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Not Exactly Allies

Page 48

by Kathryn Judson

CHAPTER 47 – THE WATCHTOWER, AT LAST

  At long last, Richard could return to the 'watchtower' above the garage, all done up for romantic effect. Not that he needed accessories or atmosphere. He'd been missing Emma something awful, and couldn't remember the last time he'd awakened drunk with her scent. She could have been mud-spattered and greasy-haired in a bat-inhabited cave and he wouldn't have minded, as long as it was Emma and they had time alone. On the other hand, when he walked in to find her just out of the shower, damp hair combed and hanging loose, and her just in a bath towel, he appreciated that, decidedly.

  "I'm presuming we're off the clock for a while," she said, handing him a towel to deal with the drenching he'd had from the rain.

  "Have I ever seen you in just a towel?" Richard asked.

  "I can't remember. But I didn't want to get into the suitcase Hippo gave me, not without you here, in case Hippo has any more surprises."

  "I'm not entirely sure I want you to see my face if he's put any surprises in, considering the effect the obvious decorating has had on me."

  "I'll be forgiving," Emma teased, tossing him a seductive look that nearly derailed the conversation.

  They opened the suitcase together. A nightgown, real silk and luscious and long, was on top, wrapped in first-rate tissue paper. There was a letter with it. "Some people only get as far as the Ten Commandments, which say to not covet your neighbor's wife. That's all well and good but I read the rest of the book, and I'm convinced we're supposed to applaud men and women who build good marriages, on the grounds that they prove that God gave us good sense, if only we'll use it, and also that He gives us great gifts, if only we'll accept them. I won't embarrass you by ever mentioning any of this little project, but please consider it a small token of gratitude for the nights together that you forego in service to the rest of us. Well, that, and quite frankly it's been as fun as decorating for Christmas, if not more so. Let's not mention this – it would spoil the mischievous play element. Yours, Carl."

  "We're here to prove the generosity and foresight of the Almighty? No pressure there," Richard quipped.

  Emma laughed, and pulled him into a hug. "Don't mock," she whispered.

  "Didn't mean to. Sorry. Do you want any champagne first?"

  "Not on your life. I like to have all my senses about me when I'm with you. I wouldn't want to miss anything."

  "You've made me rethink my notions about marriage," he said. "It's vastly misrepresented amongst my old set, I've decided. Poor saps haven't any idea what they're sneering at." He kissed her before nibbling at her neck as he backed her slowly to the bed.

  Later, they woke from a short nap and talked for almost an hour, silly stuff mostly, chitchat, and plans to change small things around their home; the little things that helped prove they had joined lives instead of parallel ones. Richard helped Emma into the silk nightgown, which she'd never quite gotten into earlier. Shortly after, he playfully helped her out of it again.

  Eventually a sense of duty kicked in (not to mention a sense of fatigue), and they settled in to get some proper rest.

 

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