Chapter Thirty-Two
The warm summer air spiraled through the kitchen window with the gentle breeze. Daniel smelled the hint of spring roses. He looked out the window as he dried off his glass and placed it on the shelf. Glancing across the yard, he saw Marienne’s porch door swing open. His heart jumped.
Stop it.
A much stronger wordless voice led him to continue watching. She held a glass in her hand, iced tea, he guessed, and she wandered past her plants, leaning down to examine a few, before she sat down on the porch swing. She rocked slowly, but the movement was enough to mesmerize him.
Although he could only see her faintly through the dusky light he could picture her clearly, one leg tucked beneath her as she rocked with the toes of her extended foot, both hands holding the tall glass, one likely tracing lazy circles in the condensation as the other cupped the cool base.
I have to talk to her.
Before he’d even considered the decision he headed outside. His door squeaked as it caught twice on its hinge before closing, and she turned. Even through the semi-darkness, he could see the smile spread across her face. His mood instantly improved.
“Hey,” she said, her voice a welcome change from his own, which had been echoing through his head for hours.
“Hey, you up for some company?”
“You’re not company. You’re more like a fixture.”
“What, like a lawn ornament?”
“No,” she said. “More like.…”
He raised an eyebrow. She looked so lovely sitting there, wheels clearly turning behind her dark eyes, teasing him with her words. He’d have gladly waited right there all night.
“This porch swing.” She took a sip of tea.
He raked his hand through his hair and sat beside her, his legs angled toward her. “Porch swing? Old and creaky?”
She let out a breathy laugh. “No. Well, now that you mention it.… Seriously, I meant comfortable, like you belong here.”
He liked that answer. He felt like he belonged there.
“Why does your yard smell so good? Mine smells like yard, yours smells like.…” He closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose, trying to place the aroma.
“Pork roast.”
He groaned. “Yes. Why is that?”
“Probably because I spent half my day roasting a pork loin that didn’t wind up getting eaten.”
He heard an edge of anger in her tone. “Frank’s not home yet?”
She shook her head, frowning.
He hated the sadness that spread across her face when she talked about him.
“The man’s an idiot, you know,” he said, then worried that sounded too harsh. “There’s no job that would keep me away from a pork roast. But then I had two pieces of God-awful sushi for dinner.”
“You hate sushi.”
“Yes, I reaffirmed that tonight.” He rubbed the base of his neck.
“Why did you eat it?”
“That’s what Justine brought home. She rang and said she’d grabbed takeout. I assumed she meant for both of us. You’d think I’d have learned to read her better after all these years.”
“You want some pork roast?” She stood before he replied.
He grinned and nodded. “Love some.”
“Can you grab the baby monitor?”
He picked it up. “Ella sleeping?”
“For the moment. I think she’s teething. She hasn’t been sleeping well.”
He set the monitor down on the kitchen counter.
“I can’t believe she’s almost six months old.”
“Me neither.” Marienne reached into the fridge.
“Can I help?”
She shook her head. “Hot or cold? Sandwich or sliced on a plate?”
“You decide.” He was enjoying the fact that someone cared what he wanted at all.
He sat on the kitchen barstool, arms folded on the countertop. He loved watching her. She was so at ease in her kitchen, so confident. She could talk on the phone, wipe the drool from Ella’s chin, add notes to her grocery list, check her email, and prepare three courses all at once, without skipping a beat. He rubbed his index finger against his eyebrow, as she pulled pans of pork and roasted veggies from the fridge. She sliced up tomatoes and cucumbers and sprinkled them with salt and vinegar, just as he liked them. He shook his head to clear it.
“At least let me slice the bread,” he said.
She smiled and placed the cutting board on the counter as he stood to reach for a knife from the butcher-block holder. She reached at the same moment and their hands brushed against one another. The contact was brief, his forefinger grazing her palm for a fraction of a second, yet it knocked the breath from him. He had to sit down.
You’re ridiculous.
His mind raced, but the rest of his body was too busy tingling to care.
****
Marienne giggled at their clumsiness, but as she turned away, she drew in a deep breath. She’d felt the rush of warmth course through her the instant their hands touched.
When was the last time I had that response to being touched? Have I ever had that response to being touched? What’s wrong with me? God, we’re making a sandwich, out of food I cooked for Frank, and Ella’s sleeping right upstairs.
She could barely concentrate.
“What’s new with Justine these days?” she asked. “I feel like I haven’t seen her in forever.”
“Yeah, she’s been very busy with this new project at work. Has she told you about her plans to have a skincare product line exclusively available at her spas?”
“She mentioned it. How’s it going?”
“She’s down to the finalizing stages now. All she has to do is settle the contract with the manufacturer and come up with a name.”
“Does she have any in mind?”
“Too many. She can’t seem to find one she likes for more than a few hours. She’s not happy with anything her creative consultant came up with.”
“Well, Justine is….” Marienne paused, wrapping the foil around the remaining pork.
“Picky?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not what I was going to say.”
“Stubborn?”
“That’s not what I was going to say either.”
“Bitchy?” He raised his eyebrows.
“All women are bitchy sometimes,” Marienne said.
“Very diplomatic answer.” Daniel took the pitcher of iced tea out of the fridge.
“Besides, Justine’s not bitchy. She’s headstrong, and she knows what she wants. She has a strong sense of self.”
“Very diplomatic.” He poured himself a glass and topped off Marienne’s.
“Seriously, there’s a little bit of Justine in every woman.”
“So you’re saying my wife’s name is synonymous with bitch.”
“Daniel,” she said, getting flustered.
He laughed. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I know what you mean.”
“Good. Because I’m apparently not capable of clarifying myself. I swear pregnancy sucked out at least half my brain cells.”
“If that’s true then you must have had an overabundance beforehand, because you still make perfect sense to me.”
She set the plate down in front of him.
He grinned. “Not to mention perfect sandwiches. This looks fantastic. Thank you.” He picked up the sandwich and took a bite. “Oh my God,” he moaned.
She flushed with pride.
Stop it, he’s moaning about your food, not you.
****
“So good.” He mumbled, trying to cover his mouth, but unable to stop eating for long enough to really be polite about it.
Frank is a total idiot.
He savored the food and the company, knowing he shouldn’t be enjoying either quite as much as he was.
The sound of Ella crying interrupted them.
“Oh no,” Marienne said. “There goes my shower. I’ll be right back.”
He listened as she ran up the stairs. Her voice drifted through the monitor as she murmured soothing words to Ella. By the time she came back downstairs, Ella had stopped crying. She sucked on her fist, wiggling in her mother’s arms.
“She okay?” he asked.
“She’s fine. Hungry. Do you mind if I feed her?”
“Of course not.”
“Thanks.” She sounded relieved. “Frank hates when I nurse in front of anyone, but Ella’s always starving lately. I’d never get anything done if I couldn’t feed her on the go.”
Marienne sat down and maneuvered Ella between the folds of her nursing shirt.
He took the last few bites of his food then brought his plate to the sink. Ella let out a loud sputtering cough.
“Slow down,” Marienne told her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“She all right?”
“She’s a maniac. She sucks too hard then chokes because there’s too much milk.”
“No wonder she’s growing so fast.”
“No wonder I feel like a human dairy farm.” She sighed. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m lucky. I’ve had it easy. Lots of women can’t breastfeed. I just wish she’d stayed asleep long enough for me to have a shower.”
“You have to shower while she’s asleep?” Daniel sipped his iced tea.
“Yeah, it’s one of her new things. She cries if she can’t see me.”
“I could watch her for you. If you think she’d be okay with it.”
“Really?” Marienne turned to look at him.
“Sure, why not?”
“Because when she cries she’s really loud and annoying.”
Daniel laughed. “I’m really loud and annoying when I cry, too.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m sure I can handle it.” He could tell she was tempted. “We’ll be fine. Ella and I go way back.”
“I really do want a shower.” She bit her lip.
“Then have one.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Marienne patted Ella’s back as she bounced her up and down. Ella let out a small burp then laughed.
“If she gets too fussy, yell up and I’ll be right out.”
“Don’t worry.”
“I’ll go fast.”
“Don’t rush. Ella and I have some catching up to do.”
Marienne draped a small towel over his shoulder and handed Ella to him. Ella gurgled in his arms, gnawing on her fist again. “She likes all the toys in that basket, and she seems to like the PB Bear books that are on the couch.”
“Toys. Bear books. Got it.”
“Thanks.” She leaned forward and kissed Ella’s head. “Be a good girl for Daniel, please.”
Ella gurgled.
“See,” he said. “She agreed. We’ll be fine. Go.”
“I’m going.”
Ella tugged at his shirt, plucking at a button with one pudgy hand.
He looked into her dark, round eyes. “What would you like to do?”
She sucked harder on her fist, staring straight at him. “Bahhhhhh,” she said, grabbing the cloth off his shoulder and starting to chew on it.
“I couldn’t have said it better. Let’s see what toys you’ve got.”
He sat down on the couch. Ella squirmed in his arms and let out a small whimper.
“You’re okay.” He turned her so she was facing him. She grabbed a handful of his shirt and rubbed her face on his shoulder. He kissed the side of her head. She smelled delightful, Marienne’s sweet vanilla scent mixed with the aroma of freshly baked bread. He grabbed the squishy stuffed frog out of the basket and gave it a squeeze. Ella stopped whimpering and turned toward the squeaky sound.
“Ahh, you like the frog.”
“Bah,” Ella said.
****
Marienne rushed through her shower. She was thankful Daniel had agreed to watch Ella, but she also knew how long ten minutes could seem in the presence of a screaming baby.
As she rinsed the shampoo from her hair she strained to see if she could hear crying. She turned off the water and was greeted by silence.
Wow, he’s doing well.
For the past two weeks, Ella had cried any time Marienne left the room. Even when Frank was watching her. She hadn’t mentioned that to Daniel because she didn’t want to freak him out, but she had been fairly certain Ella would cry the whole time she showered.
Even though it was brief, the shower refreshed her. It felt good to put on clothes that hadn’t been drooled on, yet. She started down the stairs and heard Daniel talking to Ella. His voice was soft and rhythmic, and Ella cooed back at him at random intervals as though they were having a conversation.
“You’re amazing,” she said as soon as she walked into the room.
“Look, Mummy’s back.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “You have no idea how much she’s been crying lately. I can’t believe she stayed for you.”
“It’s my voice. You should see how soothing my students find it. Puts most of them to sleep.”
“You’re underestimating the accent again. And you really are very good with her. You should consider having one of your own.”
“I have, but I’m going to need a bit of assistance from Justine, and she’s not exactly ready yet.”
Ella threw the squeaky frog over the back of the couch.