Felix
The storm blew in hard just after lunch. Since then we’ve been trapped inside, and with the way the wind is howling, I doubt either of us could remain upright if we ventured out.
Not that we want to.
Riley curled up in Mom’s favorite spot hours ago and stayed there. She’s been alternating between knitting what I think is a hat, and reading a book. Both items look a little worse for wear.
The yarn is crinkled like it’s been knitted together and pulled apart a few times. And the book’s pages have fanned out making them thicker than the spine, and the edges are torn or dogeared, the cover faded and full of scratches.
I want to ask where she got them from except I doubt I’ll like her answer.
Most of what she has is used. Possibly secondhand. Her clothes, while clean, are old and ill-fitting. If what Uncle Granger said this morning is true, there are more reasons to dislike a dead woman. I don’t need any more to dislike Warren.
I’m in the kitchen, pulling together our dinner. I haven’t mentioned I’m doing it because I don’t want Riley to help. I don’t know if she’s ever had a chance to just sit like she is right now and I’m afraid to ask because again, my anger will be directed at a dead woman.
“Why are you frowning? What did that tomato do to you?”
Looking up, I find Riley staring at me with a grin on her face. I can’t help smiling back. She looks different this afternoon. Brighter somehow. And I know she’s not wearing any makeup—today or yesterday—to change her appearance.
“Felix?”
“Sorry. I was just worrying about the storm,” I lie. “It’s coming down pretty fast and hard out there. Even if it stops before morning, we’ll have a couple of feet to dig tomorrow.”
Putting her book down on the small side table, she stretches her arms over her head, arching her back as she stands. I try not to notice the curves of her chest, the slenderness of her arms or legs, but it’s a losing battle.
“I’ll help dig. I might not look like it, but I’m strong.” She flexes her arms.
Chuckling, I say, “I’m sure you are.”
“No. Really. Look at these guns.” She does an arm flex again, this time in a body builder’s pose, and I shake my head as I laugh.
“I see them.” I don’t say what else I see. Like the swell of her breasts or the dip of her waist that I’m sure I can span with my bare hands.
“You’ll let me help shovel, right?”
My gaze locks with hers and I try to decipher what she’s thinking. “If you want. But you don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t. That’s why I will.”
The firmness of her tone, the conviction in her eyes, makes my chest tight. She hasn’t been given many choices in her life. Hell, I doubt she’s been given any. That won’t happen here. From now on, she can make all her own choices.
“Can I help?”
My gaze snaps up. When did she move across the room. “No. I’ve got it.”
Frowning across the counter at me, she narrows her eyes and the corner of my mouth twitches. I have to clench my jaw to keep from smiling.
“Honestly, this is a simple spaghetti sauce. It only needs two hands.”
“Hmm…” Crossing her arms under her breasts gives me all sorts of ideas I shouldn’t have. Except my body and brain were ready for a wife and all the benefits of having one. And I would be lying if I said Riley isn’t attractive.
She’s beautiful. Inside and out.
I hate knowing she hasn’t been appreciated her whole life. Which reminds me. I need to do some research.
Glancing up again, I see she hasn’t moved and the scowl on her face has me biting back laughter. “Tell you what. I’ll get this on the stove then you can keep an eye on it while I get some work done.”
“What do you do?”
It’s the first time she’s asked, and I don’t want to lie, but I can’t tell her the truth either. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “Computer stuff.”
“Computer stuff? Like make them?”
With a shake of my head I say, “No. I’m a programmer.” She doesn’t need to know I’m more of a de-programmer.
“Oh. You build websites and games?”
“No. Not games.” And the websites I deal with aren’t built by me.
“I like computers. Well, I like using them. I haven’t been able to since I finished school.”
“When was that?”
“Three years ago.”
She told me she didn’t put her profile up on Get Hitched, and her lack of computer access confirms it. “I’ve got a spare laptop you can use if you want.” I don’t, but I can strip back one I use rarely and make it safe for her.
“What would I do with it? I’m not in school anymore.”
“You could scroll social media. Stream a movie.”
“I don’t know how to do either of those.”
“Do you want to?”
“Maybe.” She worries her bottom lip with her teeth and I wait her out, sure she’s got a question burning her tongue. With a huff of air she blurts, “Can you teach me?”
I’d like to teach her a lot of things. Learn with her too. But I know that isn’t what she’s referring to and I need to get my head out of my pants. “If you want. Why don’t I set you up with my streaming service and you can watch a movie or two while I work.”
“Okay. But don’t clean any of this up. I’ll do that.” She waves her hand over the counter where I’ve got a few things laid out. “Dinner smells really great and it’s not even cooking yet.”
“It’s the herbs and spices. Plus the fresh tomatoes.” I prefer fresh to canned and I know we’ll be limited to canned as winter takes over and the greenhouse stops producing most of the summer crops.
“Who taught you to cook?”
Her question takes me off guard and my hand slips on the knife I’m using to slice onion. Swallowing through my constricted throat, I say, “Mom.”
She watches me closely, takes her time before talking. And when she does, her voice is laced with concern. “Was your mom in the accident with you?”
I nod. I can’t speak. I’ve never talked about that day with anyone except my uncle. But it feels right to give Riley my story. And when she waits, doesn’t push, I know my past and the hurt it’s caused me is safe with her.
“We were driving home from dinner in Winter Lake. The roads were wet. Nothing too bad, but a group of deer darted across the road making Mom swerve. The car hit a pool of water and aquaplaned off the road into the trees. Mom died instantly.”
“I’m sorry.” Reaching over, she places her warm hand on my forearm. “It’s never easy to lose a parent but I think it would be harder when you have good memories of them.”
“I have great memories.” It’s then I remember she probably doesn’t. “Do you remember your parents?”
“No.” She pulls her hand back and I hate the cold that replaces it. “I don’t even have a photo. The only thing they left me was the ornament that got broken.”
I find that hard to believe. Especially after hearing what Uncle Granger said. “I can try to repair it. I had a look and the pieces are big enough that I should be able to put it back together with glue.”
She gives me a small smile but remains silent while I put all the ingredients in a pot and get it on the stove. Washing my hands at the sink, I turn to find her right behind me, dirty prep dishes piled up in her hands ready to be washed.
Stepping aside, I let her place them on the counter and watch as she fills the sink with water. She quickly gets to work scrubbing the chopping board, and I can’t stop myself from wishing this was my life. That Riley was here all the time. As my wife.
“Felix.”
Her voice snaps me out of my daydream, and I meet her gaze over her shoulder. “Yeah.”
“Did you really want a wife?”
We haven’t talked about this, not really, because I didn’t want to pressure her, but I promised myself I wouldn’t lie to her. “Yes.”
“Why?” Her gaze moves from mine, takes in the room behind me. “You don’t want to leave here.”
“No. I don’t. But I won’t make my wife stay if she wants to go.” My words have a double meaning. I’d never keep my wife trapped on this property, she’d be free to come and go. And I’d never make my wife stay with me if she wasn’t happy.
What I don’t say is that I wish that wife was her.