there.”
“Tori told me about your new house. She said
it was something.”
Actually, everyone had talked about it. Julie
had even driven by it on numerous occasions. It was being built
right outside of town. In her opinion, it wasn’t just a home, but
more a mission statement. It was running a close race at being the
biggest building in town, including the high school and
courthouse.
“Don’t let the surface fool you. I would
rather have a home like yours.” His confidence was gone, and his
body language broke her heart. His normal proud demure was weighted
in defeat, his shoulders slumped, and his head tucked into his
chest. It was the first time that Julie got a glimpse at his lost
little boy look. It was that look that had fully stolen her heart.
She sat there watching him, and at that moment she was his to
control. Oh sweetie, what are you hiding behind that perfect
facade?
“I have something for you.” He was obviously
trying to change the subject. Julie would change anything to erase
the hopelessness on his face.
He reached in the backseat, snagged an old,
tattered book, and placed it in her lap. It was an original copy of
the works of Walt Whitman.
“I thought you might like to see that. My mom
gave it to me a few Christmas ago.”
She thumbed through the pages, scared of
ripping them. Her granny use to read old poems to her, and Whitman
was always her favorite poet.
“ Passing stranger! You do not know how
longingly I look upon you. You must be she I was seeking. I have
somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you. All is recalled as
we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured. You
grew up with me, were a girl with me. I ate with you and slept with
you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine
only. You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we
pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands; in return, I am not to
speak to you. I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at
night alone. I am to wait. I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I
am to see to it that I do not lose you.” His voice was eerily
cool and collected. He glared out the windshield, his face hard.
However, each beat of his soul was heard in every word as he
spoke.
“Wow, that’s Walt Whitman’s ‘To a
stranger!’ That’s one of my favorites,” Julie stated. “Keep
quoting poetry like that, and you will have Ms. Wirwa, our English
professor, wrapped around your little finger.”
“Maybe. But the difference is I mean it when
I quote it to you.” He slightly turned his head. He didn’t smile,
but every emotion she heard in his voice now flowed from his face.
She squeezed his hand, rubbing her thumb down the base of it. She
wanted to show him what she didn’t know how to say. A smile lit up
his eyes till the sinister look in them was almost gone. She
couldn’t help but feel safe and desired when he looked at her like
that. She was ready to share her whole life with him, not caring
what she sensed in him. She prayed he truly wanted her to be a part
of his world.
Chapter 5
They drew closer to town; Julie noticed he
was driving directly to the building site that was soon to be his
new home. He switched on the sound system. The car was suddenly
filled with a beautiful, haunting tune. It was ethereal, tranquil,
sad, and uplifting all at the same time. She sat back and let the
enchanting melody wash over her. She felt her tension descending,
and noticed Trucker’s tight grip around the steering wheel
relaxing.
“What’s that song? It’s beautiful,” she
asked, seeing it brought Trucker some measure of peace.
“Sarah Brightman’s Music of the Night.” He
cocked his head and gave her an enchanting half grin. “Not what you
expected? My music taste is not the oddest thing about me.”
As he drove, Trucker drummed his finger over
the steering wheel in time with the music. All the sudden, he
switched the sound system off and stared out into space.
“Can I show you
“Tori told me about your new house. She said
it was something.”
Actually, everyone had talked about it. Julie
had even driven by it on numerous occasions. It was being built
right outside of town. In her opinion, it wasn’t just a home, but
more a mission statement. It was running a close race at being the
biggest building in town, including the high school and
courthouse.
“Don’t let the surface fool you. I would
rather have a home like yours.” His confidence was gone, and his
body language broke her heart. His normal proud demure was weighted
in defeat, his shoulders slumped, and his head tucked into his
chest. It was the first time that Julie got a glimpse at his lost
little boy look. It was that look that had fully stolen her heart.
She sat there watching him, and at that moment she was his to
control. Oh sweetie, what are you hiding behind that perfect
facade?
“I have something for you.” He was obviously
trying to change the subject. Julie would change anything to erase
the hopelessness on his face.
He reached in the backseat, snagged an old,
tattered book, and placed it in her lap. It was an original copy of
the works of Walt Whitman.
“I thought you might like to see that. My mom
gave it to me a few Christmas ago.”
She thumbed through the pages, scared of
ripping them. Her granny use to read old poems to her, and Whitman
was always her favorite poet.
“ Passing stranger! You do not know how
longingly I look upon you. You must be she I was seeking. I have
somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you. All is recalled as
we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured. You
grew up with me, were a girl with me. I ate with you and slept with
you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine
only. You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we
pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands; in return, I am not to
speak to you. I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at
night alone. I am to wait. I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I
am to see to it that I do not lose you.” His voice was eerily
cool and collected. He glared out the windshield, his face hard.
However, each beat of his soul was heard in every word as he
spoke.
“Wow, that’s Walt Whitman’s ‘To a
stranger!’ That’s one of my favorites,” Julie stated. “Keep
quoting poetry like that, and you will have Ms. Wirwa, our English
professor, wrapped around your little finger.”
“Maybe. But the difference is I mean it when
I quote it to you.” He slightly turned his head. He didn’t smile,
but every emotion she heard in his voice now flowed from his face.
She squeezed his hand, rubbing her thumb down the base of it. She
wanted to show him what she didn’t know how to say. A smile lit up
his eyes till the sinister look in them was almost gone. She
couldn’t help but feel safe and desired when he looked at her like
that. She was ready to share her whole life with him, not caring
what she sensed in him. She prayed he truly wanted her to be a part
of his world.
Chapter 5
They drew closer to town; Julie noticed he
was driving directly to the building site that was soon to be his
new home. He switched on the sound system. The car was suddenly
filled with a beautiful, haunting tune. It was ethereal, tranquil,
sad, and uplifting all at the same time. She sat back and let the
enchanting melody wash over her. She felt her tension descending,
and noticed Trucker’s tight grip around the steering wheel
relaxing.
“What’s that song? It’s beautiful,” she
asked, seeing it brought Trucker some measure of peace.
“Sarah Brightman’s Music of the Night.” He
cocked his head and gave her an enchanting half grin. “Not what you
expected? My music taste is not the oddest thing about me.”
As he drove, Trucker drummed his finger over
the steering wheel in time with the music. All the sudden, he
switched the sound system off and stared out into space.
“Can I show you
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