We sit in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Tension rolls off Howard in waves.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Come on,” Howard whispers. “We need to get to the house before those guys return.”
He grabs my hand and leads me towards the door. I pull my hand out of his, taking a step back.
“Wait. You are planning on letting me go eventually, right?”
His eyes widen, and he looks ashamed and apologetic all at once. “Yeah, we are.”
I nod and take a deep breath. “Okay, then.”
He hesitates a moment and then turns to the door.
“Wait here a sec.” He unlocks the bolt and sticks his head out, looking in both directions. “All clear.”
He gestures for me to join him, then grabs my hand again and leads me out into the alley.
Chapter 3
“We’re home,” Howard calls out as we walk through the door.
His mum sticks her head around the corner. “Good, good. Nothing bad happened?”
“Nope. We had to hide out for a bit to avoid a couple of no good so-and-sos but they gave up pretty quick.”
Rhonda looks us up and down. When she stops midway, I remember I’m still holding Howard’s hand and yank mine free.
“As long as you’re okay,” she says, “that’s the main thing. Come, I have a couple of plates of food for you.”
We take seats on opposite sides of the table, and Rhonda slides some delicious looking chicken and vegetables in front of us. My stomach growls . . . loudly.
“Sorry. It smells so good.”
“Don’t be sorry. I take it as a compliment. You guys eat up. I’m going to go check to see that the rest of my munchkins are getting ready for bed like they’re supposed to be doing.”
Rhonda’s gone before I even have a chance to say thank you. I look at Howard, who is staring intently at the plate of food in front of him.
“Thank you.”
Howard looks up, a perplexed expression on his face. “What for?”
“For once again saving me from something awful.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiles and nods, but it seems halfhearted—almost like he’s mad and trying not to show it.
We eat in silence, and though I am used to eating this way at MITI, it usually leaves me feeling empty. Not so with Howard. Despite his odd mood, he’s companionable.
All too soon the food is gone. “I’m going to have a shower,” he says as he stands. “Mum should be out in a second. She will show you where you can sleep.”
He walks away, and I can’t help but watch the flex of muscles as he does. My gaze lingers until he is out of sight.
As promised, Rhonda reappears moments later. “Food to your liking?”
“Yes, it was delicious. The cooks at MITI could learn a thing or two from you. I don’t think I’ve ever had such yummy chicken.”
“Well, thank you. Good to know those skills my mum forced me to learn haven’t gone to waste. You ready for bed?”
I nod.
“Come on then, let’s get you settled.”
She leads me down the hall to the room I woke up in earlier. “This is Claire’s room, but she’s bunking with Margie tonight, so you shouldn’t have any interruptions.” She points down the hall. “That door at the end of the hallway is the bathroom and toilet. Make sure you use the lock, otherwise one of the little ones might barge in on you.”
“Okay.”
“There’s a nightie on the bed for you if you’d prefer to sleep in something more comfortable, and I grabbed your other clothes. They’ll be washed and mended by the morning.”
“Thanks.”
Rhonda walks down the hall and disappears around the corner, leaving me alone in a dimly lit hallway. I go to the room and shut the door behind me. The nightie Rhonda told me about is on the end of the bed. It’s pretty, but I’d feel too exposed wearing it. I fold it carefully and place it on the chair in the corner.
A yawn creeps up my throat, and I’m suddenly exhausted. The temptation to curl up and go to sleep is strong, but my body is telling me I need a trip to the bathroom first.
I head down the hall to the door at the end. It’s ajar, so I push the door open—and freeze. The bathroom is not empty.
Howard stands at the sink, naked from the waist up, brushing his teeth. Without clothing, his shoulders look twice as wide as before, and every curve and dip in his muscles is clearly visible. Down the middle of his back is what looks like a big, black T. I have this crazy inclination to trace it to see how it feels.
Howard clears his throat, and my gaze shoots up to find him watching me in the mirror. “Do you mind?”
He winks at me.
Oh crap!
“Sorry.” I pull the door shut. I’m mortified to have been caught staring. The butterflies in my stomach are stronger than ever, and my cheeks heat. I fan my face with my hands in an attempt to calm myself.
Before I can get everything under control, the door opens and a still-shirtless Howard walks out.
“All yours.”
“Uh-huh.”
I mentally slap myself for such an inept reply, but the view of him from the front is even better than the back. He has one of those washboard stomachs I’ve heard Gail talk about. I never understood what she meant, but now I can see how apt the description is. Once again, I find myself unable to stop staring.
“Good night, Bethanie,” Howard says, strolling down the hallway.
“Howard? What’s the T on your back?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
He stops and half turns towards me. “It’s a tattoo, and it isn’t a T, it’s a crucifix.”
“A crucifix?”
“Yeah, it’s the cross Christ was nailed to. It is a symbol of the weight I bear in the name of justice.”
“Huh. I’m sorry, I don’t really understand what you’re talking about. It’s nice, though.”
“Thanks,” he says, “but I better go to bed if I’m going to be up early to take you to the post office.”
“Night,” I call after him.
“Sweet dreams,” he calls back.
I smile. They might just be.
***
“Everyone getting ready for school?” I ask when I find only Rhonda about in the kitchen.
“Ah, no. The kids are all doing their morning chores. Their lessons start in about half an hour.”
“Lessons? Do they not go to school?” Every new piece of information I find out from these people only baffles me more.
“No, I homeschool all my children, as well as a couple more from the area.”
Homeschool?
Yet another thing I’ve never heard of. I always thought I knew everything there was to know about Oceania and its citizens. But barely twenty-four hours with the James family has proved that isn’t true.
“Morning.” Howard’s voice comes from behind me.
I turn around, and he’s a sight to behold—long-sleeve V-neck shirt, well-worn cargos, and rumpled hair that looks like he’s just crawled out of bed.
“Morning.”
“You ready to head to the post office?”
“Yep, ready when you are.” I turn to Rhonda. “Thank you for the hospitality.” She went above the call of duty during my stay, and I’m not sure I could ever repay her.
“You are welcome. Feel free to come again any time.”
I wonder whether she truly means it, or whether it is one of those throwaway lines.
Howard tilts his head towards the door and then walks outside. I can’t take my eyes off him as he strides away. A small bit of his tattoo shows above the collar of his shirt, and my fingers twitch with the desire to trace its outline. Moments later, he pokes his head back through the door.
“Well, you coming or not?”
I follow him out after saying a slightly embarrassing goodbye to his mother. We stop in front of a contraption that looks more like a motorbike with pedals than a traditional pushb
ike. Howard stands behind it, his hand caressing the seat as though it’s a pet rather than an inanimate object. But the small size of the seat means we would have to sit in extremely close proximity if we were both going to ride it.
Freaked-out doesn’t even begin to explain how I feel about that. There is no way I can sit so close to him and touch him the way I would have to just to stay on.
“Are you all right?”
“Would it be okay if we walk?”
“It’s going to take twice as long.” Though he sounds miffed about it, the hint of a grin on his face makes me think otherwise.
I shrug in response, and Howard starts walking, pushing the bike along.
“Why are you taking the bike if we are walking?”
“Just in case.” He keeps walking without looking back.
We travel in companionable silence for a while. I sneak glances at him when I think he won’t notice. The way his muscles flex as he moves reminds me of how he looked as he brushed his teeth last night.
Even the memory of those few seconds brings a flush to my cheeks. I turn away, hoping to conceal the evidence of my less-than-polite thoughts.
I give all of my attention to the surrounding area. The buildings are run down, showing every bit of their two-hundred-year age. I frown because maintenance crews are supposed to prevent anything from growing this decrepit, but it’s as if they’ve never come around here at all.
After a few blocks, the sheer amount of work that needs to done reminds me of something else.
“So your mum said you were still at work when I woke up yesterday. What is it you do?”
“I currently work in power production, but I’m hoping to find some other work soon. The shift work at the power plant is kind of killing me. I’m so tired all the time.” As if in proof, he finishes his sentence with a yawn.
On closer inspection, I can clearly see the evidence of his exhaustion. His blue eyes have large black circles underneath. His shoulders hunch over, and his stride is long and lazy.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “If you are anxious to return home to get more sleep, we can ride.”
“No, it’s fine. It seems like no amount of sleep at the moment helps. Besides, I’d much rather be in the company of a pretty woman than sleeping.”
My ears flame in embarrassment. No one has ever called me pretty before. No one comments on my appearance, period.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” We walk for a few more paces before he speaks again. “So what is it that you do, Bethanie?”
“Did your mother not tell you who I am?” I’d assumed Rhonda would have, despite her assurances otherwise.
“Not exactly. She told us you were an important person and we were to be kind.”
“Oh.”
Deciding that it’s easier to be upfront, I add, “Well . . . in six weeks when Matron Ruby Angelo steps down, I will be sworn in as the new Matron.”
“Huh. Really?”
His tone makes the words sound like criticism, and in an instant, my mood shifts. “Yes, really. Why?”
“Oh, no reason. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Can’t be any worse than the previous two.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” I ask in disbelief. “The last two Matrons were amazing women with outstanding leadership skills.”
“If you say so.” His response is apathetic at best.
“I do say so.” My words contain more of growl than I’d intended. “What qualifies you to say any different?”
“Look around ya, darlin’. This qualifies me,” he says, gesturing grandly at the area surrounding us.
His words bring me to a mental stop. It’s impossible not to see where he’s coming from, given the horrible conditions.
Looking at our surroundings, I notice we’ve reached a more populated area. The few people we pass stare at me in an almost evil manner. Whether it’s because they recognise me or for another reason I can’t be certain, but their looks make me feel very uneasy. I move a little closer to Howard, hoping the proximity to him will help me feel safer. He frowns.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Sorry. I’m feeling a little exposed. People are staring at me weird.”
“We’re almost there.” He doesn’t say that people aren’t staring at me.
We walk the remaining way in silence. When the post office finally comes into view, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Okay, here you are,” Howard says when we stop outside the door.
“Thank you.” An unfamiliar urge bubbles up inside me, making me want to hug him, but I cross my arms over my chest to stop myself. “I guess I better go inside.”
I rock back and forth on my feet but don’t actually move.
“I can wait to make sure you’re okay, if you’d like,” he says, as if sensing my hesitance.
My mouth turns up at the corners. “Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you from anything.”
“I’ll be fine. Go and make your call.”
Inside, I ask the clerk behind the desk where the public phone is. He points me to the rear of the store.
Picking up the receiver, I make a collect call to the institute.
A receptionist answers. “Matron in Training Institute. How may I direct your call?”
“Headmistress Carpenter, please.”
“May I say who’s speaking?”
“Bethanie Greene.”
The sharp intake of breath from the other end answers at least one question for me.
The next thing I hear, though, is Headmistress’ angry voice. No pleasantries, no propriety, just straight to it.
“Where are you?”
I pause for a minute trying to think why my disappearance would anger her. When nothing immediately comes to mind, I reply, “I don’t exactly know.”
“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?” She sounds furious, like she doesn’t even care if I’m okay.
“I’m in a post office somewhere on the outskirts,” I say, trying to placate her. “But that’s all I know for sure.”
“Well, stay there. It shouldn’t take too long to run the numbers and figure out where you are.”
After everything I’ve been through, I find her lack of compassion infuriating. “Don’t you even care if I’m okay? I could need an ambulance for all you know.”
“Yes, you’re right. Sorry. It’s been such an ordeal with you missing.”
She’s been through an ordeal?
“Are you okay?” she finally asks.
“Yes, I am. I met a nice family. The Jameses. Their son actually rescued me.”
“I don’t care who you met or how nice you think they are. You are not to talk to anyone. We can’t have the next Matron of Oceania running around with common people.”
The way she snarls the last two words sends a shiver down my spine. What’s wrong with common people?
I shake my head in disbelief. I look out the doorway to see Howard casually leaning against his bike. “Yes, well, it’s a little late for that. How long do I have before I’ll be picked up?”
I wait for her to chastise me, but when she speaks, her words astound and confuse me.
“Well, dear, it . . . looks like it might actually be a while. Is there anyone who can wait with you? Maybe the boy who rescued you? Or someone in his family?”
I stay silent a minute, trying to make sense of what just changed. Her tone is far too sweet to be genuine, but I play along. “Maybe. Why?”
“The government would like to extend their gratitude, of course. For your safe return.”
I blink. Surprised, but happy. “Okay, I could ask, I guess. But first, um . . . how is George?”
“He’s fine. A little banged up, but he’s already returned to work.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Thanks. Bye.” I hang up the phone and make my way outside.
Howard is exactly where I left him, leaning against his bike.
“How did it go?�
��
“It was . . . weird, but they can’t come get me for a while. So I have some time to kill.”
“Oh, okay.” He glances over his shoulder. “What are you going to do?”
“Well, I was wondering if maybe I could come back to your family’s place?”
He stares at me for a second as if I’ve lost my mind, then nods. “That would be fine.”
“Thank you. I just have to be back here later to be collected.”
His shoulders, which were up around his ears, visibly drop. “We can do that. Are you ready to go?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Feeling brave, I ask, “Why don’t we ride back?”
Howard looks shocked once again but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he straddles the bike and offers me his hand.
Time to live a little, I think as I climb up behind him.
What’s the worst that can happen?
Chapter 4
The return trip to the Jameses’ home takes less than half the time. Being on the back of his bike, practically wrapped around Howard, is the freest I can remember feeling in a very long time. He’s all power and grace, weaving the bike expertly through the people on the streets. Even when a little boy runs out in front of us, he manages to miss him. The sharp swerve, however, almost sends me flying and I wrap my arms tight around his waist.
“Are you okay?” he asks, stopping the bike and looking over his shoulder.
I take long, deep breaths. “Yeah I’m fine . . . I think.”
He places his hand over mine, which are clutching his shirt. He rubs gently and I release my grip a little.
“I’ll try to take it easy. I promise.” He’s barely finished speaking and suddenly we take off again. I squeal in surprise and can hear Howard chuckling.
“Not funny,” I gripe, poking him for good measure.
When we come to a stop in front of the residence, I am reluctant to let go. I don’t want to lose this sense of freedom mixed with excitement and happiness. This is something I never knew was missing from my life.
“We’re here,” Howard says. He places a hand over the back of mine and holds it there for a second before he pats them. “Come on, you need to let go so I can help you off.”
Matronly Duties Page 4
