Picking a book
775 Words
*Callista*
As the clock downstairs chimes twelve times, I ease from the bed. Chase hasn’t come to my room. I’m not even certain if he is home.
I wish I had brought my books. I had expected to be busy as a Luna. I thought I would have no time for reading, but I find I have nothing but time.
I remember the half-filled shelf in Chase’s office. I slip on my night wrapper, increase the flame in the lamp, and head into the dark, quiet hallway.
I creep toward the stairs, holding the lamp high. Careful of my step, I descend the stairs, walk to Chase’s study, and open the door.
My breath catches at the sight of Chase sitting behind his desk. His head comes up, and like a doe that scents danger, I can’t move. The lamp on his desk burns low, so low that much of the room remains in shadow. He has the drapes drawn aside so the wide windows give me a view of a thousand stars twinkling in the night sky.
He scrapes his chair across the floor and stands.
I wave my hand. “No. Don’t get up. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I didn’t know you were here.”
He angles his head. “You needed something?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I remembered that I saw some books on your shelves. I thought I might borrow one.” I explain.
“Help yourself.” He makes a motion towards the shelf.
I lick my dry lips. “Wade was looking for you this afternoon.”
“He found me. His lumber came in. I will be going to his place on Sunday to help him build an addition onto his house. You’re welcome to come.” He says.
I think of Maggie, Wade, and Briony. I think I would enjoy spending the day in their company, with people who aren’t always angry. “I would like that.”
“Good. How was the visit with your family?” He asks.
“It was fine. Just fine.” I walk quickly to the bookshelf. “I will just be a minute.”
“Take your time.” He says in a tone soft for him.
Only a half-dozen books stand at attention on the shelf. The covers are frayed and worn. I lift the lamp higher until I can make out the title of the first book: Whole Art of Husbandry. The book nestled beside it is entitled The Practical Husbandman.
I trail my fingers over the spines. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my husband move in beside me. “Have you read these?” I ask.
“Every word,” he says, his voice low, his breath skimming along my neck.
“You read books on how to be a husband?” I ask in awe.
I turn my head to find him staring at me. “I didn’t know,” I explain. “I didn’t know books had been written on this subject. Do you think someone has written a book on wifery that I could read?”
He laughs. Deeply, richly. Smiling broadly, he touches his fingers to my cheek. The warmth that swirls through my body startles me, and I shrink back, my heart beating hard, my breath lodged in my throat.
His smile withers away, and he returns to his chair behind his desk. “Feel free to read any of my books.”
I grab The Practical Husbandman. Surely the advice offered to a husband would apply to a wife. Clutching the book to my breast, I scurry across the room and stop at the door. I swallow hard before looking over my shoulder at my mate. He is watching me, but no humor remains in his dark eyes. “Will... will you be coming to bed soon?”
“Do you want me to?” he asks.
I tighten my fingers around the book. Is he giving me a real choice or only another illusion? “I wouls rather you didn’t.”
“Then I won’t.” He dips his pen into the inkwell and begins to scrawl in his ledgers, dismissing me in the process.
“Thank you.” I mumble.
I hurry into the hallway and rush up the stairs to my room. Setting the lamp on the bedside table, I remove my wrapper and slip beneath the blankets. I put the pillows behind my back, bring my knees up, and open the book, anticipating all the secrets it would unlock.
It is not the key I had hoped for.
- Writer
