Page 2 of On Thin Ice

After eating a few bites, I began washing dishes again, listening to the piece. The first part was familiar but that only lasted for a bit.

And then Sinclair’s voice made me nearly jump out of my skin.

“Well…who knew you listened to classical music?”

Fortunately, I didn’t drop the plate in my hand. Turning slightly, I looked at him as he walked over to the counter. “Good morning,” I replied, drying off my hands and picking up my phone. “I can turn it off.”

“No, that’s okay. I like The Four Seasons.”

Was I the only person who hadn’t known what that was called until last night?

Although I left the music playing, I turned it down before returning to the dishes. Sinclair said, “You made coffee. Thank you.”

I murmured a slight You’re welcome but stayed focused. I hadn’t wanted him to catch me working…but now, since I had been caught, I just wanted to hurry up and finish so I could leave. The potential for things to become awkward between us was far too great to push my luck.

As he silently poured coffee, I was once again distracted. Having him so near made my body start to hum as if I were holding a rod in the air as a thunderstorm brewed overhead—and he was a charge in the cloud, ready to become a lightning bolt to strike me. But, if he did, would he hurt me? What would it feel like? Would it be worth it?

And the most important question of all: how had I fallen for this man, my enemy? When exactly had that happened?

When he spoke again, I barely caught it. “When will Edna be here?”

“She won’t. I told her I would do these for her so she didn’t have to come in.”

He wasn’t angry about it like I’d thought he might be. And it took me a moment before I realized he was standing beside me—and he started rinsing the plates, stacking them in the dish drainer.

And I couldn’t help myself as I repeated an echo of his earlier sentiment. “Well…who knew you could do dishes?”

He chuckled. “I watch television once in a while.” I couldn’t help but shoot an incredulous look at him—because it was funny and strange all at once. Before I could ask, he added, “I’ve been in this kitchen with Edna for a good part of my life. I might not know the intricate details but I get the gist.”

We worked in silence as I passed over to him one plate after another, the piles at my left slowly going down. He had begun drying plates and stacking them, leaving them on the counter close to the side of the refrigerator. When the drainer was full for the second time, he said, “Why don’t we eat breakfast and then we can finish?”

My muffin was already cold, as was my coffee, but he’d been pleasant enough. I only hoped it wasn’t an excuse to talk.

But it wasn’t. We continued listening to Vivaldi until it stopped playing and we were almost done eating when it did. It wasn’t until we returned to the sink, resuming our earlier tasks, that Sinclair decided to move into more sensitive territory. “Are you okay?”

Had I done something that made him think I wasn’t? “What do you mean?” I asked, handing him one of the remaining plates to be rinsed. But I didn’t make eye contact.

“From last night. Are you all right?”

I decided to be honest. “Uh…overall. I have some bruises on my arm that’ll fade after a few days.”

“Can I see them?”

I shrugged, not wanting this attention but realizing that, if I just got it over with, it would be done soon enough. Dropping the dishcloth in the water, I turned and then rotated my arms so he could see the black and purple marks. If he’d tried, he might have noticed them while we were eating, but I imagined he was avoiding looking at me as much as I’d been trying to do the same.

He held my arm reverently, as if it were a delicate flower that could be crushed if he so much as breathed on it. Although his fingers were gentle, I could feel a heat radiating from them, and my mind went right back to last night’s kiss.

I wanted this man. I wanted him badly, and a huge part of me was beginning to wall off everything I knew about him and his family. Just desiring him felt like I was betraying my father.

Slowly, with the lightest of touch, he circled over the bruise with his thumb, as if he could erase it. “Do you need medical attention? Or…a professional to talk to?”

“No.” But I couldn’t maintain this stance. As I pulled my arm away from his light hold, I said, “I’m fine,” returning to the dishes.

I could sense that he hadn’t moved, but I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t keep wanting him when I shouldn’t have him. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing or if the kiss he’d given me last night was something he did frequently. Maybe that kiss had meant nothing to him.

We finished the dishes in silence, my fingers pruny from being in the water for so long. As I dried off my hands, I asked, “Where do all these go?” Although I’d managed to find a home for all the glasses, I had no idea where the silverware and best china went.

“I don’t know. That’s Edna’s purview. We’ll let her take care of them Monday morning. They’re not too much in the way here.”

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