Eva and the Irishman Page 3

“We have to go get Eino,” Pappa Mattson said to her. “It seems he has injured himself.”

  Then they pulled away.

  As Victor and Eva headed out to the fencing, Victor scowled. “I wonder what Eino has done now, that he can’t make it home on his own?”

  “I’m not sure,” Eva said, “but when he left this morning he gave me a horrible look. I know it’s because I told him I didn’t love him and he’s not happy that you and I are getting to be friends.”

  “This is not your fault, Eva. Eino is his own worst enemy. Let’s not talk about him anymore.”

  “That’s fine with me,” she agreed wholeheartedly. Inside she felt a pang of guilt, but Victor’s reassurance eased her mind. She noticed Victor did not like his brother by the way he talked of him.

  They held hands as they walked the rest of the way to the fence. The physical contact with Victor comforted her.

  “The sun is trying to come out,” she said as she looked at the sky.

  Once they arrived at the fence-mending area, Victor looked around the work site. “Earlier, we were about to cut a post in the woods before we stopped for dinner.”

  “All right, let’s go,” she said. She grabbed the saw from the tool pile brought out earlier.

  She followed him a short way into the wood and found a decent birch. He seemed pleased when he didn’t have to instruct her in using the two-man bow saw.

  “Your father taught you well,” he said. “First butchering an eight-hundred-pound cow, and now I can see you’d make a fine lumberjack.” He gave her an impish smile.

  “Perhaps I should’ve been born a boy,” she joked.

  “No. I wouldn’t like that. It would be no fun kissing you. Speaking of kissing you, I really want to, but we wouldn’t get the fence done.”

  She smiled at him. Her attraction to him was particularly strong at that moment, more so than ever before. She surreptitiously watched his body move as they worked together. It made her belly flutter wondering what was under his sweater or behind the buttons of his trousers. His shoulders were muscular, stomach taut, yet he was still lean like a boy, but most assuredly growing into a man at nineteen, in her eyes.

  “Help me pick it up,” she said. She nodded at the now trimmed-off tree trunk that was to be used for a post. Together they carried it back the short distance to the post hole. They worked companionably, inserting the post, back-filling the hole with dirt, and attaching the barbed wire fencing to the pole.

  “It looks good,” he said. “I’m going to check this next pole for rot.” He inspected it closely. “Well, we have to change this one as well.”

  “While you dig that old one out, I’ll cut a new post.”

  “Go right ahead, Lumberjack.”

  Finding and cutting a suitable post, she returned quickly.

  “That was fast. You’re a much better helper than Hannes.” After a few minutes he said, “I was thinking. When we are done here, let’s take a walk to the lake before milking time. I haven’t been out there yet this spring. Would you like that?”

  “Of course, I would.”

  “Does that mean we can—you know?” His face shone with hopefulness.

  “No, but nice try,” she said dryly. She knew her outward resistance was covering her attraction. She noticed Victor studying her again.

  “The camp lean-to would be so nice…” he said dreamily.

  “Be quiet, goof. Let’s finish.” She crinkled her short turned-up nose at him as she put the new post into the existing hole.

  ~~~

  “We’re finished. Let’s go,” Victor announced. “Hannes can come fetch the tree remnants for kindling.”

  Eva and Victor took the tools back to the tool shed and stole away toward the well-worn path through the woods. They walked the five-minute walk to the lakeshore hand in hand, enjoying each other, pointing to birds and talking of the blossoming greenery and pungent spring fragrances, always welcomed after the long winters.

  The wooded path soon opened up to a meadow and a lake. The late-day sun had broken through the clouds, and it sparkled on the tiny waves like shiny fish scales. The Mattsons had built a little dock, a small boathouse, and a lean-to with bunks built in. Many a spring and summer evening were spent here with family and friends, visiting and fishing. She remembered fondly. Part of the evening ritual was spent preserving the fish, either by smoking and storing in clay pots, or using lye which turned the fish into something the Swedes called lutefisk. Then they’d build a bonfire, lay out a picnic, and consume vodka and other homemade alcoholic beverages. These gatherings could go on deep into the day-bright northern summer nights.

  Now, Eva and Victor took a seat on one of the waterside benches.

  “We used to try to stay up all night when we were little, but I could never make it," Victor said. “Only until maybe one or two o’clock.”

  “One of our mothers would tuck us in a bunk inside the lean-to in all those quilts. We would snuggle and quickly fall asleep,” Eva added.

  “You used to sleep with me. What happened?” he said in mock scolding.

  She gave him a fake scowl. “All of us children would be tucked in together,” she corrected.

  “I remember how one or all of the babies would be quite smelly when we woke up. Thank God I didn’t have to change any of them.”

  She laughed. “We’d get up before any of the adults and run off before anyone could make us. We were so clever.”

  Victor reminisced about the singing and toasting. He reminded her that they’d toast just about anything. “I’m surprised any preserved fish got into the larder.” Eva reminded him it was the women who did all the work preserving.

  They sat in silence for a while, looking out over the deep blue lake that was beginning to calm as the slight breeze disappeared. Eva felt her hair falling out of her bun and started to reach for it to fix it. He took the rest of the pins out and let it fall. His touch was comforting to her, making her scalp tingle. Her eyes closed for a moment. She leaned into him more.

  “I love your hair. It’s one of your many beauties, Eva. It’s funny how it curls just at the ends.”

  “Thank you, Victor,” she said, her face hot about the hair comment. His closeness was making her throb down below. “What are you looking at over there?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, I was just thinking it would be a beautiful place to live. Right here, on the lake.” He paused and took hold of a thick strand of her wavy hair, stroking the silky red-tinged lock between his thumb and forefinger. “If I built a cabin, over there, near that stand of birches, do you think you would like it there—I mean—if we got married?” Victor’s face turned crimson.

  He had never said anything like that to her. She could scarcely breathe or make eye contact with him. He reached over to grasp her hand. She took his, in kind.

  “What are you saying?” she said in a quiet voice, hiding her face behind her loose flowing hair.

  “Will you marry me, Eva? I’ve grown to love you over the last year or so. I know you feel the same.”

  “Yes, Victor. I’ll marry you.” She turned to look straight into his eyes. “I … love you.” When she said that to him, she feared what Eino would think … and do. But Victor’s sudden proposal and his closeness pushed Eino into the recesses of her mind. All she could think about was Victor coming close with those soft brown eyes and tender lips for a kiss.

  He pushed hair behind her ear and looked into her eyes. He kissed her, softly at first, then enveloped her in his arms and passionately pressed his mouth against hers. When they could breathe no more, they both emerged from the kiss.

  “Come into the lean-to. Please, Eva, please,” he whispered into her ear.

  She was so afraid, but she wanted to please him. She’s always wanted to please him. Her resistance faded as her body burned with new desire.

  “I know you want me,” he said. “I’ve felt it for a while now.”

  She gasped. “Yes, Victor, I want you but I can’t … I can�
�t lose my virginity before marriage. Mamma told me to be a good girl.”

  “I’ll show you what we can do so you won’t lose your virginity,” he said softly.

  He stood, looked at her, and held his hand out. With several moments of hesitation, she grasped his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. They ran to the bed in the lean-to. They struggled with clothes, but he managed to push her skirt up and out of the way. He pulled her bloomers down quickly. She gave a little yelp.

  “You’re all right,” he said reassuringly. He laid her on a bunk. “Oh, God, Eva, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, looking at her with her skirts up to her waist. “Your body, your legs, your …it’s red hair.”

  He kissed her as he gently put his hand on her sex. She backed away a bit, and closed her knees. “I’m afraid of you touching me there.”

  “I want to show you something, but you’ll have to let me. I won’t hurt you.”

  “All right,” she breathed. Her eyes were glued to his.

  She felt him pull her knees apart and put his hand back on her, his finger moved further in as if searching for something. “There is where I want to go someday, when you’re ready. It goes deep inside you. Right now, you feel very slippery. That’s a good sign.”

  Eva couldn’t say anything. She only knew that when he touched her and pushed his finger in, it felt so good.

  “Can I teach you to use your hand on me? I want it so bad. Please let me teach you.”

  “Yes,” she said, nearly breathless. “I’m shaking.”

  He paused. “Tell me if you want to stop, I won’t force you.”

  “I want to please you. Show me.”

  She propped herself on her elbows as she lay on her back and watched as he unbuttoned his trousers. What sprang forth, made her gasp. Her reaction made him laugh sweetly.

  “I’m going to lie down next to you.” When he seemed comfortable, he said, “I’m going to put your hand on my penis, then you squeeze and I’ll move.”

  “I put it right here?” He nodded. She watched him as he moved his hips up and down.

  “Make sure you are squeezing firmly, but not too hard.”

  She adjusted her grip. “Is that too hard?”

  He moved his hips in a smooth rhythm. “Oh, no. It’s … it’s… uhhh … uhhh …”

  He seemed to be gasping for air and moaning.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “God, no …”

  Suddenly Victor smiled and began to gasp deeply for air. She felt his penis throb under her hand, and then he moaned loudly, and his hips began to move erratically and more violently. A white milky fluid pulsed out. Then he lay silently with his eyes closed, as if he couldn’t move or speak. Eva let go, sensing she didn’t have to hold it anymore.

  After several moments Victor opened his eyes, looked at her and smiled.

  “Are you pleased?” she asked.

  “Very much, thank you, Eva.” He pushed himself up with an elbow and kissed her.

  “Are you all right, Victor? What happened?”

  “I’m wonderful. I ejaculated.” He looked down at his softening penis.

  Eva did too. The milky stuff was all over his penis and some on her hand. She was too stunned to ask him anything. She wiped her hand on the quilt, stood, found her bloomers and put them back on.

  “You don’t want me to? With my fingers?”

  “I’m—”

  “I know. Not ready. That’s all right. I can wait for you.”

  “I’m sorry …” she whispered.

  “Don’t be. I’ll get a towel,” he said and got up. Then, after he cleaned himself and buttoned his trousers, he took the towel to rinse it out in the lake. He returned with the wet cloth for her hand.

  He wiped her hand for her.

  She looked at him. “Is this how it starts?”

  “It is. But you are still a virgin. Someday you will let me do that to you with my hand and you will still be a virgin.”

  “It’s getting late. I should be going home,” she said to him.

  He embraced her. “Will you still marry me one day? Are we still promised? Because it’s what I want most of all.”

  She smiled, and tiptoed to kiss him. “Yes, I will still marry you, Victor. Will you walk me home?”

  “Of course.”

  As Eva and Victor took the lake path to her house, holding hands and walking with their shoulders touching, Eva felt as though she was leaving her childhood … and Eino …behind.

  Chapter 3

  Liam walked aimlessly through the brisk, windy streets of East Belfast. After an unknown amount of time, he realized he was in the shipyard district, standing in the doorway of a pub. He was drawn in. He entered the smoky, dirty establishment. It was noisy, with men in drunken shouting matches. Women were squealing and laughing—fake laughing. Far back in his mind, he was puzzled as to why he heard women. They didn’t frequent pubs. He heard a fiddle and someone singing.

  Liam pressed through the smelly, inebriated crowd to the bar and ordered a pint. The first sips tasted strong and bit his tongue, but he became inured after a few more. He wasn’t much of a drinker and with his growling, empty belly the alcohol took hold right away. The ale made his tension go away and he liked it. He stood by himself for a while, taking no time to finish the ale.

  After ordering a second, Liam leaned back on the long mahogany bar and began to look at his surroundings. He was affected enough by the ale to come out of his usual need to avoid people. As he scanned from one corner to another, he spotted a table of ladies at the far end, near a closed-in set of stairs. He was confused, but only for a moment. “Proper” ladies did not frequent pubs. Nor did they dress in loose, lacy undergarments.

  The smallest, skinniest, most frail-looking girl caught his eye. She was beckoning Liam, wiggling her index finger and giving him an alluring smile. She stood up, putting one foot on the chair. She spread out her knee to show Liam her “wares.”

  He was curious about her, not so much for her flirting and revealing her private parts, but for the fact that she seemed too young to be wearing so much rouge and red-and-black French lingerie. He put his second empty glass on the bar and began to make his way to her. He stumbled only once, making the girl cover a giggle with her hand.

  He was definitely drunk, and he knew it. “I saw ye from over there,” he said.

  She smiled and flirted shamelessly. “I know ye did,” she said. The girl pulled up another chair and patted it, inviting him to sit.

  He plopped down. It startled him when he landed hard. This made the girl giggle once more.

  “I think ye need another pint," she hollered, leaning towards him to be heard over a sudden burst of yelling from a patron nearby. She waved her hand to the barmaid.

  While they waited for the drinks, the girl chatted in an overly amiable way with him.

  “Ye’re quite handsome. What’s yer name?” She was awfully close, tracing his cheek and chin with her finger.

  He could smell stale perfume and liquor on her breath. It was warm on his cheek as she talked near his ear. “Liam. Liam Dady.”

  “Ye don’t need to be tellin’ me yer last name, sweetie. First names’ll do.”

  He was leaning on the table with both forearms. The girl had latched onto him and didn’t seem about to let go. She sat with her thigh plastered along the length of his. She blatantly and boldly put a hand on his inner thigh and began to massage up and down, skimming his genitals ever so nonchalantly. He barely got out another word, being extraordinarily distracted by her hand, flinching slightly as she touched his balls.

  “What—what’s yer name?” he asked.

  “I’m Dolly. You can come and play with me upstairs, if ye have the money.”

  The drinks arrived and he reached into his pocket to pay.

  “Oh, no sweetie, this drink’s on the house if ye’re interested in comin’ upstairs for a romp. Do ye have the money?”

  “I have money.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to go upsta
irs with her.

  “Fine and dandy, then,” Dolly chirped. “Let’s go. Follow me, Liam.”

  She grabbed his hand and his pint, leading him up a dark, narrow, urine-smelling stairway to the second floor. Down the short passage in the back, she opened a door. She led him in and shut it, then turned to tell him her terms. “It’ll cost ye a schillin’, and I don’t kiss.”

  “I’m not sure—I haven’t ever—done this.” Liam was embarrassed.

  “Oh!” Dolly exclaimed sweetly. “Ye’ve never had a girl before?”

  He shook his head. He felt embarrassed.

  “So, I just might have to forego my no-kissin’ rule, and give ye the works.”

  “I’m not quite sure why I came up here with ye.” Liam was nervous, in spite of the drunk feeling. He scratched his head and thought about just paying her and leaving.

  Dolly stepped up closer to him, with her rouge-covered cheeks and warm breath. She put her hands on his cheeks, stood on tip-toe, and gave him the softest, warmest kiss he had ever experienced. He opened his eyes to see a pretty young girl with wheat colored hair and soft green eyes. She was not made for what she was doing for a living.

  In the back of his mind, he felt himself fall in love with her. He scooped her up in an embrace and gave her a deep, passionate kiss.

  Dolly appeared to be taken completely by surprise. “That was the best kiss I ever had.”

  When he put her down, she laid him across the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his belly. She pulled her half-unbuttoned lace chemise off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. They were quite plump for a skinny waif. She took his hands and placed them on her bare breasts, teaching him how to fondle them gently. He took a few moments to trace them softly with his trembling fingers. As he touched the soft skin of her areola, he watched her nipples harden underneath his fingertip. Her eyes were half closed. It seemed she was completely engrossed in his touching.

  “Does that feel good to ye?” he asked, as though he was in an experiment.

  “Oh, aye,” she breathed, closing her eyes fully in pleasure. She pushed her sex into his growing hardness.