It was a simple cardboard box.
I brought it down and sitting on the chair, I opened the lid.
Inside were photographs and photocopies of documents. As I began to sift through them my jaw dropped. For a little while I stared out of the window. My love for Caleb grew every day. Stronger and stronger. Every night, I got onto my knees before bed and thanked God. My lot was bountiful, indescribably beautiful.
I know it was supposed to be a horrible thing, us becoming poor, and moving into this small apartment, but I loved it. Of course, I would love the big house that Caleb promised to build for us, but for now I adored being so cozy here. Just him and me holed up in our own little world. It was sheer heaven. Soon it would be autumn and I could already see Caleb and me curled up on the couch as snug as two bunnies in a hammock as the days became shorter and shorter.
As I looked around the small bedroom, I heard the door close. I knew without him calling out to me it was him. He was back. The apartment always felt empty until he came into it. His energy reached out and touched me.
I smiled as I imagined him throwing his keys into the little ceramic dish my mother gave us and heading into the living room. I didn’t want him to come looking for me so I quickly headed over to my purse and retrieved the test result. Burying it among the pile of photos and documents inside the box, I went to the kitchen. The television was on in our little living room, but from the smell of spices and the clang of ceramic, I knew he wasn’t in the living room.
I stood at the doorway of the kitchen. Mr. Wolfe was looking delicious in a dark T-shirt and jeans.
“You’re back,” I said, placing the box on the island counter.
He turned around, his raven hair, slightly tousled by the wind and falling to the side of his face. A slight stubble dusted his jaw. I loved the clean-cut version of him, but I really loved this rugged version. Maybe because of the way it felt on the inside of my thighs.
“Yeah. We ran out of ham,” he replied, looking at the box.
It was precisely at that moment when I noticed the brown bag of baguettes by the corner. I gasped softly, and completely forgetting my mission, I dove for the bag. I broke a piece off the freshly baked treat and put it into my mouth.
“Hmm,” I moaned, closing my eyes. “This is just what I needed.”
“You’re just trying to get me all hot and bothered, aren’t you?”
I opened my eyes and saw him watching me hungrily.
“And you’re just trying to distract me from the scandalous contents of this box, aren’t you?”
He smiled.
“I can’t believe it,” I said. “I can’t believe you. You stalked me during the years you were in prison!”
“No,” he corrected calmly. “I kept my eyes on you. I needed to know you were okay at all times.”
“Isn’t that what all stalkers say?” I tossed another piece of bread into my mouth, and opened the box. “I mean, look at all these pictures. Me at a play in high school, me waiting for the bus, me in a wet T-shirt for God’s sake … me at the grocery store with Mom. Hmm … I was frowning so much here, I wonder why.”
I peered closely at the picture, spotted the soda cup in my hand, and remembered why.
“Ah! Mom refused to get me the Reese’s puffs cereal I wanted. She said we already had enough cereal in the house. Ooh, and here’s one of Sandra! God, she was so young, and her hair has streaks of pink. Even I can’t remember that.”
I heard his low laugh, and raised my head to see him laughing at me.
“Caleb! This is unhealthy. No wonder you knew exactly where to find me the moment you got out.”
He took the corn chowder he was making off the burner, and brought it to the counter along with a coaster. After setting it down, he took a spoonful of the creamy liquid, blew on it to cool it down, and tasted it. When he noticed my look of disappointment, he chuckled.
“Here.” He lifted another spoonful out of the pan, blew on it, then fed it to me.
I licked my lips at the delicious taste, and savored the creamy corn flavor. “I love your corn chowder.” The way he was watching me made my core begin to tighten with desire.
He leaned towards me, forgetting the hot pot. It burned him.
“Oww,” he complained.
I couldn’t hold back my amusement.
“My pain is funny to you?” he asked, pushing the pot out of the way. He rounded the counter, and I immediately ran to get away from him, but I might as well not have bothered in that cramped space. He caught me easily and by the waist. In no time I was plopped down on the counter, with him between my legs.