Free WISHBONE by Brooklyn Hudson Page B

the house.
    “A huge basket of them. Someone must have brought it in and left them for us… from the chickens.” She pointed back to the coop.
    Arlette never called me back . 
    “I called Arlette about the chickens hours ago and she never called me back.”
    “Oh? I hope she’s alright.”
    “Alright? She’s avoiding me because I told her to get the chickens out of here.”
    Rachael stopped walking and stepped in front of him with a disapproving look. “What’s the big deal about the chickens? You’ve been on about them every chance you get since day one.”
    Julien’s eyes grew wide. “Do you want to clean the coop every day?”
    Rachael delivered a playful punch to his gut, hoping to lighten the mood before his temper would escalate. She realized that, for whatever reason, Julien did not find the chickens a laughing matter.
    Julien’s expression softened and he smiled. “You feel good today, no?”
    Rachael grinned at him and nodded.
    He held her hand. “I feel good today too.”
    * * * *
    Inside, Rachael scrambled some of the fresh eggs, finding a frying pan in a marked box and a can of cooking spray. Julien washed up and took a good look around the house. Rachael had accomplished more than he expected she could. The only room left to unpack downstairs was the kitchen, and upstairs, the master bath and guest room. He would help her in the morning; between them they would knock out the remainder of the house by noon.
    Over a dinner of scrambled eggs and whole-wheat crackers, they talked about their new home as they sipped some wine. They planned a trip to the grocery store for the following day, which would also give them a chance to take a tour around Kings Hollow.
    “Jules, do you think if we invite them up, Lily and Matt would visit?” she asked.
    “Let’s get settled in and I’ll give Matt a call next week. I’ll invite them for the weekend.”
    Rachael poured coffee and Julien disappeared upstairs to light the fireplace in the master bedroom.  His mind began to wander. He wanted desperately to make love to her but he was afraid to trigger her anxiety. Tonight was the first time he thought Rachael might have been willing, but it had been so long, and such a difficult topic for her; he no longer knew how to approach her or safely initiate intimacy. He played out the scenario in his mind, but he could not dismiss the idea that she would surely be thinking about the rape. In the end, he theorized that until she initiated the act herself, attempting to make love to Rachael would be a selfish and a potential disaster. Eventually she would come to him, but even then, he would wonder if anything he did would make her think of him.  
    Rachael appeared with two mugs, handing one to Julien then crawling into bed beside him. She snuggled close and rested her cheek on his chest.
    “Read to me.”  She asked, handing him a book.
    “Read to you?” He looked at the copy of Watership Down . “Rabbits?”
    “It’s Watership Down , Jules…Richard Adams. You’ll like it. It’s a classic. Very symbolic.” She nestled in closer. “Please read…”
    Julien found the bookmark, opening the book to where she had left off. He took a sip of coffee, and then began reading.
    Rachael did not care about the words, nor the story, but only the sound of his voice; she could listen to him speak day and night for the rest of her life and never get tired of hearing him.  She felt the same giddy excitement today as when she first laid eyes upon him, more than 11 years earlier in the art gallery. She had been twenty-one years old when they first met. Julien had not made it easy for her. He was thirty-four at the time and thwarting her every effort to get to know him better. Eventually he broke down and took her to lunch. They were inseparable ever since. And now, as Julien continued to read, exhausted by the long day of moving, his voice began to taper off and it wasn’t long before they were both fast asleep.
    * * *