Page 7 of Rival
Her pink cheeks are adorable, and Ruth watches on with approval when I snag a few more. There’s a bit of an awkward pause as Edith and I stand facing each other while Ruth looks between the two of us. “Well, I don’t suppose one of you could walk me out to my car? I’m sure Josiah is anxious for his lunch.”
Before I have the chance to offer an arm, Edith is already setting the bowl down and moving to her side. “Of course, Mrs.Danielson.” She cups her elbow and I swear, this older woman is more observant than she lets on.
“Jaxon, why don’t you help as well? Not that I don’t think Edith here isn’t strong enough, but she’s just a bit of a thing. We need to get these muscles toughened up in her.” Her joint-swollen fingers grip Edith’s bicep and she clucks her tongue. “Definitely need some meat on you, girl. Building a barn will help with that!”
I try not to laugh at Ruth’s statement because it’s obvious Edith is once again embarrassed at being called out when she drops her head to look at the ground. “I think she’s perfectly fine, but I’ll be happy to walk out with the two of you. Is someone closing up the church?” I ask as we stop outside, and I notice only my truck and Ruth’s car are in the lot. Glancing around, I don’t see a third vehicle and my eyes find the side of Edith’s face.
She must feel my gaze, looking at me briefly before looking back toward our destination. “I’ve got keys.”
“Do you live close by? I don’t see another car.” Not that it’s bad weather to be walking, but most things are a few miles away no matter where you’re headed.
Edith waves toward the east side of town. “Not far.”
“Why don’t you give her a ride home, Jaxon?” Ruth suggests as we guide her to the driver’s side door of the Cadillac which looks older than Edith. Before I have a chance to agree, Edith responds quickly with a hint of panic.
“Oh, no. No, please don’t. I’m truly not far, and I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.” Ruth raises a brow and presses her lips together, obviously wanting to argue, but there’s something in Edith’s tone that lets us both know not to try.
“Dear.” Ruth hesitates, then simply shrugs. “Well, I very much appreciate you lockin’ up for me. Jaxon, thank you for stopping by. I’ll assume you’ve agreed to help since you didn’tcorrect me earlier.” She follows that with a wink, and I know she’s been playing me from the start.
Grinning, I bend down to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’ll be sure to shuffle my schedule around.”
Cupping my cheek, she winks. “Make sure you do. We start Wednesday!” With that, she turns and fumbles her way into her seat stiffly, then uses the cane I’m convinced she doesn’t need to yank her door shut.
Edith and I watch her drive off with a wave. I drop my chin to smile down at her but am surprised to find her gone. Twisting around, I’m floored by how quickly she’s already jogging back to the building. She’s shy, that much is clear.
I shove my hands in my pockets and call out, “It was nice meeting you, Edith!”
Without slowing, she glances back with her lip tucked between her teeth and a simple wave. Once she disappears inside, I make my way slowly back to my truck and head home.I’m definitely looking forward to Wednesday.
Chapter Three
Edith
“Son of a bitch!”
I wince as soon as I slip my shoes off. I’m not sure what he’s mad about, but I’m hoping it’s nothing to do with me. The door to the kitchen flies open as he storms in from the living room, wild eyes searching until they fall on me.Shoot, it’s definitely something I’ve done.
“You’re fuckin’ twenty goddamn years old, Edith! Start fucking actin’ like it! I don’t ask for a lot, but if you’re gonna keep livin’ here, theleastyou can do is the bare fuckin’ minimum!”
He’s livid, and I stand up straight, dropping my eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry. What did I miss? I only jus—”
Fat fingers tighten around my arm, and I’m yanked further into the kitchen behind him, the jerky move cutting off my explanation that I’ve only just gotten home after church. As soon as we’re in the center of the kitchen, my bare feet chilled by the cold linoleum, he shoves me forward until I catch my fall against the counter. My eyes fly over the surface and as soon as they spy the dishes in the sink, my stomach sinks at the same time my heart kicks up in speed.
Blood rushes through my ears when his meaty palm slams against the back of my head before gripping the nape of my neck. Shoving my face into the sink like a dog’s nose being rubbed in a mess on the floor, he holds me down.
“Is it too fuckin’ much to ask for ya to clean up after yourself? JesusChristgirl! You dirty a dish, you fuckin’ wash the damn thing!” He shoves me down again before releasing his hold, delivering another blow to the back of my head before moving away.
My ears are ringing, and a few spots dance across my vision before my fast blinking clears them away. I don’t try to make any excuses. Instead, I twist the hot water to turn on the faucet and with a shaky hand, pump a few dollops of dish soap onto the sponge and start scrubbing before the water is even warm.
He rips the door to the fridge open, bottles rattling to yank out a bottle of beer before slamming it shut, muttering more insults under his breath. His fading footsteps indicate he’s leaving, but I refuse to turn around and check.
The door slams shut behind me, jolting my shoulders up to my ears as I continue to wash, then rinse the two bowls, spoon, and glass resting in the pristine stainless-steel basin.
Self-doubt swims inside of me.Should I have apologized?Why didn’t I wash these after breakfast?I run through my morning and the corners of my lips dip lower when I realize Ididwash my dishes. I specifically remember making a piece of toast and pouring myself a small glass of orange juice. My father yelled at me to hurry and get dressed, so I quickly washed up my dirtied butter knife, plate, and glass before drying and setting them back into the cupboard. These must be his.
I should march into that living room where I’m sure he’s sitting, which is proven true seconds later as soon as I hear the TV turned on, and let him know that this wasn’t me.What wouldbe the point?Clearly, he’s in a foul mood, and accusing him will only escalate his anger.
As soon as I have everything cleaned, I shut off the water, then grab a rag and dry them quickly before setting them in their place. I hear him chatting on his phone, and I’m certain he’s making arrangements for his friend Corbin to come over to watch Sunday sports. Sometimes Corbin’s brother, Griffin, tags along, so I know to make myself scarce.
