Toni looked at the muffins. She couldn’t reconcile her feelings. She loved...and hated her choices. And she loved...and hated the Bishops.
AND THE RAIN COMES like blood, my blood.
Do you want to see me bleed?
And the tears fall like rain, my pain.
Do you want to feel me die?
And the truth calls like blood, life’s blood.
Do you want to see me bleed?
Driven by Desire
Rita Delude
Chapter One
ASHLEY HAD PUT IN SIXTEEN hours on the job site working with her partner Rex Johnson and a crew of seven others because Dr. and Mrs. David Waller were due back from their honeymoon to Spain in two weeks. They wanted the renovations completed, the decorator to have finalized his work, and all the furnishings moved in and properly styled before they returned. Zachary Falcon couldn’t start bringing all the items he’d purchased and had warehoused for them until final polishing was complete. That day, Ashley and Rex and the crew of G & J’s Renovations had put the finishing touches on their makeover of the 1876 Victorian on Belmont Street, one of the most coveted old homes in Brattleboro, Vermont.
She loved her work. The satisfaction of bringing the fine all-wood carvings of the Victorian Era back to their original glory and of reviving tired, dry wood until it shined with a pop of energy that only the veins of real wood could reveal delighted her time after time. It never got old for Ashley Gage, who knew as a child that she wasn’t meant to be sitting behind a desk. She’d rather be moving all day long with a different challenge each day. Old home renovations offered her dream occupation, and she and Rex, a friend since high school, shared that love.
But the love waiting at home for her was Brody. Though he admired her work and took all the before and after shots of each project and maintained their website, he had no interest in the physical aspects of the job. He was a computer geek, who worked from home, often in his pajamas, and enjoyed it. It helped make them very compatible, she thought, that they had so much contrast in their work. Therefore, they had so much to share when they got together in the evenings and on weekends. That was when she had weekends off or when he wasn’t already asleep in the evenings when she was on deadline and returned to find him already in bed, snoring softly.
He promised he’d be out to take “after” photos that day, but had texted her to say something had come up and he’d do it the next day. She hoped he’d get there early before Zachary’s crew had too much of the furnishings moved in. Otherwise much of what G & J’s had accomplished would be hidden by Zachary’s selections. But Brody would figure it out; he always did. They’d been married six years and moved into a comfortable give and take relationship with each taking what they needed from the other and giving what was asked for sometimes without the other saying a word. It was a quiet existence. Sometimes Ashley wondered if they should get a dog to liven up things around the house. Certainly, not children. Before marriage, they’d both agreed that rug rats were not in the picture. Too permanent, too messy, too demanding, and far too much responsibility. In that way and so many others, Brody and Ashley were oh so compatible. Their sex life, however, had been waning a bit in the last few months. Or had it been years? she wondered as she pulled into the driveway of their cookie cutter two-story, much too large for two people home in a very upscale neighborhood on Periwinkle Drive. Perhaps, she should start lighting some candles and a spark in the bedroom. Yes, that’s just what I’ll do, she thought as she exited the garage and slipped into the mud room to take off her dust-covered overalls, T-shirt, and socks and slip into leggings and a fresh T-shirt she always had waiting for her each day. The mud room doubled as their laundry room, so it was convenient not to be dragging whatever mess she had on her from the construction site into the always pristine home.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her neighbor Douglas Schmitt sprinting across their back lawn, across Pamela Soucy’s lawn, and then she lost sight of him. What the hell is that all about? she wondered. Why wouldn’t he jog on the road? What a fool, she thought. She’d never liked him much. He’d gotten so drunk at the last neighborhood barbeque that he was hanging off every guy on the street. Almost like he was gay, but he was married with three kids. Go figure. What a jerk.
“Brody, I’m home,” she shouted.
“I’ll be right down, Ashley,” he responded, and she smiled because she was glad he hadn’t yet fallen asleep despite the late hour.
Chapter Two
When he arrived downstairs moments later wearing flannel pajamas and a white T-shirt that hugged his well-defined chest, he kissed her on the lips and asked, “How was your day?”
“We finished. I can’t wait for you to see it.”
“I’ll take photos for the site tomorrow; can’t wait. Sorry I couldn’t make it today, hon,” he answered as he took items from the refrigerator.
Brody had prepared a delicious meal of veal parmesan with penne, a tossed salad, and steamed broccoli, some of her very favorites. He was a superb chef and frequently watched the cooking channels for new recipes and surprised her with them. Some were hits and some misses. She preferred simple, tried and true dishes, like that night’s. But he liked to experiment, so she always obliged by trying everything he created and gave him her honest opinion. Of those she raved about, he served again. Others, he didn’t repeat. He was so obliging that way.
A real gentleman, one of the things that had endeared him to her right from the beginning when they’d met at an artisan’s fair in Bennington. They were both admiring the work of a craftsman who worked copper into intricate jewelry and wall hangings. The artisan plied various tools against the metal to shape them into his designs then stained them with burnt umber stain to draw out the details in just the right places. The attention to detail had attracted both Brody and Ashley to his work. Each was interested in a particularly large wall sculpture of three sunflowers. They actually got into a bidding war over the piece, much to the craftsman’s delight. Finally, Brody, the pacifist that he was, gave in and let her have it. He purchased a smaller, matching piece.
Those two pieces hung side by side in their kitchen, and they enjoyed telling new friends about how sunflowers brought them together. They even had a huge sunflower garden to celebrate their meeting. After the craftsman had carefully wrapped their purchases, Brody carried hers to her truck and invited her to lunch. They dated for six months before tying the knot before a small group of family and friends at the Unitarian Church.
He normally ate with her when she got home late, but not always. He’d gotten hungry earlier, so he’d eaten then. But they sat comfortably together at the kitchen island and shared tidbits about their day.
“One of my clients wanted major changes to the program I’m working on. I can do them, of course, but it’s a lot of added scope, so we dickered for an hour over price. I hate that,” he said.
“I know; you despise conflict,” she said, “That’s one of the things I love most about you. It’s what makes our marriage so serene. Coming home to the tranquility of this place after the chaos and noise of some of my days is so wonderful. Thank you for that.”