AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And told you that I wanted to see you.”
“I know that—”
“Why didn’t you answer?”
She hesitates and then seems to come to some decision as she watches me stand on her front porch. “Honestly?”
“I always want your honesty, Zelda,” I answer. “Your thoughts and feelings are important to me.”
“I’m kind of getting that impression.”
“So yes, I want to know, honestly, why you didn’t answer the phone when I called.”
She pulls the door open wide. “Would you… umm, like to come inside?”
“Very much so.”
She steps back and lets me in, closing the door behind us. “I was just making dinner. Are you hungry?”
“A little,” I answer, not wanting to rush her, but also wanting her to be comfortable enough to talk to me. There’s no point in trying to have any sort of a relationship if we can’t have honest communication. “We were on the mountain a bit today.”
“I bet that was fun,” she says as she pulls a second plate and wine glass down from the cupboards.
“Do you like hiking?”
“Not at all,” she answers, making me laugh. “I like my hillside and I like my life but I’m not a high adventure kind of a gal. Does that disappoint you?”
“No. Nothing about you disappoints me.”
“Oh,” she says as she uses a pair of kitchen tongs to fill the plates with Caesar salad she’s added asparagus spears, cherry tomatoes, and grilled chicken to. She tops the whole thing with freshly grated parmesan cheese and adds a thick slice of buttered toast to the side of each plate. “Would you pour the wine? It’s already open.”
“Of course.” I pop the cork and pour white wine into both glasses before carrying them in one hand and the bottle in the other as I follow her to a small, round wooden table. It’s nicked and scarred with the use and life of a growing family but no less beautiful. She has a cobalt vase in the center with stalks of daisies and her beloved lavender on display.
“Thank you,” she says when I hand her a glass.
“No, thank you,” I reply. “For this lovely meal that I’ve crashed, for letting me in. I promise I won’t make you regret it.”
She pushes her meal around on her plate, taking a bite here and there while seemingly lost in thought. And then she surprises me when she looks me in the eyes and replies, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“You,” she answers. “Everything. I don’t know.”
“Me?” I ask. “I swear to you that I’ll never lay a hand on you. I won’t ever hurt you.”
“I-I don’t know,” she whispers. “I only know hurt.”
“Your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Surely there was someone else before him or after him who treated you right? Who treated you the way a man should treat a woman?”
And she knocks me dead when she looks up and answers, “No. There was no one before him and only you after.”
“Then I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you know exactly how you should demand to be treated.”
“And how’s that?” she asks timidly.
