didn't-- If I didn't marry soon, my parents would have thought there was something unholy about me."

She doesn't answer him immediately, and instead faces him, determined not to look away. His breaths came out shorter than usual and he wore this warry expression, like the act of looking at her was torture alone. And there was something behind his eyes, slowly coming up. It was familiar to her in the way a memory floats to the surface at the most unpredictable times. He'd always had this hidden expression behind every look, every conversation, every interaction. Would it finally show itself? Would this be the sign she'd been praying for? 

And then it clicked. His eyes lost their hardened cast and the truth that hid behind his eyes finally shown. For the first time, there was no inflection hiding his true feelings. Honesty flooded his gaze on her and all Jem wanted to do was let it pull her in.

"Owen," her voice was almost inaudible as she spoke.

He tilted his head and his upturned brows pulled the fleeting look beneath once more, "yes, Jemmy?" he said in a quiet voice, fearful of speaking with any force.

He reached a hand up to brush a hair from her face, letting it linger on her temple. His other arm, set on her shoulders, lowered to her waist, pressed between her and the seat backing. 

The sound of his shirt sleeve ruffling as he pulled her closer, his hand lowering from her face to neck, then her waist, her silent gasp as she realized she was close enough to feel the warmth exuding from his body. She wanted to sink into him, to let herself become enveloped by his heat and the calloused touch of his hands. He was tired and worn, and his chest rose and settled like thundering waves. 

She nearly flinched when he tugged a little harder against her waist, a short but sharp pain hitting her. Slowly, he lifted her from the seat and pulled her onto his lap, taking hold of her leg and pulling it over him. He removed the shoes from her feat, and as she looked down at him, he grazed his fingers up her thighs, until they reached the bare skin between her pants and shirt. 

"Spit it out."

She didn't register what he meant at first but as soon as she understood, confusion and the sensation of his hands on her skin kept her from reacting. 

Before she could deny or question him, he brought a hand to her chin and eased her mouth open. He slipped two fingers in and Jem's entire body electrified. His firm fingers searched the one side, then the other, until he caught hold of the piece of gum. Slowly, he removed his hand, gum in hand, and placed it on the dashboard behind her. He brought his hand back to her waist, not wiping it off before contact.

"Sorry," her voice came out wobbly.

He breathed out a laugh, trailing his hands higher up her shirt until he reached her ribcage, firmly pressing his thumbs against her, "don't be sorry, Jemmy."

When he pulled her closer, his head turned up, Jem sucked in a breath before their lips connected.