I Shall Be Near to You Read Online Free Page B

hands on my lower back. I almost jumped away, but for his stare.
    ‘Here, where the kidneys are,’ he said. ‘You punch there. And then here—’ His hands brushed across my stomach and I sucked in, quivering but standing firm.
    ‘And here.’ He touched the very tip of my nose. It was the first time he touched me since Carrie made me so mad I broke Miss Riggs’ inkwell and Jeremiah walked me all the way to Doc Cuck’s. I can still feel his arm around my shoulder like he thought I might faint from the blood my hand was dripping.
    I tried to think about anything but Jeremiah touching me. About where I’d like to punch Eli the next time he said something mean. About the trees behind Jeremiah’s shoulder, their leaves going orange and red.
    ‘Now let me see your fist,’ he said.
    I balled up my hands, making him shake his head.
    ‘Not like that. You’ll break a thumb that way. See, it’s sticking out?’
    He curled his fingers into a fist and showed me his thumb, going across the front of his first three fingers.
    ‘That’s better,’ he said. Then his hands burned into my shoulders, shoving me.
    ‘What’re you doing?’
    ‘C’mon! Punch me! Anywhere you want. Punch hard.’
    He meant it. My arm drew back and flew for his shoulder, but he dodged left and brought a light fist into my waist, aiming for one of those weak spots.
    ‘When you punch,’ he said between quick breaths, ‘you’ve got to be ready to get punched. You’ve got to move.’
    I saw my advantage while he was talking and tried for his stomach but he was fast and blocked me, his forearm pounding down on mine before he threw his fists up again. He aimed to spar so I tried again, my wrist throbbing. My fist glanced off his shoulder and then we were dancing and throwing punches and circling like dogs meeting until his breath and mine were heavy.
    My hands were up for blocking when he threw me down to the scrawny grass, still wet from the last rain. The damp went through my dress, Jeremiah pressing me into the ground, his body stretching more than the length of me, trapping my hands against his chest.
    ‘Can we practice again tomorrow?’ I asked between breaths that made me feel how my bodice didn’t fit right no more.
    ‘Sure,’ he said smiling with everything, his eyes so focused I thought he saw through me, ‘I’ll practice with you.’
    He’s looking at me like that now as he takes my elbow. ‘Here,’ he says, his hands moving to my lower back. ‘Here.’ He brushes my lip with the tip of his finger, moving down to my chin, tracing my throat on his way to my chest.
    ‘What have we got to practice? I already know how to fight,’ I tease, turning back to breathe onto the tinder nest and kindling. It has barely caught fire, the flames licking at the dry wood.
    ‘Oh there’s plenty for us to do, just you and me,’ Jeremiah says, his arms coming round my waist.
    ‘You mean like getting this stove burning hotter?’ I wriggle away from him, moving to get another log out of the box. ‘Ain’t you hungry?’ I ask.
    Jeremiah looks at me, his eyebrows raised, his cheeks still pink from the cold, his hair sleek, and rubs his hands together. ‘I ain’t talking about cooking,’ he says. ‘We already had cake.’
    He is a fine-looking man with his bright blue eyes and clean-lined face and maybe it is too much, having him even for the two weeks before he is gone to enlist. I swallow past the lump in my throat.
    ‘What is it?’ Jeremiah asks, coming to put his hands on my shoulders.
    ‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘Nothing except I like being here with you.’
    ‘I like being here with you,’ he says, and I have to bite my tongue not to ruin the thing.
    ‘I ought to get supper started,’ I say, but his arms tighten.
    ‘You know, I’ve never seen your hair loose,’ Jeremiah says, and then his fingers are teasing gently at Mama’s tortoiseshell combs, my hair falling in waves. ‘I have always wanted to do that,’ he murmurs,