Page 27 of Chloe's Christmas Escape
His palms sweated as she unbuttoned her dress. When she undressed for her bath, his nerves took over and he needed to find some fresh air.
Jackson put a hand to his queasy stomach and stumbled towards the door, feeling like he was going to be sick at any moment. He hurried out the door, sprinting around to the back of the house, where he could be alone. There was nothing in his belly to empty, but dry heaving was just as bad. With his hands on his knees, he stood there for a moment, inhaling deeply, the taste of exhaustion filling his mouth. A weight had been pressing on his chest, getting heavier and heavier the closer they got to Omaha.
He knew he was making a mess of things with Chloe and did not know how to set it right. He had plenty of time to talk to God when he was on top of the stage. God must have been too busy to respond, as Jackson still didn’t have any answers. His body ached, and he needed a proper meal. He hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since they left Chicago, as it was too cold to do anything but doze while they were traveling. He’d be happy if he made it through dinner without passing out.
Wiping a hand down his face, he knew it was time to face his demons. Taking a deep breath, he tried to quell the guilt that seemed to threaten to overwhelm him before pushing open the kitchen door. His jaw dropped in shock at seeing Chloe in front of the fire.
“Don’t just stand there,” she muttered, sinking further into the tub. “You’re letting the cold air in.”
“M-my apologies. This door is closest to the facilities,” he stammered, closing the door and sliding the latch into place to lock it. He pressed his head against the door and counted to ten, trying to force the images of her glistening skin out of his mind.
“We’re married.” Her soft voice carried over the splashing of the water. He wondered if she knew how beautiful she truly was.
“You keep saying that.” He wondered why it bothered him so much.
“Since you’re feeling chatty, don’t just stand there. Grab a chair.”
He moved towards the stove, trying to keep his eyes off his wife. From the corner of his eye, he saw her duck out of sight, coming back up with a wet head. He started counting again.
“What do you want to know?” he finally asked.
Grabbing a towel, he put both hands on the iron handle of the kettle and hefted it off the hook. The weight told him it was full, so he maneuvered himself to the pantry and retrieved his mother’s large cast-iron pot. He filled it with water and carried it back to the hearth, nestling it in the hot coals. Once he was done, he settled at the table, his back to her.
“Everything.” Her instant response made him smile.
“I’m not sure we have time for everything. Let’s start smaller.”
“Why wouldn’t you ride inside the coach with me?” There was a splash and then the sound of soap on cloth.
“It’s complicated.” He exhaled loudly, rubbing his eyes. Everything felt complicated.
The sound of her humming filled the steamy kitchen, and the slap of her wet hair against the tub became a cadence for his thoughts. He imagined running his fingers through its tangles and massaging the soap into her scalp. Perhaps he could take some of her burden away, even if it was only scrubbing her back. His issues seemed so little when compared to what Chloe experienced.
“I understand complicated.”
He listened to the water slosh in the tub and tried to focus on the lamp in the middle of the table instead of his wife in the tub. Maybe if he shared some of his load, it would take his mind off the surrounding events.
“I’m afraid of falling asleep. Sometimes I wake up and find things broken or wake up not knowing where I am. I’ve panicked and lashed out.” He rocked his head side to side, the popping seemed loud to his ears. “I didn’t want something like that to happen on the stage.”
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “Do you think that bigger pot of water is warm now? Or could you hand me the kettle?”
Jackson’s whole body tightened, but he stood, grabbing the kettle, and passing it to where he thought she was. When the weight left his hands, he fled the room.
Her trunk was already waiting in the living room, and he hefted it up, taking it down the hall to the room that had been his parents. He couldn’t bring himself to open the door, instead setting the trunk down by the door. Towels were in the hall as they’d been most of his life, and he collected one of the larger ones that Mama had called a bath sheet. It would cover all of her and then he could take a quick bath of his own.
Maybe he’d just head down to the creek instead.
The water should be perfect to cool him down, given it was December.
“Jackson?” Chloe’s voice rang out.
“I’ll be right there.” He felt like he was standing on the battlefield once more, unsure which direction to go. He knew if he didn’t decide soon, the forces inside him would rip him apart. Walking into the kitchen, he held the bath sheet out so he couldn’t see anything. “Are you ready to get out?”
“I should. I don’t even know what time it is, but we shouldn’t be late.”
He heard her stand up, the water dripping from her skin and onto the wooden floor. He looked down between his feet to see her wiggle her toes, and he gulped audibly. His throat felt thick as he forced the words out. “Ask me something else.”
She took the sheet from him and swiftly wrapped it around herself. “How long has it been since you’ve been home?”
