by Wegner, Ola
“You can wash the salad.” She put the chicken aside and reached for a small skillet. “Just be careful to wash every leaf separately.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a grin.
For the next few minutes, Amy couldn’t help glancing occasionally as he washed the salad under the running water. Surely, it looked as if he’d been doing this for the first time in his life.
After finishing with the salad, which took him ages, he was still strangely eager to help, so she sent him to set the table, indicating first where he could find the dishware and cutlery. Surprisingly, he did quite well with the task; well sort of at least, she thought when she brought the pan with sautéed chicken breasts to put on the table. Very discreetly she rearranged the cutlery, which he’d placed the other way round, and allowed herself an amused smile on the funny way he folded the napkins. Clearly, he had little practice in setting the table too. The question was why he insisted so much on helping her in the first place, and why he tried so hard on it. Probably he heard somewhere that a contemporary husband should help a wife with preparing meals, and with other housework.
Amy wasn’t very hungry, and during the meal her attention concentrated more on Jake than on the contents of her plate. He had a hearty appetite for sure, she concluded. She glanced repeatedly at him when he attacked the third chicken breast, while she still nibbled on her first, and probably the last one. He wasn’t much enthusiastic about the vegetable, because his salad was barely touched. Amy wasn’t really surprised, her father was the same, definitely a meat eater.
“I have spent most of the day with Reynolds,” Jake said, as he pushed his plate away. “Everything seems to be under control. The threat of the bankruptcy has been delayed for now. We think that it will be easier to regain the trust of the banks when they learn about my interest in the company, and new connection between our families.”
Amy listened carefully, thinking how confident, and even a bit arrogant he sounded when he talked business.
“Thank you,” she said simply, leaning back into her chair, “I’m sure Dad will be relieved to hear this.”
Jake met her gaze, leaned towards her, and cupped her cheek. “I’ve already phoned him, informing him everything is under control.” His thumb grazed her temple. “You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
His gentle touch, his solemn expression and the utter tenderness in his voice, made her nervous again. The last thing she wanted was another mushy scene on his part. Not that it felt bad when he held her, but it was getting harder and harder for her to deal with it and control her own reaction to him.
She stood up. “Thank you, again,” she pronounced stiffly. “I really appreciate your help. I’d never have managed on my own. I don’t know beans about business.”
A frown appeared on her face, when she noticed that Jake, who still sat in a chair, didn’t look at her face at all. His dark blue eyes clearly rested on the very front of her cami.
She followed his gaze, and for a moment wondered what was so interesting before she felt heat seep into her face, knowing she’d turned scarlet.
“Hey, stop that!” she cried angrily as she crossed her hands over her chest protectively.
“What?” he asked innocently.
He stood up and lifted his hands in defensive gesture.
“You should rather expect such a reaction from me, not wearing a bra and going around just in this thin something,” he pointed at her cami.
Amy buttoned her cardigan swiftly and did her best to glare at him.
“Excuse me!” she huffed. “But so far it’s my home and I can dress as I like.”
“I don’t deny it.” He smiled gently. “I’m only saying you shouldn’t be surprised by your husband’s reaction then.”
“First of all.” she pointed her small finger into his chest. “You’re not really my husband.”
“I agree,” he interrupted her again, his warm gaze sliding over her. “Not yet,” he added in such a tone that made her feel suddenly very hot, and weak in the knees.
Her eyes narrowed and she stepped closer to him. “Look, if you thought I didn’t put on a bra on purpose, because I intended to lure you or something like that, you are very wrong.”
He cocked his brow amusedly. “I am?”
Her chin lifted up proudly. “Yes, you are. For your information, wearing a bra the entire day is neither the most comfortable nor the healthiest thing, especially when one has rather sensitive breasts like mine. So when I’m home, my home,” she stressed, “I actually like to feel relaxed and not bound with underwire digging under my breasts.”
At least the amused expression was wiped away from his face, she noted with satisfaction. He looked worried, and his eyes searched her face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to embarrass you. Just wanted to tease you and loosen you up. You’re so formal around me.”
Amy frowned. His apologetic expression looked genuine. She let out a soft sigh, shrugged and spoke. “Ok, let’s simply forget about this,” she conceded listlessly. “I’m a bit tired and it’s been a long day. All I want is to clean the dishes, take a shower, and go to bed.”
She felt his big, warm hands coming to rest on her shoulders again.
“You do look pale.” He sounded concerned. “Leave this to clean tomorrow and come to bed.”
Amy drew in a sharp breath. “Leaving the dirty dishes for the night is something I hate most in the world,” she informed him, moved past him and collected the plates with unnecessary clatter.
She strode into the kitchen and started loading the dishwasher. She looked around but he was nowhere in sight. Good, she thought. Perhaps he got offended at last.
Twenty minutes later, the entire kitchen was again spotlessly clean and tired but at the same time satisfied with fulfilling her duty to clean the kitchen, Amy walked to her bedroom. The bathroom door was closed and she heard the sounds of running water. Clearly, her husband was taking a shower. The large black suitcase was open in the middle of the room, containing what seemed to be a complete set of male wardrobe. He must have gone for this when she’d been putting the kitchen in order.
With a resigned sigh, she opened the door to the smaller built in closet and started removing her clothes from it. When he came out of the bathroom, she was in the process of storing his socks in the bottom drawers.
“You don’t have to do it right now.” He tried to stop her hands.
She closed the last drawer soundly.
“But all is done,” she managed a polite smile.
Despite everything, she didn’t want him to feel like an intruder. She didn’t like treating people in such a hostile way; it was against her nature.
“I hope you’ll have no big problems with finding everything. On the hanger, are your suits, slacks, and shirts. On the middle shelves are your sweaters. On the lower shelf I’ve placed your t-shirts, and in the drawers your underwear.” She gestured towards his now neatly arranged clothes.
She found it very hard to stop her eyes from crawling all over his barely clad form. He wore nothing apart from a pair of rather snug trunks.
He all but stared at her, obviously not just a bit dumbstruck.
She looked at him, being very careful to keep her eyes on his face. “You’re all right?”
He blinked several times before speaking. “Yes.” He swallowed. “Thank you.”
She shrugged dismissively. “It’s nothing. But it’d be nice if you removed this to the hall.” She pointed to his suitcase.
“Yes, sure,” he agreed.
To her relief he moved his hairy chest out of her vision.
“I’m going to have a shower now,” she mumbled nervously.
Just before she walked into the bathroom, she added in an unnaturally high voice, “Could you please put on a t-shirt?”
* * * *
On Tuesday morning, she wakened similar to the day before. A mug with hot fragrant coffee stood on the bedside. Jake, turned with his back to her, w
as adjusting his tie in front of the full-length mirror.
She reached for her glasses and checked the clock. It was seven o’clock.
“You’re starting work so early today, too?” she asked with a yawn.
Instantly, he turned around. He walked to the bed, leaned over her, and kissed the top of her head. “Did you sleep well, sweetheart?”
He smelt nice. “Yes, I did.” She allowed herself a small smile.
His face instantly brightened. “I’ll try to be home earlier today I promise.”
“But I’ll be much later today, not earlier than nine thirty.” She sat up in bed, reached for the coffee, and took a sip. ”You make good coffee.”
His expression fell flat. “So late? You’re going out somewhere?” he asked, a slight scowl on his face. “With some girlfriends perhaps?” he asked trying to sound casual.
She rolled her eyes. “No, I finish work at nine.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Nine pm?”
Amy stared at him in exasperation over the rim of her mug. “Perhaps you haven’t noticed but most libraries are open late hours in the afternoon, and often also in the evening. And because our library is the biggest in town, we are even open for a few hours every Sunday from September till May.”
“How often do you have to stay so late?” he asked with frown.
“Well, twice a week, every Tuesday and Thursday,” Amy replied.
“I’ll pick you up,” he announced.
Amy shook her head. “You don’t have to. I’ve been working there for two years now and nothing has ever happened to me when finishing late.”
“I don’t care.” His tone turned firm. “My wife won’t be returning home alone at night.”
“Nine pm is hardly the middle of the night!” Amy cried.
His jaw clenched. “I’ll pick you up.”
Amy sigh in silent frustration before putting her coffee back on the bedside table. She reached out to pull at his sleeve. Reluctantly, he sat next to her on the bed edge of the bed.
“But you really don’t have to pick me up.” She tried to speak calmly. “My coworker usually gives me a lift.”
“Your coworker?” he asked sharply.
Amy nodded. “Yes, Laura, she usually works with me on Tuesdays and Thursdays and her husband always comes to drive her home. They live downtown, and they are always kind enough to drop me just by my condo.”
Jake stood up, looking down at her. “Tell Laura to thank her husband, but he won’t have to come for her today,” he announced. “I will happily deliver Laura home when I pick you up after work.”
“I’ve told you that you don’t have to!” she cried. She was losing her patience with him. “Why do you have to complicate everything so much?” she muttered more to herself than to him, and crossed her arms over her chest in the gesture of a five-year-old.
“There’s nothing complicated about this. I want my wife safe at home, that’s all,” he said in a calm voice, but with a hard edge to it.
Amy was doing a huffing of her own, sitting cross-legged on the bed, her chin propped on her fist. She didn’t like to be told what she was to do. Damn, she liked her independence, and there was no need for him to pick her up after work.
“Or perhaps you’re ashamed to admit you married me in front of your friends?” He surprised her with the angry question.
“No! Of course not!” she denied at once. She frowned at him and at the same time wondered from where he got such a strange idea.
“Besides, Laura already knows about our marriage,” she added with a shrug.
“You told your friends from work?” he asked, sounding more composed and relieved.
Amy eyed him wryly. “Yes, I did. They noticed the ring and the wedding band right away,” she explained simply, then lifted her chin up, and added with dignity, “I saw no reason to hide the fact of our marriage.”
He sat beside her again, and smoothed his hand over her wild from sleep hair. “I forgot to thank you for yesterday’s dinner. It was very good.”
She shrugged off the compliment dismissively. “It was only a fried chicken dish with salad, nothing elaborate. I’m sure you’ve eaten much fancier food at restaurants.”
“But it’s so different when someone prepares it especially for you.” He spoke softly as he pulled her to him. “Let me pick you up after work tonight. I’ll be worried waiting for you here,” he murmured into her neck.
Amy allowed herself another weary sigh before conceding reluctantly. “Ok, if it’s so important for you,” she relented. After all, there was hardly a point in arguing with him about such a trivial thing.
Some of the tension seemed to slip away from him, and she felt gentle kisses on her neck, just below her ear, and later on her jaw and cheek, lastly in the corner of her mouth.
She didn’t know what to do, averting her face seemed to be cruel, but he didn’t allow her space and time to get accustomed to everything. He must have felt her resistance, because he only kissed her shortly on the mouth and lifted his head.
“One more thing.”
“Huh?” she raised her questioning eyes at him.
“I wanted to watch the news when I got up and I couldn’t find a TV.”
Amy blinked at him rapidly, astonished with such a turn of the conversation.
“I don’t have TV,” she divulged at last.
It was his time to blink at her. “You don’t have a TV,” he repeated stupidly.
She nodded.
“But what about that cabinet in the living room standing in the corner opposite the couch?” he asked with a frown. “I thought that there should be a TV inside but it’s locked.”
“Nope, it’s just a cabinet,” Amy informed him. “Well, you can keep a TV there I think, but I keep various things there, and it’s not locked it’s just getting stuck and you have to pull a bit to get it open. Dad was going to repair it for me, but since I never bought a TV since I moved here it wasn’t a priority.”
Jake still gaped at her. “You have lived without a TV since you moved here,” he said slowly.
“Yes.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “Are you an American?”
“I like watching films,” she acknowledged defensively, “I go to the movies often. Besides there’s the Internet nowadays. I spend some time logged into various forums and I read a lot. I don’t get bored. Ever,” she stressed.
He rose to his feet, regarded her for a moment only to eventually announce, “You’re odd. You know that, right?”
“Yes, I know.” She scrambled out of bed and padded across the room. “Have a nice day at work,” she added, before disappearing in the bathroom.
Chapter Eight
Amy entered the condo, dropped all her bags on the floor in the hall, walked to the living room, and sank heavily onto the sofa. Her feet were literally killing her. She had no idea why she’d let Laura and Geri talk her into going to the mall after work.
Having plenty of clothes, she still had managed to buy some new ones this afternoon, knowing perfectly well that she didn’t really need them. Was she becoming a shopaholic? Perhaps she should join some therapy group? She felt guilty, even though the dress and the new winter coat she’d bought were lovely. She couldn’t really refuse herself when she’d seen them on the hanger in the shop. On the other hand, she had two other similar dresses in her closet, and her coat from the previous season was in excellent condition. The trip to Europe had taken most of her savings, and after today’s shopping, there was pitifully little left in her account.
Somehow, it hadn’t really got to her yet that she was married to a wealthy man. Jake had given her two brand new, shiny credit cards a few days ago. There was her new name on it, Amelia Barry, and it looked so strange to her. He’d said that they had been for household expenses and anything she needed or wanted to buy for herself. Understandable, she’d refused to accept them, and he’d gotten angry—much angrier than when she hadn’t wanted him to pick her up after work in the evenin
gs. They’d quarreled. Jake accused her of being fucking independent, prideful, stubborn, and generally unreasonable. With all the dignity she’d been able to muster at that moment she’d asked him very politely not to use that kind of language in her presence.
He’d apologized and she’d accepted the credit cards, thinking that taking them hadn’t exactly meant that she had to ever charge anything on them. She’d simply thanked him and hidden them in one of the shelves in her vanity together with her passport, not intending to really use any of them. Jake had been pretty smug that she’d accepted his money at last, because for the rest of the evening he’d fallen into a strange macho mode, me male-the provider of the family. It had been very hard for her not to roll her eyes at his strutting around the condo, pushing his chest up, and even patting her occasionally on the butt. Men were silly, not to mention, this man seemed to have come from an earlier time—before women’s liberation.
She didn’t think she would ever come to use the credit cards. However, even after a little over a week of living with a man, she had to notice how much more she was spending now on food alone. From the times when she’d lived with her then teenage brother and father, she’d actually forgotten how much an adult man could eat.
Closing her eyes, she started summarizing her expenditures since her coming back from Europe. She wasn’t in debt yet, but close enough. She counted quickly that she would manage somehow, but spending on herself would have to come to end from now on. Besides, she had more clothes than she could wear for a year, and she didn’t really need any new ones.
The doorbell rang. When it rang again she rose lazily from the couch, thinking who it could be at this hour. Not Jake because he had his own key now. Besides he’d told her this morning that he’d be late. Perhaps one of the neighbors?
She opened the door and faced a tall woman in her late fifties.
“Mrs. Barry?” she whispered in disbelief, her eyes wide with surprise. She didn’t manage to say anything more, before she was trapped in a strong hug. The older woman alternated crying, and laughing.
