Trust…or Lack Thereof
Rated PG
Disclaimer ~ Last time I checked, I didn't own them then, and I still don't now. :)
Seventh in the Normal Life Series
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The front door of the house slammed hard enough to rattle the upstairs windows. It was a pure wonder that nothing shattered. "Rick?" I called from the small study upstairs. I figured it wasn't Jonathan, but it was truly only a guess on my part. I stepped quietly out into the hallway, leaning over the banister to look downstairs.
"Rick?" I called again, walking carefully down the stairs. I knew for certain now it was Rick as I watched the shadow of a figure moving about in the kitchen, more things being slammed about. "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah, yeah… Just….peachy." Peachy? Now I knew something was wrong. Peachy??
I stepped carefully into the doorway of the kitchen, finding him shoving around boxes and containers in the cabinets. "Darling? What's going on?"
"Don't we have any damn coffee around here?" he asked, now resorting to throwing the boxes over his shoulder to clear out the cabinet.
"Yes, I bought some last week," I answered carefully, watching the boxes fly about the kitchen. Exasperated, now that the cupboard was completely empty, he placed his hands on the countertop, breathing deeply. "I don't know how anyone can drink that stuff," I said with a small grin.
"So where is it?" he asked, unimpressed by my attempt to lighten the mood. My grin quickly faded with a sigh as I walked cautiously into the kitchen, careful to step around the boxes strewn across the tile floor to the cabinet beside him. I opened the door quietly, extracting the can of dried coffee sitting on the center shelf, right at Rick's eye level.
"Rick, what's wrong?" I asked, handing him the can.
"Nothing." He swiped the can from my hand, slamming it down on the counter beside the stove. "I just want a cup of coffee." I watched him silently for a moment as he filled the kettle with water, setting it over the small flames while he went about slamming more dishware around.
"Uh huh," I finally said after he had finished his stampede about the kitchen. I continued to lean against the counter, my arms crossed before me, watching him stand perfectly still with his back to me. I continued to stare, noting to myself that the 'eyes burning into the back of the head' bit usually did the trick as far as my husband was concerned.
"You know," he finally said, his back still to me. I smiled in spite of myself…it worked every time. "You would think some people had better things to do with their lives than gossip." Now I was thoroughly confused.
"Yes, but you know how people are, darling. Some have all the time in the world to talk about others behind their backs." I walked up to him, placing a hand carefully on his shoulder. His coat was damp from the light snowfall outside, his scarf still tied tightly around his neck. "Rick, what's this all about?" He continued to stare at the kettle as though he could magically make the water boil faster. It bothered me that he wouldn't look at me.
"I…" He fought for a moment with the words, still refusing to look at me. "Annie just stopped me outside. She came running out of her house as though she had been waiting for me." The kettle whistled, halting his train of thought. He moved away from me, letting my hand slide off his shoulder. It seemed he welcomed the distraction. I stood there, watching him set about to making his coffee, wondering as only a woman could what on earth she had said to him that had made him so upset.
"And?" I finally said after a long moment. He merely stood there, staring at the ripples in his coffee. "What brilliant schemes has she conjured this time?" He continued to stare silently, as though a great battle were being fought inside his head. He finally looked up, staring straight at the wall, still averting his eyes.
"Evelyn, I want to ask you something. And I want you to answer it honestly. I don't care what the answer is, so long as it's the truth." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before finally saying, "This month, while you've been working at the museum, have you and…Anton…" He could say no more, but he didn't have to. I knew what he was getting at. I knew what she had told him.
"Rick," I started, flabbergasted by these lies she was telling him, this… this…pig's wallow, as Jonathan would have called it. "Rick, please sit down." Surprisingly, he obeyed and I finally caught sight of his eyes. He wasn't angry at all…at least not anymore if he truly had been. I knew him well enough to know that he had difficulty expressing some emotions, but I had never known him to cover one emotion with another. His eyes were distant, and almost scared… I pulled a second chair up close to him, prying the otherwise untouched cup of coffee from his chilled fingers, grasping his hands in mine. "Rick, I don't know exactly what she said to you out there…" I could feel my own eyes stinging with tears at the mere thought that he might have actually believed her. "And I know I haven't been...the most...well, wife-like lately with this stomach bug... But I would sooner give that backstabbing little toad Anton the—what did you call it? A 'right-hook'? —than give him anything I reserve solely for my husband." I smiled pitifully as he finally looked at me. "You didn't….seriously believe her, did you?"
"I didn't want to," he said squeezing my hands. He pulled me up from my chair, settling me onto his lap. I curled up against him, sliding my hands under his coat as he wrapped his arms tightly around me. "I really didn't want to believe anything she said," he continued, talking softly into my hair. "But I thought maybe...with everything you had told me before about Anton that… maybe…if you had a chance now…"
"No," I answered, tilting my head back to look up at him. "No, I wouldn't trade you for anything." I pushed his wild, damp hair from his eyes, caressing his cheek softly. "Sorry, darling. You're stuck with me." He finally cracked a small smile, leaning forward to place a kiss on my lips.
"You know, you two, there are other placing in the house better suited for that kind of thing." I sighed pulling away as Jonathan took to looking about the kitchen. "What in God's name happened in here? You know, on second thought, I don't think I want to know what sick things you two have been doing... I'll be eating out for the next week, if I can eat at all." I glanced up at Rick who merely closed his eyes, lowering his head onto mine with a grin.
The next morning, I leapt out of bed, without warning, rushing for the washroom. Once the heaving ceased, I sat there on the floor, my head leaning against the cool washbasin. "That's four in a row," I said to myself. Something was certainly not right.
Within an hour I felt better, and headed off to work in the cold, late January fog. I slipped in silently, making my way through toward the offices. I had thought all night about what I would say to Annie this morning, and how I would handle it. I decided diplomatically would be the best approach. As I reached the top of the stairs leading to the long row of offices, I heard the chipper voice that made my blood boil.
"Ahh, Evelyn," the voice said behind me. I turned to see Annie smiling broadly at me, triumphantly. "Good morning!"
"Save your 'good morning' for someone who cares," I snapped. So much for diplomacy.
"Why, whatever did I do?" She smiled innocently, though she couldn't hold the lie for long as her lips slowly grew wider into a knowing grin.
"Whatever did you do? Ha!"
"Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of an empty bed this morning."
"On the contrary," I stated. "It was quite full and rather busy all night. So forgive me if I'm a little tired this morning." I could practically hear her smile slide off those red lips of hers as I turned back toward my small office.
"Dammit, Carnahan, this isn't finished." I spun around on my heels, ready to show *her* everything Rick had taught me out in the desert what now seemed like ages ago.
"It's O'Connell, thank you very much, and it's quite finished." I fumed, curling my fingers into my palms. She stood a few inches taller than me, her blonde hair falling in perfect ringlets around her long face. Her mouth twisted into a sneer as she looked down upon me like she was the Queen of England herself, staring down upon her pathetic subjects.
"You broke the rules Evelyn, and ruined the game."
"Game? What game?" Now I knew she had gone completely mad. "This isn't a game, Annie. It never has been, and it never will be. I'm terribly sorry things didn't work out between you and Anton, but that's no reason for you to come around and try to break up my happy marriage because you don't have one of your own!" I turned and stalked down the hall, stopping briefly to glance back. "You know, it truly is a shame you two broke up. You were perfect for each other!" I walked into my office, slamming the door behind me.
I hate my conscience sometimes. All the while, I'm sitting in my office, fuming about what a backstabbing little pair Annie and Anton are, and my conscience is telling me to go and apologize! I tried to focus on my paperwork, on settling any little details of shipments that would be coming into the museum, but I couldn't stay attentive. The only thing that had kept me from storming out of here in the first place this morning was the fact that Dr. Whitley of the Cairo museum had pulled several strings on my behalf to get me this job. Otherwise I would have started back down in the library, and surely would have stayed down there had Annie anything to say about it. It was strange how as children we had been so close…but something had taken a sharp turn in the other direction entirely, and now we were practically mortal enemies. No, it wasn't just something. It was Anton. The more I thought about it, the more I kicked myself for ever having had feelings for that low-life pond scum. I couldn't sit any longer, my anger boiling over. I rampaged in little circles around my office, my fists clinched at my sides to restrain me from throwing anything. I wanted to scream, but figured that wouldn't be the most appropriate thing to have echoing through the halls of the British Museum – I had made enough sounds echo through the museum already in the last month. I resorted to pulling a book off the shelf, slamming it shut repeatedly just to get the aggression out. I circled around my desk several more times, slamming the book closed over and over again, knowing I wasn't going to get any work done at this rate.
A knocking at my door interrupted my parading, (which had yet to do much for my fuming.) "What?" I snapped, regretting it the moment it passed my lips. The door opened slowly, Rick peering in carefully.
"Evy?" he asked, his brow knit. "Are you okay?" My shoulders slumped as I tossed the book onto my desk, sinking into my chair.
"No," I said with a heavy sigh. "I'm not." My head fell into my hand, supporting the weight by aide of the armrest. It seemed my body just couldn't take this today.
Rick closed the door softly behind him, walking over to my desk. He knelt down in front of me, taking my free hand in his. "I take it you talked to Annie this morning?"
"Oh, whatever gave you that idea?" I said quietly.
"Well, seeing as how she was standing completely stunned in the hall as I passed by." A small grin spread on his lips before he continued. "I don't think she liked it much when I called her 'Ms. Bentley' either. She stormed into her office and slammed the door." I couldn't help but smile. Not so much at Annie's reaction to Rick, but just at Rick in general. He always had this innate ability to make me smile. "I think you need the day off," he said, standing, still grasping my hand.
"Oh, I wish I could," I groaned. "But I have all this bloody paperwork to deal with before tomorrow's shipment arrives." Almost as though on cue, a knocking came at the door followed by the assistant curator poking his head in.
"Mrs. O'Connell, a telegram just arrived noting that tomorrow's shipment will be delayed a week." I glanced up at Rick, trying not to laugh at the irony.
"Thank you," I said before he slipped out of the office, closing the door behind him.
"So…you were saying?" Rick said, pulling me out of my chair.
"Well, I suppose it can't hurt to miss just *one* day," I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. I grabbed my handbag, slipping down the hall with my husband to Dr. Royce's office, letting him know of the shipment delay and that I would be taking the rest of the day off, as I was feeling ill (which was, after all, partly true.)
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I just wanted to note here that there's always been some discussion about Evy's reaction to Annie. A lot of people insisted she would have decked her. I don't think that's quite her personality at this point. Give her a couple years, or a few more mornings like this. :)
Now….see that little blue button? You know what to do….