Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
Maura
I wake to the sound of my belly rumbling. Christy and I skipped supper last night, and still I feel no hunger. I do, however, feel a headache. I didn’t sleep much and when I did, I woke with a jolt as I remembered I wasn’t in my own bed and never would be again.
Beside me, deep, gentle snores highlight my new husband’s contentment as he lies belly down on the opposite side of the bed. I count backward from three in my head and peel back the sheets to take in the skin and curves of the man who has given me his name. I hold my breath and wait for desire to come. Last week, the thought of Christy displayed for me would have sent a hot ripple through my whole body. But this morning my thoughts and feelings are jumbled inside my head. Our “I dos.” Our first kiss as husband and wife. The pride in my mother’s eyes. The sting of his hand across my face. The woody smell of his cologne as he lay on top of me. The ache to feel more and at the same time the urge to push him away. The knowledge that I am Mrs. Maura Davenport now, no matter what.
There’s a knock on the bedroom door and Rita’s voice follows.
“Good morning, Doctor,” she says, before clearing her throat to speak a little louder. “It’s nine o’clock. Your breakfast is ready.”
Christy tosses but he doesn’t wake.
“Thank you,” I call out. “We’ll be there soon.”
I hear Rita leave and I climb out of bed to get dressed. My trousers catch my eye, discarded on the tired wicker chair in the corner, where Christy threw them last night. I pick them up, fold them, and hold them against my chest as if they were a cuddly toy. I flick away the tear that trickles down my cheek and then I shove the trousers into the bottom of my travel bag before I leave the room to find the bathroom and freshen up.
Afterward, I try on several outfits before I settle on a pale blue pinafore that I wish were a little longer and a pink cardigan that doesn’t match but covers me right up. Christy grunts and groans when I gently shake his shoulder. He smiles when his sleepy eyes focus on me.
“Good morning, darling.” The rattle of morning in his voice makes me smile. “You look nice.”
“Thank you.”
He yawns and stretches, and when he reaches up to stroke his thumb across my cheek, I fight the urge to pull away from him.
“Rita has breakfast waiting for us,” I say.
“Oh goodness.” He sits up and rubs his eyes. “Is it nine o’clock already?”
I nod, realizing Christy arranged a wake-up call without discussion.
He stands and faces me, and it is as if I am seeing him without clothes for the first time all over again. He notices and smiles, oozing a confidence I imagine most men could only dream of.
In the dining room, Rita and Bert join us for breakfast. Christy smiles charmingly, but I can tell their presence bothers him.
“It’s a full fry,” Rita announces as she places plates of bacon, egg, sausage, and white and black pudding in front of us.
“Thank you,” Christy says, eyeing the greasy food. “The morning paper?”
Rita’s smile wavers. “Oh, but it’s Sunday.”
“No Sunday paper?” Christy cocks his head to one side.
“We get the evening press of a weekday. And that does us nicely, doesn’t it, Bert?”
Bert nods with a mouthful of food and moves his teacup to make room for his wife to sit beside him. Christy picks up his knife and fork and tries to hide his frustration.
“Perhaps we could pop on the radio, then?” he suggests, jerking his knife back and forth through the tough bacon on his plate. The screech of stainless steel against porcelain makes the fine hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
“No radio neither,” Rita says. She raises a single finger in the air and adds, “We don’t get a very good signal here, I’m afraid.”
Christy sets his knife down and exhales sharply. I close my eyes and hold my breath, only opening them again when I feel his hand take mine.
“Well, we really have come to the land of tranquility, haven’t we, darling?”
I exhale and force a smile.
“I know what,” Rita says, with an excited clap of her hands. “I’ll pack you a picnic. You can take it with you when you go for a walk later.”
The flash of disgust on Christy’s face is so quick that if I had blinked, I’d have missed it. I’ve missed it before, I realize. He exhales and places a hand over Rita’s. With a warm smile he says, “A picnic would be delightful. Thank you.”
“Oh, Doctor.” Rita blushes as she tucks a strand of short hair behind her ear. “It’s no trouble.”
Christy holds conversation with our hosts as effortlessly as if he had known them all his life. Their words float over me like bubbles, only popping when they’ve passed me by. But I lift my head when I hear my name.
“Is she always this quiet, your lovely Maura?” Rita asks.
Christy beams at me with round eyes, as if he has won a competition and I am his prize. “I think my wife might be a little tired this morning. Yesterday was the most wonderful day and we’re still on cloud nine as we start this new life together.”
“Yes, indeed.” I sigh. “A new life.”