Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
I don’t look at her for fear of acting on the temptation. I hide by turning toward the shower where the water is already steaming.
“I don’t understand,” she whispers to my back.
I don’t either.
“Are you punishing me?” she asks. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing,” I bite out, closing the tap.
She does what she does so well. She shuts her mouth and keeps the peace. And me, I do what I do best. I get the hell out of there and walk away.
Chapter
Fifteen
Sabella
* * *
My husband runs hot and cold.
It’s his nature.
Jekyll and Hyde.
He changes so fast from one extreme to another it gives me whiplash. In one instant, he tells me he committed unspeakable sins to tie me to him in marriage. In the next, he pushes me away. He doesn’t even trust me enough to let me be there for the kids during the funeral. I know how tough funerals can be. I know how much a supporting hug and a shoulder to lean on can help.
I don’t want it to bother me, but it does. When he saved that puppy, I saw a different side of him. After what he just told me, I can’t remain unaffected. He’s no less effective in breaking down the walls I put up around me than in destroying me.
My compliance obviously doesn’t please him. I don’t even know why I considered that my obedience would give us a measure of peace. We’re not his parents. We’re not a fairy tale. We’re two very different people.
At first, I kneeled to fight for peace. Then I kneeled to keep the peace. Finally, I kneeled to maintain the status quo, to feel nothing and to remind myself that my husband will always be a monster and that there’s nothing worth saving here.
I saw it a long time ago, that he didn’t like to see me in that humiliating position at his feet. I thought then I could salvage something from the wreckage of our lives, but he proved me wrong. So I went back to who we were, back to kneeling.
And then today, he denies me a part of the children’s lives in one breath and tells me in the other not to kneel as if the act offended him. He told me that right after he near-suffocated me in lust that my kneeling inspired.
I don’t know what to think anymore. When he behaves so unpredictably, I don’t know what to expect. The only choice I have is to obey him in his presence and to defy him in secret. It’s become my double life. And as I get ready the following morning, I know that at some point, it has to blow up in my face. I’m not naïve enough to believe I can get away with my pretend life in the village forever. In the distant or near future—I’m betting the little money I earned on the latter—someone has to let something slip. I may run into him. Somebody with good or bad intentions may make a comment. Yesterday wasn’t that day. If I’m lucky, today won’t be either. Until my luck lasts, I’ll live the life I carved out for myself here. The contact with other people keeps me sane. It gives me a sense of belonging. Without the diversion, I’ll go crazy.
I like to believe I made friends in the village. So I put on my coat and slip out to the hidden path. When I arrive at the old mill, Mr. Martin is all toothy smiles.
“Why don’t you finish an hour early today?” he says, leaning in the doorframe of the kitchen while I’m mopping the floor. “Me and some friends are having a drink on the square. You should join us.”
Not looking up from my work, I smile. “That’s kind, but I can’t.”
He chews on his pipe. “Why not? Are you pregnant after all?”
I lift my head quickly. My cheeks heat. Mrs. Campana no doubt told everyone I bought a pregnancy test. It’s a small village. News travels fast.
His level stare holds no judgment or malice. He’s just being honest, and I appreciate that he’s not pretending he doesn’t know.
“Not yet.” I don’t feel different. There are no signs, no nauseousness or tiredness. I’m fairly certain I’m not pregnant, but it’s still too early to use the test. “Just in case, I’m not touching alcohol until I’m sure.”
“You can have juice.”
I continue mopping.
“Or water,” he adds. “Come on, it’ll do you good. A few of us are going to play pétanque. You can be on my team. It’s always the winning team.”
“Thanks, but I better get home.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer.” He points the pipe at me. “You’re coming with me. It’ll cheer you up good.”
Pausing, I sigh. “I’m fine.”
“I’m an old man. I’ve seen many things in my life, and I’ve learned to pay attention. You haven’t been yourself for the last few days.” He walks over the clean floor, leaving footprints on the shiny surface, and places a hand on my arm. “Don’t you worry now. It’ll all work out. You’ll see. A babe isn’t the end of the world.”