Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 19

The cabin didn't have electricity or indoor plumbing. But what it lacked in modern amenities the small building made up for in character. It was the sort of place Daryl had always invisioned in his mind when he pictured himself finally having a home to call his own, right down to the small bits of moss that needed to be cleaned off the roof and the giant stone chimney that took up almost an entire outer wall. There was even a little shack out behind the cabin that was set up for butchering larger game than turkeys. For lack of a better word the place was perfect.

Rowan pushed the windows up and swung the backdoor open, allowing the afternoon breeze to blow some fresh air in and move the stale air out. There were enough tall trees around the small yard to offer significant shade. So the cabin was only stuffy inside, not oppressively hot. Still Daryl made the executive decision to cook the turkeys he had snagged earlier over the outdoor firepit inside of building up a fire inside the cabin. Rowan pulled sheets and a handmade quilt from a trunk and draped them over the railing on the covered back porch so they would smell fresh when she used them to make the bed up.

After she did what she could to make the inside of the cabin more pleasant, Rowan headed out onto the back porch. The small shaded area was her father's favorite place to meditate. Crystals of different shapes and sizes hung down from the edge of the covered roof, catching the light of the afternoon sun as they slowy swayed in the afternoon breeze. On one side, an old dreamcatcher dangled between a round blown glass ordament and a milky quartz crystal. Her father had hung it there years ago. Only one faded turkey feather was left swinging from it on a well worn strip of leather.

Blue and pink morning glories clung to the railing, their blooms tightly closed against the heat of the day. Rowan eased herself down into her father's meditation chair and lifted her tired feet up to rest them on the edge of the railing. Tank had found a sunny spot in the yard to lay down. But Lily was still full of energy. Rowan laughed as she watched the puppy follow Daryl around the yard like a large tan shadow. Daryl was pulling logs from the wood pile under the porch, stacking them up in the shape of a rough looking teepee in the firepit.

Rowan felt lazy just sitting and watching Daryl work. She felt like she ought to get up and make herself useful. But for the moment she was getting so much enjoyment out of watching Daryl haul logs that she stayed where she was, shading her eyes against the afternoon sun to improve her view of the man. He had already pulled his shirt off and tossed it on top of the small picinic table next to the two turkeys. His skin was glistening with just the right amount of sweat. Watching the way his muscles flexed and twisted as he moved was enough to make Rowan bring her bare feet down from the railing so she could clench her thighs together.

Once the turkeys were placed carefully inside the large cast iron pot and left to slowly roast in their own juices, Daryl let Rowan talk him into walking the short distance down to the lake for a swim. The day was warm and the water was clear and cool. Daryl realized once they arrived that the lake Rowan had told him about was actually a man made quarry, edged on three sides with walls of rock. He could see deep down into the clear water where the larger sized fish were swimming slowly in large schools.

Rowan and Daryl shed what little clothes they still had on, leaving them in a pile on the small rocky beach. There was a small floating dock anchored a short swim out into the water. Rowan was so graceful on land that Daryl expected her to swim like a mermaid. In actuality her technique was something closer to a modified dog paddle. Still she made it to the floating dock only a few moments after he arrived. Her dogs were still on shore, barking and chasing each other in and out of the shallow water.

Daryl could see Rowan's naked body, only slightly distorted by the ripples in the water. He braced himself, holding onto the dock with one hand and reaching for her with the other. Rowan eagerly surrendered herself to his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep herself afloat. Their kisses were gentler and less hurried than they had been earlier that morning by the creek. But it didn't take long before their bodies entertwined under the surface of the cool water.

"Let's go back," Rowan suggested. She was already tired from the long walk to get to the cabin. He wasn't showing any signs of fatigue but she guessed that Daryl had to be feeling slightly worn out himself. If they stayed and consummated their passion out in the water, she was worried they might not have the energy to swim back to shore.

Daryl nodded in agreement. He let go of the dock first, swimming slowly back towards shore so that he could keep Rowan within arms reach. The swim back to shore took longer than the swim out had. As much as he would have liked to stay by the dock and finish what they had started he ended up being glad that Rowan had suggested they go back when she did. Daryl was tired and winded by the time his feet touched down on the rocky shore.

They hadn't thought to bring towels. Rowan decided to walk naked and let the sun dry her off on way back and Daryl couldn't think of any reason to object. He carried the small bundle of clothing they had worn down to the beach in one arm and held tightly to Rowan's hand with the other. She had tied her hair up into a sloppy bun on top of her head before they entered the water. Once the warm afternoon air had dried her body she pulled her long hair loose from the small elastic that held it in place and let it tumble down to cover her naked breasts. Her hand was small and warm in his calloused grasp. Daryl had never been keen on hand holding but he found he liked the physical connection he felt with the woman at his side. Being near her. Touching her. Walking with her hand in his. It all felt natural and right. There was no where else in the world he wanted to be.

Unwilling to take the time to make the bed properly, the moment they stepped foot back inside the cabin Daryl pulled Rowan down onto the bare mattress with him. Soft whimpering sighs rose out of her as he kissed the insides of her thighs where dark bruises were forming from earlier that day when she had gripped his motorcycle too tightly between her long legs. Her hands fisted into his hair, tugging gently at the roots. When he found her already slick opening with a flick of his tounge, Rowan arched her back and began to murmur soft words of enjoyment in a language that Daryl was certain wasn't english and didn't need to be. It was easy enough to guess what she was saying between the moans.

As the waves of pleasure washed over her, Rowan pulled Daryl up. His mouth found hers and she could taste herself on his lips. She rolled her hips to the side so he could enter her from behind and avoid causing further bruising to the insides of her pale thighs. The love they made was less hurried and frenzied than it had been earlier that morning. But even the slower pace left her gasping for breath and gripping his hand in hers. The sensation of him filling her sensitive and already quivering insides was so intensely pleasurable that it bordered on the edge of being painful. She was grateful for Daryl's strong arms and how securely he held her against his chest. Without the strength of his grip Rowan felt as if she might float away on the next strong breeze that passed through the open window.

Other than a few low moans, Daryl had been quiet as he made love to her. But when he finally found his release it was with a shudder of his body and a loud groan that came out sounding more like a feral growl. He held Rowan close, covering the back of her slender neck with small kisses.

"Y'alright?," Daryl whispered once he had recovered enough to find his voice again. Rowan hummed her total and complete fufillment, only moving to snuggle in closer to him. They both lay still, listening to the sound of their heartbeats slowing down together and the quiet noises of the forest animals that could be hear outside the windows of the cabin. Birds began their evening songs and down by the waters edge frogs were starting to croak. Rowan had so much she wanted to say. Mostly she wanted to tell Daryl how handsome and sexy and wonderful she thought he was. But she didn't speak for fear that she would break the beautiful spell that had fallen over them both. She knew she would question the conviction later when her senses returned. But in that moment she was sure she had found the man she was meant to spend the rest of her life with.

It was the growl of Daryl's stomach that finally cracked the comfortable silence between them. Rowan giggled.

"Hungry?," she asked. Daryl kissed her neck again and nodded his head. "Good," Rowan added, "because I'm starving." Now it was Daryl's turn to laugh at her as Rowan's stomach picked up the protest and let out a small and very unladylike grumble of it's own.

Since it seemed wrong to eat the turkey without any other accompaniments, Rowan poked around inside the cabin until she found enough ingredients to make a simple dish that she knew well enough not to mess up. Fry bread was the first thing Rowan ever learned how to cook. Her father's grandmother had stood her on a chair in her kitchen when she was still too small to reach the counter and taught her how to make the classic native american dish the same way her grandmother had taught her. Rowan hoped one day to teach the recipe to her own grandchildren. But for the present she had a good time teaching Daryl how to make it. They made of mess of themselves with the thick sticky dough, dropping it carefully into the hot turkey grease where it fried up into large thick cripsy pancakes.

By the time they finished eating, the sun was sinking low in the sky. The warm afternoon had given way to the cooler air of the fall evening. Daryl plucked a large smoldering log from the outdoor firepit and carefully carried it inside, using it to light a small cozy fire inside the cabin. Rowan pulled an old dusy bottle of blackberry wine from a mostly empty rack that was leaning against the wall near a bookshelf full of musty old paperbacks.

Daryl sat in an old overstuffed easy chair in front of the fire. Lily curled up near his feet. Rowan sat on the floor, leaning back on Tank, using the large dog as a pillow. They sipped the wine from little jelly jars and talked. After a drink and a half, Daryl felt comfortable enough to ask Rowan a little more about her childhood and her general lifestyle. She seemed happy to answer his questions. He enjoyed how open and straightforward she was. Rowan asked Daryl a few questions about his own upbringing but she didn't press him for more information than he wanted to give.

When Rowan's head started nodding off to the side, Daryl rose and gathered the sleepy woman up into his arms. He carried her the short distance to the freshly made bed. Once there, they crawled under the covers together. Before Daryl could even ask her if she was comfortable or warm enough, she was fast asleep against with her rosemary scented head against his chest. Daryl held her warm body in his arms, pulling the quilt up to cover her shoulders to keep their combined body heat in.

The wine had relaxed his mind along with his body. For the first time in longer than he could remember, Daryl fell asleep feeling hopeful. He had been letting his life run over him like a river and finally the tide had led him to something good. Rowan was like a sudden beam of sunshine in the grey cloudless existence of his life. Now that he had her, he wasn't ever going to ler her go.