I do not own The Magic of Ordinary Days.
Cool to see Skeet Ulrich very un-Skeet-ish. Even if I am 20 years late to the party.
The Magic of a Simple Life
Another Small Miracle
He never expected her to love him.
He's a big, simple oaf.
Country boy.
A farmer.
She is a well-bred, educated young woman from the big city of Denver.
Who'd gone, in the eyes of her father, and gotten herself in trouble.
Seeking solace in the arms of an inconstant, ill-meaning army pilot after the death of her beloved mother.
And needed to be 'put away'.
'Taken care of.'
'Removed.'
Far away from anyone who knew them, her.
Him.
Theirs began as an arrangement, an agreement.
Husband and wife.
Holy matrimony.
One that they not, as of yet, consummated.
At first, to give her time, privacy.
Then, because she was well along in the her pregnancy.
Then recovering from the pregnancy and the birth.
Whilst the connection between them remained civil.
Tolerable.
Intolerable.
And now, in recent months . . .
"I've fallen in love with you. And I love that baby."
"Ray, the truth is, I don't know if I deserve you."
. . . warmed considerably.
More than considerably, he'd wager.
And now . . .
"I . . . I'm sorry, Livy."
. . . she's standing before him.
"I . . . I don't know exactly what to do."
He hopes with not too high expectations.
He's never done this before, has only imagined it in his wildest daydreams.
And those very limited in scope and sequence.
She smiles again, there once was a time she had no smiles for him, now she seems to have nothing but smiles for him.
And it's . . .
"That's okay. I don't mind."
. . . another small miracle.
It's a beautiful day, sunny, big puffy white clouds lazing across a blue blue sky.
The breeze billowing the white lace curtains of their second story farmhouse window is warm and the sounds of the hired workers in the fields are distant and unimportant.
Because his wife is standing there.
Holding his gaze with those beautiful, entrancing eyes.
Holding his gaze.
As she begins to unbutton . . .
Livy . . .
. . . her housedress.
One button at a time until it's halfway down to her stomach.
And then she lets . . .
Wait . . .
. . . it drop.
She's still covered though, almost as completely as she was before she started unbuttoning the dress.
She's wearing a full slip and whatever other undergarments hidden underneath it.
Stockings and heels as well.
But this is the most he's ever seen of her and . . .
"Livy-"
"Shhh."
. . . it's almost more than he can handle.
"It's okay."
She steps forward and he roots himself to the pinewood floor so he doesn't flee out of sheer nerves and panic.
He wants her, he knows he wants her.
The thought of it overwhelms him with desire.
But the actual doing itself is almost beyond his capacity for comprehension.
She reaches him, hands touching light upon his shirted chest.
His hands have gone to her waist, almost of their own accord.
And the material is slippery beneath his calloused fingers.
She reaches up, kisses him, light and sweet.
He kisses her back and tastes her lips, so moist and soft.
And he doesn't know what possesses him to open his mouth.
"Is this what it was like?"
And say it.
"With him?"
Except he does.
And she stops.
He knows now, she's shared, it was only the one man, the one who replied to her desperate writings with such dismissiveness and cruelty that it angers him even now.
That it was only him and only a few times.
All much more than Ray has experienced, a handful of kisses in his youth behind the church house with Bessie Beckerman and then nothing until now.
No reason to bring her past up, the past that although it hurt her badly at the time, eventually brought them together, now, of all times.
And he wonders if he's ruined a perfectly good moment.
"No."
Until she speaks.
"Although I wanted to believe it then and for a long time after, I never felt loved, cared for, admired, or even thought of as fondly, with him, as I do with you. Even when I wasn't ready to accept it yet."
He listens intently as she says these things that fill his soul with love so much it almost hurts.
"He's not real to me anymore. And I'm glad. Because I don't want him. I want you."
There seems to be a lump in his throat that makes it difficult for him to swallow but he tries to anyway.
"I want you too."
She smiles.
And then she kisses him again.
And he returns . . .
"Livy . . ."
"Ray . . ."
. . . her growing affections.