Exile to Unity

by Tara Finnegan

  “Now you’re talking! I suppose I’d better bring the credit card.”

  “Yep, it’s going to be bad. I don’t know what prices are like here, but if Irish prices are anything to go by, we’re talking like five or six hundred Euro to kit a kitchen out to my standards.”

  Jim groaned and Ange poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “Quit moaning. Do you want to continue in the culinary style you’ve become accustomed to?” she teased as she rubbed his paunch.

  “Too right, are you sure six hundred will be enough?” he asked with a grin. Ange was one hell of a cook and he definitely subscribed to that old adage, the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Already he was missing his homemade bread, cakes and apple-tarts. And he couldn’t even begin to remember the stews and soups lest he should start weeping like a baby.

  “Brown bread ice cream?” she asked. His only response was a lustful whimper.

  *****

  He succeeded in navigating his way to Denver, found electrical shops for the appliances, home wares stores for the pots and pans and finally, they found a Whole Foods store. Ange was in seventh heaven as she realized she could weigh out all the products she needed and even managed to get her hands on the much cherished whole wheat flour called for in her brown bread recipe. And everything was organic. If she wasn’t a home economics and English teacher, Jim would have felt the need to explain the difference between organic and orgasmic because of how excited she was at all the produce. But all he had to do was think of was the familiar aromas that would soon fill his new home and then even the staggering bill didn’t faze him that much.

  After the shopping trip was concluded, and everything tidied away, they took a walk about their new neighborhood. They giggled about the name “Spanking Loop” and as they came across neighbors out walking, they naturally gravitated together becoming an impenetrable unit when confronted by what they deemed to be overfriendliness, or people wishing to pry. As they passed one house, they could hear unmistakable sounds of a spanking being carried out; the thud of wood on flesh and the resultant squeals and apologies were carried by the wind. Jim was both captivated at what was obviously an unashamed discipline session, and yet horrified about the effect it might have on his young children. As he tried to rush them along to the playground they were stopped in their tracks by a woman he judged to be somewhere in thirties, long, gangly, and shapeless, she might almost have passed for a man were it not for her long auburn hair and quite pretty face.

  “Hi, I’m Carla Mentha. You must be the Irish family. Everyone is talking about your arrival.”

  “Jim O’Brien, my wife, Ange, and children Ava and Jack. Nice to meet you.”

  Jim was praying that Ava would make a dash for the playground that was already in view, so he would have an excuse to go after her. But unpredictable mite that she was, she stood obediently by his legs. Lord, why is it children always did the opposite of what you wanted them to do? he wondered. Jack was tucked up in his mother’s arms, specifically to hold him back, again a decision he was regretting. While normally a sociable man, Jim hated that everyone had them at a disadvantage, knowing all about “the Irish family” whereas they hadn’t a clue who was who.

  As Carla insisted on pointing out which house belonged to whom, they were delayed quite a while. Ava started clutching at her father’s trousers, interrupting him.

  “Daddy, why is there a lady shouting? Is she cross?”

  “Yes, pet, now don’t interrupt Carla while she’s talking.”

  Five minutes later, she was tugging on his pants again. “Why is there another lady crying? Are they fighting, Daddy?”

  “Yes, they must be. Please stop interrupting, mo ghra.”

  “Oh, how cute! I just love the way you guys talk. Now see that house, it belongs to …”

  Jim tuned out, making “mmm” sounds every now and then. He couldn’t believe how she could ignore the children’s curiosity about the noise and Ange’s impatience to be gone. Daft woman! He was finding it difficult not to be abrupt. He’d met her ten minutes ago and she managed to touch his arm twice, under the guise of pointing something out to him. Had Ange not been standing there beside him, Jim would have sworn the woman was flirting. He would have thought that would be enough to earn any attached woman a good spanking around here and he tried to get a look at her left hand to see if she wore a wedding band. He had no doubt that Ange would have picked up on that detail. Jim knew his wife long enough to be sure that the smile currently pasted on her face was not in the least sincere and her eyes were sparkling in that manner that always indicated impatience. Jim began to relax and enjoy himself. He adored watching Ange get riled, as long as it wasn’t with him. That feisty temper had led to some of the hottest scenes in their bedroom. Finally, Carla took the hints and moved on and Jim had the full enjoyment of listening to Ange’s tirade about her flirtatious behavior for the rest of the outing.

  “I’m telling you, it’s no wonder she’s not married yet. Sure men can smell desperation a mile off,” she ranted to his enormous amusement.

  “I knew you’d check it out. You’re a hoot, Ange.”

  “Oh, leave me alone. You probably delayed her on purpose, just to wind me up.”

  “Are you mad? I thought she’d never go. And all the questions Ava was asking, you’d think she’d take the hint.”

  To their surprise, the playground was deserted. They’d forgotten it was a normal working and school day as their own routine had been so broken, but they were glad to have the rest of their outing pass quietly. Jim knew they’d have to make an effort to both get work and to integrate, but he just wanted a few days recovery before he had to face into that.

  *****

  Within a fortnight, Jim noticed Ange had the house smelling and looking just like home, the aroma of fresh bread and cakes filling the house every day and she up to her elbows in flour. They had been getting along better than they had for a long time. Laughter and fun were making sporadic returns to the family. It pleased Jim to see Ange making friends and already she’d had quite a few callers, most of them dragged along by Maeve who really was most considerate in trying to help her establish a network. For that little while, it was sheer joy to him to have the freedom of spending time together as a family, without the pressure of the court case, family interference, or even work.

  When Ange was baking like mad it was a sure sign she was happy as far as he was concerned. Once word of the cakes and fruit tarts got out, more and more people were finding an excuse to drop in for coffee and treats. It was rapidly becoming a women’s institution. While initially delighted that she was finding her niche, the constant stream of traffic soon started to get under his skin. When these women were around, he felt like a spare part. There was nowhere else to go in the house as the downstairs section was all open plan. He knew he would have to convert the one of the bedrooms upstairs into some sort of study for himself if he was to survive the mayhem, which would mean Ava and Jack sharing a room. That would only work for another couple of years, before it became inappropriate to have a boy and girl bunking together.

  The reality was, Jim needed work, and soon. As much for his sanity as for the income it would provide. Getting jobs was proving to be more difficult than he’d thought. He’d had fliers printed; incorporating testimonials from satisfied customers in Ireland, but of course, locals were going to be wary. It would be hard to verify they were true accounts from such a distance. If he was going to go it alone, it would take a pretty significant cash outlay to buy tools, vehicles etc. and yet he was afraid to make too big an investment for fear they wouldn’t settle in, or indeed that he might not gain customers. They had done well over the years and had a lot put away, but it wasn’t a lifetime supply. And Jim wouldn’t consider putting their house in Dublin on the market until they were both absolutely sure that their move was permanent. Even then, he wasn’t sure. He liked the idea of it being a nest egg for the children, as they didn’t own the Corbin’s Bend home. For n
ow though, at least the rental income was a help. He wasn’t desperately worried about money yet, but at the same time he would be happier with the knowledge that he had something on the horizon.

  Chapter Five

  It wasn’t long before the home situation became much more of an inconvenience. Somehow or other Ange had been inveigled to start baking for the neighbors as a little business, which meant that there was a steady stream of women to the house at all hours of the day. Ange was making a nice bit of pin money, but Jim couldn’t help thinking she was stuffing them with as much coffee and freebies as she was making profit, and the house had become a right little witch’s coven. As an escape, he took to spending as much time in the gym and swimming pool as he could, in between job hunting. He started to get to know some of the other community members better, and often did his weekend gym work with his mentor, Kirk, as his girlfriend Bethany was on his case to drop a few pounds. Many of Jim’s mentoring sessions were conducted on the treadmill.

  Soon he had confided in Kirk the whole story of the embarrassment that had caused them to leave Ireland, how it had all damaged their marriage and his thoughts on how he felt a HOH relationship would help put it back on track. Kirk seemed to have difficulty understanding Ange’s almost dominant personality in all things beyond the bedroom. He just didn’t seem to get the get the conundrum. Either she was a sub, or she wasn’t. His advice to Jim was to build on the dominance in the bedroom, and then bit by bit push it a little further, like checking that household chores were completed, checking the bank account was balanced, or telling her what to wear for an evening out, things like that.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Jim had laughed. “If I told Ange wear a skirt she’d be sure to wear trousers, just because she could. Are you telling me Bethany would wear clothes to because you told her to?”

  “Sure she would, or no underwear, if I say so. That’s how we work. If she’s being punished, she loses underwear privileges. Gives me easy access, too.”

  “Jaysus, I’d love to see Ange’s face if I told her no knickers. She’d laugh me out of it.”

  “You have to take a firm hand, say it like you mean it, and not be afraid to punish if she disobeys. Consistency and confidence is the name of the game.”

  “I’m hoping Maeve will be a good influence on her. Although she’s D.D. she’s not afraid to be herself. Ange says she doesn’t approve of domestic discipline as she feels it gives the men too much power and control. But to me it’s not about control, it’s about keeping us closer, connected. She went into herself before and I want to stop it happening again. Thanks, Kirk.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. How are you settling in apart from that? I know Ange is spinning a web of women around her but what about you?”

  “Tell me about it, why do you think I’m here so often?”

  “Oh, just kick them out. The women round here are used to us being in charge. Are you meeting many of the men?”

  “Only whomever I see here. I miss the pub life at home. That’s where all the male bonding was done, over a couple of pints.”

  “Learn about football and you’ll get plenty of bonding opportunities over a game.”

  “I can’t seem to get it, that’s not real football to me. I used to play Gaelic. I miss that, too. Even got on an all-Ireland winning team a couple of times, back in my younger days. It was great; the women would be queuing up. That’s how I met Ange.” Jim grinned at the memory of the elevated status his footballing heroics had bestowed on him.

  “Real football or not, it’s all you’ve got while you’re here. There’s even a Corbin’s Bend seniors team, we just play for the heck of it. You should try it, you look fit enough.”

  “I might take a look; see if I’m not too old to try a new sport, but I need someone to explain how it works. I know I need to keep busy until I get work.”

  “Still no luck on that score? I’ll ask around for you.”

  “That’d be great, thanks.”

  After showering, Jim decided not to go home, but to take a trip into Denver to see if he could get to talk to anyone in the local construction companies. At this stage, he was getting really frustrated about having nothing to do as there was only so much time a man could spend in the gym. He was willing to consider anything, even laboring on minimum wage. After all, while he had plenty of experience, he couldn’t deny he was low on qualifications. He went from site to site, but it was the same story everywhere. They had all the men they needed. Things were on a downturn, it was coming into winter and they had laid off and were down to a skeleton staff. So sorry, try again in a few months. Blah, blah, blah! Frustrated and annoyed, he returned to Corbin’s Bend. On days like this he doubted whether they had made the right decision. In Ireland he could always turn his hand to something, however small.

  He was so distracted that he had passed the four by four crashed into the barrier on the road without even noticing it. It was the small flames flickering on his rear view mirror that caught his attention. Jim slammed on the brakes and checking there was no one coming at his rear he slammed the car into reverse. He jumped out to check if the vehicle was occupied. A woman slumped over the steering wheel. The doors were locked and Jim was terrified the whole thing was going to blow. Cursing himself for not bringing a cellphone, he didn’t know if he would have time to get the fire extinguisher from his car. His first thought was to get the woman out of there, and fast.

  Smashing the driver’s window with his elbow, he managed to get into the car. He knew he shouldn’t move her, for all he knew her neck could be broken. But if he didn’t, she could go up in flames with the car. He carried the unconscious woman to his own car, laying her out on the back seat. He thought he recognized her face but her identity was the least of his worries. He jumped in to the SUV and drove it on to safety. When he judged that he had enough distance between them, he stopped and got his fire extinguisher. As he ran back toward the car the flames got bigger and angrier and he accepted he would have to give up on it. All he could do is pray no further cars came along while the fuel tank caught fire. Jim was just back at his own vehicle when he heard the bang. The fire had hit the gas tank and the car was enveloped in flames. With the unconscious woman in his back seat, he drove to the nearest emergency point to call the fire department and the police. Again he cursed, why had he not taken the license number of the other vehicle before it was engulfed in flames? It would have helped the emergency services identify the woman.

  The police, ambulance service and fire service arrived quickly, but Jim had to return to Denver with the police to leave a statement, and his personal details. The police even implied that the victim might want to find him in the event that his rescuing the young woman caused her further physical harm. He was outraged. He had just tried to be a Good Samaritan, what was he supposed to do, let her burn to death? Frustration at the system, at having no work, at his day being mucked up and at his whole bloody life being mucked up all came crashing down on him at once. Right now, it was all too much. Adding fuel to the fire, when he arrived home, he was met by a stony faced Ange.

  “Where the hell were you? I was worried sick. Why didn’t you bring the phone?” she snapped, as he came through the door.

  “Ange! Don’t start. I’ve just spent the last couple of hours in the police station. I’m in no mood for your griping now. Right this minute, all I want to do is pack up and go home, with or without you.”

  “What the hell….” Ange asked but Jim was delighted to be spared the necessity of answering by the arrival of two bounding children.

  “Daddy, Daddy,” Ava and Jack shouted in unison. Their happy smiles helped. The only bright part of his awful, awful day. He slept in his study that night. Somehow, he just couldn’t bear to lie beside her. Even when she followed him into his study, to ask about the accident, he had no heart to talk to her. Deep down, he knew Ange wasn’t unreasonable in her annoyance about not being able to contact him, he would have been equally anxious and annoyed
had she gone AWOL in a strange country. But he wasn’t in any frame of mind to be rational. Shock, anger and three year of stress had just taken hold.

  Chapter Six

  Jim was getting ready to make his daily escape to the gym before the gaggle of cackling women started appearing. He was still shaken up by the accident he’d come across a couple of days earlier and also anxious to hear how the victim was doing. In the back of his mind, he was worried that he’d be called to account if he had done any harm by moving the woman. They couldn’t afford to lose any of their savings, especially as they had no sign of an income on the horizon. He’d certainly think twice before helping someone again, but whether he would do anything differently is doubtful. How could you let someone burn? It didn’t help that Ange and he were still barely communicating after his pronouncement that he wanted to go home. He really would have liked to be able to mull over his concerns with her.

  That was the problem with words, once flung out there, even in the heat of the moment, they were impossible to take back. He wanted to talk to her, to explain it was a heat of the moment reaction to a crappy day but every time he brought it up, Ange clammed up and he couldn’t find the right thing to say, to make her listen. Although he had returned to his own bed, they were sleeping back to back, not touching, and only discussing perfunctory subjects, such as the children, or household arrangements. Sleep eluded him totally. Grumpy and groggy from another night of tossing and turning, Jim rose early and breakfasted in his study. He was heading out the front door, dodging Ange, when he almost bumped into Brent Carmichael with a stranger.

  “We were just coming to see you. This is Hank Mentha, Carla’s father. You know Carla, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ve met her once.”

  “Mr. O’Brien, did you know that was Carla you pulled out of the car?” Hank asked.