The Lover's Children novel Chapter 6

MICHAEL

It feels good.

There’s something about chopping timber; using the body in a way where muscle-memory does all the heavy lifting. And the woodshed is a good place, with its homely scents of shavings, pine resin and the hay up in the loft. Even though it’s cold, my bare forearms goosing, exercise warms me from the inside.

Muscles loosening with the repeated stretch, swing and Chop of the axe, I ease into my rhythm. It’s mechanical, but in a good way; my body doing what is asked of it with no need for instruction, a familiar task which frees my mind to float.

When James wants to let his thoughts roam, he moves into the kitchen. I see him sometimes, slicing onions or tasting some sauce. But behind his eyes, he’s far away.

Some might take cuckoo clocks apart. Klempner takes guns apart, then reassembles them. And I’ve seen Mitch, knitting, her fingers counting stitches while she stares into the fire, physically with us, but spiritually, somewhere else entirely.

The axe-edge impacts, bites, and the timber slab splits; the round cross-section of a pine, six inches deep, eighteen across; two neat halves falling to one side and the other of my tree-stump anvil.

Setting one half back atop the stump, I stand clear, swing, and bring my axe down in a clean strike that splits the half to quarters.

And again…

Rinse and repeat…

Only a couple of minutes, and I'm too warm in my sheepskin vest. Cosy warmth turns to sweaty heat, perversely beading perspiration to chill my forehead.

Hanging the vest on a nail, I work in my tee-shirt, sweat streaking a cold line down my spine. But on my heating skin, the coolth is welcome.

Back to my task…

The smooth warmth of hickory in my hand…

… the heft and balance as I swing…

… the momentary stretch…

… the wordless coordination between eye and edge, taking the axe-head in a smooth arc…

The blade cracks into the pine and once more it splits, dropping with a clunk to the frozen ground.

That’s enough. Tossing stove-lengths onto the woodpile, I turn to take the next wood slice and…

… She's there, watching me: leaning against the doorpost, muffled up against the cold, her breath a blue cloud.

“Charlotte, I didn't see you there.”

A smile makes a soft dance over her lips. “I was being quiet. I like watching you do that.”

I twist and throw, spinning the axe through the air. It hits the stump with a clunk, lodging in the timber. Striding across, I take her in my embrace. “You have odd taste in entertainment…” Her smile widens…

Rubbing at her arms and shoulders, “It’s cold. You should be indoors. Go find a movie to watch. I’ll join you in a few minutes.” Sliding my arms around her waist, I pull her close. “I’ll bring in plenty of logs. How about we get the fire really blazing, then curl up on the couch with a bottle of wine and watch old movies all afternoon? Your mother and Beth will probably join us.”

She presses close, “I like that, but… I wanted to be with you. Just you…”

… My stomach tightens and my groin stirs…

“… It’s wonderful having everyone here. I love it. But sometimes I want you and me together. Just you and me.”

I tilt her chin up. “You okay, Babe? I thought you were enjoying having people around you? A big family. I thought it was what you wanted?”

She nods, her face bright. “Oh, it is, yes. Just… not all the time.”

She’s moving closer in, plastering herself to me, and while I have no problems with where this is clearly going… “James? You want me to…?”

“Just you,” she murmurs. Then, her mouth close to my face, she whispers, “Let's make a baby.”

Something thumps under my ribs.

And again.

“Really? Now?”

Her fingers coil into my hair, nails nipping into my scalp. “Really. Now.”

My heart jabbers away, doing double-time. My mouth is dry.

This is ridiculous…

It’s what you’ve wanted…

“Charlotte, you’re sure? You really want this?”

Her grip on my skull relaxes and she pulls back. Brow wrinkled, she stares into my face. “Why would I not want it? I thought it was what you wanted?”

“It is, but… I know you didn’t enjoy being pregnant before, with Cara. You’re right, I do want this, that you and I have a child together too. But… I understand what your reasons were for having Cara; to give James his daughter back. And with everything that happened, with Finchby and Baxter… And Juliana… I’d thought… Maybe…”

She cradles my cheek with her palm. “That it put me off the whole idea? No. That was then. Juliana is dead. We’re all safe. Yes, I needed time to feel like myself again. But it’s been it’s been a year now. And… you think I don’t want to give you what you want? Cara needs a brother or sister, and my Golden Lover wants a baby of his own.”

Her smile fades. “Why are you arguing about this? Have you changed your mind and you don’t like to say so?”

“No!” I didn’t mean to sound sharp. Moderating my tone, “No, I’ve not changed my mind. It’s just… Charlotte, I know you love James more than me. It's alright. I've always known it. I married you knowing it. The point is, I don’t want you doing this out of some misplaced sense of duty. It’s too important.”

“Hah!” Nostrils flaring, she spins away, swiping a hand through her hair. Then, she calms, turning back. “Michael, that's not true. We… we keep coming back to this…”

Scuffing at the floor with the toe of her boot, “I’ll repeat myself, again. And I truly hope this is the last time.” She moves close again, curling her fingers around mine, staring up into my eyes. “I love you too, so much. But it is different…

“… With him, it's… intense.” She bites a lip, blinking. “… It’s so intense. When he tells me to kneel, or orders me to… to…” … Her arm flails up… “… whatever… sometimes I feel as though my heart will stop. As though the air’s too thick to breathe…”

The thumping in my chest grows to banging, my ribs set to rattle. Charlotte slides her gaze back to mine. “When I’m with you, it’s different. It's... it's like I’m living inside a smile. Everything around me is bright and beautiful.” She slides a thumb over my lips. “You're my Golden Lover. My personal sunshine.”

She looks away again, but when her eyes return to mine, they’re smiling eyes. “I want this. Yes, I chose to have Cara first, and you know why. But now it’s your turn. That was always what I promised you…” She reaches for my mouth with her own, her lips brushing mine… “And I keep my promises.”

Fingers slip down my cheek and jaw, trace a line down my neck and chest, then trail out to take my fingers in hers. “Come on…” Her mouth twitches… “… If I’m going to make a baby, I can’t do it by myself.”