Liberating Mr. Gable

by Tuesday Embers

  Etta cringed when she felt the traitorous blush heat her cheeks. “I… I… I’m glad.” She touched her cheek with the back of her hand to cool it down.

  “Are you?” he inquired, taking a seat on the foot of the bed casually, as if he did this sort of thing all the time. As if his neurosis never existed. As if he was the kind of man who lived the life he should have been living this whole time. He found her foot under the blanket and tugged lightly on her big toe.

  “Watch it, fetishist,” Etta warned with a timid smile.

  He did not release her toe, but played with it as if it belonged to him – as if she belonged with him. “Are you with it enough to try eating something?”

  “Sure,” Etta said with a nod. “I’ll make us some breakfast.”

  He stood before she even pulled back the covers. Anson’s hand on her shoulder was filled with electricity, even as he pressed her back against the headboard. “Not so fast. I’ll bring you something. It won’t do to have you passing out in every room of the house.”

  “I don’t want you to wait on me,” she argued, dismayed.

  “I don’t mind. What else am I supposed to do? No internet, no phone, can’t get on ‘the facebook’. Might as well feed you before you go fainting over my good looks again.”

  Etta sniggered, giving him a halfhearted shove. “You don’t cook!”

  “I think you’re forgetting that I made from scratch an entire quiche last night,” he called over his shoulder as he moved into the kitchen. “Good looks and a stunning cook? No wonder you’re trying to get me into bed.”

  “Anson Gable!” Etta gasped, feigning shock at his presumption.

  He rummaged around in her cupboards, collecting the appropriate tools to assemble the morning meal. He called into the next room with a smile that could be heard in his light tone. “If you called me Anson Clark Gable, you’d sound just like my nanny.”

  “That’s a sweet name. Very respectable.”

  “Come on, now. Even trade. What’s yours?” His query was greeted with silence. “Etta?” he called. When no sound came from her room, Anson darted back to her. “Etta!”

  “Jiminy Cricket! What?” she exclaimed, surprised at his outburst.

  “I thought you passed out again. You got all quiet on me. Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine. I just didn’t want to tell you my name,” she admitted.

  His concern melted into a smile that was becoming easier to access in her presence. “Well, there are no secrets between lovers. I mean, you did let me suck on your toes last night.” He leaned on the doorframe and faked intimidation for her amusement. “Out with it. Etta what?”

  Etta sighed. “Okay, but you now officially know more about me than like half the people I’ve known my entire life.” She covered her face in her hands. “Henrietta Loretta Brossetta.”

  Strong, masculine fingers wrapped around her wrists. Before she could stop herself, Etta screamed.

  Anson stumbled backward, shocked at the sudden shift. “I’m sorry!” he shouted, recalling his former personality. He did not know how she lured him so close. He had not touched a stranger in such an intimate manner in a long time. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  Tears pricked Etta’s eyes, glistening before she could wipe them away. “It’s not you. I’m the freak!” She swiped at her face, angry at her explosion. She saw him standing in the furthest corner of her room, terrified of her reaction. “Anson, come here. Please don’t be afraid of me.” She noticed the first signs of sweat marking his forehead, and his hands began twitching from nerves. “You’ve been so sweet this whole time. Taking care of me. Being so kind. Then I go and do that.”

  Anson shook his head to excuse her apology. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Shouldn’ta touched you. Sorry.” Then he darted out of the room and up the stairs.

  Etta heard the water running, and knew he was washing his hands, trying to rid himself of the memory of touching her.

  Since there was no point in holding back, now that she had no audience, Etta sunk into the sheets and cried into her pillow. She sobbed for the girl she had been before, and the excuse for a woman she was now. Henrietta Loretta Brossetta bawled like the child she wished she could still be until she fell asleep fifteen minutes later.

  Mr. Wiener

  It was around lunchtime when the phone rang. All B&B owners knew not to call each other before noon. There were too many guests that enjoyed sleeping in on their time away, and did not appreciate the phone blasting them into consciousness.

  Etta groaned at the first ring, but was upright by the second. On the third, her feet were on the floor and moving into the hallway. Etta took a deep, steadying breath before picking up. “French Connection. How may I help you?”

  Cooper’s voice boomed from the other end. “You’re alive, then?”

  Her shoulders deflated at the sound of her best friend’s voice. “I’m fine, Coop.”

  “Which ‘fine’ would that be? The scared of the stranger in your house ‘fine’? The walking around looking like a zombie ‘fine’?”

  “Actually, I’m the ‘leave me alone’ version of fine. Did you call for a reason?”

  “Just wanted to make sure you knew not to leave the house. Plow’s not coming through today, and there’s a westerly wind that’s blowing a blizzard straight for us.”

  “Stop trying to sound sophisticated by using words like ‘westerly’.” Etta saw no sign of Anson, so she switched over to speaker mode and began putting away the dishes. “You and Jamie building an igloo? There’s enough raw material for it.”

  “Jamie’s already got the area zoned off for the base. He’s outside now. You want me to tell him you’re ‘I-don’t-need-a-man fine’?”

  Etta laughed bitterly. “Sure. Tell him whatever you tell yourself that gives me a day off from your pestering.”

  “Actually, that’s called flirting. Pestering would imply that you didn’t enjoy my spontaneous kisses.”

  Cringing, Etta placed the last of the plates in the cupboard. “I wish you’d stop doing that.”

  “But I bet sunglasses guy left you alone last night, didn’t he. What’s his name?”

  “You know I can’t give you the names of my guests. And you don’t have to worry about me, or sunglasses guy or anyone else that stays here.”

  “You said the exact same thing when you took in your first client after Papa Henri passed. I hope I don’t need to tell you how right I was about that one.” His voice took on a grave tone.

  Etta pursed her lips before speaking her piece. “So this is an ‘I was right and Etta was wrong’ kind of call? Fine, Coop. You were right. I’m a terrible business owner. I have no idea what Papa was thinking, willing me the B&B. I’m a woman who lives alone – who will always be alone, and it takes a team to run this business.” She yanked open the silverware drawer and placed the cutlery in the neat rows. “You feel better, now that I’m a failure, and you’re the big, strong man?”

  There was a pause that Etta hoped meant her stored up words had some effect on him. Her dreams were dashed, though, when his reply came back with a teasing lilt. “Call me a big, strong man again.”

  “See ya, Coop.”

  Etta ended the call with a sharp click. But before she hung it back on the receiver, she slammed it several times on the counter, so the phone could bear her wrath. “Asshole!” she growled at the telephone.

  “Now, that’s more like it,” Anson said from behind her.

  Etta whirled around, horrified that her bad behavior had been witnessed. Her hand flew over her mouth as she shook her head, trying to shove the offensive word back in. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were there. How much did you hear?”

  “Enough to know that there’s too few people in this town if that guy’s your best friend. He is an asshole. I can’t believe he talks to you like that. We have a word for people like that, but it sure isn’t friend. Closer to asshole, which you nailed, by the way. I’ll pay the fee for the swear jar. T
otally worth it.”

  Etta stammered a response, but it came out as incoherent as it had been in her brain.

  “I understand you had a problem client after your grandpa passed. No wonder you’re trying to be so perfect around me, even though I’m not your tenant. What’d he do? Stiff you on the bill and leave a nasty review on the comment card?”

  Etta blinked at Anson, her anger at Cooper loosening her tongue. “No. He didn’t stiff me. He raped me.”

  Whatever Anson had been expecting Etta to say, it was not that. His mouth hung open in shock.

  When no response came, Etta continued her confession. “First tenant after Papa died. Coop and Benji told me it was too soon, but I didn’t listen.” Etta’s voice was even after having cried out the bulk of her tears earlier. “The guy raped me. I got pregnant, which Coop doesn’t know about. Then I miscarried a couple weeks after I found out. So earlier, that’s why I overreacted when you held my wrists. That’s what he did – held me down that way. How I lost my virginity. I’m just a little sensitive about it all. Sorry I freaked you out.”

  “A little sensitive? About being raped? And that was your first time having sex?” Anson gaped at her. “Well, that’s understandable.”

  “Coop gets under my skin with checking up on me like I’m five or something. Like it did any good the last time.” She sighed, exhaling the weight of the world she had been carrying alone. “So now you know more about me than anyone in the world. Bet you’re glad you decided to finally take a vacation to our quiet mountain town.”

  Without the token of hesitation he usually approached people with, Anson cleared the space between them and wrapped his arms around Etta. Fingers that had been sanitized in his room now brushed through her messy brown hair with no regard for the distance he normally craved. She wet his shirt with two errant tears, but he did not mind.

  Anson led her to her bedroom and tucked her in again. “Wait here a minute.” He left for a few minutes, returning with the entire quiche he made and two forks. “If I’m hungry, I know you must be starving.”

  “Thanks. I don’t feel like eating, though. Side effect of the worst summer of my life. No appetite.”

  He pointed his fork to the egg pie. “I’ll have you know, this is an anomaly. The very first quiche Anson Gable has ever made, and you’re missing it.” He winced at saying his full name aloud and sat down on the chair, kicking his feet up on the frame of her bed. “Since we’ve established that I’m the person who knows you best in all the world, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. I’ve got no pride left.”

  “What happened to that guy?”

  “They caught him. Not many places to hide up here that we don’t know about. He’s in jail. He confessed, plus the slew of evidence he left with me.” She held up her cast as a visual aid.

  “Good. What are you on for your anxiety?”

  “Huh? Oh, nothing. I’m fine. Today’s just a little slipup.”

  Anson chewed his quiche, letting out a dramatic noise of gratuitous pleasure. “Did you like owning a Bed and Breakfast before your grandfather passed?”

  Etta blinked at him. “No one’s ever asked me that before.” She mulled over the question. “I guess I like it alright. It was just easier with Papa around. He was better with the guests. I’m not great at being social, if you couldn’t tell.” She grabbed a tissue from the box she kept at her bedside and dabbed at her eyes. “Then there are the millions of other things he was good at. Killing spiders. Chopping wood. Fixing the plumbing when it throws a fit. Things that I’m learning, but wish I didn’t have to.”

  Anson swallowed thoughtfully. “Well, I’m an expert spider killer. I’ve never chopped wood before, but I do know how to call a plumber. I can help out while I’m here. I wish you’d let me. It would make me feel less guilty about staying here without paying.”

  “I wouldn’t have let you pay, even if the place had been open for business. I’ve been totally unprofessional this entire time.”

  “I think you’ve been perfect. For what it’s worth, I’m glad I got snowed in with you.”

  Looking down at her hands, Etta let go of some of her angst. “Thanks for being so nice to me. For not talking to me like I’m five.”

  They looked at each other, admiring the basic human decency the other provided. Anson set the pie plate down on the nightstand and leaned forward. “I do have one complaint to lodge with the landlord.”

  Etta’s eyes widened, fear overtaking her expression before she could stop it. “Yes?”

  “You promised me a movie, and I haven’t seen any yet.”

  Etta’s relief broke out on her face. “Oh, well I think I can fix that for you. You want me to set you up in the living room?”

  “No. I think I’m fine in here.” He motioned to her small television. “On one condition.”

  “Huh? How is it you get to have conditions about watching a movie on my TV?”

  “Customer’s always right.” He shrugged.

  “Alright. Let’s have it, then.”

  “First condition is that you need to scoot over. You’re hogging the best seat in the place. Second, I’m afraid I’m going to need to hear you say ‘asshole’ again.”

  “What? Heavens, no! I can’t believe I let it slip before. So rude of me.”

  “I thought it sounded genuine. Cooper was being an asshole. The only thing you did wrong was hanging up before you said it. Rookie mistake.”

  “Cooper’s not a bad guy. Just gets on my nerves sometimes. He means well, though.”

  “Do you want me to leave a negative remark on my comment card? I asked you for one simple thing, woman!” Anson snapped his fingers to imitate a rude customer.

  She patted the spot on the bed next to her in invitation. “Two things, you high maintenance…” Etta lowered her voice to a whisper, “asshole!”

  Anson pounded his fist in the air. “There you go! I won’t even count it against you that you used me as the example. You’re new to cussing. You don’t know any better.” He brought the quiche with him as he climbed into the tall bed.

  Etta fretted about what he must think of her brazen behavior, even though he requested it. “You know I don’t think that about you, though, right? I only said it because you asked me to.”

  Anson laughed as he situated himself in the bed next to her, leaning back against the headboard. “Don’t go taking it back now. You’re a woman of the world with that mouth.”

  “Oh, hush, Mr. Wiener.” She elbowed Anson as he snorted at her humor. She was pleased and nervous at his close proximity. Etta suddenly wished she owned more adult-looking sheets. Hers were pink, and her comforter matched the rest of the home with a design of red roses scattered about the fabric. Papa Henri bought them for her, and she did not have the disrespect to inform him that they were not her taste. Her arm brushed against Anson’s. “You know? You’re a real decent guy.”

  He tossed her a casual wink. “Wait till you see my pajamas. Totally indecent.”

  Etta mirrored his playful grin. “Can’t wait.”

  Virgin

  Etta stood up and pulled out the box of DVDs from under her bed. “You pick. I’ve seen them all a hundred times.”

  Anson thumbed through the selection, landing on a black and white movie he had never viewed. Upon handing it to her, he watched her move across the room as she set up the player. “Etta, can I ask you a personal question?”

  “A personal question? Anything but that!” Etta chuckled as she sat back down next to him in the bed. “I think the only thing left to know about me is my social security number. And I’m not giving that out just yet.” She got under the covers, holding her breath when her foot brushed his. To distract herself, she picked up a fork and shoved a piece of quiche in her mouth. “What’s on your mind?”

  “How is it possible you were a virgin up until the incident?”

  Etta’s gasp dragged a few crumbs down her throat, causing her to cough.

  Anson slap
ped her on the back until she regained her composure. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  Etta took out her messy bun to let her hair fall free around her shoulders and sat back in the bed. “No, it’s fine. You just surprised me, is all. What do you mean?”

  “You’re twenty-seven, right? And don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re beautiful. Like, heartbreakingly cute. What about that Cooper guy? You two never…”

  “Please. Cooper would hump a tree if it gave him the least bit of encouragement. No. Never in a million years with Coop. I just haven’t had the opportunity. It’s a small town up here. I was homeschooled with Coop and his cousin, Chloe.” She took another bite of the pie. “Sure, I used to have these wild fantasies of a renter rolling through. I’d dazzle him with my witty banter, and he’d fall madly in love with me and whisk me off into the sunset. But after ten years of wishing for something like that, you start to realize it’s not going to happen. I’m fine how I am and where I am. So, yeah. That’s how you can make it to twenty-seven a virgin. Never even kissed anyone. Besides Coop, that is. And I don’t really count that. I don’t ask for it, and never reciprocate.” She looked over at him with a hint of a smile. “Thank you for the compliment, though. I’ll be tucking that one in my pocket for a rainy day. You’re the first guy my age to call me beautiful.”

  “Maybe to your face.”

  Etta whistled. “You are one smooth talker. What about you?”

  “Oh. Um, not a virgin. Though, sometimes I wish I was.”

  Etta gave him a light shove. “I meant tell me about you. What’s your story?”

  Anson shrugged, shifting on the bed with a sudden unease. “Pretty boring. You know. Rich kid with the silver spoon in his mouth and all that. Decided to go out on my own. Landed here.”

  Etta sized up his secretive answer with shrewd skepticism. “Alright. Well, that’s nice and evasive. What do you do?”