right here.” She pressed the contract into his chest. “You better hide that
before it’s discovered.” They made a mockery of a sacred pact, turned it into a
business deal, but even on the first day emotions came into play. She didn’t
know how they would fix their mess in a year. Maybe there would be cake.
* * * *
Bed.
Randolph
stared at his four-poster mahogany bed.
Up
until the moment he brought his new wife to his family home, his bed was his
biggest nemesis. He narrowed his eyes at the seemingly benign piece of
furniture. Most would call it a place of rest and comfort. He called it a
nightmare where the moment he laid down every thought entered his mind,
taunting him awake. With Willow’s words still fresh in his mind, he didn’t see
any dreams of her or otherwise happening any time soon. On a night like tonight
he wouldn’t have even tried, he would have left and let loose some of his pent
up energy in a more creative way than having sex.
The
bathroom door opened and the jingle bell of one pampered pet’s collar and the
light humming of his spouse interrupted his glaring.
“It’s
11:45, we made it.” In a long flowing light blue nightgown Willow seemed to
float around the room they would share for the next 364 days. “Are you going to
get in bed?”
“Ladies
first.” He motioned toward the oversized deceptive mound of feathers and
stuffing inviting his wife into his bed to sleep.
“Big,
beautiful boys first.” Willow raised her voice as if she were talking to a
baby, bent down and plopped the living powder puff up on his sleeping area.
“The
dog can’t sleep in the bed.” He had never seen a dog that looked like Jeb. Unlike
the name which should be given to a big, burly animal, Willow’s pet weighed at
most four pounds and he was convinced most of the weight was from a copious
amount of white fur. If his mother caught the animal on her million thread
count sheets, she might faint. Suddenly, he wanted the dog in the bed. “Doesn’t
he sleep in Nan’s room?”
“Jeb
and I are a set.” She crossed her arms. “We sleep in the same place.”
They
both stopped and watched as the fluffy thing walked around practically sinking
into the comforter. The animal went around in a circle, once, twice, a third
and a fourth time and at last, curled up basically blending into the bedding.
He
supposed aside from every other item that entered his mind as soon as he
entered the bed, he could add fear of killing an almost canine to the list. One
wrong turn and they would have a dead dog. “Is he comfortable? Does he need
anything else, perhaps a silk pillow?”
“He’s
low maintenance.” She pulled back the blankets and slipped between the sheets.
“I
don’t know why I don’t believe you.” He took his side of the bed and stared up
at the ceiling.
“Did
you ever have a pet?” She leaned over to the nightstand and opened the drawer.
Not
sure what she could have put there he glanced over to find her with one of her salve
bottles. At least she used her own product. “No, I never had a pet.”
“That’s
really a shame.” She opened the bottle, poured some lotion into her hand and
rubbed it into her arms.
The
scent of roses and lavender filled the air and he caught himself staring at
her. “Why is it a shame?”
“A
pet is its own kind of love. It is also good for balance and calms the spirit.”
She moved to her other arm. “If you had a pet what kind of pet would you have
wanted?”
Well,
at least she was speaking to him, but the conversation had no depth or emotion.
He might as well tell her what he did on his summer vacation. “I don’t know. I
suppose you can’t say I don’t have a pet anymore.” He lifted his head to ensure
his pet remained as far away from him as possible.
“Just
like the ring and the house, Nan and the pet are only on loan.” She laughed and
ran her hands down her neck to her chest.
“I
need to go to the office tomorrow.” It wasn’t lost on him
before it’s discovered.” They made a mockery of a sacred pact, turned it into a
business deal, but even on the first day emotions came into play. She didn’t
know how they would fix their mess in a year. Maybe there would be cake.
* * * *
Bed.
Randolph
stared at his four-poster mahogany bed.
Up
until the moment he brought his new wife to his family home, his bed was his
biggest nemesis. He narrowed his eyes at the seemingly benign piece of
furniture. Most would call it a place of rest and comfort. He called it a
nightmare where the moment he laid down every thought entered his mind,
taunting him awake. With Willow’s words still fresh in his mind, he didn’t see
any dreams of her or otherwise happening any time soon. On a night like tonight
he wouldn’t have even tried, he would have left and let loose some of his pent
up energy in a more creative way than having sex.
The
bathroom door opened and the jingle bell of one pampered pet’s collar and the
light humming of his spouse interrupted his glaring.
“It’s
11:45, we made it.” In a long flowing light blue nightgown Willow seemed to
float around the room they would share for the next 364 days. “Are you going to
get in bed?”
“Ladies
first.” He motioned toward the oversized deceptive mound of feathers and
stuffing inviting his wife into his bed to sleep.
“Big,
beautiful boys first.” Willow raised her voice as if she were talking to a
baby, bent down and plopped the living powder puff up on his sleeping area.
“The
dog can’t sleep in the bed.” He had never seen a dog that looked like Jeb. Unlike
the name which should be given to a big, burly animal, Willow’s pet weighed at
most four pounds and he was convinced most of the weight was from a copious
amount of white fur. If his mother caught the animal on her million thread
count sheets, she might faint. Suddenly, he wanted the dog in the bed. “Doesn’t
he sleep in Nan’s room?”
“Jeb
and I are a set.” She crossed her arms. “We sleep in the same place.”
They
both stopped and watched as the fluffy thing walked around practically sinking
into the comforter. The animal went around in a circle, once, twice, a third
and a fourth time and at last, curled up basically blending into the bedding.
He
supposed aside from every other item that entered his mind as soon as he
entered the bed, he could add fear of killing an almost canine to the list. One
wrong turn and they would have a dead dog. “Is he comfortable? Does he need
anything else, perhaps a silk pillow?”
“He’s
low maintenance.” She pulled back the blankets and slipped between the sheets.
“I
don’t know why I don’t believe you.” He took his side of the bed and stared up
at the ceiling.
“Did
you ever have a pet?” She leaned over to the nightstand and opened the drawer.
Not
sure what she could have put there he glanced over to find her with one of her salve
bottles. At least she used her own product. “No, I never had a pet.”
“That’s
really a shame.” She opened the bottle, poured some lotion into her hand and
rubbed it into her arms.
The
scent of roses and lavender filled the air and he caught himself staring at
her. “Why is it a shame?”
“A
pet is its own kind of love. It is also good for balance and calms the spirit.”
She moved to her other arm. “If you had a pet what kind of pet would you have
wanted?”
Well,
at least she was speaking to him, but the conversation had no depth or emotion.
He might as well tell her what he did on his summer vacation. “I don’t know. I
suppose you can’t say I don’t have a pet anymore.” He lifted his head to ensure
his pet remained as far away from him as possible.
“Just
like the ring and the house, Nan and the pet are only on loan.” She laughed and
ran her hands down her neck to her chest.
“I
need to go to the office tomorrow.” It wasn’t lost on him
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