Chapter 7

ChapterSeven

Blessing

I wake up in a daze.

My stomach isn’t growling. I’m warm. My first emotion isn’t worry about where I’m going to find today’s meal for the children. I’m…carefree. For the first time in my life.

Mostly.

Until now, this very moment, I never realized why I was so against getting married.

I’m too young, sure. But there’s more to my anxiety.

What if Edison gets sick of me? What if he decides to abandon me?

To some, that might seem like an unfounded fear, but not only was I left on the doorstep of a church when I was an infant, I care for a dozen children who were also given up by people who might have loved them at one time. Abandonment is a very real thing in my life.

And the reason it scares me so much is…I have very confusing feelings for Edison.

Strong feelings.

I almost wish I didn’t so I wouldn’t have to be vulnerable.

But our first night as husband and wife unlocked something deep inside of me. Not just a sexual appetite and adventurousness I didn’t know existed, but…affection. He’s not in bed with me right now and I miss him. I want a hug. I want to be kissed and fussed over.

I want…my Daddy.

Lord.

My abandonment issues are all twisted up in my attraction to Edison. I spent my whole life as an orphan waiting for someone to come claim me, love me, but I expected them to love me as a foster daughter. Not a wife. With Edison, the line is blurred. I should be horrified, right? Only, he makes that blurred line feel right. He makes it feel exciting. Daring. Naughty, but safe.

You’re not an orphan anymore, angel. Daddy’s home.

My breath catches, toes digging into the soft mattress. I stretch my arms up over my head and take stock of all my sore spots. Not sore enough to keep me from being aroused all over again, though. The memory of last night alone is making me wet and since I’m naked, that moisture is spreading down my inner thighs, which are still stick from my husband’s sperm.

The bedroom door flies open and I scream behind my teeth, before going limp. It’s a maid waltzing into the room with a tray of food.

A tray of food.

Someone is serving me breakfast?

“Good morning, Mrs. Scrooge,” sings the maid, setting the tray down on the edge of the bed and stepping back to fold her hands. Immediately, I like her. She has kind, twinkling eyes and a Christmas wreath brooch attached to her uniform. She’s the grandmother I never dared dream about. “I’ve made you an assortment. Eggs, sausage, potatoes, pastries. Coffee and hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?” I breathe, my lips pulling into a dreamy smile. “Really?”

“Really.” She tilts her head at me. “I’m here to bring you whatever you want. And I think I’m going to enjoy this part of my job very much.”

“Did you eat breakfast? There’s enough for two.”

She softens further. “I ate already, Mrs. Scrooge.”

“Please, call me Blessing.”

Her head bobs once. “Very well.” She crosses to the window and tugs open the curtain to reveal a white wonderland of snow. Edison’s house is so tall that I’m looking down on the tops of all the houses throughout town, all of them topped in white, smoke curling up out of the chimneys. “Merry Christmas Eve.” Before I can say it back to her, she continues. “Edison is seeing to some business this morning, but he requests that you be ready to go out later this afternoon. He’s taking you on an old-fashioned sleigh ride, then an evening at the opera house. I believe they’re putting on a special Christmas show.”

My head is spinning with plans. I never have plans unless they include begging or fixing the broken radiator in the orphanage, let alone something so exciting.

Guilt trickles into my throat. What about the children?

How are they?

Who is caring for them? Are they warm and fed?

I miss them.

I chew my lip. It’s morning time. Edison and I aren’t going out until much later. I have more than enough time to check on the children before we leave.

“Thank you, Mrs.…”

“Marla.”

“Thank you, Marla.”

As soon as she closes the door behind her, I throw off the sheet and eat breakfast naked, giggling in between bites. Today is going to be a great day.

* * *

Edison

That day has gone to total shit.

I expect my angel to be ready and waiting for me when I’m finished working. Well, she’s not. In fact, she’s not even in the fucking house and no one knows where she’s gone.

In the span of two seconds, I’ve gone from calm to panicked.

“What do you mean she isn’t here?”

Ben and Marla trade a wide-eyed look.

“She was here this morning,” Marla says. “I brought her breakfast and informed her of your plan.”

“Did she seem…upset?”

My God. What if I was too rough with her last night?

My blood turns icy at the prospect. She seemed to enjoy my aggression and manhandling, but maybe I’m remembering it wrong. It was her first time with a man and I went hard on her innocent body, slapping her ass, riding her without mercy. Maybe I’m a horrible husband and she regrets marrying me. Has she left me?

A jagged sound escapes my mouth and I turn my back on Ben and Marla, spearing my fingers through my hair. Where has she gone? Where…

“She’s at the orphanage,” I say, before repeating myself, louder this time. “She went to check on the children.”

I hope.

“Didn’t you tell her we hired a new caretaker for the children yesterday?”

“We’ve been busy.”

“Did you mention to her that you threatened to kill the landlord unless he fixed the heat?”

“No,” I growl. “She’s supposed to simply trust me to take care of everything.”

“Ohhhh,” Marla says, looking anywhere but me. “Sure. That’s reasonable.”

A tic begins behind my eye. “It sounds like you’re implying the opposite.”

“Who me? No. I’m just the maid.”

“Ben, bring my car around. Have the sleigh pick us up outside of the orphanage in an hour,” I shout, storming up the stairs. I throw open the closet, which I had stocked with Blessing-sized clothes before the wedding and I rip out the dress I envisioned her wearing tonight for the opera. It’s made of ivory silk and has a long slit up the side. Thin straps. The color reminds me of her wedding dress and I want to remember yesterday at all costs.

Currently, I have a tailor repairing the dress she wore for the ceremony because I can’t bear to have that keepsake ruined. Maybe I’ll be able to convince her to wear it for me again, from time to time. Just so I can remember the moment she agreed to be my wife.

When I realize I’m staring into the distance like a lovesick sap, I growl behind my teeth, gathering a pair of shoes and a warm coat from the closet. With those items in hand, I tear out of the house and slide into my waiting car, speeding down the driveway and turning in the direction of the orphanage. It only takes me five minutes to get across town, thanks to the lack of traffic on Christmas Eve and as soon as I arrive, I enter the building without knocking.

After all, my goddamn wife is inside.

“Blessing!” I shout, striding down the narrow entryway into the kitchen, a change of clothes for my wayward spouse in hand.

I’m prepared to be angry, but I’m hit with nothing but relief when I see her stirring something that sits boiling on top of the stove, the new caretaker standing beside her looking impatient. It’s clear that Blessing is too distracted to hear me calling her name. Or perhaps she’s so accustomed to people shouting her name in this house that she’s learned to tune it out.

“You can’t add too much water or Jackie won’t eat it,” she explains to the caretaker in her patient, musical voice. “But if you don’t add enough, then Gunther won’t eat. It’s a very delicate balance, you see.”

“I think I can handle porridge, Mrs. Scrooge,” the caretaker sighs. “Just like I can handle making beds and administering medicine.”

“Of course you can,” Blessing assures her.

“I’m a certified caretaker. I have twenty years of experience.”

“Yes, I know, but these children are very special, you see—”

“Wife,” I say, my heart feeling awfully heavy. “Angel.”

Blessing drops the spoon and turns around. “Edison!” She glances at the window and seems to realize at once that she’s lost track of time. “Uh oh.”

Oh, dear God, she’s so beautiful, my chest can’t take it. “You didn’t inform anyone you were leaving,” I say, trying to be stern.

“Am I supposed to?”

“It would be ideal,” I say in a whopping understatement, closing the distance between us and tipping up her chin. “So I don’t worry that you’ve left me.”

A groove forms between her brows. “You thought I left you?”

My attention snags on her tone of voice. “Why do you say it like that?”

A child pipes up from an apparent hiding place beneath the kitchen table. “Because, mister, people usually leave us.”

I don’t like the uncomfortable way my pulse is rollicking.

Blessing won’t meet my eyes.

I don’t know my wife’s fears, I realize. And that is unacceptable. “Blessing.” I stoop down until she can’t avoid making eye contact. “You can’t possibly be worried that I’ll leave.”

Her bottom lip starts to tremble. She shrugs jerkily.

It costs me a serious effort not to pick her up and rock her, but I sense this moment requires a serious discussion. There is no way in hell my wife is going to be scared of me leaving. Doesn’t she realize how preposterous that is? Have I not made it clear that I’m obsessed with her? “How can I take away your fears if I don’t even know what they are?”

“I’m used to keeping everything to myself,” she whispers.

“Not anymore.” It’s getting hard to control my breathing. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers. As if she spoke without thinking, now she jerks back and blinks several times in a row. “I…I mean—”

I drop my mouth to her forehead. “You meant exactly what you said.” My lips trace down and find hers, drawing her into a slow kiss. “I was sent to boarding school as a child and rarely spoken to by my parents. Holidays passed and they didn’t arrive. Obviously, I haven’t had a hard life like you, but I know a little bit about being left behind. Set aside.”

“I’m sorry you know what it feels like,” she says, sincerity shining in her eyes.

Her compassion humbles me so thoroughly that it takes me a moment to respond. “Since we both know how awful it feels to be left behind, we’re going to agree here and now never to do that to each other. We won’t. Because we know how terrible it feels.” I coax her into a gentle kiss. “There’s also the important matter of me being sick at the thought of spending a single day without you, baby. You can safely trust I’m going nowhere.”

She searches my face, breathing, “I believe you.”

Such a simple show of trust and I want to roar my pride at the sky. “Good girl,” I manage, winded. “Go get changed.”

She nods, but quickly turns conflicted. “I just want to show the new caretaker one more thing—”

“You’ve been taking care of everyone long enough, angel. It’s time for you to be cared for.” I press the dress and coat into her hands. “I plan to do a very good job of it.”