The next two days were miserable. She went shopping with Bonnie and Dolly, had her hair done, went swimming, but it wasn’t the same. J.T. returned to his old, cool self, no more laughing and asking where his briefcase was, and he lost patience with trying to show her how to cook and do laundry.
“But I washed dishes yesterday,” Aria said.
“Yes and they have to be done again today. They have to be done three times a day, seven days a week.”
“You are making a joke, aren’t you? If I wash dishes every day, dust the furniture every day, wash the clothes, cook the food, buy the groceries, when do I get to read a book? When do I get to shop with Dolly and Bonnie? When do I get to be Aria and not Mrs. Montgomery? When do I get to think about something besides which dishwashing detergent to buy?”
“I have to go to work.”
Later that morning a Mrs. Humphreys, hired by J.T., showed up to clean the house and bake a casserole for dinner.
That night Aria set the table with candles and made the room as attractive as she could with the little the navy had used to furnish the house.
J.T. turned on every light and blew out the candles.
She knew he was very angry with her and she wanted to make him smile at her again. He thought their marriage was temporary but she knew better. She no longer hated him but he was still a stranger to her.
She served Mrs. Humphreys’s cold lobster salad, then on impulse, she arched her back, thrust her chest forward, and said in a southern drawl, “Would you rather have that little ol’ lobster or little ol’ me?”
Her excellent imitation of Dolly made him smile.
She sat down across from him. “What do American couples do when they’re alone?”
“Outside of bed I have no idea.”
She blinked a few times at that. “Don’t American women find this life somewhat boring? Do they really enjoy cleaning even if it is for their families?”
J.T. smiled again. “Maybe ‘enjoy’ isn’t the right word. What did you do as a princess?”
“I always got a great deal of exercise. My sister and I rode horses, fenced, had dancing classes.”
“That’s why you look—” He broke off.
“I look what?”
He grinned. “Look so good in a bathing suit.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“The first time I’ve heard those words.”
“The first time you’ve deserved them,” she shot back.
“Oh? Saving your life didn’t rate a thank-you?”
“For all I knew you were worse than the kidnappers. ‘Breathe for Daddy Montgomery,’ ” she mocked.
He started to say something then stopped. “Maybe you’d like to see the blueprints for the new distillation ship. Maybe that’ll help relieve the boredom.”
“Yes, please,” she said.
It was very pleasant sitting on the couch together leaning over the blueprints. The war needed ships that could distill fresh water from seawater and deliver it to troops. J.T. was in charge of converting the first of these ships.
Her mind was hungry for something of interest, something of the present instead of the past.
“Could a plant like this be made on land?” she asked.
“It would be easier on land than on a ship. Why?”