Chapter Eight
Joy’s eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, she simply lay still, savoring the warmth of Thomas’s arm draped over her. She’d never been at the ocean before, and it surprised her just how calming the sound of the waves were as they lapped against the beach.
After a moment, Joy wriggled from beneath the comforting weight of his arm, slipping out of bed. She tiptoed toward the door. She wanted to make him breakfast in bed, feeling the need to treat the man who worked so hard.
“Where do you think you’re sneaking off to?” Thomas’s voice stopped her short. She halted mid-step.
Joy turned, smiling as she saw him looking up at her. He looked so sweet wearing just the sheet. “I thought I’d get a start on breakfast,” she said.
Thomas propped himself up on one elbow, the corners of his mouth lifting into an amused smirk. “You’re planning to cook?” he asked, one eyebrow arching in playful skepticism. He was constantly surprised by the whirlwind of energy that was his wife. Even morning sickness didn’t seem to slow her down…much.
“Yes, I am,” Joy declared with mock indignation. “And I’ll have you know, Mr. Worthington, that my culinary skills are quite—”
“Remarkable?” he finished for her.
“Exactly,” Joy agreed. “So you just stay put, and prepare to be impressed.”
Thomas chuckled. “Well then, Mrs. Worthington, dazzle away. But know that I am fully capable of assisting my talented wife, should she require it.”
“Assistance noted,” she replied with a cheeky grin. “But first, I have a feast to create.”
Joy’s fingers had barely grazed the doorknob when Thomas’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Before you transform our humble abode into a culinary paradise,” he began, sitting up against the headboard, the sheet down around his waist, “there’s something you ought to know.”
Pausing, Joy turned. “Oh?”
Thomas’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “We have Mrs. Dunfrey. She comes in every morning I’m here. Cooks, cleans, and generally ensures that I don’t fall to pieces.”
A wave of surprise washed over Joy, followed swiftly by a twinge of disappointment. “A housekeeper?” she murmured.
“Yes.” He nodded sagely. “An excellent one at that. But that just means we’ll have more time together.”
But Joy could not help but feel useless. Her shoulders drooped, and she gave Thomas a rueful smile. “I suppose it’s lovely to have fewer chores,” she conceded, “though I can’t shake the feeling that I should be doing…something constructive. I guess I should have brought the mending from the orphanage. I hate to be idle.”
“Dearest Joy,” Thomas said warmly. “Your company alone is worth more than you realize. We can simply enjoy ourselves. Is that so difficult?’”
“I suppose not. But I really do enjoy being busy. I haven’t learned how to spend my time reading novels or sitting around doing nothing. I’ll have to find a worthwhile endeavor to stay busy here at the beach. I wonder if there’s an orphanage nearby. It’s too bad it’s so late in the season, or I could find someone who needed some gardening help.”
“Think of it as an opportunity,” Thomas suggested. “An opportunity to explore new pursuits, perhaps?”
“New pursuits,” Joy repeated thoughtfully. “Yes, that might just be what I need.”
“Whatever you choose,” Thomas said with a gentle chuckle, “I have no doubt it will be nothing short of remarkable.”
“Flatterer,” Joy said, shaking her head.
“Merely a husband speaking the truth,” he replied with a grin.
Joy explored the storage room Thomas had pointed out to her the night before, her mind set on her newfound mission. The scent of salt and old wood welcomed her as she rummaged through a tangle of fishing gear. With a triumphant grin, she unearthed two rods and reels that seemed promising.
“Ah, here we are,” she murmured to herself, giving one of the reels a test spin. It whirred satisfactorily, and she felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of sharing this slice of ordinary life with Thomas, who had likely never baited a hook in his life.
“Joy?” Thomas’s voice floated from the doorway. “What are you plotting now?”
“Plotting? You make me sound like a child who is always involved in some sort of nefarious scheme, and I can assure you, I’m not.” She turned, feigning innocence while holding the rods. “Merely planning an educational excursion.”
“Into the wilds of the beach, I presume?” he teased.
