Page 82 of Homestead

“Okay,” he calls after me. “But I’m gonna make up for it later!”

I barely hear him. Definitely can’t answer.

I run toward the back door. Gurgle when I have to take the time to unlock and unbar it. Then I finally make it to the outhouse in an awkward sprint.

I vomit with painful mostly dry heaves and then burst into tears.

* * *

I must have done a better job hiding my anxiety and queasiness this morning than I feared. Jimmy is relaxed and smiling when he appears fully dressed a few minutes later as I’m washing my hands and face in the kitchen sink.

He comes over as I’m drying off with a towel and wraps his arms around me, pressing his body into my back. He leans down to kiss my cheek. “Thank you, Chloe.”

“You’re welcome,” I say into my towel. “It was a good way to start a Saturday.”

“You can say that again.” He’s still holding me against his front. He tilts his head down to nuzzle my neck and jaw with his beard.

Normally I’d appreciate the affectionate gesture, but today it’s really disturbing me. I can’t let him see that I was just really sick and still a little shaky.

But I can’t pull away. Ican’t.

“We don’t got that much to do today. Thought maybe we could do some fishin’.”

“That sounds good.” It does. Sitting with a fishing pole sounds a lot more restful than almost anything else I might be doing.

“Then sometime today I’m gonna take care of you the way you did me. Don’t think I’m gonna forget about it.”

“I know you won’t.” I turn back to smile at him over my shoulder.

He takes advantage of the position to press a kiss against my lips.

I’ve done well. I’ve made him feel better. He’s back to his old self and even warmer than usual, probably because he’s relieved that I’ve returned to my typical sweet self.

There’s no way I can blow it all out of the water by yanking myself out of his arms, but I really want to.

Instead, I giggle and duck my head as if I’m feeling shy. “Don’t you have chores to do before breakfast, mister?”

He gives a mock groan. Kisses my cheek again. Finally lets me go. “Fine. I’ll go do my damn chores. Be a lot more fun cuddlin’ with you.”

I laugh again, my cheeks blazing, and then slump when he exits the house.

Shit. It’s almost more effort faking things for Jimmy than all the work I’ve poured into making this household run.

* * *

We fish in the morning, and then I have to fake falling asleep on the couch so he doesn’t get any ideas about sex that afternoon. I usually feel better as the day progresses and normally wouldn’t be opposed to sex when we have spare time during the day. A few months back, during the last snow of the season, we were snowed in for a day and a half and ended up having sex four times the first day and twice the following morning since after shoveling a path to the animals, there wasn’t anything else we could do.

But today I’m too emotionally shaky to risk letting go enough to have a long afternoon sex session with Jimmy. So I pretend to drift off in a nap. He covers me with a blanket and then leaves me alone. After a while, I fall asleep for real.

He wakes me up a few hours later to ask if I want a bath before we go to dinner at his folks’.

I do. Physically, I feel a lot better after the rest, and emotionally nothing is going to change for me until I find out for sure if I’m pregnant.

He lets me bathe first, and then we pour in some more hot water before he gets in after me. He always washes his hair while he’s in the bath. Usually he does it himself, but a few times, when I’m feeling particularly soft, I’ve done it for him.

I do it for him again today, taking a lot of time to massage his scalp as I work in the shampoo. He sighs deeply as his body relaxes in the warm water. I know he enjoys it.

I realize my mistake after he rinses, gets out, and dries off. He’s got a particular hot look in his eyes that’s impossible not to recognize.

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