Nola (11 page)

In a moment of
clarity, he said, "You didn't tell them you were going, did you?"

Her silence was
answer enough for him, and he began spanking her in earnest, unable to deal
with the idea that she could have been seriously hurt or injured, and her
parents wouldn't have even known that she was gone.

"I used to go to
stay with a friend who would cover for me. My parents never knew the
difference," she confessed.

"You would never
have gotten away with that if I'd been your father."

A fact that she
was wholly thankful for, Nola thought, but wisely kept to
herself
.
It was hard enough being his wife, and she really hadn't done anything wrong,
per se. But, since marrying him, she'd lived her life by his law, and he
definitely thought that she'd done something she oughtn't. And although she
might deny it in a court of law, she supposed she could see what he meant.

Her bottom had
already been hurting from his tender caresses while they were ascending the
stairs - the hairbrush was burning holes in her flesh, she was quite sure. And
he was continuing to spank her as if he hadn't already given her a good thirty
or so swats, decorating her bottom until it felt as if her flesh was so swollen
it was going to burst.

Finally, he let
her up, tucking her hairbrush into his nightstand this time, and holding her
close to him, not letting her slip away, and not even making a move to make
love to her, just holding her tight. After a long while, he lifted his head and
said, "You're not going to make it to this rally, Nola. I can't do it this
weekend, and you're never to schedule one I can't take you to in the future. Is
that understood?"

Her response, at
first, was a low growl, but then she quickly changed it to an only somewhat
whiney "Yes."

Despite the fact
that she'd been denied the chance to support her sisters in their fight for the
same freedoms that men enjoyed, and she'd intended to spend the weekend in full
pout, her husband had other ideas and actually brought her in to the high level
meetings he was having with investors and bankers, trying to leverage this
buyout.

At first, she
went only under protest. He'd practically had to throw her over his shoulder,
like he was apt to do at any given moment. But after that first day, when she
noticed how ill at ease all the other men were at having a woman in the meeting
with them, and knew that she was giving her husband the advantage because of
it, she started to pay more attention to what was going on.

Brandon's
thought in having her accompany him was several fold. First, if she was with
him, she couldn't be getting herself into trouble. Secondly, he liked having
her around, thirdly, if she got involved in doing this kind of thing with him,
maybe she'd let go of some of her more outspoken ideas, and lastly, she was
actually helping him a lot, because her presence was a considerable distraction
to the other men. He was making better strides than he'd thought he could
because everyone else was fidgeting, worrying about their language, their eyes
constantly wandering to his beautiful bride.

She actually
helped him get the company he was interested in for much less money than he'd
expected to pay, and he took her out to an incredibly extravagant dinner to
celebrate,
then
proposed something more of a partnership
in regards to the business.

Nola was
surprised and proud that he thought she'd helped him so much just by sitting
there, and
a warmth
suffused her that she hadn't felt
in a very long time. "Well, I think I make a better secret weapon, don't you? If
I'm always with you, the novelty will wear off."

He had to agree
that she was exactly right. But he held his glass up to her regardless,
thanking her for all of her help.

Not knowing
quite what else to do, Nola drank to herself,
the
got
up the gumption to ask, "Does this mean that I can go to one of my rallies?"

Brandon nodded
yes, quickly, before he tried to talk her out of it. "Yes, you can. You just
tell me where and when, and we'll go."

It ended up that
the next rally was up in Glens Falls, in the beautiful Adirondack Mountains.
Once they got up there, he accompanied her everywhere she went, until she
collapsed into bed each evening. He actually worried that she was overdoing a
bit, but she pushed herself much like he pushed himself in business, and he
couldn't quite find it in himself to forbid her from doing what she so
obviously loved. He probably felt as much as a fish out of water listening to
what he had been surprised to hear was quite vehement diatribe about men and
their oppression of women as she had listening to all of the business jargon
he'd subjected her to recently, but he just stood as close to her as he could,
keeping her within his line of sight as much as possible, and constantly
scanning the crowds for possible troublemakers.

Although they
were supposed to go back to the city that Sunday, he had a surprise in store
for her and had gotten them a gorgeous cottage on Lake George, just north of
Glens Falls. It was just off season, just after Labor Day, and still quite
warm, and they spent their days swimming, canoeing - badly, in her case - and
making love in various locations guaranteed to shock the locals and few
remaining tourists.

Nola was sitting
in the sunroom of what he euphemistically called a cabin - it was kind of like
him calling their house in the Hamptons a cottage. This place was absolutely
huge, with tons of gorgeous, pristine lake frontage, a sandy beach, a boat dock
and six bedrooms. The room she was sitting in had floor to ceiling windows on
three sides, and it had a gorgeous view of the water. She had a cup of
chamomile tea at her side, and a book in her lap, and she realized, all of a
sudden, that she'd never been happier in her life, and that her improved
relationship with her husband was a large part of the reason why.

She liked him.
She genuinely liked him. Yes, he could be a pain in the butt. A pain in her
butt, most particularly. But he was smart and could be funny when he wanted to
be, and he was incredibly good at making her feel incredible when they came together
in their big bed. Of course, he was equally good at making her feel atrocious
when he decided to spank her, and he'd been a real idiot at the beginning of
their marriage.

But things were
evening out nicely, she thought, and she was amazed to find that she was
actually starting to have tender feelings about him. Perhaps, just perhaps, she
was even coming to love him.

Nola was a
realist, though. Her husband most certainly wasn't falling in love with her. He
wasn't the type. He was a realist, a pragmatist - not likely to believe in
something as ephemeral as love in any case. She didn't think he'd ever loved
much of anything in his life beyond succeeding in business. Maybe his father
and grandfather, but if he did it was a gruff type of love that was never
spoken, never communicated among the three of them.

They were all
very much alike - the three generations of Sawyers. The son was most like his
grandfather, truth
be
told. Alexander was the weakest
of them - which was still damned strong for most men, but he was the most
likely to express any sort of feelings at all, whereas it seemed the other two
were more likely to carry their feelings about things - anything but work - to
their graves.

Nola was finding
- finally, after nearly a year of marriage - that she was nowhere near as
miserable as she'd been when they'd first gotten
married,
and that was an incredible relief. Yes, she was spanked, and as much as she
wished it never happened, late at night when she was alone with her own
thoughts, she had to admit that it did add something to their relationship. A
sexual tension that she didn't think would be there if they didn't have a
disciplinary type of relationship.

And she knew she
wasn't the only woman who got spanked, either. Since she'd been married,
several of her old friends, who were already on to having children, having
gotten married at a much more respectable age, had gotten back in touch -
they'd been invited to the wedding and that was where contact had been
reestablished, and several of them had confessed that they, too, were under the
rule of their husband's thumb.

It had surprised
her just how easily this information was imparted to her. It wasn't as if she'd
gone fishing to hear true confessions like that. She hadn't. And she didn't even
know any of these women all that well. It seemed that they were quite eager to
make these confessions, even though all of the meetings she'd had with each of
them had been conducted in public establishments - tea rooms and restaurants.

Nola didn't find
herself being quite that forthcoming about her relationship with her husband,
but she was absolutely fascinated by what everyone else insisted on telling
her. And she knew from dealing with downtrodden women that spanking could have
been the very least of their problems - at least no one seemed to be dealing
with a husband who truly beat them - including Nola herself.

It was funny.
The women who had confessed to her that they were routinely put over their
husband's lap were the happiest of the lot of them. The ones whose husbands
didn't pay any kind of attention to them whatsoever were the most miserable.
That was one thing to be said for living under the threat of male discipline -
at least he had to be keeping track of what you were doing.

Nola sniffed. Sometimes,
though, that just ended up being annoying.

Her quiet
musings were interrupted by a knock at the door, which her husband answered. It
was a messenger, and from the looks of it, the news he brought was not good.
Nola rose immediately. Brandon was looking distinctly pale.

"What is it?"
she put her arms around him as best she could, although he was actually too big
for her ever to truly succeed at it.

"Grandfather.
He's had some
sort of attack, and he's not expected to make it very long. We have to go
home."

"Of
course!"
She hugged him tightly, whispering, "I'm so sorry, Brandon."

He'd never been
much of a hugger, but he had to admit that it felt good, coming from her. He
drew back, saying, "We'd better get a move on."

The ride back
home was accomplished in near silence, with the exception of a few minutes when
they were nearly home, and Brandon whispered, "If it had been Father, I would
have been more prepared for it. He's been sickly for a while."

"I know, and I'm
sorry. Both your grandfather and your father are wonderful people." She had
seated herself right next to him for the trip, wanting to offer what little
comfort she could, and now she reached over and grabbed his hand tightly.

His wan smile
tugged at her heart. "Thank you. They're both completely enamored of you, in
case you hadn't guessed."

She grinned
slightly. "It's not their opinion I worry about, though."

He tucked that
offhand confession into the back off his brain to be explored further when he
had a moment.

They made it to
Serenity in time to see Alexander, but not to talk to him. The doctor informed
them that there wasn't any hope, and that it was just a matter of hours, perhaps
a day or so. The family sat vigil by the beloved old man's bedside, and Nola
tried to make herself as invisible as possible, making sure they all had
whatever they needed, bringing in small snacks and making Geoffrey take
frequent breaks, because his health wasn't doing all that well, either.

A lot of the
time it was just Brandon and
herself
by his bedside,
and she encouraged him to talk about growing up with Alexander, who had always
been a huge influence in his life - almost more so than his father. He
mentioned the tree house that they had built together on the grounds, and the
time he'd drilled a hole in his bathroom floor because he'd overflowed it
playing with his boats in the tub. Nola held his hand throughout, and ran and
fetched anything he wanted or needed, but mostly she simply provided
unflinching support and companionship, and he couldn't have asked for anything
more precious at a time like that.

Alexander Pruitt
Sawyer died in the early hours of the third morning after they'd gotten back
from Lake George, and all of his surviving family, was around him when he left
them for a better place, and then the vigil of sitting with the body until it
could be laid to rest began, and Nola took her own turn with it. He was to be
buried in a cemetery that was just down the road, next to his beloved wife who
had predeceased him by twenty or so years.

Nola did
everything she could to relieve her husband and her father in law of having to
deal with the minutia. She made as many decisions regarding the funeral
arrangements as she could, and only went to them with things she was truly
uncertain about. Alexander was an important person, a scion in business and
society, and the funeral itself would be attended by various dignitaries and
heads of state. Some of what she was doing was definitely out of her league,
but she did her best, and the men just seemed to agree to anything she
suggested.

When it was all
over, it took a long while for the inhabitants of Alexander's house to come to
grips with his loss - even at his advanced age, the man, like his grandson, was
a force to be reckoned with. Nola could well imagine what he had been like as a
young man, knowing Brandon. They were almost frightfully alike - they even
looked alike. There was a portrait of Alexander that was done when he was forty
or so, and when she'd first come to Serenity she had mistook it for one of
Brandon.