Page 51 of Bartholomew
Last night had been as close to a dream come to life as anything I could imagine; however, I had never dreamed of such a thing happening. Least of all to me. I had thought I was prepared for marriage, having lived with my parents for all of my twenty-five years and having four married younger sisters, I had felt I had a firm grasp on the expectations of marriage. By the way they told it, being intimate with one’s husband was something saved for one of two reasons. First, and most obvious, for procreation. Second, to keep your husband happy. Mother had told all five of us girls of a husband’s hunger for desires of the flesh and about keeping your husband happy by keeping the use of your body available at all times. That being said, it seemed to be only an occasional thing, and more importantly, a thing a woman simply must endure.
Endure. If last night had been a display of this hunger my husband possessed, and a thing I must endure, then I would be the happiest woman in Zion before my honeymoon even ended. Last night was not something I had to lie back and endure. It was something we shared; something we explored together.
My hands ran the fluffy loofah over my skin as my mind wandered, recalling the way Ollie’s touch had felt over this same skin. His touch had been electric, turning every nerve of my body into a live wire. My hands didn’t feel like his did. Still, I let my touch trace down over my curves. I inwardly cursed when I felt the little divots where my stretch marks marred my stomach.
I was no small woman. I wore a size eighteen in most clothing and had no false notions of beauty in myself. But the way he looked at me? The way he touched me? It was as though those words used by others to degrade and derail me my entire life carried just a touch less sting today than they had yesterday.
If this was what life with Ollie was going to be like, well, perhaps married life would not be the chore I had once thought it would be.
I finished my shower, taking a few extra minutes with my hair and my clothing. I had little in the way of clothing, but taking the time to look just a bit nicer made me feel a tiny bit better. Leveling the playing field, perhaps. Ollie was easily the most handsome man I had ever seen, more so after last night.
With a spring in my step, I made my way down the hall towards the kitchen. No yummy smell filled the room, and I wondered what he had concocted for our breakfast. His skills in the kitchen were a surprise to me, and only surpassed by his skills in the bedroom. I rolled my eyes at my own thoughts. Delilah, your thoughts are going to get the better of you if you don’t find some control.
“What’s for break… fast…” I trailed off as I entered the kitchen, noting that not only was there no breakfast being cooked, but the kitchen was completely untouched. And Ollie was nowhere to be found.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I heard Ollie’s voice come from down the opposite hallway, in the direction of his office. He didn’t sound happy. I walked down the hallway, eager to alleviate any frustrations he had. A few more kisses would brighten my mood, I knew. Perhaps it would do the same for him.
“I’m not kidding, Ollie,” another voice answered. I stopped in my tracks, only a step or two from the barely cracked open doorway to his study.
Who was that?
“This was the last thing I needed. Delilah and I are just getting to a good place. The start of a great place, I think, if we had some time,” Ollie answered. I heard the pacing around the room.
“And you deserve that time, Ollie. You do, but we couldn’t just sit on this either.” A female voice? Who was that?! I could feel the panic and confusion rising within me.
“I know, I know. Just… fuck!” Ollie swore.
“We needed you to know because, let’s be honest, I don’t think you two are going to get the time you’re supposed to get, regardless. Not if the things I’ve been hearing at Zion are true,” the unknown man explained. Things at Zion were being said? About us? And we wouldn’t get the time we were supposed to get? What did that even mean?
“I get it, Levi,” Ollie sighed with heavy exasperation, answering the question of who the unknown man was. “I just wish this wasn’t taking so long. I wish things were already different, you know?”
“We all do,” the woman — who I assumed was Ruth, Levi’s wife — spoke consolingly.
“I wish we were already as far from Zion as humanly possible. The day we leave cannot come fast enough.” Ollie’s proclamation hit me like a ton of bricks.
Leave Zion? Why would we leave our home? Our family? Or did he mean he would leave me?
Pain stabbed at my chest like a knife. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked rapidly to prevent their escape down my face.
Enough of this. I took a breath, steeling myself against whatever was going on in that room, and pushed my way through the doorway.
“What exactly is going on here?” I demanded as three sets of eyes looked at me with a mix of shock and guilt.
Time for answers.
CHAPTER11
BARTHOLOMEW
Fucking Christ on a Holy God-damn cracker. I was standing there, just blinking in stupid shock as my wife stood there in the doorway looking equal parts confused and hurt. How much had she heard? Too much, judging by the expression on her face. I mean, I had just mentioned wanting to leave Zion, for fuck’s sake. I wanted to tell her differently. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. I was pissed.
“Levi, perhaps we should take our leave and let these two talk,” Ruth spoke from her chair.
“Oh, no. Please, stay,” Delilah spoke with a faux hospitality that was not fooling anyone in this room.
“We didn’t mean to intrude—” Levi began, but Delilah was not having it.
“Oh no, please sit. Make yourselves comfortable. You saw to it to come into our home during our honeymoon, of all times, to tell my husband something. So, let’s hear it.” I had never seen her like that. There was a fire that sparked behind her eyes. It made me feel equal amounts of awe and fear.
