by Susan Joseph
“I love you, too, Frannie. I always will,” he reassured me, and I let out the breath I was holding. “We’ll sort it all out,” he promised, then hung up.
I went to the bathroom first since I knew I was going to be sitting on one of those brand new chairs for quite some time, and then got a tablet and a pen, and went into the dining room. I didn’t even pretend to myself that I didn’t deserve a punishment. I hated to write lines, but I sat there and wrote and wrote and wrote until I thought my hand would fall off. It took hours, but I finished in time to put a simple dinner on the stove before Matthew came home. I knew that my punishment was far from over, and I promised myself that I was not going to argue with my husband this time. I was going to take the punishment I deserved with a willing heart.
When Matthew came home from work he kissed me like he always does, then gave my bottom a firm pat and said, “Let’s go see your new dining room set, honey.”
I took his hand and led him into the dining room, praying he would fall in love with the lovely furniture. I watched his face carefully, and felt genuine relief that he did indeed think it beautiful. If he’d hated it, I don’t know what I would have done.
“I have to admit this is very nice, Frannie, and you did get a great price. It will last us a lifetime,” he stated. It isn’t in Matthew’s nature to be petty and he always gave me credit when I did well.
“I think so, too, and I was so positive you would love it, Matthew.”
“I do,” he conceded. “Did you write your lines?” It was obvious that he fully expected to find me sitting on a chair writing when he got home.
“Yes, sir. Here they are.” I picked up the tablet and held it out. Matthew took several minutes to look through my lines, checking the numbering, and to make sure I didn’t leave any out. I was careful because I didn’t want to write them all over again.
Once Matt was satisfied, he took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me to look over. “This is how I propose we build up the savings account…”
It was basically a contract. Matthew was going to make me pay for most of the dining room furniture. I couldn’t spend any money at all, without permission, for personal items for the near future. My grocery budget was cut in half, and the remodeling project we intended for our bedroom was scratched until the checking account was sufficiently reimbursed. There was a place for my signature at the bottom. Matthew had already signed it. “I really messed up, didn’t I, honey?” I wanted to cry. I was just now realizing how much we were going to have to scrimp for the next few months to make up for my extravagance.
“This set is beautiful, Frannie… and I might have agreed to our buying it… provided you were willing to accept these terms. Now they are consequences, and I expect you to sign this copy, and put it on the refrigerator so that you are reminded that we need to watch every dime for a while. What I am most upset about is that you did this completely on your own, after agreeing with me that we would buy a new sofa first. A marriage is about two people, honey. How would you feel if I went out and picked out a sofa all by myself? You might like it, but it would have been more fun if you’d had some say, wouldn’t it?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I wasn’t fair to you, or nice to you. I regret my actions.” I meant my words, and when I leaned over to sign the agreement with the same pen I’d used to write my lines, a few tears fell on the paper. When I finished, I took one look at Matthew’s face, and I didn’t wait to be told to push down my sweat pants. I bared myself, and lay over the table, inviting the spanking I knew I had coming. Matthew didn’t disappoint me. He spanked me soundly right then and there. And again at bedtime. When my parents came by over the weekend and discovered the table, my Dad expressed concern at the cost, and Mom tried hard to stop him from offering his two cents worth, but I couldn’t bear for Dad to scold Matthew about letting me overspend when we’d just purchased a home. I confessed to everything, and even told my parents that Matt spanked me. Dad smiled at Matthew, then gave me a hug.
“Honey, it’s best you learn right away that you can’t spend every last cent you make. Things come up, and you need to have money saved back for an emergency. I think Matt is right to make you put every last cent back into your account. If you want, I can give you some work to do here at home and pay you for it. You can pay it all back sooner that way…” he offered graciously.
“Thanks, Dad. I would be happy to do any extra work you have.” My Dad owned an accounting business, and I could do some simple data entry for him. I used to do it all the time when I was living at home. Matthew seemed pleased that I was willing to work for some extra money, and Dad paid me fairly. I managed to keep to the grocery budget that Matthew set, and found ways to cut corners and still serve good, healthy meals. I baked cookies instead of buying them, and we ate a lot of soup and pasta. Matt never complained, and in fact, he complimented me on doing such a good job. I only asked for the items we truly needed, and Matthew was reasonable. I borrowed DVD’s from my sister and parents, made popcorn, and we didn’t go out at all… except on Sunday morning following Mass. My Dad invited us to have breakfast every week, saying it was his treat. Matthew knew how much I looked forward to this weekly tradition, and he always accepted, which pleased my mother immensely. I suspected that she was the one who suggested it to Dad every week, but Dad seemed to enjoy it, too, and I’ll confess that it made the rest of the week more bearable. It took a while, but eventually, all the money I spent was paid back.
Matthew told me how proud he was of me, and bragged to my Dad and Mom when we went to their house for dinner. I felt Matthew’s approval, and I knew the incident was completely behind us. I’d learned a valuable lesson about love and forgiveness. After dinner, my Dad handed us a check. I looked at it, and my eyes widened in shock. “What is this for, Dad?” I asked in confusion. The amount was more than generous, and I could feel Matthew’s tension.
“Your Mom and I wanted to give you kids a housewarming gift. We came over to give you this a few months ago, but you’d gotten yourself into trouble by overspending, Frannie, and it didn’t seem right to give it to you then. I didn’t want to bail you out, honey. But, you worked hard, cut back, and made me real proud. I feel that we can give this to you now, and trust that you and Matt will put it to good use.”
“This is too much,” I protested weakly, positive that Matthew would never agree to accept such an amount.
“We did the same for Becky when she and Russ bought their home, honey,” my Mom smiled one of her wonderful smiles. “Dad and I want to help you girls right now, while we are alive to see you put this to good use.” I’d heard my mother’s views on this subject before. She thought it preposterous that parents would hold onto every dime just to leave their kids a huge inheritance, but not do one thing to help them when they were living. I also remembered my sister getting a much needed second car right after she and Russ bought their home. I knew now where the money came from for that. My parents were generous, loving people.
“Thank you so much,” I was choked up, and tearful, and it was Matthew who told the folks we would probably use their gift to remodel our kitchen, if I was agreeable. That was a dream of ours for the future, and I couldn’t believe it was going to happen now! Of course I was agreeable! Matt was telling Dad that it only made sense to invest the money in the house itself, and Dad agreed with a serious smile, pleased with my husband. Both Mom and Dad had lots of suggestions for the kitchen, and Matt and I decided later that they probably lay in bed at night and talked about the changes they would make in our house if it were theirs. Matthew suggested we take our time to plan the kitchen since it was a major project and we would have to live with the results for many years. I agreed with Matthew, and it was truly fun to look at magazines, and go to home improvement stores and look at the displays.
A few weeks later, while having our weekly breakfast after attending Mass, my Dad asked, “Did you decide not to do the kitchen after all?”
Matt
hew looked at me then at my father. “Your daughter can’t make up her mind. One minute she wants one thing, and just when I’m ready to get started, she changes her mind.”
“It’s a big decision,” my Mom smiled in understanding.
“What’s the problem, Frannie?” Dad wanted specifics. That is how his mind works. Give him a problem, and he will solve it.
“I want it to be just right, but how on earth do I know what I will want five years from now? What if I make a mistake, and we hate it?” I know it sounds like a problem that a lot of folks would love to have… A brand new kitchen all paid for… But I didn’t want to disappoint Matthew, or my parents.
My Mom looked at my Dad, and he gave her a look that could only be interpreted as a warning. I’d seen that same look in my own husband’s eyes a few times, and once more I wondered if Dad spanked Mom… Matthew saw the look, too, and he looked at me, and silently apologized before opening his mouth. “I just had an idea… Frannie, would you want your Mom and Dad to come along with us and look at what you’re picking out? I’m sure that your Mom would have an idea of whether or not it would work out in the long run. I know that I’m not the cook you are, but your Mom taught you…?”
“You wouldn’t mind, Matthew? I could really use their advice about now,” I admitted. I’d wanted to ask Mom a long time ago to come and look at model kitchens, but I didn’t want to hurt my husband’s feelings. He didn’t get to help pick out the dining room furniture, and I was never going to make that mistake again.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Matthew smiled at me.
“See, honey, I told you that Frannie would want my help,” my Mom gave my Dad a look of triumph. “I know my daughter!”
“And I know you, woman!” Dad shook a finger at her. “Helping and giving advice is one thing, but taking over and bossing is another. And if you forget that, you know very well how it will end up.” Oh my goodness, I understood what Dad was threatening… and if I didn’t, my Mom’s blush would have given it away for sure! “And, I will not have the two of you fussing over this kitchen business. That goes for you, too, young lady,” he leveled his stern eyes on me, too.
“Dad, I’m not a little girl anymore,” I hastily reminded him, but kept my tone respectful. “I would be very pleased if you and Mom could come and look at kitchens with us this afternoon…?”
“Of course we’ll help you, dear,” Mom replied with a smug smile, and my Dad shook his head.
I think both men were surprised that Mom backed up all my choices. She thought the cabinets I picked were very nice, and she fell in love with the granite counter top. The flooring and the paint were perfect… and the new appliances, while not the most expensive, were not the least expensive either. Mom felt my choices were good ones. Matthew was pleased that we could finally get to work.
I wish I could say that everything went smoothly, but it didn’t. Since we were doing most of the work ourselves, with some help from Matthew’s brother, Mark, who worked in construction, it was taking a long while, and I had no place to cook. I was making a lot of crock pot meals, and we’d moved the old refrigerator out into the garage and were planning to use it to keep beverages. Our little table was in the family room for now, and that was where I set up a small utility cart with my crock pot, electric skillet, small electric grill, toaster, and coffee pot. It was not conducive to the kind of cooking I liked to do, and the dust from the kitchen spread throughout the house no matter how much I tried to prevent it. Matthew worked hard, and so did I, but after a couple of weeks, I was getting irritable.
I’d watched those shows on television and seen remodels done in a short time. Of course, I realized that in reality it sometimes took quite a while, and that large, professional crews could get a lot done by working very long days… Matthew had Mark’s help, but when they only had a couple of hours at a time to try and work on something, it seemed like it was taking forever. To make matters even worse, when we took up the tiles covering the floor, we realized that at one point there had been a leak under the sink. There was some damage to the floor underneath, and Mark recommended that Matt take up the floor and put down a new one. I wanted to scream… and Matthew didn’t seem to want to hear my opinion to just fix the rotted boards. Even though Mark tried hard to explain to me why it was necessary, and would benefit us in the long run, I was in one of my moods and I threw a tantrum, reminding both men that they weren’t the ones trying to do without a kitchen. Matthew gave me a stern warning, using my full name, but that only inflamed my temper, and I picked up a hammer and threw it down in a childish fit. The hammer bounced, and hit Mark in the knee. I was instantly contrite and apologized.
Mark insisted he was fine, and gave me a grin that told me he knew I was in trouble with my too silent husband. Once Matthew was positive Mark was all right, he sent him on home. I was upset that nothing more would be done on the kitchen that day, and I knew it was all my fault. I realized that Matthew was going to spank me for losing my temper, and I wondered why I couldn’t seem to go more than a few months without my husband taking me over his knee and setting my bottom on fire.
Chapter Four
“How dare you treat my brother in such a manner, Mary Frances? He is giving us his free time, and you rant at him? You throw a childish tantrum? You throw a hammer in his direction? Do you realize he could have been injured?” Matthew was furious with me. His voice was cold, and his words clipped and full of anger.
“I’m sorry, Matthew. I don’t know what came over me,” I whispered.
“Your unreasonable temper came over you. You are impatient to have this project finished, and I told you before we started that it was going to take some time.”
“Some time, yes, but I had no idea it would take months!” I was upset, too. “It’s hard to cook meals, Matthew, and you aren’t the one trying to keep the rest of the house clean.” None of which excused my temper tantrum, my conscience kicked in.
“No, Frannie, I’m not. I’m just the one trying to keep up with your impossible demands. Work of this kind cannot be rushed, not unless you want it to look like heck. I know you want it done right… and since I have to work… it IS going to take months. Mark is giving up his spare time. Time I’m sure he could be spending doing something he’d rather be doing, instead of having a busman’s holiday! He is giving us the benefit of his professional advice, young lady, and trying to keep us from making a mistake now that we would regret in a few years. If Mark had been someone we hired to do this job, you would have listened to him respectfully, but since it was my brother, you felt free to throw a childish tantrum… and when I warned you to settle down, you threw a hammer! How do you think my brother is feeling right about now? I can tell you how I would feel. I’d be wondering why I should bother coming back here…”
My eyes filled with tears, but Matthew wasn’t finished with me. “You were rotten to my brother, Mary Frances. I am not the least bit happy with you, but I’m too darn mad to spank you right now! But, I assure you that when I cool down, I am going to do my very best to make sure that something like this never happens again. You go to our bedroom, take off your shorts and panties, and put your nose in the corner. You put yourself in my shoes, and decide how you would feel if you were me. Imagine that I spoke to your sister in that fashion, or that I threw something in a temper and it struck her. How would you feel, young lady?” I opened my mouth to tell Matthew how sorry I was, but he simply pointed in the direction of the stairway. “Go. I don’t want to hear from you right now.” He was disgusted, and it showed. “I mean it, Frannie. I’m too angry right now, and I don’t want to lose my temper. Go upstairs and do what I told you to do and don’t say another word.”
I ran from the kitchen, crying. I felt as though my heart was breaking. Matthew was right. I was awful and terrible to Mark. If I was in Matthew’s place, I might not ever speak to me again. That thought made me cry even harder. I kicked off my sandals, and then removed my shorts and panties. I was wearing a short tan
k top, and it did nothing to hide my bottom, or protect my modesty. The last time I stood in the corner was in elementary school, and even then it was called ‘Time Out’. Matthew didn’t believe in corner time for grown women. He thought it was childish, and I knew without a doubt that he wanted me to realize how childishly I’d behaved. The fact that I was standing in the corner also told me how very angry he was… It was awful, and I felt as though I couldn’t breathe. I loved Matthew, and I loved his brothers. I behaved badly, and I wondered if he could ever forgive me.
Matthew let me stand there in that corner for a very long time. I could hear pounding downstairs, and I decided he must be taking his frustration out on the rotten floor, ripping up boards. After the first few minutes, I resolved that I was going to take my spanking without giving Matthew any of my usual fuss. My skin was delicate, and even a light spanking left bright red handprints. When Matthew wanted to make a serious point, my skin burned for a long time afterwards, and while I rarely bruised, I was usually a bit tender the next day… Sometimes, when the matter was very serious, I might feel the spanking for a couple of days… especially if I earned a second spanking to reinforce the first one. I couldn’t help but wonder which kind of spanking this would be. Matthew had never spanked me when he was so angry before, and while I appreciated the fact he was giving himself time to calm down before he lit into me, I hated standing in the corner. I was truly beginning to wonder if he was going to leave me in the corner forever… It was at least two hours by now, and I was wondering if I should go downstairs and try to beg forgiveness when I heard Matthew’s step on the stairs.
Matthew didn’t waste time. He told me to come over to face him and explain myself. When I saw he was holding the wooden spatula, I almost forgot my resolve to be brave and accept my punishment, and I contemplated running from our bedroom and locking myself in the bathroom! Surely he wasn’t going to use that on me? No, it was there to remind me not to earn extras, I convinced myself in the space of two seconds flat. Any other thought was unacceptable! At least I wouldn’t have to walk all the way through the house without a stitch covering my lower half to fetch the darn thing if I didn’t take my spanking well. Matt was just being considerate since he knew how much I hated the task of fetching the spatula. “Well, Mary Frances?” Matthew was still very upset, and anxious to get this spanking started.
