Silence descended on the kitchen then, and it was heavy.
Lucy and Marcus had come a long way since they married but this singular moment right now reminded Lucy of how far they still had to go. There was still a huge gap between them, and she still felt like a stranger to her husband.
How could that same man who had ridden to save me, who had held me so close, revert to one that I hardly know? And so quickly. That man is who I want to be married to. That is who I want to be standing in the kitchen with as I wait for the milk to warm up.
That is the life I want. For me… for James… for Marcus, especially.
Was there a chance that she and Marcus might fall in love? Lucy could not say. What she could say, and this was without question, was that there was a good chance that they could be so much more than what they currently were. Not strangers. Not a marriage of convenience. But a husband and wife, a couple who cared for one another, and one who might raise a son to be better than what they were.
If that was what Lucy wanted, she needed to do something about it. And standing there in silence, unable to even speak, was certainly not solving the problem.
We are strangers and we should not be. I need Marcus to trust me… to want to tell me about himself and open up. But how?
“My mother used to do this for me…” An idea came to mind, and Lucy took a step closer to her husband while keeping her voice soft. “When I was a little girl, if I could not sleep, she would come into my room as if she could sense that I was awake.”
“That sounds nice…” Still, he looked at the pot of milk.
“That stopped when I was ten,” she continued. “Not because I was too old for such things. Clearly not…” She laughed gently. “Rather, that is how old I was when my mother died.”
It was subtle, but Marcus’ brow furrowed. “I… that must have been hard on you.”
“It was,” she sighed. “Made harder when my father married my stepmother. She had a daughter of her own, four years younger than I, and she saw not point in pretending that she cared about me. I don’t think she ever truly saw me as her daughter.” Her voice cracked.
Finally, Marcus looked at her.
Even in the darkness, she saw the understanding in his eyes, just as she saw the realization that he knew what she was doing. Now would be the perfect chance for him to dismiss the conversation, for surely he knew where it was going.
Lucy looked right at him, praying that he did not such thing…
“I gathered that the two of you were not close,” he asked, and Lucy breathed a sigh of relief. “I just had no idea how much.”
“My stepmother does not have it in her to be close,” she said. “Even my father, who I believe loves her, is little more than a pawn. My stepsister is the favorite for this reason, and even as a little girl I always knew it. The world revolved around her, and I was left in the cold and forgotten.”
“That must have been hard.”
“It was. It was harder than I sometimes let myself believe…”
The story was meant to form a bridge across the gap between them, and Lucy had not meant it to affect her so much. But speaking those words, reliving that memory, and she was dragged back to her childhood, her loneliness, and the feeling of never being good enough that she had lived with her entire life.
Her childhood, and how she was raised, was the main reason that she never dreamed of marrying and having a family of her own. She never thought she was good enough. She never thought that she deserved it. And the idea of being married off to someone who she did not love, who would only marry her to use her as her father was used, was a fate she despised.
And there was less than a chance that my stepmother would ever marry me to a man of my choice.
She looked at Marcus, she felt his pain and his concern for her, and she knew that this fate was not her reality. Marcus was not perfect, nor was this marriage… but it could be. If only they tried.
“My childhood was hard, Marcus,” she said gently. “But if I let it control me, if I let it decide my fate, then my stepmother wins. I used to not care.” She scoffed. “I used to think that if I was stubborn enough and refused to marry, that it would somehow teach my stepmother a lesson. Now, I realize, that this is no way to live.”
He said nothing, his brow still furrowed, his eyes still trained on her.
“I don’t want her to win…” Slowly, gently, she reached out and rested a hand on his arm. He tensed under her touch, but slowly relaxed. “I don’t want to be unhappy just to spite someone who is not worth the time nor the effort. I deserve better. We both do…”
She let those words sit between them so that the only sound was that of the small fire which burned under the pot.
Marcus’ face was tight. His stare was distant. But he was no longer stiff and awkward. And he no longer looked as if he wanted to be alone.
Lucy’s eyes searched him, pleaded with him, begged for him to do as she had just done. She knew about his past, just as she knew why he was this way. But did he know it? Did he want her to hear it?
Most importantly, was he willing to confront his past so that he might grow into the man she knew he could be.
