by Grace Warren
In any case, Mary Anne’s silly and simple plan actually worked. Alton’s mother had gotten him to promise to get rid of the alcohol and never go near the stuff again.
Mary Anne would have been happy, if Alton hadn’t sworn vengeance against her.
“What?” Mary Anne said, now alone in the kitchen with a pissed off Alton.
“You heard me,” Alton said. “You’ll pay for this.”
Gripping the newspaper tightly, he strode out of the room with an indignant huff.
Mary Anne wasn’t sure how seriously to take him, so she figured it would be best to forget this whole awkward event ever happened.
That had been a mistake.
Alton
His new father-in-law liked to nag Alton and Mary Anne to go to these dinner parties and act like a normal couple. Usually, Alton didn’t care about what made the old man happy, but after Mary Anne tattled on him—literally tattled on him to his mother—he asked Mr. Ellison to get himself and Mary Anne invited to the next dinner party that occurred.
Unfortunately for pious Mary Anne, the next dinner party that occurred was that weekend. Her father’s good friend, a former lawyer, was throwing it for the sake of throwing a dinner party. Rich people were like that, Alton soon realized.
The mansion where the party took place was on the other side of town. It was big and lavish, and it was full of people and loud classical music being played by the orchestra.
“This is fun, isn’t it?” Alton asked Mary Anne, who was clutching his arm for dear life. It wasn’t hard to see that she disliked crowds—perhaps people in general.
Mary Anne continued to glare at him. She had been glaring at him for the past week now, knowing that he had somehow arranged for this to happen to her.
“Let’s go talk to some rich snobs,” he said cheerfully, moving himself forward and dragging her along in the process.
“Do not embarrass my father,” she gritted out.
“Of course not, of course not. Don’t worry.” He walked up to the first few people he saw. They were at the buffet with partially full plates. They were laughing about something, so Alton laughed with him as he approached. “That’s hilarious!” he cried out to them. “That reminds me of the time Mary Anne urinated on the hem of her dress!”
He didn’t know where that comment had come from, but he was proud that he had made it up on the spot.
The people he was basically shouting at laughed along with him while staring judgmentally at Mary Anne.
“He’s joking,” she said.
“No, I’m not,” he said. “I remember because—”
Mary Anne tugged him back and gave an apologetic smile to the rich snobs. “I’m terribly sorry, but if you’ll excuse us—”
She led Alton away. He had no idea where she thought she was leading him though, for they walked about in random directions for a long while. There were people everywhere, and every once in a while, they would stop Mary Anne to greet her. Alton then would go on to tell the fake story of how Mary Anne urinated on her dress.
Finally, Mary Anne shoved him in the closet, and the two were alone.
“Your job is to fix my father’s reputation,” she whispered to him, her voice wrought with hatred. “But you’re just making it worse.”
“You’re right,” he whispered back. “And I’ll keep making it worse if you keep getting in the way of me living my life.”
“Get in the way? I’ve left you alone for the most part.”
“Yeah, up until you took my booze away.”
“You can’t be anywhere near that stuff. It’ll ruin—”
“I know, I know, you don’t have to keep repeating yourself.” He took a deep breath and back away. “Look, if this is going to work out, you’re going to let me be who I am. Understand?”
She stared at him in silence for a long while. It was actually a little unnerving.
“No,” she said.
He cocked an eyebrow challengingly. “No?”
“No,” she repeated louder. “If you want a war, you have one.” And with that, she stormed out of the closet.
Alton twisted his mouth into a frown. “That didn’t sound good.” Hesitantly, he walked out of the closet, just in time to see Mary Anne tap a glass of champagne with an eating utensil.
“Attention, everyone!” Mary Anne called out as she tapped the glass.
The band and then everyone else got quiet.
“Oh god,” Alton said, gaping at his wife. She hated crowds, so if she had the courage—or the rage—to speak to—
“My husband would like to volunteer at the homeless shelter for the foreseeable future to help those less fortunate than us, like the Bible tells us to do.” Mary gave Alton a smug smirk. “And he wanted to do this privately, but I can’t allow such a good man doing a good deed go unheard of. We need more people like him, don’t we, everyone?!”
People clapped. Some seemed embarrassed by Mary Anne’s display, but most seemed touched.
“Yes!” Mary Anne said happily. “Give my husband a round of applause. Or better yet, join his cause to help the homeless every weekend, like God wants us to do.” She clanged her utensil against her glass repeatedly, and the people clapped and cheered.
Alton grinded his teeth together, even as he forced himself to smile at the people staring at him.
“I’ll volunteer with you,” someone had said to his right.
Alton didn’t look at the man. “Great.”
Mary Anne
The day after the dinner party, Mary Anne woke up to the sound of Alton and many, many volunteers going into her study and taking out her books.
“We’re donating them to the homeless,” Alton told her with a grin. “You know, help them get smart for work and what not.”
Alton
Alton didn’t consider himself a vain person, but he did like the way he looked. He liked his sideburns and the stubble over his lip, his chin, and his jaw.
When he woke up to much shorter hair and a bare face, he panicked. Then he saw Mary Anne’s note beside his pillow. It said that he was starting to look shaggy and, like any good dog, he needed to be groomed.
He crushed the note in his hand.
Mary Anne
Alton went outside with his shirt untucked and his pants unbuttoned.
Mary Anne actually thought he looked funny, but the embarrassment he had caused to her father…
Alton
Mary Anne and his damn sisters pressured him into getting a tutor for English. Apparently, he didn’t talk right, and Mary Anne’s father was unhappy or some nonsense like that.
Alton wasn’t sure why he even agreed to it, other than it made his sisters happy. And the idea that Mary Anne would use them like that—or, well, she didn’t really use them, so much as team up with them to accomplish a common goal, he supposed.
Either way, it got on his nerves.
Mary Anne
Alton told a neighbor some pretty disgusting lies about what he and Mary Anne did in the bedroom every night. Luckily, Mary Anne heard about this from Betty before her father could hear about it from someone else.
“You need to fix this,” she growled at Alton in the kitchen. “What you said to him—that, that just goes too far. Way too far!”
Alton had the audacity to look indifferent. “If you want this little feud to end, all you need to do is back off. But I’m sure you won’t because you’re stubborn as hell.”
“I’m stubborn?! You…” Rage enveloped her, and she couldn’t breathe properly. Huffing, she backed away from and mimed strangling something; the act made her feel a little better.
Alton blinked at her. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You drive me crazy, so I’m being crazy. Happy?!”
“Oh no, don’t put that on me. You were crazy long before I came into the picture.”
Mary grinded her teeth together and placed her hands on her hips. Taking a breath, she forced herself to at least appear a little calm. “You
know, maybe that’s true, but at least I’m not a complete ass!”
Alton opened his mouth, but he wasn’t the one who spoke next.
“What is going on?!” her father roared, enter the kitchen like a crippled beast.
Mary Anne turned around and, in her instinctive fear, she stood in front of Alton. “Dad, I—”
“You know what I just heard from Paul?” her father snarled. His eyes were burning with anger and disgust. He coughed and shook his head. “Horrible things about you and your bed and—” He slapped his hand in the air. “God awful things.”
“Dad, I—”
“You’re disgraceful. After everything I’ve done for you, you continue to be a disgrace to my name. How could you do this to me?”
Mary Anne swallowed. His words stabbed her heart, but at the same time, she was so used to it that the pain didn’t bother her all that much. It was familiar. Tearfully, yet insincerely, she apologized for her supposed wrongs. She knew it wouldn’t make him feel better, but it might appease him long enough to leave her be.
“Wait,” Alton said, moving to stand next to her while he stared at her father. “She didn’t do anything wrong. I said some things I should have to Paul, and it got blown out of proportion.”
Mary Anne’s eyebrows shot up as she turned to Alton. This action, slight as it was, warmed her heart a little.
Mary Anne’s father glared at Alton. “Why the hell would you do that? I’m paying you to fix Mary Anne’s embarrassing life, not ruin it.”
“With all due respect,” Alton growled, “you’re paying me for you own selfish reasons. This never had anything to do with Mary Anne.”
“Watch your mouth boy.”
Alton took a few steps closer to her father. Mary Anne could sense the rage radiating off this two, so before anything terrible could happen, she stepped in between them.
“We’ve had a stressful day,” she said, placing a hand over Alton’s heart and pushing against it a little. She glanced at her father nervously. “I’m so sorry. Truly. I’ll do what I can to fix this.”
Her father curled his lip downward. Shaking his head at her and at Alton, he turned around and grumbled some hateful things as he walked away.
When he was far away enough, Mary Anne sighed with relief and lowered her hands. She turned to Alton, who was glaring in the direction her father had left.
“He used to be a lawyer,” Mary Anne said, gaining Alton’s attention. “Some of the laws we live by today—he helped to make those. He is proud of his legacy, and now that he is older, he wants to make sure that people will remember him and his name in a good light.”
Alton’s eyelids lowered, a challenging frown on his face.
Mary Anne tapped her fingers together. She really did want to argue about anything anymore, and Alton’s expression was making her nervous. Her mind raced to think of something else to say. When she remembered she forgot to mention something important, she said, “Oh! And thank you for defending me. I appreciated that.”
Alton’s expression softened. “Well, it was my fault, after all. I might have gotten a little carried away with our…” He motioned between the two of them.
Mary Anne chortled. “Me, too.” Her eyes scanned his bare face and his trimmed hair. She knew she should feel guilty about violating him like that, but she couldn’t help but feel pleased with her work. Regardless, he was apologizing to her…sort of. “I’m sorry about forcing a shave and a haircut upon you.”
Alton smirked and ran a hand through his hair. “Forget it. I did need some grooming. Like a dog.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows goofily at her.
She giggled. “Oh Lord, I forgot I wrote that.”
He hummed at that, perhaps not believing her. That was fine though. He was amused, she was amused.... They would get past this.
That night, Mary Anne got comfortable in her bed. She had gotten used to ignoring Alton’s presence on the other side of the large room, but tonight, she was so focused on it that she couldn’t fully relax. She blinked at the dark, her skin feeling tingly and her heart beating fast.
“Hey,” Alton said from his own bed, his voice quiet. “You awake?”
“Yes. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing. I just…I was just thinking about what people would think if they saw us sleeping like this.”
Mary Anne furrowed her bed. And, though she wouldn’t be able to see him, she couldn’t help but raise her head turn toward the sound of his voice. “What? You’re thinking about this now?”
“Well, yes. I never really cared about your father’s precious reputation until tonight, so maybe we should…try to sleep in the same bed. In case someone walked in here and saw us like this.”
Mary Anne huffed, smiling. “I suppose you have a point. You never know when a neighbor could barge in here and see us sleeping in different beds.”
“It’s a real threat.”
She bit her lower lip to contain her laughter. Falling back onto the bed, she said, “I guess you better come over here then, just in case.”
Mary Anne listened as Alton slid out of his bed and walked over to hers. Facing the ceiling, she held her breath. When she heard and felt her own covers move and ruffle, she shivered.
“Hello,” Alton whispered, inching closer and closer to her.
She turned to him. “Hello.”
“Now this,” he said, slowly wrapping his arm around her waist, “is more believable.”
Her heart hammered. “Yes. No one can claim we are being scandalous now.”
“Exactly.”
The tension was beginning to drive her mad. She could feel his warmth, hear his soft breaths, smell him—it made everything inside her jitter, and she couldn’t take it anymore.
She moved and pressed her face against his chest and held him close. She heard and felt him suck in a breath and tense. Warmth bloomed within her, and her jittery nerves calmed.
“Goodnight,” she said, a little nervous how he would respond, even as she relaxed further against him.
Hesitantly, he tightened his grip on her. “Goodnight,” he whispered.
Alton
Alton woke to the sight of Mary Anne getting out of bed and heading for her dresser. Though he was warm and comfortable under the covers, he still found himself reaching for her.
“Where you going?” he asked sleepily.
Having already taken out one of her dresses from the dresser, she jumped and turned to him. She pressed her dress to herself and smiled. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He retracted his hand and rubbed his eyes. Yawning, he asked if she was leaving. Without fully thinking about it, he realized he wanted to go with her—wanted to be with her rather than avoid her like he normally did.
“No, no,” she said, walking behind the folding screen beside her dresser. As she talked, she changed out of her nightgown and into her dress. “I’m just getting ready for the day. I thought I would do some painting before breakfast.”
“Painting?”
She laughed. “Yes. I like to paint.”
As Alton’s awareness grew, he became transfixed by the folding screen she was behind. He couldn’t see anything provocative—that was the point of the folding screen—but his curiosity tormented him. What did she look like beneath her gowns? The thought made his torso though, and he licked his lips.
A few minutes later, she walked out from behind the screen in a new dress. She put her nightgown in a basket near the folding screen before going over to the large mirror and table she used to make up her face.
“What do you paint?” Alton asked, mesmerized by her. He wasn’t sure what was so different about her now, but there was something about her that was enticing him. He couldn’t look away.
“All kinds of things,” Mary Anne said, taking her hairbrush from a box in front of the mirror and brushing her hair. “It depends on my mood. I’m not a real artist, I just like to have fun.”
Alton frowned at that. She
always made comments like that, and she said them with such indifference…like they were a fact that could not be changed. He never cared about this before, but now, this realization made his heart ache.
“I think that’s why real artists do it,” Alton said.
Mary Anne shrugged. Then she worked on putting her hair up.
“Can I paint with you?” Alton asked, sitting up.
Mary Anne dropped the pins she had been using to put her hair up. She turned to him with wide eyes. “Really?”
Alton cocked an eyebrow. “Yes. Is that alright with you?”
She beamed. “Of course!” Apparently forgetting about her hair, she hurried over to the door. “We have like ten easels now. You can pick any one you like. Oh, I think you’ll have fun. I’ve never had anyone who wanted…” She exited the room and her voice faded as she walked down the hall.
Alton smiled fondly. She was a strange one, but he found it endearing.
They had both been painting on their canvases in the study, a room Alton hadn’t fully noticed before. It was nice. Roomy. There were a lot of books and paintings in it, and Alton assumed they all belonged to Mary Anne.
Alton cringed at his own attempt at a painting. He had been trying to create a bird, but…
Mary Anne bumped into his shoulder and laughed at the image in front of him. Alton blushed, but he tried to smile through it.
“Don’t worry,” Mary Anne said good-naturedly, tilting her head at his painting. “This happens to me all the time. I just say it’s an abstract painting.”
“A what?”
“Abstract. It means it is a painting made up of random shapes and colors. A lot of artists do that.”
“Oh.” Alton felt relieved, as silly as that sounded. He nodded. “Well then, that’s what it is. An abstract.”
“It’s lovely.”