The Marriage Bed by Stephanie Mittman Read Free Book Online Page A

right thing. We're going to be so happy, the five of us. . . ."
    Spencer put his finger to her lips to silence her and shook his head. "I want you to be happy, Olivia. I really do. But like I told you last night, don't include me in this little happy family of yours. They can live under my roof, they can eat the food I put on the table, but they're not my flesh and blood and they never will be. They're coming here for you, not for me,. Don't ever forget that. I'll tolerate them, Liv, for your sake. I owe you that."
    Oh, how she wished she could tell him that he didn't owe her anything. How she wanted to tell him he needn't do her any favors, that if he didn't want the children, well, then fine—the children needn't come. But she couldn't get her mouth to form the words because whether he owed her or not, whether it was what he wanted or not, she needed those children more than the crops needed the rain to grow, more than she needed the air to breathe. And she would endure whatever Spencer dished out to her, whatever guilt he placed on her plate, and she would consume it greedily and ask for more, if only he didn't change his mind.
    "It's getting late, Spencer. Don't you want some pie?"
    "If I wanted the damn pie, I'd take it." His voice was gruff and she had to blink back the tears that came unbidden into her eyes, turning quickly so that he wouldn't see them.
    Gently he gave her a nudge in the direction of their bedroom. "Sorry," he said more softly. "You go ahead to bed. You must be tired, too."
    "Spencer," she said very quietly, obviously embarrassed to bring up a delicate subject. "Tonight's a good night to—that is, Widow Grillot says that sometimes, right before a woman's time—well, I—I was just wondering when you were coming to bed."
    "You and Widow Grillot have a good talk about what goes on in our marriage bed, did you?" Spencer asked her, returning to the table and opening up the account book as though he was asking her about the weather. "Discuss how long it takes or what goes where?'' He raised his gaze without lifting his head and looked over his glasses at her, waiting for her to answer.
    "Of course not. People, women , are just eager to help. They know I've got a problem and they just want to—"
    "They just want to butt their, in the case of Widow Grillot, very long noses into our private business. Maybe we should invite them all over and they could give us pointers. What do you think? We could move the chairs into the bedroom and turn up the lamps and old Widow Grillot, who probably hasn't ever shown so much as an ankle never mind her nether regions—which probably shriveled up and disappeared from lack of use—could tell us what we're doing wrong." His voice was so steady and calm that she couldn't even yell at him in return.
    "I'm not blaming you , Spencer. Peter and Margaret are proof that you're not the problem." She stood by the bedroom door, her body clothed but her soul bare. "Are you coming to bed, Spencer? Please."
    He nodded, resigned. "You get ready for me. I'll be in after I finish. It should only take me another few minutes."
    "Thank you," she said quietly.
    "You don't have to thank me," he said, running his hands through his straight hair and looking as desperate as a man with wheat rotting in the field and a broken thresher in the barn. "A man enjoys making love to his wife. Didn't they tell you that when they were telling you how and when?"
    "I had heard a rumor to that effect," she said with a smile that left her face the minute she turned her back on her husband and shut the door. ". . . But they couldn't prove it by you."
    She sat heavily on the bed and yanked at her boot laces, snarling one and having to move her foot closer to the lamp to see what she had done. Hunched over for the light, she nearly lost her balance and wound up smashing her elbow against the headboard. As if Kirsten's fancy headboard hadn't caused her pain enough.
    "Damn," she said aloud, startling herself. Next