Abide With Me Read online

  “We won’t live with your sister long.”

  “She works days. And besides, my room is at the other end of the house.”

  “We’ll get our own place soon,” he said.

  “She’s gone so much; it’s like we do have our own place.”

  He gave her the last fry, then kissed her. If every married kiss turned out to be as passionate as these first ones …

  He pulled away, his breath hot on her face. “Wow. The motel’s not far. You want anything else? From the drive-thru?”

  Angelina laid her head on his shoulder. “A vanilla shake?”

  He drove his land-yacht Buick around the building, ordered, and sped down A1A to Vern and Verna’s Motor Lodge near St. Augustine Beach. Sixty-three dollars bought a room with two double beds, a sputtering window air-conditioner, and a rear view of Vern’s rusty work shed—a sight so distinct if this weren’t her wedding night, she’d be tempted to sketch the image onto paper.

  Nicholas closed the threadbare curtains over the dingy window.

  “This place is a dump,” he said. “Almost as bad as some of the places I lived in as a kid. I should’ve pawned my computer.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.”

  “I could buy it back later—”

  “Shh.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s Valentine’s Day, and we’re married. The day’s already perfect. Tonight’s just icing.”

  “Icing, huh?” He kissed her again. “Angie, I love you so much. I wish we didn’t have to go to work tomorrow night.”

  “I love you, too. Going to work’s not so bad. At least we’re there together.”

  “Right,” Nick said. “Denny’s is a great place for a honeymoon.”

  She knew he hated working as a nightshift short-order cook, so she smiled up at him. “We can have a honeymoon every day if we want.”

  “Someday, Angie, I’ll give you everything you want. Anything money can buy.”

  “But all I want is a life with you. I love you.”

  He shook his head. “Love isn’t enough. It doesn’t buy houses or pay bills. One day, I’m going to make enough money so you won’t have to work.” He took her face in his hands and gazed deep into her eyes. “I’ll work, and you won’t, okay?”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean when we have children?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “I want children. Remember?”

  “When we have enough money.”

  She knew about his parents, that his father left his mother before Nicholas’ birth. Collette Rousseau—a French immigrant—had worked two and three jobs at a time to provide for her son until he reached adulthood, then returned to her hometown in Lyon, France. Nicholas would never have been able to go to college if he hadn’t done well in school and gotten full scholarships.

  “I can work even after we have children. I’ve told you before; I’m not a princess you need to pamper.”

  “I want you to be able to pursue your art. You want to finish your degree and paint, don’t you?”

  “Yes. More than anything.”

  “You’re so beautiful. I still can’t believe you married me.”

  She glanced in the mirror above the dresser and told herself not to resent what she saw there. All her life, she’d been praised for her looks as if she were the mastermind behind her own DNA. She’d gladly relinquish her waterfall of dark hair, her camera-ready face, or modelesque figure to be less shy and more comfortable in her own skin.

  She looked into his warm brown eyes. “Tell me again why you asked me to marry you.”

  “Because the first time we met, I knew my heart was tethered to yours.” He grinned that grin she loved, flashing his dimple. “I love the way you wring your hands or fiddle with your many bracelets when you’re nervous.”

  She looked down and saw she’d been caught doing exactly that.

  “I love when the artist in you forgets she’s shy and points out details and colors I don’t notice.”

  She felt herself blush.

  He lifted her chin. “I even love your sometimes annoying optimism.”

  “Annoying optimism?”

  He kissed her. “Only sometimes. I guess we might need it if we hit tough times. But one day we’ll have money. I’ll buy you expensive jewelry. A dozen new necklaces to wear all at once, like you like to.”

  “I’d rather travel with you. Go to Paris and visit the Louvre.”

  “I’ll take you. I promise.”

  He once again took her face in his hands. Hunger leapt from him. “I can’t wait to be with you.”

  He kissed her like every fantasy she’d ever envisioned about her wedding night. So many times they’d come close to having sex, but he’d always stopped, refusing to take advantage of her before marriage as had happened to his mother. He released her only to pull his shirt over his head, then reached for her blouse buttons.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” His breath came fast. “You have to tell me if I hurt you.”

  “Okay.” She slid her bracelets off both wrists and lay them on the dresser.

  “Promise?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Now, stop talking!”

  ***

  Nicholas woke in a sweat. He’d dreamed his credit card payment for the hotel room had been denied, and the manager was banging on the door, yelling they had to get out. He sat up, reminding himself he’d paid with cash, but couldn’t quite get back his breath.

  Leaving Angelina to sleep, he slipped into the bathroom. He braced his hands on the tiny counter and tried to ignore the scent of mildew from the shower tiles, the rust ring at the bottom of the sink, the way his bare feet stuck to the laminated floor. He wished he was wearing socks.

  He raised his gaze to the chipped and cracked mirror.

  “You’re an industrial engineer,” he whispered. “You can figure out a better way to do almost anything in the workplace.”

  Sure, his grades had slipped before graduation from working nights to save for Angelina’s ring. So professional recruiters had picked others of his classmates. He simply needed to be patient. Finding a great job was only a matter of time, right?

  He ran a hand through the back of his hair, down his neck. He should have waited to marry her. Impatient to make her his wife, desperate to finally give in to how badly they wanted each other, he’d focused on the short-term goal of getting married.

  Now, he was so embarrassed over where they’d spent their first night together, over sharing McDonald’s Chicken McNuggets as their first married meal, he wished he hadn’t done it. He could have given her more, given her better, if he’d just been willing to wait a little longer.

  He rubbed his neck again and caught the distinct whiff of body odor. Hoping the tub wasn’t as dirty as it looked, he stepped in to shower.

  A spray of sludge hit him in the face. He leaned away, gritted his teeth as the pipes cleared. He watched the brown-gray water disappear down the drain and immediately knew how to fix a problem in the kitchen where he worked. The backup wasn’t caused by the drain’s position, or—as his boss had voiced—by the way Nicholas stacked the dishes. Rather, he’d bet the drain line itself had not been cleaned in years.

  He scrubbed his body, washed his hair, all the while creating in his mind a mechanism that would protect the drain and prevent back-up in the sink. With the absence of an exhaust fan, the bathroom steamed quickly. He emerged from the shower knowing he had no paper on which to draw the design, so he drew on the fogged-up mirror. If he could sell his idea to Denny’s, or better yet, a national plumbing fixture company, he might make royalties for the rest of his life.

  The door opened.

  “Nicholas?”

  Her long hair was tousled, her face slightly flushed. She’d wrapped herself in the faded bedspread. He hoped the stains on its surface weren’t fresh, left from previous guests. Never again would he take her to a low-class place like this one.

  “I promise I’ll provide for you,” he said.
“And I want another wedding. I want to buy you a beautiful dress and have a big reception and a two-week honeymoon at a fancy resort. The kind of place you stayed at when you were younger for all your beauty competitions.”

  She shrugged and grinned. “This place has its own unique character. What are you drawing?”

  “Remember how I’m good at figuring things out? I have an idea.”

  “Only married a few hours, and you’re already bored with me?”

  “What? No.”

  “Come back to bed.”

  “Just a sec. I think I know a way to, um, if we do it this way, hmm …”

  “Your brain doesn’t turn off even when you sleep,” she said.

  “Nope.”

  “Are you a morning person who needs to always be working on something?”

  “Yep.” He glanced back at his diagram.

  “I’d rather sleep in, then spend the day wandering through a museum.”

  “What? I like museums okay.”

  “I guess it’ll be up to me to get your attention back if I feel neglected.”

  She blew on the back of his neck just below his errant curls. She kissed the same spot and he turned, catching the edge of the bedspread so her body was revealed.

  “Oh, you’ve got my attention.” His gaze traveled down, then up to lock with hers. “I’ve never craved anything or anyone like I crave you, Angie.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “If you always want me as much as I want you.”

  She pulled him from the bathroom. She’d turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating their pitiful surroundings, so he focused on her instead.

  He wrapped her in his arms. “Tell me again why you said yes to marrying me.”

  “Every time you say you love me, it feels true. I’ve never felt safe with anyone the way I do with you. I’ll be happy if I wake every morning next to you.”

  “I love you, Angelina. More than I thought I could ever love anyone.”

  “Show me.” She drew him back to bed. “Show me every day for the rest of our lives.”

  “You can count on that. I promise.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Six months married, Troy, Alabama

  Angelina would never have guessed August in Troy, Alabama, could be as humid and hot as Florida’s east coast.

  She drank the last few drops of the bottled water and looked around at the empty cars in the parking lot. She felt safe enough here with the windows down, but the heavy heat was getting to her. She knew she couldn’t have gone in with Nicholas to the job interview at Warren Engineering, but he could have at least found her a seat in a waiting area or lobby with air conditioning. The AC in their car had given out near Tallahassee when they’d refilled the tank. How much gas would be used if she cranked the car and turned on the fan for a few minutes?

  She doodled in the notepad she’d brought along. She sketched the cars in their neat rows. The front of the building with its imposing gray doors.

  Finally, Nicholas emerged from the office building. A man in a business suit followed, called to him and handed him something, then went back inside. For several moments, Nick stood in place.

  He returned to their car. Started the engine, and with a squeal of tires, raced onto the highway. He threw a crumpled envelope onto the seat between them.

  “Nicholas, you’re scaring me.”

  His knuckles whitened as he tightened his hands on the wheel.

  “Where are we going?”

  He checked the rearview mirror. Checked the traffic to their right and sped across two lanes to the exit ramp.

  She grabbed the armrest on her door. “Nicholas, please.”

  Lately, he’d been moody. More than once, he’d lost his temper at work. Frankie, their manager, had written up the incidents and placed Nicholas on probation. She’d told herself it was because Nick had trouble sleeping during the day. Because they had little to no privacy while staying with her sister.

  When he’d told her about this job opportunity, they’d both been filled with hope. The idea of traveling for the interview had sounded perfect. Not only a chance for them to get away from her nosey sister and the parade of random guys who frequently visited her, but maybe, just maybe, a chance at a real job for Nicholas. He simply wouldn’t be happy until he made a lot more money.

  He turned in at an abandoned Shoney’s, swerved to miss a pothole, and stopped, facing a billboard advertisement for a local strip club. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel and turned away from her. She thought she heard him curse.

  She waited. Sweat poured down her back as the car baked on the pitted asphalt.

  She was getting hungry, and the cereal box they’d brought to snack on was almost empty.

  “I guess they didn’t offer you a job.” She paused. “That’s okay. We’ll be okay. It’s only three-thirty. We can be back home in seven hours. We’ll change clothes fast, go straight to Denny’s like nothing ever happened, and you can keep looking for other work. We’ll just tell Frankie he’s confused about us asking for the night off. No one has to know we came here.”

  “I’ll know.”

  She looked at the envelope. “Did they give you anything for your time and travel expenses?”

  “A hundred-dollar check.”

  Which they couldn’t easily cash. Their credit union was back in Florida.

  His head hung so low, she thought he might cry. She’d never seen him cry.

  “We should get something to eat,” she said. “I know you’re exhausted from working last night then driving straight here. We’ll talk while we eat, then I can drive home, and you can sleep.”

  He finally looked at her, tears bubbling in his eyes. “We can’t afford to eat out and get a hotel room.”

  “We could look for one of those check cashing places. Or we can just go home—”

  “I don’t want to go home!” He wiped his eyes. “Look. I screwed up. I thought this was a done deal. I thought I’d be surprising you right now with a new job and a new life. We could move here and, I don’t know, finally start our life together?”

  He banged the steering wheel again.

  “Between when they called me last week and now, they lost a big contract, and now the company is being bought out. They can’t hire me. They can’t hire anyone. Probably half the people there are going to lose their jobs. And I might as well tell you … it won’t do us any good to drive back in time for our shift. I’m sorry, but the last few nights, with Frankie flirting with you and giving me grimy grunt work, I can’t take it anymore.”

  “He doesn’t flirt with me. He’s married. And he’s old enough to be my father.”

  “Which doesn’t stop him from putting his arm around you when you come in the kitchen, or licking his lips as he watches you leave it. He makes sure I see him.”

  “He hasn’t said anything bad to me.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s said it to me.”

  She could almost read in his eyes the type of lewd comments to which he was referring. And she’d thought older men, married men, were above that.

  A coldness ran through her. She’d thought after all these years she’d developed good enough radar to sense when a man was just looking at her for her body. But she’d been married to Nick for six months now. She’d let down her guard, thinking she didn’t need to worry about that any longer.

  Now she felt sick inside. Knowing Frankie was ogling her and making sure Nicholas knew about it explained a lot about Nick’s behavior and that of the other night shift girls. No wonder the other waitresses rarely spoke to her.

  She crossed her arms. “You quit, didn’t you? Even though Frankie said he was going to help you meet someone in upper management about your ideas to streamline the kitchen?”

  “Yeah, because he’ll never do it. He’ll never introduce me to anyone.”

  “Did you quit for both of us?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not giving notice will really help us find new job
s.” She reached for the cereal box. “We can split what’s left of the drive so you can sleep.”

  “Angie.” He placed a hand over hers. “I can’t stand to watch you eating cereal. We’ll get a burger. Just let me get hold of myself. Are you mad?”

  “I don’t know what I am. You’re not like you used to be.”

  “Because I’m worried about money.”

  “Then why did you spend what little we had saved on that sham real estate investing course? You didn’t tell me you’d done that, either. Now, we don’t even have jobs.”

  “Don’t you see how awful this has been for me? Knowing every night instead of us going to bed together in our own place, we schlepped off to jobs we hate? Watching you get hit on at work, and you didn’t even know it? All because I don’t make enough money to support us. That’s why I’m angry and frustrated. That’s why I bought the stupid course.”

  Somehow, they both looked up at the barely-clothed, air-brushed model gazing at them from the billboard.

  “Great idea,” he said. “You’d probably make boatloads of money.”

  He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d slapped her.

  Six months married. He knew all her insecurities about her appearance. That he’d so carelessly joke about her selling herself that way …

  She got out of the car and ran, across the cratered lot, past a rusty dumpster to a narrow band of trees. She sagged against a pine and let herself cry.

  She heard his footsteps and closed her eyes. Felt his hand on her arm, and before she thought, swung out and barely missed slapping him.

  He caught her in his arms, pressed his cheek to hers. “Shh. I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too. Don’t stop loving me. I’ll die if you stop loving me. Don’t leave me, Angie.”

  “When you’re so angry, it feels like you leave me.”

  He kissed her. Hunger and passion erupted as in their first few weeks of marriage. His hands were in her hair; she couldn’t hold him tightly enough. The kiss went so deep she thought he sucked the breath out of her.