“Did you color my children yourself?” he asks, pulling the boys onto his lap, examining their scribbled naked skin.
“They colored each other. These two are like raccoons. They found my art supplies while I was sewing. They were doing rather well on my bedroom walls, which didn’t bother me one bit.” I laugh as he cringes, but he quickly recovers when I glare at him. “But then, minutes later, I turned around and, well… Let’s just say it’ll wear off in a few days. They kept saying, ‘Like Daddy… Like Daddy,’ when I asked why they colored on each other. You are a rather well-tatted guy. You can hardly blame them for wanting to be like you.”
“You boys should behave,” Balthazar says, tickling the twins.
“I am being haved, Daddy!” Jinx giggles.
“I’ve got something out in the truck for you, muffin.” Balthazar stands and pulls me up against his chest.
My god, he smells good, and to be near him like this, it’s a wonder we’ve made it so long with so little…everything. “That sounds dirty.” I stand on my toes to reach his lips.
He groans as he looks down at my cleavage then back to my eyes.
“And I have got something sweet for you, sugar britches. I made you a trifle.”
“That sounds naughty. A naughty trifle?” he whispers into a bite on my neck, which makes me yelp. He licks that spot then blows across it. “I want to lick your sweet naughty trifle tonight, every damned creamy bite will be mine later.”
I laugh as I tuck my head beside his neck. “That sounds very naughty, but you’re still proving yourself, remember?”
“Still? Fuck! Fine, come with me for a little more proving. I want pussy parole soon.” He grabs my hand and leads me outside, telling the boys to come along as well.
“Pigs!” I squeal, not caring if I sound like one. “Pigs! Oh my goodness, Balthazar! You bought us pigs!”
“I bought you pigs. I figured I had my work cut out for me in winning you over,” he says, as his hands land on my bottom.
“Pigs. I can’t believe it!” I reach into the box next to his truck and bring up a small caramel-and-black-spotted pig. Then I pick the other up.
“They’re called kunekunes. They won’t get too big. They’ll make nice pets. Apparently, they’re tasty to eat as well.”
I elbow him in the ribs, disgusted by the idea of eating them. “Don’t worry, love. We won’t eat ’em.” He leans in toward my ear. “I’m only hungry to eat you.”
I turn to look at him smiling at me as his head is haloed by the sun. Now this is a step forward.
“By the way you’re acting, you’d think I’d just given you a diamond ring.” He turns beet red, which is about the cutest thing.
“Hell no. I’d take a critter any day over a diamond. You don’t know that about me?”
He grins, throwing on his baseball cap. “Figured as much.”
15
Balthazar
My thunder comes before my lightning.
My lightning comes before my rain.
And my rain dries all the ground it touches.
What am I?
A volcano
I spend most of the day working in the fields, and as I’m about to head home from the front ten acres, I check for mail. Two thick packages and a stack of bills fill the mailbox. I rip one package open, to find knickers for Matilda. Not just any knickers. The most seduction-worthy little numbers I could locate online. Selfishly maybe. But I did want to replace the ones the boys flushed. The second package feels hard like a book; I tear into it. The title makes me smile.
What to Expect with Toddlers. Good lord. And she’s not even their mother. No, she’s better.
We’ve been taking it slowly since that damn storm brought us back together. It terrified the hell out of her, lucky for me it scared her straight into my arms. Now it’s up to me to let her know that each step we take is about trust. I might not be the easiest guy to live with, I’ll admit my temper can get the best of me from time to time. With Lavinia it was never a problem, she was pretty damn hot in the head too. It’s no wonder we ended up the way we did. Apart. Matilda isn’t much of a fighter, but she’s no wallflower either. The thing that’s surprising me the most about us is how she continues to strip me of my defenses. Breaking down my carefully built walls seems to be her specialty. It’s almost like she’s stealing things from me, and yet it feels like a gift I had no idea I wanted for the longest time.
With the twins asleep for a late afternoon nap, I peek in on Matilda, who is in her bedroom, humming along with her sewing machine. I don’t know what she’s making this time, but there’s always something.
“Hey, muffin.” I lean against the doorway, as she perches on her sewing chair.
“Hey, farmer boy. Whatcha doing?” She glances over as she takes her foot off the machine’s pedal.
Sunlight streams in particle-filled beams around her, setting off the softness of her skin and hair, making her violet eyes lighter than usual.
“Wondering if I might convince you to get naked, so I can dress you up in some knickers that just came in the mail. Might need to strip you back down though afterwards.”
“Come again?” She laughs as I walk behind her and crouch to kiss her neck.
“You heard me,” I say against her ear. “What are you making there anyway?”
“Halloween costumes for the boys.” She giggles as my breath tickles her nape.
I skate my hands around her waist. It’s one of the things I love about Matilda: her womanly figure. She has soft curves she appreciates and shows off all too well.
“What’re they going to be for Halloween?”
“Jax wants to be a pirate… Jinx a princess.”
“Oh, well…okay. I guess that works. Not that my opinion holds any weight on this topic.”
“Hey, um…” She looks at her hands, which are resting in her lap. “I didn’t text you earlier when you were in the fields, but we had a little accident today. Jax fell out of a tree and broke his left wrist. He’s fine and—”
I stand as she turns to me. “Fine? The fuck? Where were you?”
“What? I was right there.” She shoots off her chair. “I saw it happen and we all went to the ER. It’s a minor break. The doctor said he sees them all the time. Don’t panic.”
“In three-year-olds? What the hell were they doing climbing a tree? Good god, can you do—”
“Are you serious?” she says as she clasps her throat with a hand.
I grind my jaw, hoping I’m not yelling as loudly as I think I am. Or want to.
“Please tell me you’re messing with me right now,” she says. “It was an accident.” Her voice escalates. “I would never, not ever, do anything to hurt those boys. You know that.” She bites the back of her hand as she exhales deeply.
“I’m not mad,” I lie. Spinning away, I take a deep breath. Oh fuck. Then I explode. “My kid broke his wrist today and you didn’t want to bother me?” I take three long strides as she backs against the wall. “They are all I have! These boys are it! You should have come for me! I’m their father and you’re—”
“Yeah. Got it.” Tears gleam in her eyes as they darken. Her fingertips touch her lips, and the quiver they hold. But her hand catches my eye by the way it’s trembling. “I know what I am,” she whispers. “Don’t waste your breath.”
“Matilda, stop,” I say, realizing my mistake. Again. “I’m sorry. I just… I got upset at the idea of him—”
“No. You stop,” she yells, walking toward me, placing her hands on my chest. They become fists and she slams them against me as though she’s trying to break down a door. “Stop everything.” She pounds. “Stop pretending you want me for who I am. Stop thinking I’m going to be perfect for you or for these kids, because I never will be.” She pounds and pounds again. “Stop making advances at me when you get horny!” she yells. “Stop asking me for anything. Any damned thing! I’ve had it with you!” She pounds my chest one last time. I wish she could hit me harder
. Hit some sense into me. I know how good she is. For the boys. And for me.
“Matilda, I’m sorry. Please, I know you’re angry.” I clutch her wrists, but she wriggles from my grip.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” she says. “I don’t think it’s worth it. I don’t think you’re worth it. You’re supposed to be proving yourself to me and look at you!” She shakes a finger at me, then marches over to the bed and clutches a pillow to her chest. “Don’t you understand? I love those boys. I would never hurt them. Or you,” she says, whipping the pillow onto the floor, then kicking it across the room. I follow her as she strides to the door then starts in the direction of the stairs.
“But you’d leave them as you’re about to now? Just like Lavinia did? Maybe you are like her. I had wondered.”
“Go to hell,” she says, “or to wherever it is you go that makes you such a jerk. Just don’t come to me.”
I chase her out of the bedroom. I’m a fucking prick! She misses the first step past the landing. In slow motion, I reach out to her shoulder to stop her, to apologize, to claim any piece of her I can. To break her fall. But her arm flies over her head followed by her body twisting as she falls forward. Her other hand grabs the front of my shirt, pulling me along with her. Together, we tumble down the stairs, a mess of flailing arms, legs, yells, and thumps. Until we land.
“Matilda Independence Pearl.” I groan. “You are a lot of things. Graceful is not one of them. Nor is invisible. Please, I’m sorry for getting mad. Forgive me.”
“Get off of me, you fucking beast,” she growls. “Off!”
Day after day, I send Aesop trotting off to the lake studio with a new riddle for Matilda. Day after day, he comes back with no answers. An ass with no answers. Right. Joke’s on me.
I wish I had it in me to be as easygoing as she is about pretty much everything. Having the boys has only managed to turn my fire up. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for them; they’re my life. Thing is, with the distance I’ve been gifted more than once from Matilda, I’ve come to realize I’m struggling with the idea of her not in my life. Her not in my boys’ lives. They miss the shit out of her. And, hell, I can’t go twenty seconds without her popping into my head.
It’s been three long weeks. I find myself lying on her bed from time to time, willing her back to me. Once in a while, I catch her breezing through the yard on her way to the barn or the chicken coop. I want to run after her, grab her by the hips, and spin her into my arms. Would she even want this life if I could be her man? This town? Me? My boys? It’s so damn complicated that it gives me a headache when I think about it. But then the only thing that trumps this regular headache is the heartache. Now that’s a new feeling. One I’m not quite sure what to do with besides ask for help.
Alfie taps his fingers on the kitchen table, staring me down with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.
“I’m not sure you deserve her. You really are a beast.”
“I’m not that bad.” I roll my eyes. “She doesn’t like me for my looks alone.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. On the looks or the likes, bud. She wants nothing to do with you!”
“I need her to forgive me. I need her, gotta get her back once and for all. Come on, Alfie. You’re more in touch with your inner dude than I am. Help me out here.”
“My inner dude?” He laughs. “You mean my inner queen, don’t you?”
“Fine, yes. I didn’t want to offend.”
“Now this is progress!” He jumps out of his chair and circles the table, eyeing me up.
“All right, then,” I say. “What’s the plan? I can see those gears moving. Let’s have it!”
“We’re going to put on a party, and you are going to dazzle her!” he says, clapping his hands in my face.
“You think I can get her back with a party? Fuck, let’s have it tonight!” I slam a fist on the table and grin.
Alfie rolls his eyes and snickers. “You are such a guy. I’m talking about a costume party, you need to impress the hell out of her, or she’ll be living in that studio until she leaves. You want that?”
I jump up, panicked. “She’s not leaving, is she?”
“No, not yet,” he says, waving one hand in front of me. “Not if you make her feel like the most important girl in the world. That, for your information, would be the opposite of invisible.”
The day of the Halloween party rolls around more quickly than I anticipated. Alfie orchestrated the entire thing, grunt labor provided by me, as the farm got decked out in balloons, crepe paper, twinkling lights.
“Alfie, you’d better damn well be right about all of this.” I growl as I pull white tights on, swearing under my breath. “You’d better not just be mocking me by making me wear this shit.”
“Oh, don’t think I’m not enjoying it. A beast in tights. Now turn for me,” he says, smacking my buns. “Well, no one’s going to call you peanut. My god, man… That’s quite the - ”
“Not another word. Help me with this, whatever this crap is.” I finger the chains that are sewn over a vest I’m trying to put on.
“You’re just damn lucky I didn’t order you the full metal costume. Hell, at least you’ll be able to dance with her.”
“There was a metal option? And you went with white tights and this thing?” I ask, sliding the vest on, feeling too Baryshnikov for my liking.
“I was thinking you had enough body armor already. Just trying to soften your edges a bit.”
“Oh, you’ve softened me, all right. I may never get hard again after wearing these nut chokers.”
Alfie takes two steps away from me and nods, then points to the bed. “Sit,” he says with a frown. “Okay, so here’s the deal. I don’t want to alarm you, but she told me she wouldn’t come to this unless she could bring a date.”
“A date?” I shoot up to my feet. He shoves me back down.
“Relax. It’s just some guy she’s been going to dinner with. Harmless.”
“She’s been dating?” I lean onto my knees and bury my face in my hands. “And you knew this all along?”
“He’s sort of a brute, if you ask me.”
“Oh, you’re making me feel like a real prize. I thought I was the brute? She found a better brute?”
Alfie reaches into a bag and pulls out the boys’ costumes, which Matilda made. “You’re a beast.” He tosses them onto my lap after inspecting them. “And for the record, it’s far easier to tame a beast than a brute.”
“A bloody date? This whole party is for me to win her back, and she’s bringing a date?” I fist my hands at my sides as I hop off the bed. “The hell?”
“I think you’re more of a pussy than a beast.” Alfie snickers as he stills me and works on my collar. “Are you even listening to yourself?”
“I’m not a pussy, dammit! I’m trying to get some!”
“Well, you won’t get it like that. It’s gonna take some honey for that little queen bee!” He trills, twirling his finger in the air so I’ll turn around for the tenth time. “Takes one to know one.” He hums as he smacks my ass.
As night falls around the farm, so do my hopes of winning Matilda back. Why wouldn’t she be dating? Matilda, the girl with violet eyes. The girl who outshines the stars. The girl who danced into my world and, by my own doing, straight into another man’s arms.
16
Matilda
At the sound of me, men may dream or stamp their feet.
At the sound of me, women may laugh or sometimes weep.
Music
Barrett Hamilton comes by to pick me up at seven on the dot. Comfortably late for the party is what I have in mind. I’d be lying if I thought for a minute Barrett was anything more than a beast lure. Balthazar will hate Barrett, from his polished looks to his football bragging to his thick, invented cheesy sales guy slang. We dated as teenagers once in a while when our family summered here. He was a cool guy to hang out with back then, and really, for those short few months, all I was looking for w
as fun and nothing more.
Balthazar. Even all the time I’ve spent at the animal shelter over the last three weeks hasn’t distracted me from missing him. Where is our relationship going after tonight? I miss my circus. My boys—all three of them. I miss Balthazar yelling, “Bloody hell, Matilda! What have you gone and done now?” I miss waking up in the morning and peeking in the fridge to see just how much of the pie I’d made the day before he polished off—and what sort of note he might have left behind. I suppose I’ve made him out to be more of a beast than he ever was. Maybe I was too sensitive.
What man reads Keats and marks a date and an initial by it? What man reads poems to his three-year-old boys and sleeps on the floor alongside them? What man, day after day, week after week sends riddles back and forth to a woman who refuses to play the game? A woman who’s playing her own game? Shit, was I?
Balthazar Cox—there is something about him. Something crazy and wild and wonderful that won’t ever be tamed. Something lovely and sweet and sad that will never be healed. Something rough and tumble and gritty that makes him the uniquely interesting man I’ve convinced myself I want to love.
So hopelessly. So completely. Does he still initial and date his Keats book when he thinks of me?
A knock comes to my door as I’m slipping my shoes on. “Well, Barrett, look at you! A pirate. How about that.” I chuckle, eyeing him up and down.
“You look just… Holy smokes, Tillie. Grace Kelly is all I can say,” he says, nodding.
I back up two steps as the stink of booze oozes out of him and bathes me. “I’m impressed you know who Grace Kelly is!” I hold one hand up to stop him from stealing a kiss. Or whatever he thinks he’s doing, getting into my personal space.
“Everyone knows her.” He hiccups once. Then two more times. “She was the star of that Housewives of New Jersey show the first year it aired. Her tits might not be as huge as your melons, but she sure was classy.”
How To Tame Beasts And Other Wild Things Page 10