Page 22 of Bartholomew
“Whatever you wish is fine,” she answered. I took it back. This was not a show of submission. This was a doormat. A kicked puppy who was afraid to speak or make noise. And that was just not okay. Not in my house.
“Well, did you go by any nicknames with your sisters? I go by Ollie, like I said. All of us brothers have nicknames. Leviticus is Levi, Ezekiel is Zeke, Malachi is Kai. Well, I guess Gideon doesn’t have one, but that’s because it just doesn’t work well.”
“Everyone has just called me Delilah,” she answered. A look crossed over her face, just for an instant, and I wondered what it was.
“Well, then for now, Delilah, it is. A fitting name, if you ask me.” I was laying on the charm. I almost always did with women I had just met. But something told me she could use an extra bump of confidence. What I was met with was quite the contrary. She completely shut down, plastering on a smile that didn’t even reach her nose, let alone her eyes.
“So, anyway. You said you would be happy to learn the recipes that I love. I love that idea, by the way, but I want to know what recipes you enjoy,” I tried again. We sat there at the table, her looking like a mildly uncomfortable Stepford wife and me trying my best to be open and welcoming.
“I have been told I am a good cook. My family has enjoyed my breakfast casseroles for years.” She whispered, but I could see that little bit of pride that she tried to hide. Finally. Something.
“Tell me everything. Consider me your captive audience, my dear,” I said with a widespread grin. The blush that spread across her face was delightful. Delightful Delilah.
“Well, other than that, for breakfast it just depends on what my family wanted me to cook —” she began, but I cut her off.
“No, no. I have no doubt you are a wonderful cook. I’m asking what you like to eat,” I explained.
“Oh, I typically will eat egg whites with some sauteed spinach and tomato, if available. Yogurt occasionally.” Her eyes were back down at her plate. I thought back to Ruth’s words, to Levi’s words. I did not want to push her, but Christ, she was closed up as tight as a clamshell. Ruth had warned that she may need time. That I should just make sure I was open and available for when she wanted to talk.
“Well, I wish you to realize that whatever you truly like, you can have here. I enjoy cooking. I enjoy a lot of things. And I would love to learn more about the things you love. Any of them at all,” I did my best to reassure her with openness and without pressure or preamble. We finished our breakfast in silence, much to my chagrin.
“Would you like to see the house now?” I offered, as we gathered our dishes and took them to the sink.
“Yes, please. Just let me finish cleaning up breakfast,” she spoke softly.
“Nah, that can wait until later, and I’ll help you,” I urged, shrugging off her words.
“Please let me clean up, Bartholomew. Especially after you cooked.” Her hand touched my forearm and her eyes met mine. I read her desire to please there and for a split second, I saw what I imagined Levi had seen when he talked about Ruth’s natural submission. I shook it off, however.
“If you insist, but please let me help,” I urged. Begrudgingly, she nodded and let me help. Within what felt like seconds, we had the dining room and kitchen spotless and ready to go. I had to admit, it felt good to not have to come back to a sink full of dishes.
“How about I give you an actual tour of the house now? We skipped that last night,” I suggested. She nodded, and I had to stop her once again. “You can speak, Delilah. I want to hear your words, your thoughts.”
She smiled that half smile again and regrouped before speaking. “Of course, I would love to see your home, Bartholomew.”
“Ollie. Please. And it’s our home now. I want to know your thoughts on it.” I gave her a grin and watched the blush spread over her cheeks. That half smile turned into a full one and I was hooked.
“Please, then. Lead the way,” she said, and that smile lit up the entire room.
“Right this way. As you can see, here we have the kitchen. It has a modern feel with custom woodwork and clean color scheme,” I gestured as I spoke, taking on the persona of an overly exuberant game show host.
“How exactly is a color scheme clean?” she muttered under her breath, and I looked at her in happy shock.
“Oh, so Delilah’s got retorts, huh?” I teased. She immediately froze in worry, and I laughed.
“Please relax. I won’t bite.” Yet, I finished in my mind.
“Well, I just mean that I don’t know how a color is clean? Does that mean other colors are dirty? What makes a color dirty versus clean?” Her eyes sparkled with the questions, making me wonder what secret personality lay just under the surface of Delilah. I wanted to pull her out of her shell and get to know the real her. Just as Levi had with Ruth. I was just not nearly as patient as my brother. I supposed I would just have to keep being my oh-so-charming self until she had no choice but to open up and be real with me.
“Well, I suppose clean colors means that the colors work well and keep the place looking cleaner. So, grays and blues are it for me. I think it brings a clean feel to the room. Though, now that you mention it, I’m not sure that makes it clean. Perhaps clean as opposed to a lot of colors thrown together. Maybe. I like when you ask questions. You should do that more,” I said, making sure that when I moved past her on my way to the living room, my fingers brushed along her back.
She immediately tensed in surprise, but I pushed on, not giving the moment another thought.
“In here we have the living room,” I spoke, gesturing to the open room. The ceilings were high in this room, which I loved. The high ceilings emphasized the enormous fireplace that Levi and Malachi had insisted I needed. Truth be told, they were right. The fireplace was a gorgeous floor to ceiling piece with a large mantle. The stonework sat beautifully against the navy background of the walls. When the fire was lit, the entire room flickered with light and warmth. It was one of my favorite places to be in the coldness of winter.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“Tell me something else. What else do you like?” I coerced, wanting more of her thoughts. Wanting to hear her voice more as I delicately tried to pull her from her shell.
