Bankers' Hours(44)

Tristan's expression dropped. "Oh, Grant," he said quietly. He turned immediately toward Claire and growled, "Go to your room!"

Her eyes went wide. "What?"

"Go. To. Your. Room. Now!"

She took three steps and whined, "But, Dad."

"Go!" he yelled, pointing emphatically at the stairs. I had seen the  stairs but hadn't gone up them. I had wondered what was upstairs, since  his bedroom was on the first floor. Apparently, Claire's room was  upstairs.

"Okay, I'm going!" she grumbled, stomping up the steps. "Jeez, I don't see what the big deal is!"

As soon as she was up the steps, Tristan turned back to me. He reached  out, but her words had felt like a slap. I turned away, but Tristan  grabbed my upper arms.

"Look at me," he said.

I did, but I wanted to run to the bedroom and bawl. She had made me feel so small.

"I married you because I love you. Claire is a hormonal teenage girl who  doesn't think before she speaks. You are not my maid, Grant. You're my  husband. I appreciate your desire to clean my house, but if you think  for one second that's why I married you, then I'm calling a maid service  right now to clean the rest. I am not going to stand here and have you  disrespected by my own daughter and made to feel like hired help in your  own home."

"But you did offer to pay me," I peeped.

"Only so you could take off a few days and not feel taken advantage of.  This is our house, Grant. Even if we decide to sell it so we can buy a  house together, this is still our house. You're cleaning your own house  because you're good at it and you like doing it. You do like cleaning,  right?"

"Yes, but the way she worded it made me sound like-"

"Don't listen to Claire. She's an only child, and she lives with a  psychopathic alcoholic. Teresa doesn't teach her how to filter  anything." He took a deep breath and admitted, "I haven't taught her  much either. I see her every other weekend, and we play. We work out at  the gym, we eat at restaurants, we watch movies and go bowling. When  have I ever taught her not to say things like that? I'll go talk to  her."

I nodded slightly and bowed my head.

Tristan pulled me to his chest and hugged me before going upstairs to talk to his daughter.

I discarded the rubber gloves in the kitchen and walked into the bedroom  to sit on the bed. A chilly breeze floated over my arms, and I noticed  the window was open. "Why did Tristan open the window?" I stepped over  to shut it and saw that the screen was on the ground in the bushes  outside. "Great. This place is falling apart, and he expects me to live  here."

As I turned back to the bed, something caught the corner of my eye. I  shrieked as a wolf spider darted under the bed. As I ran from the room, I  collided with Tristan.

"What is it?" he asked, alarmed by my reaction.

"Spider!" I cried, pointing emphatically and practically crawling up his  body to escape the floor. He started laughing, and I glared. "It's not  funny," I growled. "They are evil creatures, and I'm not sleeping in  there with a spider on the loose."

He lost his silliness and led me to the couch. "Okay. Stay here and I'll  go kill it." A minute later, he returned with a smashed spider. "See,  here it is." He opened the paper towel he had used. "It's a big one."                       
       
           



       

My body quivered with the heebie-jeebies. I jumped up, ready to run if  he brought it any closer. "I don't need to see it," I said, looking  away.

He tossed the body in the trash and returned to the living room. "It's  all taken care of, Grant." He sat and gently pulled me down next to him.  "I talked to Claire. She's being stupid and doesn't see why I got mad,  so she's cleaning her room and scrubbing the bathroom floor. I'm sorry  she spoke to you like that. She didn't think anything of it. Again, I'm  sorry. I didn't marry you because I needed a housewife, or a domestic  engineer. I do make enough money that if you chose to stay home, you  could, but that is your choice." He took my hand and gazed into my eyes.

"But I like counting other people's money," I said weakly.

He chuckled quietly. "Okay."

"I think my job is fun. Cleaning this place isn't fun. It's disgusting."

"You looked like you were having fun."

"That's because I had music playing, and I like to dance and sing. It doesn't mean the task was fun."

"Okay." Tristan closed his eyes briefly. "I'm sorry. Then maybe asking  you to clean the whole house was too much. I guess we'll have to live  apart longer than I'd like."

"No, I didn't say that. You can move in with me while we clean this place up."

His voice went up when he said, "But everything I own is in here, and I work fifteen feet away from the side door."

The frustrated tone rubbed me wrong. "Okay, but doesn't it make more  sense? Why should I move in here when it barely passes as living space? I  opened the closet door and almost got buried under twenty feet of  crap," I argued. "This house should be condemned."

"It's not that bad," he rumbled.

"Not that bad?" I countered. "I found a dead mouse in your cabinets! Not  in the cabinets under the sink where anything could crawl in and die,  but the ones where your dinner plates and glasses are. The FDA would  shut this place down!"

"It's not a bed-and-breakfast."

"No! Far from it. By the way you get flour all over the floor when you  make breakfast, I can see why you have mice moving in." I jumped off the  couch and headed to the bedroom.

"Where are you going?" Tristan asked as he followed me.

"Back home! This place gives me the creeps." I pushed my sweats down and  sat after snatching my jeans off the floor. As I pulled them on,  another wolf spider the size of Iceland scurried across my leg and over  the comforter. I screamed bloody murder and fell to the floor as my legs  got tangled in my pants leg. I shook and shivered in terror as I  scrambled to get away from the hairy beast, but as I planted my hand to  hoist myself off the floor, I crushed something large and squishy. I  lifted my hand slowly and turned it over to find another wolf spider  stuck to my palm, its gooey center oozing out.

The sound that came from my throat could have shattered glass. I  stumbled forward, clawing my way to the shower. My jeans had slipped off  by the time I reached the tub, but I didn't even bother removing my  shirt as I climbed in and turned the water on full blast. Using the  hottest water possible, I scrubbed every inch of my body, hoping to burn  away the tickling sensation that remained on my skin, telling my brain  something was crawling on me. Logically I knew it wasn't there, but I  still felt it as I scrubbed and scrubbed.

Shaking like an aspen leaf, shivering like I had hypothermia, I pulled  off my sodden T-shirt and removed my boxers. I washed again and then  curled up in a ball under the spray.

"Grant," he said, outside the shower curtain but in the room with me, "I  killed all of them. I checked under the bed and behind a few chairs.  The spiders are gone. Grant?" he questioned when I didn't answer.

I heard the curtain move, but I couldn't look up. My fetal position felt much safer than unfurling.

Tristan gasped. "Oh, Grant." He turned off the water, but I refused to  move. Spiders generally didn't like water. I wanted to stay where I was.  He laid a towel over my shoulders and petted my hair. "Grant, they're  gone. They're all gone. I checked."

"What if there are more in the other room?" I mumbled, my head still resting on my knees.

"There aren't. But just in case, I'll go look around if that makes you  feel better." I didn't answer. His solution was a given as far as I was  concerned. Tristan returned after a short while and confirmed, "No more  spiders. I promise. I don't know where they came from or how they got  in, but I killed all of them."                       
       
           



       

I looked up, wide-eyed. "H-how many were there?"

"Twelve. Big hairy things that even started creeping me out as I found  another and then another." He shivered. "Yeah, they're gone. Once we get  this place cleaned out really well, I'm sure we won't see things like  that again. I'm sure it was a nest or something that got disturbed while  you cleaned."

"T-twelve?" I felt the tremors rippling through my body.

"Yes. But they're gone. Come on, Grant, you can't stay in that tub all  day." He reached for me, and I shrank away. "Grant, don't be ridiculous.  They're gone. I understand spider phobias, but they're all dead. I  don't know how many times I can say it. You need to trust me and get out  of the tub. You can get dressed, and I'll take you home."