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eemed to burn, each new smack just adding to the ever growing warmth in my rear. I was so humiliated, I was no doubt blushing, though neither of us would know that right then, since my face was nearly on the floor.
I couldn't believe how much this hurt. I imagined my poor bottom glowing rosy red under my skirt.
"Joseph, please," I wailed, very loudly.
"If you don't be quiet my love, I'll pull up your skirt and get a little closer to your bare skin!" he informed me.
That quieted me altogether, I couldn't imagine anything more horrible, or more improper; though I have to admit that there was a certain fascination with the possibility.
The hairbrush continued with an amazing steadiness, until I thought I could stand no more. And just as I was about to squeal loudly again, Joseph stopped.
"Now," he said, as he pushed me back to my feet. I was about to run bawling to my bedroom, but his voice leapt out at me and hauled me back.
"Don't you go anywhere," he said, very sternly.
I shrank back, embarrassed to let him see my tears and my red nose, rubbing my poor wounded rear. It still felt mighty sore, though the burn was beginning to subside, leaving me with the most lovely warm feeling on my punished rear cheeks.
"Don't you ever pull a silly stunt like that again. Do you understand?"
"Stunt?" I questioned him foolishly.
"Making a scene in the restaurant, and walking out on dinner," he reminded me. "You're much too old to act like that."
He was completely right, I know, but there was just enough defiance left in me to scowl at him nastily.
"I'd better get an apology Daisy, or I'll start again." He waved the hairbrush in his hand. I knew he wasn't kidding.
"I'm sorry," I said at last. "You were right." I believed every word I said, and I hoped he heard the sincerity in my voice. I guess I was still so stunned by the whole thing, that I couldn't believe it had happened. Even today, I still don't know exactly what to make of the amazing incident, or my dear Joseph, but strange as it seems, it's only made me love him all the more.
After my apology, Joseph came to me and put his arms about me and held me. I didn't say a word, and neither did he. Explanations were unnecessary, as if the treatment was normal and perfectly appropriate for a courtship like ours.
When he finally spoke, he was as loving and tender as he'd always been. All the horrible irritation and anger had vanished, and I could only remember the sweet things about our time together.
I cooked him scrambled eggs and potatoes, and he said it was the best meal he'd ever had. I don't know if he was telling the truth or not, but it didn't seem like honesty was quite as important right then, as the quality of affection we had for each other. And mine, as bizarre as it may seem, has risen by leaps and bounds, in this short time.
"Melanie!"
The young woman jerked, awakened from Aunt Daisy's world into her own. The harsh sounding tone in Tony's voice concerned her.
"Melanie, where are you?"
Melanie snapped the book closed and pushed it back into its hiding place, along with the packet of letters. She could hear Tony's step on the stairs, and didn't want to be caught with the dairy in hand. It was a foolish worry, since Tony couldn't care less what she was doing, but Melanie felt she should guard her Aunt's privacy as if the woman was still living.
"Melanie," Tony said, stepping up into the attic. Seeing him there in the shadowy light of the entry, she was instantly reminded of Aunt Daisy's description of her Joseph. They would be about the same height, with the same muscular Italian build, dark curly hair and gleaming black eyes. Melanie closed the lid of the trunk slowly as Tony peered at her from the gloomy stairwell. She hadn't realized until that moment how much the light of day had dwindled away. Long shadows would suggest a summer evening about 8:00 p.m., though nothing had happened to change the stifling heat. The fan still hummed along noisily; though suddenly its sound grated at her ears like nails on a blackboard.
"Haven't I told you about that old thing," Tony said, as his eyes followed hers to the squealing metal appliance.
Melanie was feeling such blissful thoughts, that the reality of Tony's irritation surprised her. Then she remembered that this was how things often were between them anymore.
"It works just fine," Melanie said, "I haven't had a problem with it."
"You keep using that old thing, you'll likely start a fire and burn the place down. But then, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea," he mused.
"Tony no!" Melanie fumed at his attitude.
She watched as her husband walked toward her, snatched the fan cord and yanked it from the socket. Then jerking the cord from the machine, he showed her the fraying end.
"Humph!" was all the response she could give.
