Scandal in Rivermount

Elizabeth

Time stood still here. In our small piece of the past that we called home, it was as if nothing had changed since the golden days.

Except from the quiet hum of electricity passing through telephone wires, and the occasional purr of a car's engine- it was untouched. It was virgin to the new world we lived in; precious and timeless.

The surrounding hills still rolled as wild as untamed horses, in glistening shades of jade and mustard and chocolate, all blended to make a luscious green blanket cushioning the voluptuous ground. The summer blaze would catch on the bumps and bends, the drumlins and the dips. It would flash from the distance and catch your eye unexpectedly.

The houses stood individually, only a handful attached to a neighbouring property. Climbing ivy would twist upwards, scaling the brick walls and their gutters; framing the wooden window panes, and shivering in the breeze. Their bodies were glossy from morning dew, and glinted in the early sunrise. The grainy stone of the houses was textured and hard, with the illusional appearance of soft, crumbling chalk. It was contrasted by smooth, solid mahogany and oak door-frames, that had satin finishes, with glossy tones that highlighted every tint and contour in the wood.

People still waved in the street- ladies would push prams through town in the mornings, and men would take brisk evening walks in the night air. Children filled the streets on weekends, their eyes gleaming and smiles full. They would chase and tag and hide. They would grin politely at folk, and say "ello mister" or "good morning miss". Frail seniors would sit content on their front gardens, sipping cool ice tea, and wear huge sun hats to cover their leather complexion.

The young men and women still strolled arm-in-arm, keeping perfect pace with each other and smiling delightfully at everybody that passed. Flowers were still a token gift, and cream tea and cucumber sandwiches were still consumed daily, as mid-morning treats.

Sometimes I would still wait to hear the crackle of an old radio picking up static, or the hiss and spit of the gas lamps by the road. But it would never come, and I found myself simply reminiscing.

I would recount the days of my life here, and picture the vivid memories from my youth. My school days, filled with fun and laughter. The time of my adolescence, larking around and appreciating each day. Doing amateur dramatics, and learning to play the piano. Love, light... And loss.

It was 1942 when I got the telegram. "Lost Or Dead" it said. His name stood in fine calligraphy underneath. All I had left to prove of his previous existence was a few framed photographs, and fading memories. At least, I expected them to fade- but they are still as vivid today in my old age, as they were the day he entered my world.

I was young when I met Joseph; about 14 I think. We sat next to each other in school, and we would go to buy sherbet lemons from the tuck shop every day at 4. We would lay out on the fields and talk about our lives ahead, and the excitement that awaited us. I'd tell him my dreams, my wildest fantasies of leaving Rivermount and travelling to London to become an actress or a movie star. He told me I was so beautiful that I couldn't fail.

When we were 16, Joe got in with a bad crowd. They all met at a motorcycle rally, and got together each weekend after. They would drink excessively, and get gruesome tattoos in their drunken escapades. I wanted so much to marry him, but the moment he strayed down his path, my parents would hear no more. I explained to him how much I loved him- so completely and unconditionally. So we formed our escape plan. Joe promised me he'd ditch the drink, and take me away to the south, so I could pursue my dreams and he could get a business started- it was so foolproof.

That night, Joe drove me out on his Harley to a remote corner of a far field. I still remember how the moon glistened on his jet black hair, and reflected from his rhinestones and leather. He was totally flawless. His skin was smooth, and his build was strong. He had long legs, and a perfectly defined abdomen. His strong arms held me close, and his fingers wrapped around my arms and waist, tangled into my hair, and caressed every feature on my face. His strong jaw pressed fervently against me when we kissed, and his eyes were a luminous green, under a furrowed black brow. I was petite, and fragile. I had long blonde hair that fell down to my waist in rippling waves. I was much shorter than him, at about 5"4. He towered over me at 6"2, and despite his reputation, despite his horrid tendencies, I trusted that man with every ounce of my heart and soul. I felt so safe with him. When he lay next to me on that field, surrounded by soft heather, under the shade of a crooked willow tree, I was content.

We lit a small fire to see by, and lay upon a picnic sheet, with thick blankets tucked around us, like two halves of a cocoon. I sat on his lap as he wrapped muscular arms around me, and rocked me gently, with my head pressed against his chest. He would kiss my hair, and bury his face into it, inhaling it all, and exhaling warm air onto my ear and neck. My one arm would wrap around him, and hang limply over his shoulder, while the other hand would trace the planes of his face, lingering on his lower lip occasionally, anticipating the joy of having it pressed against mine.

Then, I felt his fingers wrap gently around my knee, and slowly run upwards along my thigh. We had plans to be married- this boy was my life, and all that I cared for. So, I responded to his touch, looking up at him awaiting his kiss. First, he ran his lips from my ear, across my jaw, and down my throat to my collarbones. His hand continued to wander across my leg, under my skirt, to land in the place I wanted it to be most. He spun me to face him, and I wrapped my legs around his hips. We kissed passionately by the fireside, entwined with each other in romantic embrace. He lifted me, and lay me on my back, holding himself above me as we overcame the fear, and mutually eased into what was about to happen. Then, as if it were the most natural thing to ever occur, I felt him gently start to push between my legs. After just a few seconds of adjustment, we were both comfortable, and we blissfully continued in our perfect moment, with our bodies in tune to one another. Every movement was rhythmic, and every feeling was intense and incredible. We were harmonious, and I know as I stared deep into his gaze, that we were bound together by something so powerful, that it could only be infinite