SANCTUARY: Beards & Bondage

by Rebekah Weatherspoon

  “Excuse me, my amazing fiancé is paying for this trip. I can text him whenever I want,” Claudia says.

  “Whatever.” Brooklyn flips her hair dramatically over her shoulder and looks back at me. “You were saying, darling.”

  “They’ve decided not to press charges against me.”

  “Wait. For the guy coming into your place and trying to kill you?” Rayna says.

  “Yeah. They are calling it self defense, but she said that I should have told her you were the in the Bronx department,” I tell Brooklyn.

  “Right, right. Cool, cool. That’s exactly something you say to a victim. I’m tempted to roll up on that bitch. What the fuck?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is that all? It takes a lot to make you cry,” Noa asks.

  I shake my head and sigh in defeat. They all know me too well. “I hate my job. Like, I hate it. I don’t—I don’t know if I want to be a lawyer anymore.”

  “That’s okay,” Claudia says.

  “Yeah,” Noa adds. “Plenty of people hate their jobs. It doesn’t make you a bad person or anything.”

  “Except when you’re me and your job is caring for the elderly,” Rayna adds.

  “You remember what Dad said. He didn’t care what we did as long as we paid our own bills and you’ve always been good at paying your own bills and mine. Hustle is your middle name,” Brooklyn says as she takes my hand. “If anyone can handle a career change, it’s you.”

  “She’s right,” Claudia says. “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m miserable.” Just saying those words out loud breaks the dam. I start sobbing.

  “Oh baby.”

  “Lizzie!”

  “Oh hun.”

  My friends and my sister’s support just makes it worse. Or better. Silas flashes into my mind and I immediately close the image of him out. Nothing about him is the solution, just a band-aid. I have to take care of myself. I have to deal with the problems in front of me and work through them.

  “I think I have to quit my job,” I say.

  “I know that sounds scary, but it’s okay,” Noa adds. “Especially since you know you hate it. Staying there would just make things worse.”

  “How about this? You’re quitting your job,” Claudia says with a hell of a lot of certainty. I look up at her as I wipe my face. “I’m serious. You are smart and amazing and talented. We’ll help you find yourself and what you want to do and you’re going to quit that job and you’re not going to line up work with another firm.”

  “I—”

  “Uh-uh. Don’t even,” Brooklyn says. She’s giving me the look. “I know exactly what you’re going to say and fuck. That noise.”

  “What?” Noa asks.

  “She’s worried about money, but this bitch’s savings account is padded as fuck. She can maintain all this for three years, easy. So funds are not an issue.”

  “She might be right,” I admit. I know how to budget and save.

  “Be scared about the unknown, but don’t be scared about the money. You got the money, and we have your back with the rest.”

  “Girl, have some more sparkling water,” Rayna says, motioning to the fancy glass still in my hand. I take another sip. “Then let’s get these massages because I think we are all tense as hell, and then tonight during Thank God Claudia is Marrying Someone Hot Slumber Party Part One, after I tell you how Langdon’s dick somehow got surprisingly bigger since the last time we slept together, we can sit down and brainstorm Elizabeth Lewis, Phase Two.”

  “Phase two?”

  “Yes. My nan is driving me crazy, but she has some decent wisdom. She said all good women have three phases of their lives. The beginnings and the ends of each phase are clear, you just need to pay attention. This is the end of phase one.”

  “She’s right,” Brooklyn adds. “It’s the hair.”

  “What’s wrong with my hair?” I refreshed my sew-in before we left for Utah.

  “I’m feeling this bob. I am. But Bey’s moved on from this style. And so should you.”

  “Oh, well in that case.”

  “Are you okay?” Claudia asks, patting my knee.

  “Yeah. Thanks, you guys. I feel better.” I let out a deep breath. I still feel a little crazy, but the tightness in my chest is starting to ease. “I’m going to quit my job. I don’t like my colleagues or the partners. I don’t like my clients. One of them fucking tried to kill me. I sure as hell don’t like the work, not enough to put my damn life in danger. And not enough to be this bored and unhappy. There is no reason for me to stay.”

  “Exactly!” Rayna says. “Quit that job.”

  “Quit that job,” Brooklyn adds.

  “Quit that job,” Claudia throws in for good measure and then pretty soon all four of them are chanting. “Quit that job! Quit that job! Quit that job! Quit that job!”

  They don’t stop until I start laughing and then they are all hugging me. “We love you, bitch,” Brooklyn says.

  “I love you guys.”

  “Good,” Rayna says as they give me space. We gab for a few more minutes. Brooklyn has more opinions on my shitty hair style. Finally we ask the sweet, beyond patient goddesses of the spa back in to finish our massage session. I’m gonna quit my job, I think to myself as Salina’s hands make their way through the knots in my shoulders. I’m going to quit my job. I’m going to figure out what I want. I’m going to figure out what makes me happy. It’s going to take some time, some work and the support of some fucking good friends—and a pain in the ass sister— but I’m going to make it work.

  November

  “Just give me one,” Brooklyn says. I smack her hand away as she reaches over my shoulder and tries to go for the large plastic container in my lap.

  “Mufucka, if you don’t—you ate almost all of my test batches and I made you your own batch.”

  “Listen. Didn’t no one tell you to start making the most bomb ass donuts New York has ever seen.”

  “Well these aren’t for you, so relax.”

  “Okay, we’re almost there,” Noa says.

  “Thanks for driving,” I tell her.

  “Of course. But if this all works out, you’re gonna have to get your license, boo.”

  “If.”

  “Don’t worry. It will,” Noa says. “Just let him taste those donuts.”

  I’ve thought a lot of things. Had some good cries with my therapist. I’ve quit my job. The first week was scary, but as soon as I caught up on sleep and got my ass in the kitchen, I knew I’d made the right decision. Only one piece was missing.

  “Your destination is on the left. McInroy’s Apple Farm,” the GPS announces in her robotic voice.

  “Here we are,” Noa adds. We turn down the road in the rental SUV she was kind enough to sign out for us for the weekend. We pull into the main entrance of the farm and it feels so strange to be back. To see the whole property stretching out in front of me. It’s late in the season, but it’s a crisp Saturday afternoon and the sun is out. The place is packed.

  “There should be parking up there on the left,” I tell Noa. Silas is standing right where I’m pointing. “Oh fuck. That’s him.” Silas is less than twenty feet in front of us, walking toward the cannery.

  “Hot damn!” Brooklyn says.

  “Okay, the drive was totally worth it,” Noa adds as she slows the car to a stop right in the middle of the lane. “He’s fine. Well there he is. Go.”

  “Wait, I just—”

  “Girl! What are you waiting for?! Go!” Brooklyn says. She gives me a shove on the shoulder.

  “Yeah, go!” Noa says. “We’ll park and wait.”

  “Um, no. I’m starving and then I want to pet the animals,” Brooklyn says.

  “Fine. I’m going.”

  I jump out of the SUV, careful not to drop my precious cargo. And then I call out his name. “Silas!” He sees me right away and stops. He just stares at me for a moment, then blinks. I swallow sixty-seven
ty times in the seconds it takes me to cross the straw covered parking lot to him.

  “Hi,” I say, in this oddly cheerful way.

  “Hey.” He’s in shock. His brown eyes are so wide and his mouth is hanging open a little. It’s so good to see him, it almost hurts. He looks exactly the same. Still tall and brawny for no damn reason. Skin still glistening brown with half a day’s heavy lifting under his belt. He’s breaking in a new hat. Blue with, I think, the Scottish flag across the front. His hair is starting to curl at the base of his neck. It’s longer, but it works for him.

  “You look good,” I say. Like an idiot.

  “So do you. I like your hair.” He reaches up and touches one of the faux locs I have hanging past my shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” he says.

  “You have?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

  “Are you here—”

  “Ebie!” I turn around and Ginny is standing in the back door to the cannery, waving.

  “No!” Silas says. “Get out of here! Go back inside!”

  “Give me five,” I call back to her, laughing. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

  “Hurry. We’re making jam!” She ducks back in the door, but not without flicking off Silas first. I let out a snort and turn back to Silas.

  “So, I uh, I quit my job. Well my most recent law-related job,” I tell him.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. It didn’t suit me much. I took up baking. I’m working on setting up an online store now and looking for kitchen space to rent. I’m starting to outgrow my apartment’s counter and pantry space.”

  “That’s cool. You did seem pretty into Martha Stewart when you were here. I didn’t know you could actually bake.”

  “I can. I just didn’t have much time before. Or, well, I didn’t make time. These are for you.” I take the lid off the plastic container and show him my wares. “These are amaretto peach donuts. And these are apple cheesecake tarts and these are pumpkin sugar cookies.”

  “Can I try one now?”

  “Please.” He grabs one of the donuts and takes a huge bite. I feel myself smiling. No tiny sampling for Silas McInroy. His eyes flash wide as he considers the donut and then looks back at me.

  “These are fucking good.”

  “Thanks. I wanted the peach to really come through.” He just nods, then finishes the other half in one bite. I slide the top back on and hold the container out to him. “These are all for you.”

  “Thank you. I’m not sharing them with Ginny or Maya.”

  “Don’t worry, I made them their own batch. They’re in the car. Um, I actually was hoping to talk to you, all three of you and Mason, about expanding the cannery and the cafe. Maybe adding a bakery?”

  “Yes,” he blurts out without hesitation.

  “Yes?”

  “I want you to run it,” he says so fast, I almost don’t process it at first.

  “I’d love that.”

  “You’d have to be close though. I mean to run it. Wouldn’t really make sense for you to run it from the city.”

  “I know… I figured. I’d like that.”

  “I still don’t want to be your friend.”

  I feel the tears rising in my eyes, but happy tears. “I don’t want to be your friend either. I’ve been thinking a lot. I still don’t particularly like you, but I think I love you a lot.” My voice breaks and the tears start running down my face. More rush down when Silas gathers me in his arms. He’s still holding on to those baked goods for dear life, but his other hand cradles my head to his massive chest. This feels like home.

  “I was worried you wouldn’t forgive me,” I say.

  “I was never mad at you. Ever. I just—”

  “I get it. Trust me. You just need what you need,” I say and then I look up into his eyes. “I need you too. I want you.”

  “I want you too. Can I kiss you now?”

  “Absolutely.” I step up on my tip toes and press my lips to his. More tears slip out of my eyes as we kiss and kiss. Pure joy and pure happiness, interrupted by my loud ass fucking sister.

  “Ah yeah!” I hear her scream across the parking lot.

  I step back and groan.

  “Do you know that person?” he asks.

  “I do. Do you want to meet my sister?”

  “Sure. We might have to bring her along though.” I turn around and spot Honeycrisp coming around the corner of the cannery. I’ve never been so happy to see a dog in my entire life.

  “Hey girl!” I say as I squat down to the ground. She makes a beeline right for me, sprinting like her life depends on it. She almost knocks me over when she collides into my chest. I ruffle her fur as I dodge her attempt to ply me with her puppy kisses.

  “Don’t let that dog lick you in the face!” Brooklyn says with disgust. I laugh and stand, still patting Honeycrisp’s side. I grab Silas’s free hand.

  “Come on. She just gets louder.”

  He looks at me and smiles as we start walking. My chest feels better than fine. It feels great.

  Epilogue

  April

  “This isn’t going to work,” Silas says. He’s carried the fresh scent of his soap from the shower into the kitchen.

  “What?”

  “This!”

  I look over my shoulder and Honeycrisp is standing directly behind me looking at Silas, just daring him to come closer to me. She’s been acting weird the last few days, but today she seems to have made up her mind. She’s my new head of security. I snicker and turn back to my cake batter.

  Silas’s parents will be here by dinner time and I want everything to be perfect. A seven layer apple pear cake will definitely be enough to pad the news that we may have fudged on the timeline of how and when Silas and I decided on each step of this new life of ours together. Not that they won’t be able to tell that I’m pregnant as fuck the moment they walk through the door. I’m still convinced we conceived this little girl my first night back in town.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, pimp. She’s just doing her job.”

  “Keeping me from you is not her job. I’d like to help you raise this child. I’d like to hug you again and sex has crossed my mind too.”

  “Ugh, I wish you hadn’t said that. I broke my third vibrator this morning.”

  “Why didn’t you just text me? I would have come back for whatever you had in mind. God. Move dog.” Silas sidesteps Honeycrisp and then slowly slips his arms around my waist. I laugh as she starts growling. “See, Honey. Everything’s cool.” Hank and Joe have definitely shown interest in my growing belly. Gala and Morty couldn’t give less of a fuck, but Honeycrisp is on high damn alert.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her as she shoves her nose under Silas’s arms and tries to come between us.

  “She’s definitely sleeping in the barn tonight.”

  “Here, go sit.” I wipe my hands and wait for Silas to take a seat at our new kitchen table. I make myself comfortable on his lap, then let Honeycrisp set up shop between my knees where she can keep careful watch. I scratch her head. “See, that’s better.”

  I had a few requests when I moved in. I love the country charm of the place, but some of the furniture hadn’t been replaced since the late eighties. We’re keeping his parents’ gorgeous oak dining room table. The broken down stuff in the kitchen has to go though, along with the ancient stove, the countertops—we’ll gut the whole kitchen. And the bathrooms and the laundry room. Silas doesn’t mind, especially when I offer to pay for it. He won’t let me, but he sees my offer as a real step toward gender equality, especially since in a few short months, I’ll be part owner of McInroy Farms, by way of marriage.

  Silas proposed during my first bout of morning sickness, in true Silas form with the horrible timing and the blunt reasoning as to why us getting married only makes sense. Construction on the bakery was under way. I’d already moved in with no intention of going anywhere and, more important
ly, he knows that for the rest of his life he’ll never love anyone else. I have to agree. I knew I made the right choice when he showed up a few weeks later with a diamond the size of a golf ball that Brooklyn had helped him pick out. So much has happened so quickly. Still, every time I take a moment to look around at Phase Two of the Life of Elizabeth Lewis, I have no complaints. Until Scott calls.

  He heard the happy news from his parents. I try to talk to him, but he can’t stop bad mouthing Silas. I get that there’s hurt there and anger, but this is the father of my child, the man I’m going to marry and whatever Scott thinks there is or was between us, whether it’s friendship or something more, it’s over, long over. Neither of us hear from him for months, but a few days ago, he emailed. He’s been thinking. He’s sorry. He means it. He’s happy we’ve found each other. He’s happy he’s going to be an uncle. He’s hoping Silas and I both can find a way to let him in our lives.

  “I read the email again while you were out,” I tell Silas. We’ve been talking about it a lot, thinking it over.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s up to you. I know exactly what my limits are with Brooklyn. She is more than ready to play the role of eccentric aunt, like right now. Will she teach baby girl here her first swear? Fuck yeah she will, but I know I can trust her. I can’t tell you how to feel about Scott. I just don’t want him to hurt you and I don’t want him to be shitty to our child.”

  “Yeah, I’m not letting that happen. You said something about a vibrator.”

  “Oh no, sir. I may be insane with the horny, but I still need to finish this cake and you came home early to help me make the beds, unless you forgot.”

  “I want to continue with my lessons,” he says as he kisses my neck. My eyes slide closed and I don’t stop him as his hand slips between my legs. Even through my jeans, his touch drives me crazy. He’s been an excellent student, even when I make him wait for all the shit he tries to pull during the day.

  “We’ll resume lessons as soon as your parents leave. They don’t need to accidentally hear me walking you through edging.”