My agitation at having the strange man in my house only seemed to grow as time went on. Rather than grow accustomed to his presence, he set me on edge. He was polite, helped out without being asked, and was up at the same time as me after the first week. He was perfect, and that was the crux of the problem.
He had me flustered and confused. Did I mistake basic niceties for flirtations? Was I longing for human interaction so desperately that I would accept affections from a man that was barely older than a child? I refused to get close enough to even bump into him; that’s how scared I was to get involved in anything beyond an employer/employee relationship.
“Here, add this sugar to the hot water.” I was showing him how I made lemonade after he’d asked me a handful of times. I was standing several feet away from him.
“Okay, now what?”
I stared at his profile as he stirred; the high cheekbones and cutting jaw. He had a bit of hair on his face sometimes when he didn't bother to shave. It made him look older.
“Bella?”
“Hmm?” I blinked and looked up into his eyes.
They were filled with amusement. “I asked what the next step is.”
“Oh!” God, I was acting like an idiot. “Once the sugar dissolves, take it off the stove. Add the lemon juice and the ice to the pitcher, then fill it with water to just shy of the top.”
I let him follow those steps before moving on. “Now add the simple syrup and stir everything together with that long-handled spoon.”
I watched the muscles of his forearm as he stirred, and had to step further back and fan my face with my hand. I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity.
“Can we sit on the porch with it?”
Like I would tell him no. I made a point of only caring for the animals on Sunday and spending the rest of the day trying to take it easy. I was so used to moving all the time that it usually didn't work and I’d find myself gardening or picking fruit or catching up on laundry.
We sat and I pressed my thigh tightly to my side of the swing. He pushed off and we went back and forth for a few minutes in silence.
“How old are you?” he asked me finally.
I tried not to sigh. “Thirty-two.”
“So you are younger than my mom.”
I laughed so hard I almost wet myself. It was ludicrous to think I was having the kinds of thoughts I was having over someone that was technically young enough to be my son. I had to wipe my eyes when I caught my breath, and then I noticed that he was staring at me.
“Good to know. It’s the hard work and the sun that makes a person look older.” And I was vain enough to cover up with a hat and a bandana when I could, and gloves.
“Makes sense.”
We were quiet again for some time, swinging slowly back and forth as the prairie winds whipped up, making my windchimes bang noisily. I’d thought long and hard about it, and I figured I should tell him about my husband.
“I know you want to know; everyone does.” My heart rate picked up painfully at the thought of bringing up the past. It was finally buried and I wanted it to be forgotten.
“You don't have to tell me. I can tell you about me instead. I dated the same girl for two years before I realized she’d been cheating on me for half that time. I felt like an idiot.”
I snorted; he laughed at me and I couldn't help joining him. “Who would be stupid enough to cheat on you?” Seriously, he was the most chivalrous and decent human I’d ever met.
“I wanted to wait for marriage to be intimate. She convinced me to do plenty of things I wasn't comfortable with to keep her happy, so it made no sense to me.”
I knew plenty about consent, and I tried to picture a high school girl convincing her boyfriend that it was just sex when he wasn't ready. It reminded me that it wasn't only women that felt the pressure to have sex to keep their partner happy or to meet expectations. I shifted so I was facing him. “I’m sorry.”
“It was for the best, in the end. We weren't compatible.” I took a sip of my drink as I thought he was finished speaking. “Do you miss your husband?”
I wasn't expecting that, and I swallowed my lemonade down my trachea.
I coughed hard, and he began pounding on my back like that would help. Tears were streaming down my face by the time I could breathe properly, and I held up a hand so he would stop touching me.
“There's nothing to miss. I was finally free when he died, and I was…I was happy that he was gone.” It may have sounded harsh, but it was only fitting that he would collapse out in one of the fields after a full day’s work. It served him right, and I didn't even bother to run back to the house to call the sheriff. I took my sweet time walking back and even got a glass of water before making that call. It signaled the start of my freedom.
“Even though it’s been hard to keep up around here?”
“Even so,” I agreed. Especially because I didn't have him constantly telling me what I was doing wrong.
“You never had children,” he ventured.
Now that was a sore spot. I had always wanted children, but I would not wish my life on anyone else, especially not a defenseless child. The windchimes clanged into each other again, and dust swirled around on the driveway. I’d never had the money to get it paved.
“He used to love to make fun of me for being barren; said it was a product of my frigidity.” I spoke quietly because the words were personal. It hurt to think about to this day.
He pushed off with his foot again and the swing bounced as we moved unevenly. He was gazing at me with heat in his eyes, I saw his intent when his pupils dilated. I held my breath. His hand went to my hair, playing with the ever-present braid that currently trailed over my shoulder. When he pulled the elastic band out of the end and ran his hands through it, I tilted my head in his direction, unable to help myself. He moved, his knee brushing mine as his long fingers massaged my neck. I wanted him then, wanted him more than anything I’d ever wanted. When his other hand came up and he touched my face so, so gently, I was afraid I would break down in front of him.
It didn't matter how much I wanted him, he wasn't mine to have.
I pulled away from him, and as his hands dropped to his lap I ran into the house and into my room. I threw myself face first on my bed and cried like I hadn't done since my mama died.
oOo
Dinner had been awkward, but I was determined to start the next day as though nothing had happened. I had to assess the property now that Edward was here. There were likely many things that needed repairing.
It was hilarious to watch him being so skittish around the horses as they poked their heads over their stall doors. He jumped a mile when an old bay whinnied, and I laughed out loud.
“Here, Lucy is gentle. You can ride her.”
He gave me a dubious look. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course. Unless you’d like to walk the entire perimeter of the property. It’s only fifteen hundred acres.”
He groaned and gave Lucy a timid pat on the nose. She snuffed at him and he moved back quickly. “She won’t bite, she’s just saying hi.”
“You have horses that bite?” His eyebrows disappeared into the mess of hair falling over his forehead.
Oh, Lord, he was so endearing. “Yes, but not Lucy, and only if you piss them off.”
I placed a stool to Lucy’s side and told him to swing his leg over. I had to hand it to him, he was more graceful than I expected. He didn't falter once he set his mind to it, and he was up and holding the saddle horn for dear life in no time.
“She'll follow me and Maria, so just hold the reins loosely while I get mounted.”
I went into the stall next to him and mounted Maria, a sweet horse but one a little more lively than Lucy. Maria was a natural leader, which made this easier both for me and Edward. I wouldn't have to worry so much about what he was doing or if he could figure out commands.
“Squeeze your thighs a little for stability, and if we have to go over a hole or a creek, stand in the stirrups to avoid a sore backside.”
He muttered something about squeezing thighs, and I blushed scarlet.
We took it easy, meandering to our first destination. I didn't want to spook him or make him too sore to work the rest of the week. The sun was dappled under the trees, and I felt a familiar sense of pride in my land. It didn't hurt that it was all mine, now. The light played over his hair, highlighting the shades of red.
We talked, and it was the first time in a long time that someone wanted to know what I thought. He needed my expertise, and he was a good listener when I explained something. He retained information well, and I rarely had to repeat a directive. We discussed the land, what it was capable of and what it had been reduced to.
“I've been known to make sauce from my tomatoes. I've canned apple butter and applesauce. I make apple fritters, apple donuts, and apple cider. I just don't have the time to focus on that right now. All the animals have to be fed and the heifers milked. I have to keep the horse stalls clean. Keeping the garden up reduces my grocery bill, so I do some gardening every day.”
“You don't have time to yourself,” he mused.
“I've never had time for myself.” That definitely left me bitter, because it wasn't a life I’d chosen for myself. But I was making changes to my circumstances, albeit slowly.
“I'm here to help. Emmett said he's offered to help. He and I can fix things while you take time for yourself. Is he married? His wife could help you can, or bake, or make butter, or whatever. Or she can help us while you soak in a tub.” He’d met Emmett when he helped load up the steer for auction.
“Thank you,” I murmured, touched by his concern.
“I haven't done anything yet.”
“You care. That counts for more than you know.” In fact, it overwhelmed me and brought me back to wondering if I was reading into his kindness because I was starved for affection.
I called Emmett when we got back to the house and arranged for him and Rose to come over in a few days.
“Okay, show me how to cook,” he said when I hung up the phone.
“It would take me longer to teach you than to just do it myself.” I had no idea how to teach anyone a skill I’d picked up from a young age.
“Maybe, but I don't see any ramen or toaster pastries in your cupboard, so this is an area I can't help in unless you show me how.” The idea that he was willing to do whatever it took to help me endeared him to me further.
“Fine. I'm making chicken and dumplings.”
He stood nearby and watched every step. I made the recipe for biscuit dough that I had memorized and set it aside to rise.
“I might be able to do this.” I laughed at the idea that one lesson was all he thought it would take. Granted, I’d showed him something fairly easy.
After dinner, I pulled out my old ledger book and a calculator, along with several pencils. I brewed coffee so I could focus and stay awake and he pulled his chair closer to mine. I started off by explaining my system of how I recorded every bill on one page, every profit on another, and the balancing of the two on a third page. I was still in the red.
“So, I see what he did. A bunch of cutbacks that affected the quality of the crops, robbing Peter to pay Paul. The house and the land are free and clear; I see you paid off a second mortgage, which was a good choice. You owe money on a combine, but you need it to harvest the crops; so that’s in the necessity category. Your milking machine has two more payments, and again, it’s a necessity. Your monthly utility bills are behind, especially electricity. The sale of the steer made a big dent, even with Emmett’s commission.”
I was embarrassed about my lack of funds and the need to be extremely judicious with electricity. I had a deal with the electric company to make payments every week. As long as they got something, they wouldn't turn off my power. “I sold my truck about five months ago. It didn't go for much, but it paid off the mortgage. I begged him not to take out that loan, but he wouldn't listen. This was my dad’s land originally, before he died and left me and Mama struggling to maintain it. Back then we had help, though.”
“And everything changed once you got married?”
I threw my pencil down and slouched in a feeling of defeat. I took a sip of coffee to gather my thoughts before meeting his eyes. “I was seventeen when I got married. My husband was fifty.” It still hurt to say out loud to this day. I was a naïve young woman who soon became disillusioned.
“Mama was dying, and she was desperate to see me taken care of,” I continued. “More than that, if I’d been the sole heir, the place would have gone to the county and me to foster care. She didn't mean to saddle me with the meanest son of a bitch to ever live in Harper County.” Though I tried to resist, the tears overcame me and I dropped my head into my hands. I felt his warm touch on my back, gentle and careful. “He never had a kind word. Never showed affection. He yelled, he denigrated, he struck. He forced himself on me, and when he couldn't get off, he blamed it on me.”
Sobs overtook me as my defenses crumbled. Mental images of him pushing himself inside me against my will came crashing down on me. I was never more fortunate than when he lost the ability to get it up, though that was my fault, too, of course, and led to a different sort of abuse.
Finally, I picked my head up and looked into his eyes. Here was tenderness instead of sorrow, desire instead of force. He was so close. I glanced at his mouth, contemplating the right and the wrong of it. Finally, I touched my mouth to his, soft as a whisper. I had the control because he gave it to me willingly. Light touch became desperate as every emotion overwhelmed me at once, and the waves battered my already bruised conscience. He thrust his hands in my hair and his tongue in my mouth as I opened and invited him in. He groaned, and the sound sent need to my core, a sound that snapped me out of my haze.
I leaned away from him, swiftly coming to my senses. My hand rubbed my aching heart, and I saw the look in his eyes that said he would take it further if I let him. I couldn't let him without destroying us both.
My chair made a harsh sound as I stood so abruptly I was surprised it didn't fall over. I ran into my bedroom, not for the first time since Edward came into my life, and leaned against the door I closed and locked behind me.
What the fuck was I thinking? We were alone and I was vulnerable, the only two reasons anything remotely sexual was sparking between us. He was young and impressionable and I couldn't force my attentions on him. I couldn't take advantage of him like my husband had done to me, or I was no better than a monster.
Loving this story.
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