Chapter Twelve
The next morning, I gradually decided to get up. My eyes were dry from staring at the wall, and I had passively observed the growing light of day for hours as I lay completely still on my side, my back to the door.
I’d heard Vic come upstairs earlier. It had to be him, since we were the only two remaining on this floor. He paused outside my room, and it sounded like he touched the door handle. The footsteps then led away, and I heard Vic enter his own bedroom.
I glanced to the armchair against the wall, remembering the way I had lusted after him from the moment we first met, the way I had pressed my ear to the wall, bringing my body to ecstasy at the thought of his nearness, to the sound of his breath.
Now, I found I held my own breath, afraid to be detected within the walls of this house by the man who would have me for his wife.
The first thing I did when I got up was check my phone. I had no new voicemails, no relevant emails. I knew it was ridiculous to expect the laboratory to get results to me this early in the day, but I would not be found far from my phone until the moment I heard back.
No one was in the kitchen when I went downstairs. I was wearing a simple, peach colored dress. With Margaret gone, there was no subtle enforcement of footwear standards, but I found myself slipping into high heels all the same, out of a nearly superstitious respect for the two women: one dead, one departed.
I had an egg and coffee, before returning to my bedroom. I began to work on a painting. I had arranged an ornately decorated white and blue pitcher on a side table with some lemons and oranges I had found downstairs. The light from the window set the bright colors ablaze, and cast shadows in the background.
It seemed that avoiding Vic now gave me the impetus to approach my work more seriously, and I barely noticed the passing of time as I became enthralled by the image which crept toward life on my canvas.
After several hours had passed, I reemerged for a fresh glass of water. I heard voices in the kitchen, and slowed my steps, keeping weight on the balls of my feet to avoid the characteristic click of high heels.
“Just wait for the autopsy report. For God’s sake, I’m getting second hand anxiety being in the same room as you,” Vic said.
A silence stretched, and I leaned against the wall just outside the kitchen door.
“I’m just hoping they do a thorough job. You never know what kind of quality you get in these small towns,” Matthew answered, apparently putting more effort into keeping a low voice than Vic did.
“Or, this guy’s got all the time in the world, and won’t rush. You’ll get your damn report,” Vic answered.
I could hear footsteps nearing the door, so I quickly stepped through the entrance, determined to avoid appearing as though I had been eavesdropping.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Vic said, a wide smile on his face.
“Morning,” I said.
Vic glanced back at Matthew, who had again bowed his head. Vic took me gently by the elbow, and led me back into the foyer.
“Sweetheart, can we talk a minute?” he asked.
I nodded.
We sat down in the foyer. Vic crossed his foot over his knee, comfortably draping himself over the couch. I sat a little stiffly beside him, turning my torso, if not my legs, in his direction. I tried to keep my eyes trained on his face, but my gaze was prone to wandering, and I was soon absorbing with fascination every aspect of his perfectly formed body. My eyes lingered on his broad, strong chest and almost immediately I wished to cast aside all suspicions, so that I could once again sink my troubles into his warm embrace.
“Nadia, I know I surprised you last night when I asked you to marry me,” he said. His mouth massaged each word as he spoke and, in spite of myself, I felt a subtle jealousy building.
I nodded, swallowing drily.
He smiled, and ran a hand through his tousled hair. His eyes flashed their crystalline blue, crinkling gently at the corners as he studied me. “I also know you’re probably thinking that I was just saying those things out of grief, because of my mother’s passing.”
It was strange to refer to a neck-breaking as a simple passing. I suppose I mentally reserved that term for a more peaceful, natural death.
“Did you?” He asked, when I made no response.
I nodded again. “I did.”
“I’m sorry that my poor sense of timing clouded the issue. I don’t want you to think that I was just reacting when I asked you to marry me. It’s something I’ve been thinking about since we first met. However, last night gave me the courage to speak it for the first time. I love you, and I want you to be my wife. Whenever you’re ready: it could be tomorrow, it could be three years from now. The only thing I ask is that you stay here. Give me a chance to prove myself to you.”
The breath left my body.
He reached out and took my elbow, drawing me towards him. He did it with some force, and I found my weight practically dropped against his strong form.
“I know you’ll think that you should go, that it is too strange to stay in a house where the owner has only just died, but I want you to stay here and give me this chance.”
“Living together?” I asked.
He nodded. “But I’m not rushing anything. You can stay in your bedroom until you feel more comfortable. Matthew and Theresa will still be here, and we’ll need to hire a new nurse for my aunt. It won’t be just the two of us, which I hope makes you feel less pressure.”
I took a deep breath, unable, frankly, to believe what I was hearing.
“Can I think about it?” I asked. “I’m still processing what happened last night.”
He smiled and leaned forward, kissing me gently on the lips, his hands finding my hips and giving them a light squeeze.
“Take all the time you need. Just stay with me while you do,” he said.
I nodded, and he took my chin in his hand.
“You make me so happy,” he murmured. “And, during this time, you’ll be given whatever you want. There’s a well-stocked library, a nice wine cellar in the basement, and plenty to do in town. I’ll give you anything, just name it.”
I was rendered more or less speechless by this profession of devotion. There was nothing left for me to do but accept the offer, simultaneously grasping doubt and the hand of a man with whom I had found myself falling in love from our first meeting.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
A tear formed at the corner of my eye, and Vic ran his thumb over my cheek, disappearing the trace of angst which betrayed me.
“You’re even more beautiful when you cry,” he said.
It seemed my tears had drawn out a protective instinct in Vic, as he pulled me to him again a little more roughly than was necessary. One of his hands wrapped around my wrist, painful in its tight grip. The other grasped the back of my neck so I was rendered immobile as he pressed his mouth to mine.
There was something about being so dominated, so quickly reminded of my own comparative weakness, that caused my core to pulse, a trace of wetness already beginning to soak my panties.
Vic’s hand left my wrist, and skimmed down my back, yanking my skirt material up to my waist, and roughly palming the place between my legs. I could feel his smile grow against my mouth, as he took in my stirred state, his fingers brushed beneath the satin fabric of my panties, trailing through the wetness of my arousal.
Any doubts I might have had were quelled. His body and hands inspired a near drunken state in me, and I would give anything to keep him close, to keep his rough hands on my body and his intoxicating scent on my skin.
I was by this point lying on top of him, my hips between his legs and my weight on his chest. He pulled back a little, and rested his palm against my neck.
“There’s nothing I’d like more than to carry you upstairs, throw you down on the bed, rip off your clothes, and show you just how much I need you. But, I won’t,” he growled.
I felt his erection grow within his jeans, against my stomach, and felt the thrill of heat running through my body.
“Why?” I whispered.
“Because, you need space from me, space to think,” he said.
He ripped off my panties, throwing them onto the coffee table next to us. He grabbed my ass with both hands, and squeezed tight. He lifted me into his lap, making sure I could feel every inch of his hard cock through the fabric of his pants. His fingers moved over my sex, and he pressed two fingers inside with a brutal quickness, causing me to gasp.
“I need you,” I whispered, the automatic admission astonishing even myself.
He smiled.
“I need you too,” he said. “Every part of you, but we’ll wait until you’re sure.”
He rocked his hand against me, his fingers moving in and out of my body. My hips had begun shifting in time with his hand. I could feel myself growing close to ecstasy, and began working my body against him a little faster.
I could see amusement in his crystal blue eyes, and his mouth hitched up at the corner. As quickly as they had entered, he pulled his fingers from me. My muscles clenched against this new void, and I looked down on him with confusion.
He laughed. “Sweetheart, you know where to find me.”
I just nodded, speechless as he sat up, gently pulling away from me. He stood and walked away, casting a quick glance back, where he saw me laying on the couch, the fabric of my dress still hitched up at the side, exposing me to his eyes.
When he was gone, I grabbed my panties off of the coffee table, and quickly put them back on. I straightened my clothing and my hair, well aware that Matthew was still in the kitchen.
I hated how badly I wanted him. I wanted to wait. I wanted him to find me, drag me to his bedroom, throw me on his bed and fuck me like he craved me just as badly as I needed him.
My legs were shaky as I stood up, the rough entry of his fingers leaving me a little sore, though not half as sore as I wanted to feel. I decided to go into town while I waited for the test results of Matthew’s tincture.
I went to my bedroom and grabbed my things. I cast a quick glance at the only barely begun painting, and felt ashamed. It would doubtless be some time before I felt productive again.
By the time I made it downstairs, Matthew and Vic were back in the kitchen. I wondered why Matthew wasn’t bothering to even pretend to go to school that day, why he openly waited by the phone for the autopsy report.
I reminded myself that I was waiting on a call too.
I went into town and settled down in a coffee shop. A hot cappuccino and croissant sat on the table in front of me, next to my cell phone.
There was something to the relationship between Vic and Matthew, something I couldn’t quite define. Maybe Vic had brought Matthew in, knowing that he was without any kind of medical authority, and he was afraid that he had contributed to Edith’s suffering.
I couldn’t imagine living with that kind of guilt.
Most of the café patrons were on their computers or cell phones. I saw a couple of people reading books, but they were in the minority. It was strange to be surrounded by strangers, after being ensconced for so long in the tribulations of Edith, and in my passionate, sexual relationship with Vic.
Whenever Vic was in the room, he dominated even my senses.
My phone rang, displaying an unknown local number and shattering my contemplation. I picked up, and answered quietly, asking them to wait a moment as I took the phone outside.
“Hi, sorry about that,” I said, once I was on the sidewalk.
“No problem,” a man’s voice answered. “So, we’ve got your results. It’s about fifty percent ethanol. Based on what we’re seeing, it’s probably something like vodka, but can’t say more than that.”
I shook my head. “What else?”
“Nothing else.”
“That’s impossible, did you test for metals, other contaminants?”
“Yup, but it’s a pass.”
“What about the color?” I pressed. “It’s yellow and has a metallic taste. It’s impossible that it’s just vodka.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“Nope, the fluid we tested is clear. Are you sure you brought in the right sample?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said patiently. “There was only one sample I could have brought in.”
Another pause.
“I’m sorry about that, miss. I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe if you get another sample, you can bring it here. Or you can bring the sample to one of the other labs, see if they can give you a more satisfactory answer. I’d be happy to give you their info if that would be helpful.”
I breathed out sharply. “No, thank you. That won’t be necessary.”
“Sorry we couldn’t give you a different answer. I hope you have a great day, miss.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said.
He hung up.
It was impossible. I knew what I had seen; I remembered the sharp, metallic taste, and could practically still feel it on my tongue. It was impossible that the vial I had brought in contained only vodka, but I couldn’t imagine the man at the lab would have any reason to falsify the results.
I wanted to tell Vic about all this, but those nagging doubts returned. After all, if Matthew had managed to swap out the tincture for vodka, it only made sense that Vic played some part in the charade. He was the one who had passionately bedded me while the vial lay unattended in my bedside table.
But maybe that was the test. I would treat Vic as my confidant, and gauge his reaction. I only hoped I could maintain at least basic objectivity.