“I’m not being afraid. I’m being a realist,” I argued.
“Don’t you realize you’d have no texts with which to teach from if everyone was a realist? Every author had to take a chance at failure. Most had the odds stacked against them. But they believed enough in themselves and what they had written to take a chance.”
“Jesus, you’ve stooped to making literary analogies to try to sway me?” I teased.
“You’re deflecting.”
“Since when did you become a shrink?”
“Any attorney worth a shit will acquaint themselves with a hell of a lot of psychology. It comes in handy for everything to divorce cases to murder.” He glanced back at me. “Besides, I’ve been in therapy for fifteen years. I know just enough to be dangerous.”
“I can tell.” I finished cleaning the last abrasion. “It doesn’t look like the skin was broken as hard as I thought. I’d still like Master Elias to take a look to make sure you don’t need stitches.”
“Once again, you’re deflecting.”
I gave a frustrated growl as I stood up. “And just what do you think I should do? Call him? Show up where he is, profess my love to him, and fall into his arms?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I think you should do.”
“And then what? I can’t leave my dad, so that means William and I will be trying to live our happily ever after in a town that vilified us.”
“That’s not true. You had a hell of a lot of support at that meeting.”
I dismissed him with a wave of my hand. “Did you know if I want anything from a snickers to a tampon, I either have to get it around here or drive thirty minutes to the next town so I don’t have to be whispered about?”
“It’s only been a few weeks. Give it some time. The gossip will die down.”
“Seven months and nine days.”
“Excuse me?”
“Seven months and nine days was exactly how long it was for the gossip to stop after my step-mom ran off.”
“Okay, so you have to deal with maybe a year of few narrow minded assholes whispering. In the vast scheme of things, that’s not as big a deal as being miserable twenty-four seven for years.
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I asked, “You think I should call him?”
Owen glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “I think you’re being an emotional FloJo and running like hell away from the love of your life.”
I laughed. “Nice analogy.”
“You’re welcome. Call him or go to him. Do whatever you have to do to be happy. As long as you two know the truth between you, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or thinks.”
Placing my hands on his cheeks, I gave Owen a tender kiss. When I pulled back, I sighed. “I really am sorry about tonight.”
“Don’t worry about it. Go home, have a drink, go to bed, and forget about it. Tomorrow’s another day.”
“If you say so, Scarlett.”
“I know so.”
Glancing around the dungeon, I shook my head. “If I can’t get my head on straight, I’m not sure I can keep doing this.”
“You won’t need to keep doing this. You’re going to get another teaching job and be back in the classroom before the school year is out.”
“You honestly believe that.”
“I do.” He winked. “It doesn’t hurt that I know a few people who can pull some strings.”
“Oh Owen, you’re too good to me.”
“You’ve been the best Domme I’ve ever had, so it’s only fair to repay the favor.”
“But you already did that by representing me.”
“It was all self-serving. Do you know how many more calls my office has gotten since the school board meeting? Hundreds. I’m about to become the F. Lee Bailey of Atlanta.”
I laughed. “As long as I was able to help you.”
“You have more than you’ll ever know.” He tilted his head at me. “Mistress, may I have permission to kiss you on the cheek.”
“Yes. You may.”
Owen leaned forward and placed a tender, yet chaste, kiss on my cheek. “Thank you, Mistress.”
I reached out to cup his cheeks. “No, thank you, subbie.”
After I got home from working at 1740 around two am, I somehow managed to drag myself out of bed at seven the next morning. I wanted to make sure I had my father’s breakfast fixed by the time he woke up. He used to be on a farmer’s internal clock, and rise when the sun did. But lately, he’d been sleeping later and later. Sometimes he was hard to rouse. I tried not to think about how the neurologist had warned this might happen when the diaphragm grew even weaker.
Because Daddy hadn’t had much of an appetite lately, I decided to make his favorite breakfast of homemade blueberry pancakes. Susie had stopped the day before and picked up fresh fruit and vegetables for us. Although she didn’t say it, I knew she wanted to save me the humiliation of going into town to the farmer’s market. Now that I took the day shift and Ansel the night, Susie was out of a job. But she still insisted in coming over every day and helping out wherever she could. She refused to take any pay either.
Ansel came shuffling into the kitchen around eight in his boxer shorts and with extreme bedhead. “What are you doing?”
“Duh, I’m cooking.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I wondered why you were doing it so damn early on a Sunday.”
“Because unlike his two lazy children, Daddy has never been one to sleep late, and I wanted to have his breakfast ready when he woke up.”
“Thanks to all racket down here, I couldn’t go back to sleep.”
I snorted. “Cry me a river.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I made enough pancakes for you, too.”
His expression flipped over to excitement. “You did?”
“Of course. I know how much you like them.”
“Aw, thanks, Soph. That makes being up at the asscrack of dawn worthwhile.”
With a laugh, I replied, “Only you would think eight am is the asscrack of dawn. And don’t get too excited. I might’ve mixed the batter up, but you’re going to have to put your own on the griddle while I feed Daddy.”
“Slave driver,” he muttered.
After pinching Ansel’s cheek playfully, I picked up a tray laden down with food and started down the hall to Daddy’s room. I was surprised that I didn’t already hear the TV on since it was his usual morning routine.
I opened the door and stepped inside the room. I found he was awake but staring out the giant picture window. “Good morning,” I said.
“Morning,” he replied, not taking his gaze from the window.
“Beautiful day out there, huh?” I mused, as I sat the tray down on the hospital table we’d gotten from a medical supply store.
“Oh yes.” His tone echoed a deep longing. As I tucked a napkin into his pajama top, I couldn’t remember the last time he’d been outside. Maybe the night he went to the school board meeting.
While I went about cutting his pancakes, I thought of how much he had to miss his old life—the feel of a horse’s mane beneath his fingers, the smell of the leather on the saddles, the slide of the rope through his hands. His life now was primarily regulated to the four walls of his bedroom.
Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. “Daddy, why don’t we go outside for a little while after breakfast?”
His head slowly swiveled to look at me. I could see the question in his eyes about how that was even was possible considering he now relied on oxygen full time and had a catheter. I smiled. “We’ll make it happen.”
“Yes. I’d love to go.”
I held up a finger. “Just one second.” I went to the door and called for Ansel. He came bounding in the room with a spatula in his hand. “What’s up?”
“Listen, after we finish breakfast, I need you to help get Daddy into his wheelchair. We’re going outside.”
Ansel’s brows shot up in surprise. “We are?”
“Yes. We are,” I replied with a smile.
Although he didn’t look completely convinced, he replied, “Okay. Let me toss back some pancakes.”
“No rush. Daddy has to eat, too.”
Ansel nodded and then headed out of the bedroom. I brought a tiny bite of pancake to Daddy’s lips. He reached out and took the bite, chewing slowly and careful. After he swallowed, he said, “Blueberry pancakes. My favorite.”
“That’s why I made them.”
Daddy smiled. “You’re so good to me, Sophie. I couldn’t have been blessed with a sweeter or better daughter.”
After giving him another bite, I mused, “Just one who didn’t get involved in a sex scandal?”
“We’ve had this discussion, and you know how I feel about it.”
“Yes. I do. I just had to tease you a little.”
“And what about William?”
At the mention of his name, my hand froze with the fork in midair. “Wow, way to bring that one out of nowhere.”
“Not really.”
“I don’t know about William. I haven’t talked to him.” When Daddy refused to take the bite, I cocked my head at him. “Do you want me to do the airplane thing like you’re a toddler?”