Chapter 28 Karl
TWENTY-EIGHT
KARL
Untangling myself from Nancy the next morning takes a lot of internal strength, but work calls, and I won’t leave things to my family because I surprised everyone by getting married.
She slurs something incoherent and rolls over, wrapping the comforter tighter around herself. A human burrito. A very pretty human burrito.
I do my best to get ready for the day without making too much noise, opting to change in the second bedroom.
I’ll have coffee later, but I leave a note to remind Nancy that everything’s ready to go; she just needs to hit the button.
Then I grab one of the raisin bran muffins my mom sent us away with last night, pull on my boots, toque, and coat, and head out.
When we break for lunch, my dad tells me to shower and change so I can spend the rest of the day in town with Mom and Nancy. My dad isn’t a hardass by any means, but he has never been one to let us off after only working half a day. A telltale sign that he wasn’t given the option.
“Honey, I’m home,” I sing, walking through the front door to find my wife on her knees, scrubbing the baseboards in the kitchen. “Oh!” I stop dead when she smiles up at me, hair a total mess, a little smudge of something dark on her forehead. She’s beautiful.
She stands, dropping the rag into the little bucket of lemon-scented liquid, wiping her hands on her jeans, and walking toward me.
“Welcome home,” she murmurs, her hands gripping my coat as she stretches to kiss me.
“A guy could get used to this.” I chuckle, pulling her harder into me. “Could I interest you in a shower before we head into town?”
She starts to remove my coat while I slip off my boots. “I already showered,” she says, handing my coat to me and then bending to line my boots up against the wall next to hers. “Good lord, I’m not sure how I feel about those being in the house.” She laughs, fanning her face.
I turn, grab them, open the door, and set them outside.
“They’ll be too cold to wear if you do that,” she objects, pushing past me, but I catch her arm and pull her back to me.
“I’ll live.” I palm her ass and lift her up so I can carry her to the bathroom. “And I think you could use another shower,” I insist, turning so she can see her reflection.
Her eyes find the smudge on her forehead, and she scoffs. “It’s just my face.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to shower with me?” I pout.
“I don’t think we have time for a double shower, Mr. Hore,” she says softly, running her thumb across my bottom lip.
“What if I promise just to wash, no funny stuff?”
She shakes her head. “I’d tell you that you’re incapable of no funny stuff if we’re both in our birthday suits.”
She’s got me there. I definitely won’t be productive. Not in the way I need to be anyway.
“Besides”—she unhooks her legs and slides down my body—“that shower is way too small. The funny stuff would happen whether we wanted it to or not.”
Another point to Nancy.
“Fine, but we’re having dinner here tonight.
” I walk her back into the hall until she’s pressed against the opposite wall.
“I’m not about to share what’s on the menu.
” She lets out the most adorable little noise when I lean down and nip her neck, causing near-silent giggles that have her body shaking.
God, I love the way she laughs. Sometimes it fills the room.
Other times it’s deep and husky, nearly nonexistent.
Then there are moments like this where only her body gives her away.
She pushes me back, scolding me for wasting time. “Get in there, mister. You smell like bovine.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I wink, backing through the door as I remove my sweater, tossing it at her so I can begin work on my jeans.
Nancy watches me until I hook my thumbs into my boxers, then covers her eyes as I start to pull them down, suddenly shy. I love that about her too. How she goes from taking over in the bedroom to being unable to even look at me naked.
Half an hour later, we’re on the road, Nancy next to me in the front seat and Mom in the back after a rather hilarious polite battle with my wife.
It’s kind of surreal heading into town to look for things that will make the cottage our own. I’m curious to see what Nancy likes. I have no doubt I’ll be on board with whatever. I don’t have strong opinions about decor, and whatever makes her happy is just fine with me.
“Do you have any idea what kind of furnishings you’d like?” Mom asks, and Nancy looks over at me, panic in her eyes.
“Well,” she says, turning to face my mom. “I like Monica and Rachel’s apartment.”
“That’s that New York show, right?”
“Friends?” I glance back at my mom in the rearview mirror.
“Yeah, I like how eclectic it is. The color, um…” She gets quiet and turns back to the front.
“What?” I reach over and squeeze her hand.
“The lack of, well… patterns,” she says quietly. “My mom really likes florals,” she adds.
“That’s so weird, mine does too,” I joke.
My mom laughs and reaches forward to pat Nancy on the shoulder. “Whatever you pick will be what’s right for the two of you.”
We’re two sets of bedsheets, glasses, dishes, towels of all sizes, an entry mat, two throws for the couch, and a new shower curtain deep when I catch Nancy looking longingly at a set of dog bowls.
“Not sure you’ll find anything to pair with those here,” I tease as she laughs nervously at being caught. “Do you want a dog?”
She shrugs, blushing as her eyes meet mine. “I wouldn’t hate a dog.”
I take her hand, and we head away from the pet aisle. “Once we’ve settled in, we’ll get a dog. I’d like one too.” My family has Fergus, but he’s not ours. Like with everything else, I want this just for us. Maybe for Christmas.
As we’re leaving the home goods section of the department store, I make up an excuse to head back to the dog bowls, telling Nancy and my mom that I’ll meet them at the food court in a bit.
Nancy’s eyes narrow at me after I give her a quick kiss on the cheek. Only days in, and she already knows I’m up to something.
Ten minutes later, I’m sauntering up to my mom, who is sitting with her food court go-to, poutine from New York Fries.
“What’s Nancy getting?” I ask, looking around at the different restaurants, searching for a petite blonde.
“She said she had to go look for something,” Mom says. “She’ll be back soon. Go pick what you want to eat.” She holds out a ten for me, and I roll my eyes.
“I can pay for our lunch, Mom.”
“I’m well aware of that, Karl, but I’d like to pay for your lunch. Consider this me putting money toward your wedding that I didn’t get to attend.”
I sigh, sitting down across from her. “I’m sorry.
It wasn’t intentional. I, we were sort of caught up in the moment.
I’ve never…” I pause because I’ve never what?
Wanted or needed someone so badly? I can’t explain it.
I just know it’s how I feel, and it feels so damn good.
“I’m happy, so happy.” I laugh nervously, rubbing the back of my neck as I glance in the direction I expect to see Nancy coming from.
“I’m still not sure I’ll wake up and find her beside me. ”
Mom puts her fork down, her chin dipping as she looks at me over the top of her glasses. I’m about to get a lecture, and I brace myself.
“Karl Martin Hore, don’t you dare think that. That girl is head over heels for you.”
I stare back, her words slowly sinking in.
“She’s got a layer of protection built up.
Like she’s afraid to show how she’s really feeling, but when you’re not looking, well”—her lips twist as she tilts her head and studies me—“the only time I’ve seen her look like she’s at peace is when she’s looking at you.
Now”—she sits up straight—“early days, of course, and we haven’t spent all that much time together, and she’s been thrust into an entirely new situation, but that holds some weight with me.
Does a mother proud to see a lovely woman look at her son that way.
I know you’re a good man. It’s extra special to know that feeling is shared by the woman who’ll be there for you long after I’m gone. ”
I feel the tear on my cheek before I have a chance to wipe my eyes. My mom would make me cry in the middle of a mall food court of all places.
“And don’t you for one moment think we don’t see the way you look at her. It’s all fast, but fast isn’t always wrong. Just as slow isn’t always right. Oh, Nancy,” she says cheerfully as Nancy slides into the chair next to me. “We were just talking about you. Did you find what you were looking for?”
A blush spreads across her cheeks as she glances quickly at me. “I did, thank you for your patience.”
“Oh, it was nothing. You two go pick out some lunch. I’m afraid I can’t let this cool down anymore, or the curds’ll lose their squeak.”
I stand and hold my hand out to Nancy, who takes it immediately. She slides the bag she was carrying under the table and follows me.
“Could we stop at a grocery store?” Nancy asks on our way home.
“Sure. There’s an IGA not far from the farm. Looking for anything in particular?”
“Well, non-dairy items, I guess.”
“We have eggs as well,” my mom assures her, looking up from the Women’s World magazine she’d grabbed on our way out of the mall.
“Great,” Nancy says, sitting back, the Northern Reflections bag she’d come to lunch carrying tucked at her feet.
I’ve never seen someone our age buy something from Northern Reflections, so I’m curious what my twenty-three-year-old wife needed to grab. Maybe it’s a cute sweater with a howling wolf that she’ll wear for me tonight.