Then Jim snapped out of his trance and picked up the semi-conscious Alex into his arms and started towards the cottage followed by the rest of the party.
Chapter 19
Ruth Andreadora Sullivan was born a little before dawn. When Jim held his daughter for the first time, he was bewitched. The wee little thing had firmly closed her fist around her father’s finger and Jim had felt the squeeze of that fist around his heart. She had a firm grip and a blue gaze, just like his.
As his mother carried the baby away, Jim turned to his wife who had been sleeping peacefully since the time he had entered the room. Quietly he lowered himself onto the bed next to her and covered her hand with his where it rested over her midsection.
“Alex,” He said tentatively as she slowly opened her eyes.
“Jim, did you meet our daughter?” she said weakly but with a twinkle in her eyes. Jim nodded then said,
“She is beautiful, Enchanting, just like you.”
“She has your eyes.” she stated simply.
“Alex, about what happened in the field this morning…”
“I apologize for my behavior then; I was in a lot of pain.”
“Does that mean, you forgive me?” he said taking both her hands into his firmly and squeezing.
“As usual, you are not listening. There is nothing to forgive. I am not mad at you”
“Oh you were plenty mad,” he said smirking at the memory, then suddenly narrowed his eyes and looked down at his wife.
“What do you mean, as usual.”
“You know what I mean sweetheart. You are usually headstrong and bossy. And your daughter is just like you. As soon as she was born she created a huge racket and insisted that she be cleaned and wrapped and fed before anyone attended me.” Jim smiled dreamily.
“Poor Trev was out of his mind. He helped me get you here without complaining once of the obscenities you hurled at us. For that alone, he ought to get a rise.”
“The Doc and Eileen took good care of me.”
“Yes, they are a good team.” He said pensively. The suddenly looked down at her and said watching her reaction.
“They are getting married.”
“I know.” She stated calmly
“Why didn’t you tell me if you knew.”
“Doc just told me, while I was in labor. I thought he was trying to distract me.”
“Don’t know about you but I was distracted, shocked, stunned.”
“Jim.” she said, and he knew she was going to bring up the subject they had been both skirting around.
“I am sorry for what I said to you and Eileen, back in the fields. But you need to let go of your resentment.”
“Why?” he asked sulkily, not looking up at her, toying with her wedding band.
“Because it has let go of you. For some time now, I have noticed, you don’t feel the same antagonism for her, as you used to. But like I said you are stubborn and wouldn’t let go of the feeling. Being angry is easier for you than loving. That way you get to hide your emotions.”
“Quite the psychiatrist, aren’t we?”
“I don’t believe in Psychiatry”
“It’s an emerging science.”
“It’s humbug. The human mind is pure. It doesn’t need a doctor.”
“But there are minds that are ill. My father was.” he said once again mumbling under his breath and avoiding to look at her.
“Jim, the Doc will make her happy.” She said kindly rubbing her palm over his upper arm.
“He better. Otherwise, I will hunt him down and kill him.”
“Jim you are being ridiculous.” Alex laughed
“I have already told him so.” He said sullenly.
“No you didn’t,” she said shocked and tickled at the same time.
“Oh yes, I did. When he was out there pacing with me, before Ruth was born.”
“Jim, I love you.”
“I love you too. But there is something I need to read out to you first.” he pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and said waving it in front of her.
“What I that?”
“The missing part of the letter from my grandmother, that you never got to read.”
“Where did you find that,” Alex asked surprised.
“Eileen gave it to me. She found it in the drawer where the recipe book was kept. It must have fallen off.” Jim said. Then he slowly opened the sheet and held it up in a toast before he started to read from it.”
“…all my inhibitions disappeared when I saw the bond the two of you shared. Alex has transformed you. She has turned this game marriage of yours into a real one. The kind, I had always wanted you to have, the kind that will make you happy. I know it will irk you to know, but you are in love with her Jim. And love has made you a better more forgiving person.”
When he looked up at her, a lock of hair fell across his forehead making him look almost boyish and vulnerable. Alex lifted her hand to stroke it and he caught it in his, drawing it over the side of his face and placing his lips upon it.
“She is right. You have made me into a better person Alexandra. And for that, I love you beyond reason.”
The two lost themselves into each other’s compelling gazes as they heard Ruth scream and the Doc and Eileen laugh in the background. They had created a world around them, a world that held the promise of a lifetime of bliss.
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Mail Order Bride: Escaping Europe
Veronica Cross
Escaping Europe
Copyright 2016 by Veronica Cross
First electronic publication: January 2017
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Warning: Due to mature subject matter, such as explicit sexual situations and coarse language, this story is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older, and all acts of a sexual nature are consensual.
Escaping Europe
Part I
Chapter One
“Hey lardo, you got yourself a nice accent there. Really matches your tie!” Christopher cackled, gesturing at his brother’s shirt. “You’re almost forty, bud. Maybe it’s time you learned how to use a fork!”
Some of the other family members chuckled and Jon looked down at his top. Immediately he saw the gravy stain over his breast and felt himself blushing. He picked up a linen napkin and began to dab at the blot, causing it to smear.
“Oh, nice one!” Chris taunted, stuffing a forkful of potatoes into his mouth and Jon was grateful for the few seconds of silence the motion bought him.
“Johnny, stop rubbing at it!” his mother chided, shaking her head in exasperation. “You’re only making it worse.”
Obediently, he stopped, suddenly unsure of what to do. His cheeks aflame with embarrassment, his dark brown eyes rested on the kind gaze of Chris’ wife, Elyse.
“I’ll get you some club soda, Jon,” she told him, standing from the table.
“He can do it himself, Ellie,” Chris snapped, his smirk fading as she turned away. She barely glanced her husband as she disappeared into the kitchen.
“I’m closer,” she replied as the swinging door closed behind her firm backside. She was six and a half months p
regnant but still as agile as she had been the day she had married Christopher five years earlier.
“Your wife is a keeper,” Jordan commented, eyeing his brother-in-law’s partner with more interest than his own wife liked. Jon and Chris’ sister, Tristan glared at her husband but said nothing, her attention suddenly diverted by her toddler daughter who had discovered the cat. Tristan’s dark expression caused a riff at the dinner table despite her silence. It was not Jordan’s fault per se. Elyse was a beautiful woman. It was not simply her Patrician beauty but she had such an unpretentious air, it was impossible not to feel comfortable in her presence. If Jordan had finer filters, he would have been able to contain his shameless ogling but alas, Tristan’s high school sweetheart was not known for his tact.
“Yeah, she’s something else,” Chris agreed, taking a sip of wine. Jon felt himself cringe, recognizing the devilish drunken haze in his oldest sibling’s eye. He knew what was coming and not for the first time, he wished he was as much of a drinker as every other member of his family. He glanced somewhat enviously around at the tipsy people in his midst, wondering what it was like to be able to silence inhibitions on a whim.
“Now we just have to find Jon a woman even a fraction as good as mine!” Chris continued, shooting his brother a coy smile. It was not so much a desire for his sibling to find happiness which Christopher longed for as it was a need to humiliate him as frequently as possible. The boys were only two years apart and should have been best of friends, but it became apparent at a young age that Chris and Jon had very little in common. As teens, their mother insisted that it was healthy sibling rivalry but as the two grew into adulthood, Chris’ jabs became more constant and hurtful. Jon finally recognized that his brother was ashamed of him. Who could blame Chris? As the oldest, he had been athletic, popular and charismatic while Jon had always had his nose stuck in a book, battling his weight and struggling with social anxiety. Chris got married in his last year of college and had his first child when he was twenty-two while Jon attempted online dating once every six months, only to end up feeling incredibly rejected and retreating into his shell. Chris never gave up an opportunity to make his younger brother feel inadequate and he had years of experience. As a result, Jon tried desperately to avoid spending time with him but of course, Christmas dinner was not an option when Mary-Anne Hewson was the matriarch of the family.
“He loves you, Johnny. You can’t take everything so personal. You have to learn to grow thicker skin,” Mary-Anne told her son firmly.
“Yeah, well I’m almost forty, mom. I don’t think I’m doing any more growing,” he replied dryly.
“Well, I certainly hope not around your waistline. Honestly, Johnny, you need to find someone to cook for you. You’re eating fast food all the time, aren’t you?” She stared critically at him and Jon hung his head in shame. It was not hard to see where Christopher got his personality. Despite Mary-Anne’s well-meaning intentions, her words could be just as cutting as her oldest son’s. It seemed to Jon that since the passing of his father five years earlier, Mary-Anne had become an even darker person, never stopping to weigh the impact of her “advice” before she spoke.
Elyse returned from the kitchen, a can of club soda and another linen napkin in her hand. She waddled gracefully toward him and instantly began dabbing at his shirt.
“Oh for Christ’s sake, Ellie, he can do that himself!” Chris barked, his face red with anger. His fork dropped to his plate with a clatter and he balled his fists in protest. Again, Elyse ignored him and continued what she was doing while Tristan, Mary-Anne and Jordan stared open-mouthed.
“Nice, Ellie! Hitting on Uncle Jon!” Kevin, Chris’ seventeen-year-old son piped up and was quickly reprimanded by his father with a backhand to the head.
“Ow dad!” Kevin yelled, rubbing his blonde head and glaring at his father. “What the hell was that for?”
“Show some respect to your step-mother!” Chris yelled. “Elyse, stop that right now.”
Albeit unperturbed by the outburst, Jon’s sister-in-law ceased what she was doing and smiled warmly at him.
“Now it won’t leave a stain,” she told him. Blushing furiously, Jon nodded, unable to speak. She reclaimed her spot beside Chris and resumed eating her supper as if there had not been any interruption.
“So, uh, Johnny, how is work going?” Tristan asked after a moment of awkward silence. He turned gratefully to his sister.
“It’s busy. I have a lot of projects on the go,” he answered truthfully, about to delve into the world of web design. His work was his pride and joy, his escape from the deep depression which was his life. Before he could continue, however, Chris snorted.
“You would think that with all the money you’re making, you’d have landed yourself a trophy wife by now.” Their sister had had enough and she whipped her napkin onto her unfinished meal as if she had suddenly lost her appetite.
“Chris give it a rest,” Tristan snarled at her brother. “Not everyone makes marriage a sport.” Another round of shocked silence overcame the table as Chris’ face went pale. Elyse was his third wife and while Jon would have never uttered the words, he wanted to kiss his sister for saying it. Jon glanced furtively at Elyse who simply kept eating, a sardonic smirk on her face. Her expression seemed to read “you deserved that, Chris.”
“How dare you!” The oldest sibling jumped up from the table as if he was going to strike the woman. But he was no match for Tristan who, although was the youngest by ten years and a hundred pounds smaller than the oldest Hewson sibling, had the mouth of drunken sailor and the brains of a sober astronaut. Just as fast, she was on her feet, staring Chris down, their almost identical hazel eyes clashing furiously.
“What? It isn’t slander if it’s true. Or don’t you remember that from your two-month bout of ‘wanting to become a lawyer?’ Sit the fuck down and leave Jon alone,” she hissed. “I am sick and tired of not being able to enjoy a single goddamn family meal without listening to your bullshit.”
“Tristan Anne Hewson-Miller!” Mary-Anne gasped, horrified at her daughter but Tristan did not waver and she silently challenged Christopher to speak, her bright eyes flashing with danger.
Chris opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. Elyse touched his arm and as if he was drugged, he immediately sat back on his chair.
“Sorry about that, family,” Tristan said nonchalantly, also sitting but still staring down her brother as if daring him to speak. “Someone had to say it. And by the way, Elyse, I meant no offense to you.”
“None taken,” Elyse replied smoothly. She smiled softly and turned to her brother-in-law.
“Now, what were you saying, Johnny?”
Jonathan Hewson the Third was a wealthy man by society standards. His income crossed into the low seven figure bracket and while he was self-employed as a web designer, his clientele base grew monthly. He had a small group of underlings whom he never saw as everyone was employed from the safety and comfort of their own homes. Tristan, an accountant by trade, had been pushing him to set up his business properly before the International Revenue Service came knocking on his door but Jon had been putting it off because of his social anxiety. He did not want the stress of hiring secretaries and looking for office space. He also did not want anyone to know this. It was for this reason that he continued to carry on his thriving business from the security of his three-bedroom condo in Connecticut. No one would have guessed Jon was a success judging by the way he lived. A housekeeper came once a week to do the basics such as washing the windows and cleaning behind the toilet but the consensus around the cleaning agency was that Jon was wasting his money. The apartment was always impeccably kept and even if it had not been, he had so few belongings, it made the chores a breeze. He was a minimalist by nature and he loathed clutter. His rooms were functional with reasonably priced furniture but nothing ostentatious. He could not justify spending copious amounts of cash on material things not because he was frugal but because he didn’t feel
as though he deserved them. There was nothing appealing about Jon to himself. He was not as attractive, witty, charming or athletic like his brother. He carried too much weight despite his formidable height. And while he had been told he was a gentle soul, he never saw any redeeming qualities in himself. He tried to tell himself that he preferred the company of books to people but that was not true. He was insufferably lonely, something that even his sister didn’t realize about him. Tristan was the closest person he had to a friend in the world but even she was worlds apart from him, although not as much as he and Christopher. The age difference had much to do with the slight strain in the potential relationship but Tristan was also married with a young family and while she went out of her way to include Jon in outings and events, Jon always felt like he was the third wheel. He tried to frequent bars or art galleries but he was not much for socializing and when it came to meeting people, he found himself tongue-tied even though he wanted nothing more than companionship. It was inevitable, then, that Jon found other ways to curb his loneliness.
The first one’s name was Amber and Jon had been sure that she was “the one.” She was slender, blonde and had vivid blue eyes which made his heart skip every time she looked into his eyes. She was a medical student at the University of Connecticut and while Jon desperately wanted her to move in with him, she had informed him that she needed to be closer to school.
“I am going to be on-call a lot, Johnny,” Amber had told him in her honey-filled voice. Jon immediately rented her a lavish apartment near the college, fully furnishing it with everything she needed. She had been so grateful to him; she had waived the escort agency’s fee that week. After six months, Jon had set her up with a bank account which he kept healthily replenished. He had offered to pay off her tuition directly but she insisted on keeping paying some of her own way. Jon adored her independence. He was sure that Amber was happy and would never leave him. She rewarded him with heavy nights of passion and he spoiled her with shopping trips and jewellery. She was everything he could have ever wanted in a woman. He loved the way people looked at them when they were out together but Amber much preferred the privacy of being home where they could cuddle and watch movies. He was building up the nerve to ask her to marry him and secretly couldn’t wait to see the look on Christopher’s face when he saw how beautiful was his future wife. One day, however, Jon called Amber and her phone was out of service. Shocked, as he was the one paying the bill, he called the phone company who informed him that Amber had requested the phone be canceled. As she was also on the account, it was within their right to comply with her demand. With a growing sense of unease, Jon got in his 2003 Ford Escape and drove to her apartment complex. He did not see her 2015 BMW he had bought her in the usual parking spot in the carport. When a kid in his late teens answered the door, Jon felt his bowels turn to water. The boy explained that he had just begun subletting the apartment and the “chick before” had gone to Europe indefinitely. A mix of humiliation and anger flooded Jon when he finally accepted the fact that he had been played by a professional. When those emotions subsided, it was replaced with deep anguish. And more loneliness.
Romance: The Campus Player: A College Romance Page 56