Not What I Expected

by Jewel E. Ann

  “Do you want me to touch your clit?”

  “Okay.”

  I can’t tell you how many times he rubbed just to the right or left of it, missing it altogether. And he knew … when we first started having sex, he knew where it was. It hadn’t relocated.

  “How’s that?”

  “Fine.”

  I never had the nerve to tell him he wasn’t rubbing my clit.

  “You like that?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you want to come?”

  “That would be nice, but it’s not looking likely.” “Uh-huh.”

  He’d pick up his pace, which was good, and the sexiest thing he could have done at that point would have been to shut up.

  Nope.

  He needed more validation.

  “How am I doing?”

  “Good.”

  Fine. Sure. Good.

  Not exactly the best sex life. Over and over again, I tried to pinpoint the time in our marriage when he went from the man I wanted to jump the second he walked through the door to the man I avoided until I felt guilty for making up reasons to not have sex. I’d get myself psyched up to just “get it done,” knowing it would buy me a good week of him not propositioning me.

  What kind of life was that?

  I didn’t confirm anything Bella said about Craig nor did I deny it. She’d heard too much that morning we fought for the last time. “I’m going to clear the driveway.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to help shovel?”

  Rinsing out my cup, I shook my head. “I’ve got it. It’s a snowblower. Not an army tank. How hard could it be?”

  Come to find out …

  Pretty fucking hard.

  It wasn’t an electric start snowblower; it was a pull start. The worst thing imaginable for someone with no upper body strength.

  I adjusted the choke and pulled the cord. It caught on me. I never understood how men made pull starts look so smooth and easy.

  The second time I pulled it, it caught again.

  “Come on!” In that moment, I started thinking the lack of finding my clit didn’t matter. Craig could pull start anything.

  “Ouch!” I grabbed my shoulder after the third attempt, feeling certain I’d torn a ligament or dislocated it. In that moment, I made a mental note to encourage Bella to be strong.

  Not emotionally strong—that was fine too. But emotional strength wasn’t going to pull start anything. She needed upper body strength to pull start snowblowers and open stubborn jar lids.

  “We’re shoveling. Aren’t we?”

  I glanced up at Bella in her long coat, hat, and gloves.

  “It’s looking that way.” I frowned, rubbing my shoulder.

  Shoveling put me fifteen minutes late to the store, but no one was waiting at the door, so I was fine. At first I assumed the lack of a Saturday morning crowd during the holiday season was a symptom of the big snow.

  But … What Did You Expect? had people piling into their store.

  There were actually two people shivering by my front door, Kandi and Tiffany. I asked them both to work since weekends during the holiday season were insanely busy.

  Were being the keyword.

  “Hey, girls! Sorry I’m late.” I unlocked the door. “I didn’t know so much snow was forecasted.”

  Tiffany laughed as the three of us skittered into the store to get out of the cold. “You should get a snowblower.”

  “Yes. Great idea. Can I give you two young girls some advice?”

  “What’s that?” Kandi asked, turning on the display lights while I unlocked the register.

  “Focus on strengthening your upper body. Pull-ups, pushups, curls … whatever. Just don’t become so obsessed with your legs, butt, and thighs that you set yourself up to be completely helpless someday if you’re ever widowed.”

  “O-kay …” Tiffany lifted her eyebrows while turning on the Open sign.

  “Where’s this from?” I picked up a hot drink cup; both girls had carried one into the shop when I unlocked it. I sniffed the steam coming from the opening in the lid.

  “Oh, it’s from What Did You Expect?” Kandi took a sip of hers as I returned Tiffany’s cup to the counter. “Free organic hot chocolate until noon today in celebration of the first snow. So when you weren’t on time, Tiff ran over and got us hot chocolates.”

  “I also picked up several bottles of vinegar. I’m so addicted to it. I use it for a fat free salad dressing.”

  “How nice of him,” I murmured as I gazed at the lineup outside of his shop.

  By noon, less than ten people had walked through my door, and less than five made purchases.

  “I’m going to grab soup. You girls want anything?”

  “Brought my lunch,” Tiffany said as she rearranged the ornaments on the tree by the display window.

  “Me too,” Kandi hollered from the back room, unpacking a new shipment of popcorn tins.

  “Okay. I’ll be back.” I slipped on my white, down North Face jacket and donned my wool mittens before heading out the door. The line for Spoons was nearly as long as the line had been that morning at What Did You Expect?

  “Hey, Elsie. Did you have any trouble getting out of your driveway this morning?” Jan, my neighbor, asked as she sidled up to me. We’d made it to the lucky part of the line—the part that was inside instead of the ten-people-deep part still outside.

  “It was touch and go at first. I didn’t think I was ever going to get the snowblower started. And I didn’t.” I laughed. “But Bella helped me shovel it.”

  “We have Anderson’s plow ours. Takes them three swipes and they’re done. Twenty bucks.”

  “Twenty bucks?” I tugged off my mittens and shoved them into my pockets. “Pfft … this morning I was so frustrated I would have exchanged sexual favors for someone to plow my drive in three swipes.”

  She chuckled as did I. Jan didn’t attend my church, or any church, so I could get away with remarks like that.

  “Hmm …”

  I made a one-eighty-degree turn to see where the deep hmm came from.

  Kael stood behind me, grinning from ear to ear. “You know, Elsie, I have a blade on my pickup truck. I’d be happy to make a few swipes for you.”

  I loosened my scarf and unzipped my coat several inches. “Oh … for twenty bucks?”

  With his hands buried in his front pockets, he lifted his shoulders. “Sure. Or we can barter … per your earlier suggestion.”

  “My earlier sug—” It hit me. The turd had been eavesdropping.

  Jan laughed as I searched for words, but they were nowhere to be found.

  He shot Jan a tiny wink, a reward for her engaging in his inappropriate humor. “Or I can do it for free, a courtesy for my fellow small business owner. We have to stick together, you know?”

  Eyes wide, words clogged in my throat, I slowly faced forward again.

  Jan leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I can think of worse things than getting stuck to that hunk.”

  A few minutes later, we’d crept to third and fourth in line as my stomach churned out hungry noises. “I know they’re really busy around lunch time, but this is crazy even for them.”

  Jan nodded. “Right?”

  “It’s the coupons. Cross-promotion.”

  Again, I eased my head around to Kael and his relentless eavesdropping.

  He grinned. “When I opened, they handed out coupons for my business, and in return, I handed out ones for theirs today. Free sourdough roll with the purchase of a large bowl of soup. We could do some cross promoting too if you’d like.”

  I rubbed my slightly dry lips together for several seconds before rewarding his offer with more than an eye roll. “We own specialty shops. Competitors of sorts. How and why would we cross promote?”

  “The why is simple—because small business owners should support each other. We should never think of the other as competition. And the how … well … I’ll give it some thought. I’m not open on Sunday
s, but I see that you are, so maybe I’ll check out your store tomorrow and something will spark an idea or two.”

  “You’re closed on Sundays?” I couldn’t imagine how a specialty store could be closed on a Sunday, especially during the holiday season. Not that I was disappointed … Sunday shoppers would come to my store.

  “Yep. I need a day of rest. Like God. I think I heard He took a day off, right?”

  “Oh … you’re closed for church? We used to do that too, but during the holidays, it was hard to close one day a week when so many people in Epperly work Monday through Friday and only have the weekends to shop.” I shrugged.

  “Church? No. Just rest. I don’t attend church.”

  “Are you an atheist?” Jan asked.

  “Shh …” I elbowed her. “You can’t ask people that.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What? I’ve never actually met one before. I have so many questions.”

  Kael laughed. “I was raised Catholic. I just don’t go to church, and my beliefs are based on experience and observation more than translated scripture.”

  “So you are atheist?” Jan’s eyes remained unblinking as she nodded several times.

  “Jan, you don’t attend church.” I eyed her.

  “True. But it’s not because I don’t believe. I just don’t like the expectations. The accountability. You miss one Sunday, and the following week, everyone gives you the third degree. You know, inadvertently butting their noses into your business. ‘Hi, Jan. We missed you last week. Hope everything’s okay?’ And you can’t just say that you didn’t want to get your ass out of bed and come. Nope, that’s frowned upon like you were too lazy for God, so you have to lie. Isn’t that fantastic? Christians lying because they don’t want to be judged, which happens to be a rule they are the very best at breaking. And don’t even get me started on the snoopiness and shame that comes with passing on the offering plate.” She rolled her eyes.

  I tried to hide my grin, but Kael barked a laugh and tipped his head back.

  Luckily, I was next to place my order, so I didn’t have to think of any response. As I waited off to the side for my soup, Jan grabbed a seat when a table opened up just as her friend Paula arrived.

  “Come here often?” Kael asked with a smirk as he tucked himself next to me in the corner of the crowded cafe to wait for his to-go order as well.

  Pursing my lips, I tried to hide my grin, keeping my eyes focused on the busy employees prepping orders. “That sounds like a cheesy pick-up line, but I know you mean it very literally. So, yes. I come here a lot.”

  “Nope. I totally meant it as a cheesy pick-up line.”

  “Stop.” I shook my head and let my grin have its way, but I still didn’t let my gaze get anywhere near his face. “I’m a little too old for you.”

  “You mean you think I’m a little too young for you.”

  “Same thing.”

  “No. It’s only for me to say if I think you’re too old for me. Which I don’t. So for you to say it, it’s just your backward way of saying I’m too young for you.”

  “How can you say you don’t think I’m too old for you when you don’t even know my age?”

  “I didn’t say it. You said it.”

  On a sidelong glance, I murmured, “How old are you?”

  “I’m legal.”

  I coughed a laugh. “Legal. Wow … that’s not as comforting as I think you meant it to be. It sounds like a defense for a statutory rape claim.”

  “I’m not too worried about you raping me, Mrs. Smith.”

  “Stop …” I giggled as they called my name for my order. “You’re obnoxious.” Before he could say anything else, I hustled to the counter to snag my bag of food. Then I took the long way around the line to the exit—anything to avoid Kael.

  Chapter Seven

  I miss him, but only because there are fifty unfinished projects around our house.

  * * *

  Sex dreams.

  Forty-two years without having sex dreams—at least that I recalled.

  Then Kael Hendricks made a few borderline inappropriate comments, threw out the cheesiest pick-up line ever, and I woke up in a hot sweat with my hand down the front of my panties and my legs scissoring back and forth.

  What if Bella would have peeked into my room? I never fully closed my door. Was I making noises? In my dream, I made all kinds of moaning sounds. So there I was, still panting, eyes wide and focus stuck to the ceiling while I contemplated finishing what I apparently started in my dream.

  “Mom?”

  Whoosh!

  Bella’s voice drifting closer to my room ended that thought in a heartbeat as I yanked my hand out of my panties and jumped out of bed. I ran into the bathroom before she saw me in my hot-mess state.

  “In the bathroom, sweetie.” Turning on the cold water, I scrubbed my hands and splashed water on my face.

  “I have a headache. If it goes away, I’ll go to the late service.”

  After blotting the water from my face, I opened the door.

  “Sorry, babe. Did you take something for it?”

  Bella nodded, yawning then grimacing as she pressed her fingers to her temple.

  “Well, you know I can’t go to late service. So if you don’t feel better soon, just stay home and rest.”

  “Okay.” She turned and dragged herself back to her bedroom.

  I showered and dressed for early church service in record time. The idea of skipping crossed my mind, but Jan was right—church family had a special gift for guilting absentee members upon their return. And … I needed a little prayer time to seek forgiveness for my naughty dreams.

  Wearing my red, cowl neck sweater dress and black boots, I hurried off to church in my dirty Tahoe. We sang hymns, prayed for our wellbeing, guidance, and dreamless sleep. Okay, one of us prayed for dreamless sleep. Then I had to sneak out a few minutes early (as usual) to get to the store in time. To my knowledge, no one ever judged my need to leave early because I did tithe well every week.

  A real live customer waited at the door to my store as I walked down the sidewalk. “Good morning! Let’s get inside where it’s warm.”

  Then … he turned around. Kael really needed to stick to one jacket and one beanie to make himself more recognizable.

  “I like the sound of that.” Mischief spread along his face.

  My smile faltering, I brushed past him to unlock the door. The sex dream made it really hard to keep eye contact. “Both of my employees for the day called in sick, so I might not have time to chitchat with you today. Feel free to look around and brainstorm while I get things opened up.”

  “Chitchat … do people say that anymore?”

  “Yes, Kael. I’m a person, and I just said it.” I liked saying his name as I would one of my own children. It felt imperative to think of him as not only young but inexperienced and in need of role modeling.

  However, he demonstrated lots of experience in my dream the previous night.

  Dear God, please make it stop! Take a magnet and wipe my brain.

  “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Nope.” I turned on the Open sign and shrugged off my long, wool coat.

  “Wow … you look great in red.”

  I ignored his compliment as I turned on the other lights, unlocked the cash register, and hooked up my phone to play holiday music over the speakers.

  “So tell me about your kids.” He picked up a jar of sweet honey mustard and read the back of it. When he shifted his attention to me, I averted my gaze and busied myself behind the counter, tidying up a few things.

  “I have three boys in college, and my daughter, Bella, is a senior in high school.”

  Kael’s head bounced in a slow, impassive nod as he returned the jar to its shelf before resuming his inspection of my store.

  I cleared my throat. “Do you have kids? A wife? A dog?”

  He chuckled, his twinkling eyes finding mine, ensnaring my gaze far too long. When my cheeks permeated with
heat, I tore my attention away from him and tidied up the candy display on the counter.

  “No kids. No wife. No dog.”

  “Well, you’re young.”

  “So you keep reminding me.”

  “I just mean, a lot of people are waiting longer to get married and have kids. Not everyone gets pregnant in college like I did.”

  “I’m sure you regret nothing.”

  I narrowed my eyes and glanced over my shoulder at him while he perused the products in my store. “That’s an interesting assumption.”

  “Is it?” His gaze lifted to meet mine.

  “Yeah, I mean … I think wonderful things happen to people by accident, but that’s not to say that given the chance again—not knowing the future or outcome—that we’d always make the same decisions.”

  “So if you had it to do again, you would have had him wrap it up?”

  I blushed again and turned my back to him. “I’m saying, I hope my daughter plans her pregnancies.”

  “So you don’t believe God has predetermined your life?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  “It wouldn’t make sense. Him taking your husband from you. Right?”

  No. That part made total sense. She’s not in the Bible, but her name is Karma. “Not sure.”

  “Well …” Kael straightened the tins of popcorn by the windows. “I don’t believe in marriage.”

  “That’s just your way of saying you don’t want to be monogamous.”

  “No. It’s my way of saying I’m not a fan of marriage. Beyond shared insurance and hospital visits, I just don’t get it. Besides … I’m not entirely sure humans are meant to mate for life. I think sometimes it works out that way for different reasons, but if you look at the rate of divorce and cheating, it speaks a different truth.”

  “Love.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t have to be married to love someone.”

  “No, but maybe you want to be married because you love them.”