Sam popped into her head next. She saw herself and her nephew kissing like Julie and her son, rolling around in bed, making love. Holly was wet. Her fingers slid into her pajama pants, finding her clit, massaging it.
She landed on the bed, thinking of Sam, imagining him on top of her, holding her down, looking into her eyes as he took her over and over again.
“Yes!” Holly whispered, plunging two fingers into her soaking, wet pussy.
Holly removed her pajamas, pretending to throw them at Sam. She went to all fours next, one hand rubbing herself, finger fucking herself.
“S-Sam!” she hissed, her eyes closed, seeing him hold her from behind, pumping in and out of her.
Just before Holly climaxed, she stopped herself. “No. This is wrong too.”
Feeling foolish for lusting after Sam, and disappointed in Julie, she gathered her pajamas and climbed back into bed.
The next day, she barely spoke to Julie, or anyone really. She took a long walk, alone, on the nearby beach, enjoying the cold weather.
Arriving back at Julie’s house, with her supper cooling, she nodded to her sister sat at the table. “You alright?” Julie asked.
“Fine,” Holly lied, avoiding eye contact. “Just a lot on my mind.”
Holly slept soundly that evening, no moans to wake her. She woke the next morning to find Sam, alone, on the back deck.
“Hey,” Holly took a seat next to him.
“Hey.”
“Listen, about things in Miami, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I thought you were her; you wanted to spare my feelings.”
“I did. I miss her, I just thought,” she sighed, taking a sip of coffee.
“I said it’s fine.”
“Ok,” Holly nodded, watching her nephew look out over the covered pool.
“Do you need anything? We’re here to help,” Holly asked.
There was a long pause, Sam shook his head.
“Alright, I think Julie is cooking breakfast again. It’ll be ready soon,” Holly stood to take her leave.
She opened the door, Sam spoke up. “There is one thing you could do.”
“Yes, anything,” his aunt nodded.
“There’s someplace I need to go. I don’t know what’s there, but I have the address. Can you take me?”
Chapter 9
Sam looked to the passing trees later that afternoon. Holly had been driving for three hours on the way to a destination he wasn’t completely sure he remembered. His mind was rebuilding, reconnecting, but not yet there.
The car ride was mostly quiet. Holly happily drove him, using her car’s GPS navigation, to the address he provided. They were far from the coast, approaching the mountains.
It was near 1pm, they left Charleston after breakfast.
The interstate turned into a small road, the small road turned into other small roads, one of those eventually turned into a small gravel driveway. It was unkempt, foliage creeping on it; there was a small yard, which hadn’t been mowed in months.
Holly came to a stop at the end of the driveway. Sam slowly got out of her car and stood, looking onward. He was looking at a cabin.
Holly got out of the car, the cold mountain air visible on her breath.
Sam approached the cabin, stepping up the front steps. Holly looked over the structure. Leaves from autumn remained all over the walkway and front porch. There were a few large branches strewn about, fallen from a storm a couple of months back, one of them blocking Sam’s way. He pulled it onto the yard and made his way up the stairs.
“Sam, this cabin, do you – ”
“Yes. I know it. Now I do.”
“What happened here?”
“I don’t remember,” he answered, approaching the door. The door was damaged, the door knob barely attached. Sam easily pushed it open revealing a darkened interior.
“Careful,” Holly said, following closely behind.
Sam looked all around the empty cabin. The furniture was gone, dust was everywhere. The fireplace in the living room was cleaned out, no wood or activity. He shook his head, it was so familiar, but he couldn’t place it yet.
Holly followed him through the tiny hallway into an empty bedroom. There was nothing there.
Next was the kitchen. An empty refrigerator, no electricity. Sam turned the kitchen sink faucet, no running water. He struggled to figure it out, struggled to remember this cabin.
Sam walked toward the screened in back porch. Sliding the glass door aside, he stared at an object in the center of the porch. He froze, not looking away. It was a small wooden chair.
“Sam,” his aunt said from behind. Sam’s eyes were fixated on the chair. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “What is it? Talk to me.”
The memories returned. Staring at the chair, everything came flooding back in, everything that happened in the cabin. This one object triggered it. Sam started crying, moving toward the chair.
“Sam?”
He said nothing, going to his knees in front of the chair, tears dripping off his face.
“Oh no,” Holly said, her own tears welling up. “This is it. This is where your mother, this is where she died.”
Sam was crying profusely, shaking his head. “No.”
“What is it Sam? Please tell me,” Holly said, kneeling next to him, holding him.
He coughed and sniffed several times, mustering the ability to speak. “This, this is where, we,” Sam shook his head.
“Please tell me, sweetie. You can tell me anything,” Holly comforted him.
“This is where we first made love,” Sam blurted out, his inconsolable crying returning.
He stood, leaving Holly in shock, facing away from her and the chair.
“Tell me everything you can remember. I want to know it all,” Holly whispered, holding Sam from behind.
**
It was a hot September night. Sam and his mother arrived three days earlier. She unloaded the groceries, unpacked, and cooked supper the first night.
Sam couldn’t sleep again. He wouldn’t let himself sleep. He was going to protect his mother, Sharon, the love of his life. He would never allow her to be hurt again.
Sharon pleaded with him to come to bed. As much as he wanted to hold her body against his and go to sleep, he couldn’t. He had to stand watch.
Sam sat in the chair, the lights off, staring out into the woods. If George was going to show up, Sam figured he’d sneak around back, Sam would be waiting for him.
Sharon assured him George wouldn’t find them at the cabin. Sam had to be sure.
On this third sleepless night, crickets and summer sounds filling his ears, he dozed off. Moments later he shook himself awake, he had to be ready.
His head dipped and he nodded off again. Sam was awakened by a hand on his shoulder. It was his mother’s.
“Sam,” she said. “Please come to bed.”
“Can’t,” Sam shook his head.
Sharon moved in front of him, her silhouette showing against the full moon and starry night. “Sam, please?”
“Mom, I can’t. I have to keep watch. I can’t let anything happen to you.”
Sharon stepped closer, she tipped Sam’s chin to face her. She stared at his moonlit face, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Sharon removed her tank top, letting it land on the floor, her bare breasts on display. “Mom? What are you doing?” Sam whispered.
“If you won’t come to bed, I’ll have to improvise,” Sharon slid her pajama shorts down, revealing her naked body. She slowly straddled Sam as he sat in the chair.
“Make love to me,” she whispered.
“I’ve wanted to for so long,” Sam said, caressing her face. Sharon nodded. Sam pulled her in for a kiss, sending electricity from his mouth to hers.