The luckiest

Chapter 8

“Say something.” I whisper across the table.

We’re at the Italian place close to home, testing the new sitter service. Charlie has however, placed nanny cams all over the place. It also makes me feel a bit better.

“That’s great, Gin.” He seems OK.

“Thanks.”

“When is it?”

“On Friday.”

“OK. Do you want me to drive you and the girls in and you wait at your Mom’s for me after?” I know what he’s doing.

“No, its OK. If we’re happy with Mrs Cork, then I’ll use her on Friday too.”

He shrugs, “OK. What time is the interview?”

“Nine.”

“OK. Well, good luck. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He doesn’t look too pleased, but feigns enough interest for me not to go on the defense. Clever  man, Charlie King.

We’re home before nine and the girls are asleep in their cribs. Mrs Cork is reading her book in the living room.

“Ah, you’re so early.” She muses.

“We didn’t want to keep you.” Charlie says flatly.

“But we would like to know if you could sit for us on Friday morning, from about eight until two?” Charlie looks at me like I’ve grown another head.

Mrs Cork smiles, her eyes narrowing to blue slits, “Of course, Mr and Mrs King.” 

“Great. I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Why until two?”

“What?” I ask Charlie, lifting my eyes from my book as he gets undressed.

“Why do you have to have Mrs Cork here until two?”

“Well, I might do a few things after or visit Holly and David for lunch.”

He nods, a stern look crossing his face.

“Charlie, everything OK?”

“Please don’t meet with him.” He says it so quietly, I don’t think I hear him correctly. 

“Don’t meet with who? David?”

“No. You know who I’m referring to.”

“Ah. You think I am going to go off with Cane the minute I'm in CE without you?” 

“Ginny, no. I just think he’s manipulative and still thinks you’re fair game.”

“I’m not fair game. I’m married. You should know that, but I’m not going to be rude to him if he  approaches me.”

Charlie sighs, “Fine.”

“Fine. Now come to bed.”

He slips under the covers and checks emails on his phone. I decide to finish just one more chapter  and then turn to snuggle with him, but he’s asleep.

Whatever is going on in his head is making him drift from me. I hope he has faith in me.

Friday comes and I am a ball of nerves. I wear a grey skirt and blazer with my hair in a loose French braid.

Charlie stands behind me in the mirror, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I turn to kiss him.

“You ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“I’ll see you later. The girls are with Mrs Cork downstairs. She’s just arrived.” 

“Tell her to help herself to some breakfast, please.”

He nods and smiles, then kisses me again, “Good luck, Gin.”

“Thank you, baby. I’ll see you later.”

I get to the CE Middle School fifteen minutes early. I use the time to go over my theories on child  psychology. It was my major, but having worked with abused women mainly for just a year, I feel out of touch with the practice.

I head through the doors of the school, take a deep breath and seat myself opposite the secretary’s  office. Luckily I never attended the CE middle school. My Dad insisted he keep me close at the  Portland middle school and had me report to the pub every afternoon.

“Mrs King?”

“Yes, that’s me. You can go in now. Principal Marks is waiting.”

I notice that I am the only person there.

“Am I the first person?”

“Yes, Mrs King.”

“Are there others?” she looks at me and smiles politely, picking up on my nerves. “Yes, just one other, Mrs King.”

I take a deep breath as I head into Principal Marks’ office. She spins around from her window,  seemingly startled, “Mrs King, welcome!” and extends her hand.

I shake it firmly and don’t wait to be seated. Wait, should I have waited?

She doesn’t seem to mind and gets right into it, “So, Mrs King.”

“Ginny, please.” I offer.

“I see you attended MSU.”

“Yes, I did. Four years.”

“You did your post-grad there too?”

“Yes. Its one of the best post-graduate programmes on the East Coast.”

She smiles at me. Principal Marks is not a day over thirty-five and its refreshing to see a female in  her position at her age.

“I know. I did it myself.”

“Really? That’s great.”

“Do you have children yourself?”

I’m taken aback at her question, but consider the logic behind it for a second, “Yes, twin girls.  They’re almost eight months.”

“Do you believe that some of the methods we studied are perhaps left at the front door when raising your own?”

I shake my head, “Oh, for sure. Motherhood is not as simple as a textbook. Then again, no child is.” She nods her head curtly, “Hmm-mm.”

I ring my hands nervously. My palms are beginning to feel a bit clammy.

“Do you believe development is solely the school’s responsibility?”

“Uh, no. It does not end when they leave these halls. What I mean is, it needs to be continued within homes, outside of it. There is so much to teach.” I fear she isn’t impressed with my answers as she makes notes. She barely makes eye contact.

Principal Marks asks a few more questions about theories in practice and I give my honest opinions,  leaving the textbook knowledge behind. In fact, I can barely remember what I read. Oh goodness!  I’ve tanked, I think to myself.

The interview is over in under fifteen minutes and I feel beaten. Principal Marks is polite when we  say our goodbyes. I leave the office to find who must be the next applicant, waiting in reception.

The secretary smiles at me, “Goodbye Mrs King.”

“Thank you. Goodbye.”

I find myself at the bistro in the main street that Holly and her mom are so fond of. I order a latté  and check my phone. There is a message from Charlie wishing me luck again and one from my Mom  asking if I’ll come around before I go home.

I message her back saying I will. I call up my brother to confirm our lunch plans. “Uh, Holly won’t make it though. She’s home with a bad case of morning sickness.” 

“Do you maybe think you should have her admitted to hospital? It seems so severe.” 

“She doesn’t want to be away from Liam.”

“Ok, well I’ll see you later. I’ll go to Mom’s first and then we can meet at the Inn.” 

“Great. See you then.”

Mom is excited to hear about the interview and I tell her I think I messed it up. She is so encouraging that even I feel hopeful.

“So, what do you and your brother have planned?”

“Lunch at the Inn. Has anyone mentioned to you how sick Holly’s been?”

“What do you mean?” Mom asks and I remember that they don’t know they’re pregnant again. 

“Shit.”

“Ginny? What’s wrong? Is she ill? Tell me!”

I laugh, “No, Mom, she isn’t.”

“Then what?”

“I’ll let David tell you.”

My Mom catches on and starts gushing, “Oh my goodness!”

“Mom, you can’t say a word. Not to anyone. Not even Carol or Dad.”

She pretends to lock her mouth and throw away the key. I laugh, “OK, fine, but if you let it slip, I will deny it!”

“I swear! I won’t tell, honey! How far along is she?”

“Well, with the engagement it was only about eight weeks. So its almost out the first trimester now.  They should be telling you guys pretty soon.”

I feel so bad for spilling their secret and hope my Mom can keep her mouth shut for a week or two.

“Does Hope know?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Good. I don’t think she’s adjusted well to Liam.”

“I think she needs to see someone.”

“You do?”

“Well, its really up to her. She’s almost thirteen and essentially, the decision should be hers and her Mom's.”

My Mom looks at me thoughtfully, “And not David?”

“Mom, I think that kid knows something is up.”

“Poor thing. Damn that Marie Harper!”

“Well, I am going to meet your favourite child now. Try not to miss me too much.” 

My Mom playfully swats me with the dish towel, “Oh Ginny, you know that isn’t true.” 

“Love you. I’ll see you soon.”

“What are you doing for your birthday?” Mom asks and I can’t believe I’ve not made a single  plan for it.

“Gosh, I haven’t thought about that. I’ll let you all know closer to the time.”

Its almost March and I haven’t mentioned my birthday once. Charlie must be thrilled I haven’t nagged about it.

I make sure to mention it to my brother when I see him.

David is sitting on the enclosed deck and he actually looks a bit on edge. He is sipping on black coffee. “So, how happy are you to see me?” I tease.

“Thrilled.” He says dryly.

“Really? Well, you could use some lessons in faking it.”

“I’m sorry.” He gets up to hug me.

“So, what is happening in the Cleary/Forbes household?”

“Holly is just so sick and it worries me. I think she’s scared to see her doctor.” 

“Uh-huh. Why don’t you just have your GP pay her a house visit?”

“Ah, sneaky Ginny. I like it.”

I wink at him, “What’s happening with your eldest?”

“She’s off to New York at the end of the school year. Can’t say I’m thrilled, but its for the best.” 

“You don’t think you should have her see a therapist before she leaves?”

“Hey! When did you get so smart, Ginny King?” he punches my arm playfully. 

“I’ve always been smart.”

“And you? You and Charlie OK? He’s been quiet. Everything OK with the business?” 

“Yeah, it is. He’s just working so hard. I think sometimes he forgets he has a family.” 

“Do I need to slap him around a bit?”

I laugh at David, “David, no.”

“Just say the word.”

We carry on catching up for a bit longer when I realise its almost two. I rush home as quick as I can,  only to get there at two-fifteen.

“Mrs Cork! I am so very sorry!” I apologise profusely, expecting her to be waiting on me, but she isn’t there when I come bounding in to the living room. Charlie is on the mat with the girls, crawling  about.

“Charlie.”

He doesn’t look impressed.

“I’m sorry. I was with David and lost track of time.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Where is Mrs Cork?” I ask, looking around.

“I got home at one and sent her off.”

“So, what’s the problem?” I ask naively.

“Ginny, what if I didn’t come home early? Mrs Cork has other commitments. I don’t think this is going to work.” He gets up and puts the girls back in the playpen. They’re protesting at their confinement,  but I quickly toss in some toys.

“Charlie, what do you mean it won’t work?”

He shrugs, “You can’t just come and go as you please when you make a commitment to someone.”

I have a feeling he isn’t just speaking of Mrs Cork. I find it highly disturbing he has such limited views on me working.

“I think you’re being archaic.”

“No, I think you should work if you want, but I think maybe somewhere closer to home.” 

“CE is twenty minutes away from here. Some people work in Augusta or further!” 

“Why are you yelling?” He is so calm, its annoying.

“I didn’t mean to, but you’re making me so mad.”

“Why? Because I actually have an opinion? Have I grown too much in character for you, Ginnifer?” 

“Stop with the Ginnifer.” I moan.

“Its your name; I’ll use it as I please.”

“Oh my God, why are you being so insufferable?”

“Just do what you think is best.”

I spend the afternoon fixing dinner and then playing with the twins. Charlie is in the study for ages and I don’t mind. His bad mood needs to pass and soon!

My phone rings and I don't recognise the number.

“Hello?”

“Ginny King?” It’s a woman.

“Yes, this is she.”

“Its Miss Miller from the CE Middle School.”

“Yes?” my stomach has a knot in it.

“Principal Marks asked me to inform you that we'd like to offer you the position of School Counselor.” 

I fist-pump the air and have a grin so wide, you could fit a slide-plate into it.  Just then, Charlie walks in, “Uh, could I let her know by Monday?”

Miss Miller sounds unsure, “Uh, sure, but we need you to start as soon as possible if you do decide to join us.” 

“OK, fine, I understand. I’ll call you on Monday. Thank you, Miss Miller.”

“Who was that?” he seems to be in a better mood.

“The school in CE. I got the job.”

He kisses me on the cheek, “Congrats, Ginny.”

“Thanks.”

“When do you start?”

“As soon as I can.”

“I see.”

“Charlie. Nothing’s changing besides me being at a job for half the day.”

“I’m just scared I’m losing you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I love you so much. You know this.”

“I do.”

I kiss him on the lips and he reciprocates. Soon, we’re making out on the kitchen counter. “Could we take this upstairs?” he smiles at me.

“How about we take it upstairs after dinner? You need to eat.”

We both rush through our dinner and get the girls to bed.

“Bath?”

I nod shyly, “Yes, please.”

He crooks his finger at me, “Come here.”

I obligingly walk over to him where he is standing in the bathroom doorway. He has his shirt off and his top button of his jeans is open. I bite my lip, just thinking of what’s beneath those denims.

As if reading my mind, he smiles at me wickedly, “If you want what’s inside these, you’re going to  have to work for it Mrs King.”

“I can work for it. What did you have in mind?”

He pops the rest of the buttons open and his erection springs forward. His length is long and thick.  As he strokes himself, I get down on my knees in front of him and take him into my mouth. His hands are in my hair instantaneously and he tugs at it. I am forced to look into his eyes. His lips thin  as he sucks in a breath and rolls his head back. I take him even deeper and he lets out a groan.

His reaction is turning me on and I can’t let him c*m before I have had him inside me.

I get up and pull him towards the end of the bed. I stand against it, with my legs apart and undo the  tight skirt, letting it fall to the floor. I’m standing in front of him, wearing only my grey teddy. It’s a  thong back and made completely of lace.

“Hmm, I like Mrs King.” He growls from behind me as he bends me over the bed frame, one hand splayed on my back, while the other snaps my thong in half. My head lifts in shock, but I am easily  appeased as he puts a finger inside of me and then another. Oh. My. God.

“Mmmm.” Is all I can manage as he slips his fingers in and out of me. The thought of him seeing me so exposed is  exciting. I fumble for him behind me and find his erection. I stroke him while he pushes his fingers  in and around.

Before I can guide him into me, he is on his knees and licking me from behind. I try hard not to c*m, but I can’t control myself and feel my body begin to shake.

My husband, who knows my body so well, gets to his feet and is inside of me before I can recover,  pushing into me, growing closer with each stroke.

He has one hand wrapped around my hair and the other on my hip. I meet him thrust for thrust and as he finishes, he has me pulled flush to him, our bodies sweaty and shivering.

We don’t say anything. In fact, I don’t think I could formulate a sentence.