Slowly, I faced Henry.
“I . . . uh . . . I found you a few dresses. They didn’t . . .” With his chin tucked toward his chest, he closed his eyes for a second, and shook his head a few times, as he laughed to himself.
My eyes glanced up at the ceiling and I bit my lip.
“They didn’t have your size, but . . . but I’m sure you can make them work.” He paused and once again laughed to himself as he shook his head. “I have an extra belt that might help.”
Heat flushed through my entire body. My skin suddenly sticky with sweat and my clammy hands fidgeted with one another as I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
Tell me that did not just happen.
I glanced down to the floor, catching site of my bare legs. My lily white skin reflected the sun light shining through the kitchen window all the way to up near my inner thigh.
Nope. It happened.
“You weren’t gone very long.”
“After I saw the dresses, I thought it’d be better to just come back so we could go together. I didn’t really like leaving you here alone.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure what you picked out will be just fine. Thank you.”
As I reached out to grasp the bag, he twisted his shoulders, shifting the garments just enough to keep them from me.
“Can I just have them, please?”
“If you want them,” He hid the bags behind his back, and with a smirk on his lips, he winked. “Come and get them.”
My cheeks blazed a thousand degrees and I stared at the ground, unable to look into his eyes as he stirred toward me. As I tried to grab the garments a second time, he captured my waist and drew me into his body, tight.
“You know, you look rather beautiful in my shirt.”
“Yes, well, I’m afraid you caught me at a rather inopportune moment.”
“I didn’t think so.”
I finally met his gaze. With another wink, he kissed me, and then outstretched his hand, letting the bag swing back and forth, as the handles hung from a couple of his fingers.
“In fact, I’m almost hesitant to give you these. I think I’d much rather have you walking around the house just as you are.”
“I’m sure you would, but I should probably change so we could drive back into town.”
He released my waist and traced along my jaw line with his fingers, his touch different from before. His once flirtatious humor transformed, the playfulness turned into a desire that smoldered in his eyes and weakened my knees.
“Do you need my help?” He toyed with a few of the buttons, setting my body on fire.
My embarrassment vanished.
Warmth swept through my skin, tickling with the thoughts of him actually helping me. Just as his touch changed, my thoughts did too. A realization that hit me square in the chest.
Whether it was the look in his eyes or his stroke against my skin, something spurred an audacious seduction deep inside my veins. Thoughts that dwelled in the depths of my desire seemed to come alive. Unknown, foreign, and yet, I loved every second of it.
“I think I can manage on my own,” I grasped the bag from his grip with one hand and tugged on his tie with the other. “However, if I need any help, I’ll let you know.”
He bit his lip and leaned toward me as I stepped away from him.
“Well, now, that’s just mean,” he complained with a hint of sarcasm.
I giggled as I trotted from the room, glancing over my shoulder while he rested his hand on the wall next to him for support.
TWENTY
HENRY PARKED THE car outside of a quaint building along a stretch of road that barely saw other drivers.
Time hadn’t showed kindness to the wood, shingles, or the crooked sign hanging above the only door. The age revealed in the dull, faded color of the chipped paint.
“This is the market?”
Henry smiled as he stepped out of the automobile, reaching the other side to help me in seconds.
Trees weaved around the building, their leaves rustled in the morning hours, while birds chirped from high in the branches, the day set to be beautiful as I slid from the seat.
I followed Henry up the old wooden stairs and through the door that squeaked on rusty hinges as it opened.
Several iceboxes lined one of the walls, while wooden shelves littered the floor. An old, musty smell tickled my nose, and yet, the scent proved pleasant instead of foul.
With a hint of cedar, it reminded me of the cabinets in my parent’s apartment. A comforting smell from my youth that invoked fond memories I hadn’t thought about in a long time.
“Good morning.” A plump gentleman nodded from behind a counter. With his head down as though he had been reading something, he peeked at us through his tiny spectacles sitting on the bridge of his nose. “May I help you find anything in particular?”
“No, no, I think we’re fine to just look around,” Henry said.
“Most everything I carry is locally grown or made. We don’t get many deliveries in these parts.”
“Thank you. I’m sure we’ll be all right.”
The store clerk eyed us a little more intently, but shrugged his shoulders. “Well, let me know if you need any help.”
Henry grasped the handle of one of the wicker baskets sitting in the corner. He handed it to me then grabbed another one as he gave me a wink.
“I’d like to get enough to last us for awhile. The less we have to leave the house, the better.”
On the opposite wall of the iceboxes, canning jars filled with pickled fruits and vegetables lined the shelves. Each of the jars had different colored labels and distinguishing logos pasted to the front with a variety of names on them, Buckmeyer Farms, Thomas Orchards, Charleson Farms, and Sullivan Ivy Ranch.
In the middle of the store, baskets filled with different produce sat in row after row. The colors popped against one another in orange, green, red, and purple. The variety and sheer volume unlike any store I’d seen in the city.
Henry began plucking ones from each basket, while I grabbed a few of the jarred jams and other pickled fruit.
In another corner, I grabbed several loaves of baked bread while Henry opened each of the iceboxes to grab bottles of milk, cartons of eggs, several hunks of different cheeses, and wrapped packages of all different kinds of meat.
By the time we were done, both of our baskets overflowed with items as we set them upon the counter.
“Did you two find all you needed?”
“Yes, sir.” Henry dug into his pocket and withdrew his wallet.
“Haven’t seen you two around these parts before. Did you just move into town?”
Henry nodded and smiled, but didn’t offer another word.
“You two wouldn’t happen to be the new young couple that moved into the old Bonny place, would you?”
Henry closed his eyes for a second. Of course, life in a small town where gossip spread like wildfire, an unfortunate detail for someone wishing to hide from someone else.
“Yes, we are,” Henry finally muttered.
“It’s been awhile since we’ve had any newcomers. I hope you’re enjoying the town so far.”
With Henry’s quick nod, the clerk raised one eyebrow. His eyes peered over his glasses as he lowered his chin and began punching buttons on his cash register. He glanced from Henry to me then back to Henry without moving his head.
“What my husband means, is, thank you. We haven’t been in town long, however, we think we are going to love it.”
The clerk smiled, his shoulders softened and the concern regarding the odd couple in front of him defused.
“Well, welcome to town. Just so you know, we’re open every day except Sunday, and if we’re out of stock on something you need, you just have to let me know. It doesn’t take but a day to get what you need.”
“We will keep that in mind, thank you,” I said as I brushed my shoulder into Henry.
After counting, not only the bills Henry handed him fo
r our purchase, but also our change, the clerk placed the items in several brown paper sacks and gently pushed each one across the counter.
“You two have a pleasant day. Come back soon.”
“Thank you and a pleasant day to you, too.”
While I glanced over my shoulder and waved good-bye, Henry strode out of the door without saying a word, trotting down the steps two at a time. I trailed behind him, chuckling under my breath as he tossed the bags into the trunk.
“Not one for small talk, huh?” I asked as we both slid into the front seat.
He shrugged his shoulders and twisted the key. He jerked the automobile of the parking space. His movement filled in an agitation I didn’t understand.
The car rumbled and bounced as Henry sped down the dirt road. In the daylight, the tall trees, grass, and sky reflected bright colors of green and blue in shades that blurred as we passed.
With the windows down, the breeze blew my curls in all directions and the sun beat down on my arm as I rested it on the window frame.
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it, though?” I asked. “It’s so peaceful, not like how it is in the city. I could live out here forever, away from people, away from the chaos.”
Henry ignored me, but I didn’t care. Enjoying the peace of the road, I laid my head back against the headrest and exhaled a deep breath, letting the gentle wind flow through my fingers as I stuck my hand out of the window.
My stress disappeared, my apprehension vanished, and my anxiety wasted away in the sunshine, the clean air, and the sights and sounds. All which contributed to a perfect spring day in the country, riding down the road.
Henry pulled down the long driveway and parked the automobile inside the barn. His shoulders hunched as the engine died, and with his eyes fixed upon the steering wheel, concern seemed to trickle through every pore of his body.
“What’s wrong?” I finally asked.
“We should probably refrain from contact with other people as much as possible from now on.”
With his words, he shoved the door open, leaving me sitting in the front seat while he scooped the paper bags in his arms and strode for the house without me.
The air of calmness I’d felt but minutes ago seemed foolish. I’d imagined a world not of this one, allowing it to eclipse the reality.
This was not my real life.
This was not my real home.
This was not our marriage.
No matter how long I’d have to live here, pretending to be his wife, none of anything around me was mine.
Yet, I was supposed to act as though it was. And for how long I didn’t know.
Would we celebrate the fourth of July in this country cottage or All Hallows Eve? Would we give thanks over a turkey dinner for two, decorate a Christmas tree, or toast in the year 1931?
How long would we have to hide from our own lives?
And what about us, together as a couple?
How would the prolonged sham of a marriage affect us?
Thrown together because of fear and danger, instead of because of a love we couldn’t live without so much we walked down an aisle and swore to live as one until death.
Our reality unlike any other couple in love, how would we fair in this fight?
How do we date someone who lives in the next bedroom? How do we spend an evening with dinner and dancing or dinner and a picture show, if we can’t leave the house?
How do we make those memories that will become the stories to tell our children and grandchildren? The ones that bore them in their youth until they find love themselves, and suddenly find the stories romantic, wishing to hear them over and over again.
My rump slid from the supple leather seat and my feet trudged toward the house. My thoughts now saddened with a hint of regret and the questions that swirled around my mind.
I crossed through the gate and glanced at the overgrown garden. The tall grass and weeds overwhelmed the fence, growing through the wood boards and wrapping around the posts.
I thought of the bags of seeds that I’d thrown on the kitchen dining table. The tiny, hard, bead-like kernels I once feared, now behaved a friend, and just the diversion I needed.
“Breakfast will be done soon,” Henry said as I strolled through the back door. He opened up one of the cartons of eggs and retrieved several, setting them aside before he grabbed a couple of peppers and a package of some sort of wrapped meat. “Do you like omelets?”
My eyes focused on the seed bags still sitting on the table.
“Evelyn?”
“What?”
“I asked if you liked omelets.”
“Oh . . . yes, yes, I do.”
“What are you looking at?”
“Huh?” I glanced at him without really seeing him. Instead, my vision blurred, lost in thought as my mind entertained the idea brewing in my head.
“Evelyn?”
“I was actually thinking of clearing the garden today. I mean, we don’t know how long we will have to live here, so we might as well . . .” I motioned toward the bags on the table.
“Do you really want to plant a garden?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “It could be fun and it’s something to do.”
“Well, that’s true.” He cracked open a couple of the eggs. His wrist flicked with intense, quick movements as he whisked them into a fluffy froth in a bowl. “If you want, I supposed we can start after breakfast.”
“Um . . . I’m actually not really hungry anymore. I ate the last of the chicken this morning while you were gone, so . . .”
He gaped at me as I quickly snatched the bags and clutched them with a tight grip.
“You’re not hungry?”
“No,” I lied.
As I turned for the door, he grabbed my wrist. “Is something the matter?”
I shook my head and wiggled from his grasp.
We both stared at one another in silence for a few seconds. I should have told him my thoughts, my fears, and yet, I couldn’t. Why burden him with my problems when he had so much else to worry about?
“I don’t believe you.”
“Nothing is wrong. I’ll be outside in the garden if you need me.”
The sunshine blinded me as I crossed the small yard. Each ray warmed my skin with a heat that filled every pore while clean, fresh air filled my lungs with every deep inhaled breath.
A nice distraction. A needed distraction.
Several old pieces of gardening equipment rested along the fence. Worn and weathered from age, the wooden handles of the shovels, rakes, and hoes splintered in a few places. Their rusted metal parts weighed heavy in my hands as I grabbed them.
My shoes crunched through the overgrown weeds and grass. As tall as my waist, the flowering tops tickled along my elbows and dusted pollen along my sleeves.
Well, it’s not going to clear itself.
I plunged the shove into the dirt. Hard and unforgiving, the steel separated the supple and soft earth, leaving a hole where a rather large weed once dwelled.
I pushed it aside and repeated the process several times. Once I’d overturned a couple of feet, I grabbed the displaced weeds and flung them over the fence line. The clumps of dirt clinging around the roots, either, broke apart in midair or the smashed as they hit the ground.
Shovel load after shovel load, minute after minute, pollen, and dust clouded around me, itching in my nose as the thorns cut my fingers and the palms of my hands.
“Do you need any help?” Henry’s deep voice bellowed behind me.
I plunged the shovel into the dirt one more time. “No.”
“I brought you a glass of water.”
“Just leave it near the gate. I’ll be inside later.”
After setting the glass in the dirt, he hesitated, watching me dig holes and toss weeds.
“You don’t have to stay out here. You can go inside,” I barked through heavy breaths.
He didn’t leave, but instead grabbed the rake and began raking the ground in th
e opposite corner of the garden, giving me a sideways glance every few seconds.
I ignored him, pretending as though he didn’t exist.
Perhaps it was foolish of me, but if he wasn’t there then the situation wasn’t there. If he wasn’t there then the lie I’d been living wasn’t there.
It’d just be me.
It’d just be this garden.
It’d just be this dirt.
Sweat dripped down my neck from not only the sticky heat, but also the backbreaking work that I’d stupidly believed would help me in some way whether mentally or emotionally.
Of course, the work didn’t help as I thought, but I continued to clear my area, just as Henry continued to clear his, digging, raking, and throwing handfuls of weeds over the fence.
As the hours gave way to the afternoon, dark midnight blue storm clouds began to build in the distance.
Thunder boomed, lightening flashed, and the once gentle breeze kicked up around us, blowing my curls in every direction as though we were driving down the bumpy road once again.
“We might want to think about going inside soon,” Henry said, breaking our silence. He glanced from me to the storm then back to me, mirroring my own fleeting gaze upon the Heavens and the storm approaching us.
“How much time do you think we have?” I asked.
“I have no idea.”
“Well, I’d like to clear out another couple of feet, but you can go inside if you like.”
“No, I’ll stay out here with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
He threw the rake down and marched toward me. “What is bothering you?”
“Nothing.”
“I didn’t believe you in the kitchen and I don’t believe you now. I’m not leaving here until you tell me what’s wrong.”
I bit my lip and shrugged my shoulders. How do I ask about love and marriage when we’ve known each other all of a few weeks?
My thoughts suddenly seemed foolish beyond words.
“It’s just all the stress of being here and all the questions with no answers.”
“As in?”
“Well, how long will we have to live here? Are we in any danger? Will Vincent find us out here? Just questions.”
“I’m sorry I don’t have any answers for you. I wish that I did, but I don’t.” He stepped closer to me, his body feet from mine. “Are those the only things that are bothering you?”
As the Liquor Flows Page 19
