May 30, 2007
A Romantic Short Story: PRICE
A Romantic Short Story: PRICE
©2003 Windfire WordWeaver (Elizabeth L. Clark), Elegant Plus Featured Author
Find out how one woman’s hurt and bitterness is transformed into sweetness and love through
the patience of a good man.
Please note: There is some mildly coarse language and suggestive imagery in this story. Please do not read if this will offend. PG rated.
She glared at the winter birds singing far too cheerfully in the old willow tree that waved lazily in the chilly, morning breeze. Meara unlocked the shop door and flipped on the lights. She went about the now familiar routine of setting out new wares, dusting shelves before the shop got busy. She had opened the shop in what was once her husbands game room. When they had divorced she had converted it ruthlessly, erasing all signs of him having ever been there.
Meara sold oils, lotions, essential oil perfumes and handmade silk and satin throws and under garments. She felt good taking huge amounts of money from the same sort of women who had destroyed her marriage. He had left her for a much younger woman, all breasts and giggles. She had made very sure he paid for it. She got the house, the car, half of what was in the bank and forty-five percent of the profits from their business. She didn’t need the money… it was the principle of the thing. She brushed back a lock of dark hair that was liberally laced with silver. She had long since stopped bothering with dying it. She was tired of trying to impress men that wanted youth. Now all she wanted was to run her shop and keep the rest of the world at bay.
She glanced up as the door chime announced her first customer of the day. She smirked inwardly. It was an older man, with a blonde twit hanging off of his arm. Meara was polite as she helped the man waste plenty of money. She couldn’t help but notice the wedding band and the fact that he used cash. Which told her there was a woman at home, foolishly believing her husband loved her. He spent nearly two thousand dollars on his mistress… who giggled and simpered as she clung to his arm.
“Oh thank you baby! I’ll be sure to wear them for you tonight….”
Meara nearly gagged.
“Will that be all sir?” She kept her voice polite and even.
He tossed the money at her, staring down the ample cleavage of his mistress. “That will do for now… keep the change.”
They walked out and Meara stashed the cash in the safe. She shook her head. One more marriage heading down the tubes. She poured another cup of coffee and sighed. “When will they learn? Why does it always have to be like this?” She left the thought hanging as some of her more likable customers came in.
Some of her customers were women her age, buying up the special lotions she made as fast as the bottles hit the shelf. They had stopped trying to get her to come to dinner, or agree to a blind date. She was too angry and bitter where men were concerned. At forty-two she had resigned herself to living alone. Why risk being abandoned again? She worked, made her wares and stayed to herself.
She had found out about the affair the hard way. He had gone on a business trip, leaving her to run things in his place. On a whim she had decided to fly out to meet him, for a ‘romantic’ weekend. What she found was her husband of almost twenty years in bed with a woman half his age. Even now she was ill at the remembered image of them stark naked, rutting like animals. She had heard from a mutual friend that she had left him not long after the divorce… which made Meara feel somewhat vindicated.
Not that it erased the long nights spent weeping in pain and grief. Nothing could make up for feeling used and useless. The divorce had been ugly. Meara used it to transmute the pain into a deep hatred that made it easy to take him for all she could. She had walked out of the courtroom, head held high. She had shed her last tears over him and vowed to never allow this to happen again
Had she ever bothered to really look… she would have seen that she was still a beautiful woman. Her figure was toned and trim, her face only showing the marks of the perpetual scowl she now wore. All she saw was the silver hair, the eyes dulled by pain and hate. Eyes that once gleamed like emeralds when she smiled. She avoided mirrors these days. Why be reminded that she was no longer attractive? No longer young.
It was growing dark and a light rain was falling when she started to close up. It was Friday and she was closed over the weekend. She was just getting ready to grab her purse when the door opened. She groaned inwardly.
Mike had heard about this shop from his sister, who highly praised the products. He had been looking for a gift for his niece and decided that maybe some sweet scented lotions would work for a girl turning eighteen. He paused after stepping inside. The woman looking at him in barely disguised irritation was beautiful. Dark brown hair with silver strands shining in the light, eyes that were gem green. He smiled as he approached the counter.
“I’m looking for rose scented lotions. They’re a gift for a young lady.” His voice was deep and silky smooth.
Meara sighed. “Another one bites the dust.” She thought as she got a bottle of the asked for lotion. “We have three sizes… which would you like?”
He looked them over carefully, noting the beautiful glass bottles she used. “The largest. That way she will have plenty.” He paused. “My name is Mike….”
Meara rang up the item, voice chilly. “That will be twenty dollars and sixty-five cents.”
Mike paid for the lotion, scowling slightly. “Did I offend you in some way?”
Meara looked up at him, ignoring the handsome face, the thick head of burnished silver hair and bright hazel eyes that looked at her intensely. All she saw was a man… the enemy. “No. I’m just not interested in anything you have to offer. Now… if you will excuse me… it is past closing time.” Her voice was now like ice… as cold as the ice in her heart.
Mike took the bag and with a sigh walked out, wondering what had made her so hard and closed off. Mike was a nice guy, a widower of nearly five years. He had dated… but nothing serious. For some reason this woman intrigued him, despite her attitude. He drove off, determined to try and get to know her.
Meara closed up and walked around to the front door. She had no desire to be used again, so he was barking up the wrong tree. She let herself in and carefully locked the door behind her. Dinner was simple, salad and a glass of wine. A hot bath and she was settled in bed. She planned on spending the weekend relaxing and making some more lotions.
“Making a pass at me… the nerve.” Was her last thought as she drifted off to sleep.
She woke to ice and snow. She shivered and kicked on the heat before making coffee. She gazed out the window at the neighborhood kids laughing and playing. That too was a sore spot. They had agreed to not have children, and he threw that in her face during the divorce, claiming he had a right to be with someone willing to bear his children. She remembered the night they had decided not to have babies, how sure he was that he wanted it to just be the two of them. She blew out a huff of breath. Time to make a store run, before the weather got worse.
She dressed in a grey sweat suit, hair tied back. She never dressed up except for work. She bought food, a few new books and hurried home. Halfway there she remembered she needed to renew a prescription and with a muttered curse headed to the pharmacy. The snow was falling heavier by the time she left and as she was pulling out she felt the impact as another car slammed into hers. She was out of her car before she even had time to think. She swore when she was the damage. She turned and saw the man from the night before, looking shaken and startled.
“Where did you learn to drive?!!” She was nearly shouting, but she didn’t care. “Or is this for not falling all over myself for you last night huh?!!”
Mike stared at her, opening and closing his mouth several times before finding his voice. “Now wait a damn minute! I hit an icy patch! It was a damned accident!”
“Yeah? Well I hope like hell you have insurance asshole!” She grabbed a pad from her car and handed it to him. “Name, license number, insurance agency! NOW!”
Mike wrote it all down rapidly, getting madder by the second. He thrust the pad at her as the police car arrived. “Here! And I was actually interested in you?”
Meara snorted. “Right… and winged horses are going to show up any second now!”
The police officer took the report. By the time it was all done Meara was freezing, hungry and ready to strangle someone. Her car was drivable and she took off, still cursing the idiot what had hit her.
“As if men have not screwed me over enough!” She muttered as she drove home in the thick snow.
Mike was boiling mad as he had his car towed, the front tire too badly damaged to be safe. “Icicles are warmer than that bitch! He took a cab home, putting away his purchases with jerky movements. “No wonder she’s alone… who wants to risk frost bite!”
Meara spent nearly an hour in the hot tub, soaking out the kinks and the stress. Now her head ached and she felt the beginnings of a cold. With a sigh she made herself a pot of soup and corn muffins. While it cooked she stretched out on the sofa, watching old movies and shivering. Eating was a mistake. She ended up dashing to the bathroom and being very ill. She called the pharmacy and had them send over something for the symptoms. She paid their delivery man and took the meds, crawling into bed, sneezing and coughing.
Mike settled in to watch television, still so mad he was shaking. It took several hours and a hot meal before he calmed down. He couldn’t believe how angry she had made him. He was normally even tempered. But that one seemed to push all the right buttons. He rubbed his face wearily. His late wife had been gentle, soft spoken. She never yelled, or even raised her voice. Their marriage had been serene, even as she was dying from cancer. He missed the companionship of a woman, the feel of a warm body cuddled next to his at night. But the shop owner was too loud, too sharp. Her hate seemed to surround her like a dark cloud. “Too bad really” He thought. “She must have been nice once….”
Meara was unable to open the shop Monday. She was coughing, sneezing and felt horrid. She realized she needed to go to the doctor… but was too feverish to drive. She called a cab and managed to get to her family doctor. He informed her she did not have a cold but a bad case of the flu. He sent her home with medications and instructions to stay in bed.
Mike woke up Monday and puttered around the house. He could not get Meara out of his mind. He felt if he could just talk to her, make her see that he was not the enemy that they might at least be friends. He rented a car and drove to her place.
When Meara heard the doorbell she groaned and struggled out of bed. She was dizzy, disoriented. When she opened the door she stared at Mike blearily. Her voice was a mere, hoarse whisper. “What do you want….” She was hanging onto the door to stay upright. Her face was flushed with fever.
Mike could see she was very ill and for some sick reason his heart went out to her. “I came to try and smooth things over….”
She closed her eyes and a choked laugh slipped past her lips. “Men don’t make things right… they tear them apart. They lie, cheat and hurt… now please… go away….” Before she could finish the sentence her eyes rolled back in her head and she lost consciousness.
Mike caught her before she hit the floor. He scooped her up and without thinking cradled her close as he sought and found her bedroom. He gently settled her in bed and checked the medications on her bedside table. “Hmmm… the flu.” He thought. “Well, I can’t just leave her alone like this….”
He found the kitchen and in no time had a thick broth cooked up for her, tea made and fresh orange juice ready and chilled. He admired the rich colours she used throughout the house, making it seem warm and inviting. He checked in her as he got things ready, wiping her face with a cool cloth, making sure she was covered and warm. When she showed signs of waking he made a tray up and carried it in, settling it on the bedside table before helping her to sit up.
Meara was confused. Why was he still here? And why was he being nice to her? Men were not nice… they were nasty, lying cheats… right? She started to protest but he stopped her and gave her a stern look.
“Shhh! You need to eat a little, drink more fluids and rest! You can yell at me when you feel better!” He helped her eat, got her to drink a cup of tea and a full glass of juice. He gave her the meds she was due and made her lie back down. Meara was too tired to argue and deep inside, some small part of her felt more at ease knowing she was not alone.
Mike left her to sleep and made a few calls. He got a friend to bring him some clothes and things for an extended stay and then made himself at home. He didn’t know why he felt the need to help her, just that it felt right. He stepped in to check on her and realized she was muttering in her sleep. He listened and heard her talking about hurting, being alone… and then tears began to run down her face as she tossed and turned in her restless slumber. Mike sat beside her and held her hand.
His voice was soft, tender as he sought to soothe her. “You’re not alone right now… I’m here, and will stay as long as you will let me….” He meant it. Somehow, somewhere along the way, he had begun to care for this beautiful, bitter woman.
Meara clung to the large, warm hand. Only now, weakened by illness could she admit in her heart that she was lonely. His touch soothed her and she stopped thrashing about and settled into a more restful sleep. When she woke hours later, he was sitting in the big, soft chair in the corner of her room, a book in his hands. At her movement he looked up and smiled softly.
“Hey… glad to see you awake.” He set the book aside and come over to her. “How about some juice?”
Meara nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She drank the juice quickly and held the glass out for more. He refilled it and watched her as she gulped it down. She finally spoke to him, one word that asked many questions. “Why?”
“Because I wanted to… and you needed me. Now, let’s get you cleaned up….”
Meara nodded, wondering why she hadn’t noticed before how handsome he was. “Stop that!” She thought. “He is a man!! Men are cruel and untrustworthy!” But she couldn’t help it. How could she allow herself to fall into that trap again?
Several days later, Meara was feeling almost like herself again. Mike had taken very good care of her and that had speeded her recovery. They were sitting on the sofa, watching a documentary on ancient Rome when it happened. She turned her head to say something just as he did the same. Their lips were mere inches apart and then they were touching. Meara as startled at her reaction. She felt her arms go around his neck, heard the soft moan slipping from her. “What am I….” The thought was lost as his strong arms pulled her closer.
Meara was stunned by how good it all felt. When they later cuddled in the after glow of their lovemaking she was even more stunned as she haltingly told him why she had acted the way she did when they first met. He then told her of his wife and how lonely he had been since her death. Then he looked into her eyes and whispered.
“Let me love you.” His eyes were filled with emotion and his voice was soft and sincere.
Meara let out a soft sob and hid her face against his neck. He held her close and let her cry it out. When she spoke she asked him to give her time, time to sort out her tangled feelings. He agreed, then talking stopped as they lost themselves in more love making.
He moved back to his place two days later, but they were together everyday. When she finally told him that she loved him he laughed and hugged her tightly, joy radiating from him. They were married two months later, he sold his small house and moved into hers. He helped her with the shop, his ready smile and charming manner making her customers at ease with him.
They both cried the day she found out she was pregnant… and they cried again when their son was born. As she lay there watching Mike cradle their newborn she smiled. The hard, bitter woman was gone for good. In her place was a happy, contented wife, mother and business owner.
Mike looked at her, a broad smile on his face. “And to think sweetheart… this all started out so badly….”
She smiled softly. “It just proves that sometimes the price you pay is worth what you get in the end….
©2003 Windfire WordWeaver (Elizabeth L. Clark)
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