Mary's Innocent Passion

But the nights were theirs. As if their first session of lovemaking had been the key which unlocked the door to Mary's desires, she showed a willingness to tumble into bed at a moment's notice, and not emerge until they were both gasping and replete. Despite the years of abuse she had endured, her hands and body were endlessly skilled and surprisingly inventive. Evey thought she could live with her the rest of her life and never grow tired.

Meanwhile, the two girls had grown used to her presence, while Evey openly doted on them. Never one to grow mushy in the presence of children, she nevertheless was growing to love Becca and Debbie almost as much as she did Mary. Becca reminded her a lot of Mary in her more motherly moods, as she wanted to help everyone with what they were doing. Debbie, on the other hand, had a streak of independence a mile wide, and showed a surprising fondness for Evey. Perhaps there was something in the little girl which responded to Evey's own outspoken individuality.

*****

"Merry Christmas," Evey said, smiling as Mary's door opened.

"Evey!" Rebecca shouted, heading for her at warp speed. She hit her legs hard enough to stagger her, her little arms wrapping around her knees.

"Careful, sweetie." She grinned down at the curly-haired little moppet. "Or I'll drop your presents."

"Eveline!" Mary scolded her, even as she relived her of her bags and leaned in for a kiss, their lips rubbing over each other sensually. "Didn't I tell you that you didn't have to get the girls anything?"

"That sounds like something you might say," Evey agreed, smiling widely. She pulled off her coat. "Good thing I wasn't paying attention, huh?"

"You're going to spoil them," Mary sighed.

"No one was ever spoiled by love, Mary." She pulled her into a hug, her fingers brushing her hair back from her temple. Hidden from the children's view, her other hand squeezed her lover's breast, her thumb brushing over an erect nipple. It was only with difficulty that she kept from engaging in a prolonged make-out session.

Mustn't shock the kids, she thought, sighing regretfully. She took a deep breath. The small apartment was filled with holiday smells, from the pine scent emerging from the small, festively decorated Christmas tree in one corner to the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked cookies coming from the kitchen.

The girls were too excited about their presents for a meal to even be a possibility. They stood, side-byside, their dark blue eyes fixed on the bags Eveline had carried in. Evey and Mary waited as long as they dared, lingering over a glass of wine and a tray of treats. But they finally gave in and allowed the girls to open their presents. Wrapping paper flew over the living room, the sound of boxes being opened almost drowning out the sound of Christmas music playing on Mary's radio.

Evey had paid enough attention to know that Mary didn't approve of too many toys for the girls, and also to know that they needed other things. So she kept her gifts simple. Books, good clothes they could both grow into, and a few simple toys. Becca, particularly, seemed entranced by the set of Legos, and had to be persuaded to leave them for later.

"Evey," Mary said, handing her a box wrapped in brightly-colored tissue paper. "This is for you."

"You didn't have to buy me anything," she protested.

"I didn't."

"Oh? I didn't think you were the shoplifting type," she teased, opening the box. "You better be careful, you know. Some of the stores - oh, Mary," she breathed.

She lifted it from the box, a swath of shimmering white cloth. It was neither a dress nor a negligee nor a nightgown, but some sort of divinely-inspired combination of the three.

"I made it for you," Mary said. In her eyes unshed tears glimmered. "Will you put it on?"

"Here?" She slanted a look at the two children.

"They've seen me in less," Mary said. "Even you, that night you stayed over last week." Her eyes twinkled as she remembered the way Debbie had entered the room with a full diaper, interrupting what had been a very pleasant session of lovemaking.

"All right," Evey said, taking the dare. She gathered up the bundle of cloth in her arms and made for the bathroom.

*****

She was covered from chin to ankle, and had never felt so indecently dressed.

Mary was a genius, she decided. If most women hungered for a little black dress that could be worn to cocktail parties and wedding receptions and the like, her lover's little white dress spoke to every woman who wanted something that would be truly provocative in the bedroom. The cloth fit her like a second skin, and was so sheer that it was all but transparent. Gauzelike, it clung to every curve in her body, proclaiming her femininity with shameless exuberance, and making things like bras and panties seem hopelessly old-fashioned. As she examined herself in the mirror, her nipples peaked, poking at the cloth temptingly.

She imagined wearing this in the bedroom, and felt herself grow wet. Mary would kiss her, hold her, stroke her until she was light-headed with wanting, then peel it off and tumble into bed with her. She ran her hands from belly to breast, seeing how her flushing skin showed dimly through the thin material, then opened the door and made her way out, her face feeling hot enough to warm the entire room.

"Ooh, pretty," said little Debbie, her eyes wide in her round face. She toddled over to feel the dress, her hands thankfully clean.

"Very pretty," Mary agreed. Unseen by the children, their eyes met, promising.

"Well." Evey sat down, feeling somewhat ridiculous. "I guess it's time I gave you your presents, Mary."

Thankfully the younger woman didn't protest. She handed her a small, flat box. When Mary opened it, she raised her face quizzically. "What is it?"

"It's a set of keys."

"I can see that." Her voice was unusually impatient. "Keys to what?"

"To my house," she replied softly.

"I love you, Mary Durham. And your children. You and the girls are welcome to move in with me at any time.

"Which leads me to this." Out of the depths of the bag, she pulled another, smaller box, covered in black velvet. Feeling vaguely ridiculous, she dropped to one knee. As she opened it, Mary's eyes grew wide in recognition of what was happening.

"Mary, will you marry me?"

Tears spilled down her lover's cheeks, and her mouth opened and closed helplessly. As it did, Evey sat in a whirlwind of emotion, hope warring with fear. Would she say yes? Would she say no?

God, will she say something?

"Mommy?" Rebecca was frowning up at Mary. "Why are you crying?" She looked over at Eveline suspiciously. "Did Evey make you sad?"

Mary sniffled and dragged an arm across her face, dashing away the tears. "No, sweetheart," she whispered hoarsely. She gathered her child in a hug, squeezing her tight. "Evey made me very, very happy. So happy it made me cry.

She knelt down so she could look her oldest child in the eye. "Evey asked me to marry her. And for us to all live together in her house. Evey would be..." she pressed her lips together, as if suppressing a hysterical laugh, "Evey would be your mommy, too."

"I already have a mommy. You."

"Yes," she said gently. "I would still be your mommy. And so would Evey. You and Debbie would have two mommies."

"Oh." Rebecca nodded. "That's okay, then." She turned away and went back to looking at one of her new books.

"Mary?" She tried to keep her voice quiet and undemanding.

*****

"Evey, I-"

Her voice choked off, fear rising up around her like a cloud, as a hated voice she thought she had left far behind her roared from outside the apartment door.

"Mary Durham, you motherless fucking whore! Open this door right now, or I swear in holy Jesus' name you will be sorry you were ever born!"

Oh God oh God oh God he's here.

She looked around the small living room. Herself, dressed in jeans and a sinfully tight blouse, worn to attract Evey. The children, their eyes wide in startlement, their expressions slowly turning to fear. Evey herself, clad in the gown she had made for her, every inch of it an outrage to someone like Brother Ezekiel.

I have to protect them.

She lowered her voice, pitching it to carry above the sudden jarring thud as a heavy body slammed against the door, making it creak alarmingly. "It's him," she said. "Ezekiel." Evey's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Evey, call 911 now, and take the girls to my bedroom. I'll stay out here and slow him down."

"No." Her lover shook her head as another vicious thud echoed through the apartment. "I'll stay here and help you."

"And who's going to protect the girls if he gets past us? Dammit, there's no time to argue. Get in my room and lock the door right now!"

*****

God, I haven't asked you for much the past few years. But if you could spare me a favor, I'd sure appreciate it.

She stood beside the door, trying to time the erratic slams as Ezekiel hurled his body against the frame. Above her, plaster drifted down in a thin white cloud, a bitter mimicry of the snow flurries outside. During one of the infrequent pauses in Ezekiel's bellowing, she could hear Eveline talking rapidly to the dispatcher. The children were eerily quiet, unsure of what was happening, but praise the Lord, not crying or hysterical.

Another massive thud. A bright-sounding crack echoed overhead, and Mary could see that the top of the door-frame was starting to splinter.

As quickly as she dared, she undid the deadbolt and threw the door open wide, catching Ezekiel in mid rush. Prepared to hit the door, he stumbled into the apartment, tripped over Mary's outflung leg, and fell to the ground with a crash.

Before he could regain his feet, Mary was on him, screaming in terrified fury, the shotgun held in hands clenched into bloodless claws. One, two, three, four times it came down, the well-oiled wooden stock smashing his lips, pulping his gums, and shattering his black, rotting teeth. A last, bludgeoning blow crushed his cheekbone.

Panting, Mary reversed the gun, holding the barrel only a few inches away from her abuser's crotch.

"One move," she grated harshly. "Make one fucking move, and I will blow you and your useless cock straight to hell. Do you understand me, Ezekiel?

"Do you understand me?" she roared, when no answer was immediately forthcoming. Ezekiel finally gave a terrified nod, whimpering in pain.

"Evey?" she called, never removing her gaze from his face. "You can come out now."

"I thought you didn't like guns," her lover commented shakily as she came up beside her. Rebecca and Deborah trailed in her wake, their eyes wide. Becca held Debbie's hand protectively.

"I don't. But it doesn't mean I don't know how to use them. I bought this the day after I moved in here. I always hoped I'd never have to use it."

"So this is him, huh?" Evey's voice was quiet. She eyed the prone figure on the floor distastefully. "He doesn't look like much."

"He's not. Not anymore," she replied. A big, fat man in baggy clothes, a matted gray beard streaked with unappealing shades of brown, balding and instantly forgettable. Only the memories of the last five years made him a horror. How many times, she wondered. How many times had those memories risen out of the past, making her wake late at night, her body drenched with cold sweat, remembering the way his stinking, heaving bulk had pressed down on her, forcing her legs open. She wondered inanely if the blood on the carpet meant she would lose her security deposit.

"Mommy? Who is that?" Rebecca asked.

"He's a bad man who wanted to hurt me and take you and Debbie away, Becca," she replied. The full truth could wait for later.

Her daughter's eyebrows lowered in a frown. "Go away, bad man," she said loudly, then kicked him in the side. "You made my mommy scared. I don't like you."

"Whores." The word was mushy, but recognizable as Ezekiel pushed it past his bleeding lips. "You're all whores. Your time will come." His eyes were wide, staring, and utterly mad. "The righteous will purge the ungodly, and the wicked temptresses will pay for their sins. You will all pay, cunts and sluts and-"

The cocking of the gun was very loud in the small room.

"One more word," Mary said conversationally, pulling the second hammer back. "And I turn your head into a canoe."

Then the police sirens sounded, and flashing lights lit up the gray Iowa sky.

*****

A few hours later they were brought in front of a police captain, a thin, tall woman with dark red hair turning gray.

"Miss Durham," she addressed them from behind her desk. "Miss Kershaw. Have a seat." She nodded at a pair of chairs a few feet away. "Pretty exciting Christmas Day, if I can say so," she said mildly.

Mary sat down apprehensively. "I've been reading the complaint you lodged against...this Brother Ezekiel Branford," Captain Williamson went on. "Who is also," she continued conversationally as Mary's eyes widened, "known as Mortimer Snodgrass. And also known as Terrence O'Leary and Dr. Miguel Sanchez. When we took his prints the computer lit up like a damned Christmas tree.

"He has warrants out for his arrest in three states. Most of it is small-time stuff. Passing bad checks, a little fraud. Basically, he's a small-time con man."

"He-" Eveline began heatedly, but Williamson held up a hand, cutting her off.

"But it seems he decided to go big-time. All of the stuff we have on him is over twenty years old. From your statement, I guess we can make a pretty good guess about where he's been, can't we?" She snorted. "He isn't the first man who started a religious following for the money and started to believe his own bullshit."

Mary nodded.

"So." The gray-haired woman leaned back in her chair. "Just from the evidence at your apartment, we can nail him for breaking and entering, trespassing, assault, and three counts of attempted kidnapping.

"Also, he claims you're his wife and the children are his. Is that true?"

"The children are mine," Mary gritted out from between clenched teeth. Even Evey, who knew her well, was surprised by the ferocity in her tone.

"Sorry," the older woman said apologetically. "I meant biologically." When Mary nodded reluctantly, she gave a shark-toothed grin. "Then we've got him for statutory rape as well. Because I can do math, Miss Durham, and you were way below the age of consent when that little girl of yours was conceived.

"Any way you slice it, he's going away from a long, long, time." She paused, then went on delicately. "This marriage. Did anyone actually officiate at it?"

Mary shook her head. "Just him. He said I was his wife." She smiled painfully. "I knew better enough than to argue, by that time."

"Which means it certainly wasn't legal. I bet if we look in the records of the state of Utah, you will never find any sort of marriage certificate. He has no legal hold on you. Or the children." Evey sighed in relief.

"There's more," Mary said quietly.

"More?"

Mary began telling her story in a low voice. Before she had spoken for five minutes, Chief Williamson had stopped her and begun recording the conversation. She spoke for over an hour, going into far greater detail than she ever had with Evey. When pressed, she supplied dates and details, her quick mind recalling the horrors of her teenage years.

"Jesus Christ." Williamson's face was slack with horror and rage. "If this is true...Christ, I'm going to have to bring in the Utah State Police, the feds, everyone. We're talking murder, and so many cases of rape and sexual abuse I don't want to think about it. Can you show me where this compound is?"

With the help of the internet, Mary was able to point out the general area. "Thanks. You two go on home now. It looks like you had plans that were interrupted, and you might as well enjoy the rest of the holiday." Her eyes twinkled wickedly, and Mary blushed despite herself. "We'll be in touch regarding the trial, but if that sad sack of crap has any brains at all, he'll try to cut a plea-bargain."

"Excuse me," Mary said as they stood.

"Yes?"

"Did he...did he ever say why he came looking for me?"

The chief snorted. "No. But I can guess. Tell me, Miss Durham, have you ever done any fishing?"

"No."

"Well, go to any place where a bunch of old fishermen hang out. Before too long you'll be hearing stories about the one that got away.

"Sound familiar?"

*****

"You know, you never answered my question," Evey said, as they settled the girls into the old Buick Regal. She closed the rear door and walked towards her lover. A raw north wind whipped snow in delicate, lacy patterns across the blacktop of the parking lot.

"Didn't I? How silly of me. I guess I was kind of busy, seeing as how I was saving my family from a religious maniac."

She waved that away negligently. "Yes, but it's not like it was really important. I mean, not compared with the rest of our lives.

"So here is how I see it. You and the girls can move in with me. Then we get married and throw my entire family into conniptions," she grinned.

"We make love three or four times a day. When we aren't doing that, you can finish up your high school work, and if you want, you can go to college right here in town. Drake has a really good College of Art and Design. And when they see some of the dress designs you've been doing on your own, I bet they'd snatch you up in a heartbeat." She made a gesture towards the dress she was still wearing, hidden underneath a calf-length coat.

"Then you'll open your own dress shop and we'll all live happily ever after."

"Yes," Mary laughed, the sound high, unfettered, and free. I'm free at last. With a smile, she reached for her lover, kissing her soundly, not caring who might see. In the whipping wind, their hair mingled together, light and dark.

Just as their lives had been bound together.

Today, and for the rest of their lives.

The End