Blood and Bone: A Smattering of Unease by Noble Shannon Rae

Author:Noble, Shannon Rae [Noble, Shannon Rae]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Parrogator Publishing
Published: 2015-12-30T18:30:00+00:00

Bereavement Services, LLP

Juniper wiped through the foamy fog of lemon-scented furniture polish, clearing it from the sideboard’s surface until the walnut finish glowed. There; the dusting was done.

She had gotten the daily chores down to a science, and what had once taken the better part of each day now took only a couple of hours, leaving the rest of the day free. Simon didn’t know that, though, and Juniper wasn’t about to volunteer the information. He thought she spent all of her time slaving away.

That’s the way it had been during the first few months of their marriage. He had loaded her down with so many tasks that it was nearly impossible to complete them all by 5:30 p.m., when he came home from work. She was often sweaty and disheveled, dinner either still cooking or burned, the kitchen a mess, when he walked through the door.

Eventually, Juniper managed to coordinate everything and became efficient at her work. She completed the chores with time to spare, and used that extra `time for herself. She read books, watched television, or relaxed on the rear patio with a drink, observing the comings and goings of the wildlife in the woods and fields that surrounded the house. Simon came home every evening to a hot, perfectly prepared dinner awaiting him on the polished and elegantly set dining room table.

After a few days of being greeted coolly at the door, Simon questioned how his pretty young wife was spending her days. At the time, she was unaware that he wanted her to be flustered, frazzled, and exhausted, running around the house in a panic, trying to get things done by the time he arrived.

He had not been pleased at Juniper’s explanation of efficiency. The reprimand, as usual, was physically harsh, and he doubled her list of chores, practically pushing her out of bed the next morning to start work despite her freshly bruised ribs.

He shook his finger at her. “Don’t ever let me catch you sitting around reading worthless smutty romance novels or watching television,” he said. “I didn’t marry you to use up my electricity watching Jerry Springer and those other idiotic reality shows all day long.”

His newly wedded wife didn’t bother to argue that she watched the History and Discovery channels, not reality television. Nor did she correct him and tell him that she read books from his own library; it really would have hit the fan, then. She had learned enough of his obsessive-compulsive habits to make sure each book looked untouched when she returned it to its shelf each day.

She had learned enough to remain silent about why she thought he had married her, to begin with: she had thought he’d loved her. He had been good to her when they met. A gentleman. Well-mannered. Generous. Attentive. Affectionate.

But as soon as they had crossed the threshold of his home, the crash course in Simon Kurst’s marriage practices had begun. She was, for all intents and purposes, his servant. His possession. To use as he saw fit.

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