The Nightmare Daze

14. Coming and Going

Isabel

It takes me several days to understand that the knot in my stomach is not from illness but from the knowledge that by the end of the week, Elliot will return. And that will be the end of it, then—I'll go back to my idleness and wait for the evenings when Elliot decides he fancies me. But for the first time since I've been married I feel happy and productive, like there is something worth my time to do, even if it is just menial work. I've written my parents several times, but my mother doesn't think it's wise for me to visit home so soon. She says if I run from my marriage it will only make me resent it more. But I'm already running, and the resentment is already burning fiercely.

Each day I slip away to the Whitaker estate and perform my chores, which Mrs. Smith gladly lets me do on my own now. I've taken to serving tea and lunch to Elijah in his study, and ever since he learned of my love of reading he's taken to having me choose a book or selection of poetry to read aloud to him while he takes a rest from his work. Sometimes, we sit near each other in the twin arm chairs, and with only a little table between us I have a hard time staying still beneath his gaze. I know I'm not just imaging the extra attentiveness in those eyes. When I clean his study I catch him staring just as I often find myself looking at him, and there is a brief moment of understanding between us before he glances back at his work with a little smile that makes my stomach flutter. To be honest, I don't care if it's a game to him anymore, for it's just as much of one for me. Perhaps it's even worse since I am deceiving him. But none of it matters now, because it will be my last day here, and the thought of saying goodbye to the friendships I have made—to Elijah—turns my heart to stone.

"I won't beg you to stay," Mrs. Smith grits out, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "But I'll like you much better if you tell me you've made a mistake and would actually like to keep working here."

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, speaking around the lump in my throat. "I can't."

"Is it your husband?"

I don't respond quickly enough, and she shakes her head. "Nevermind that. I won't speak to you about it again just yet; think on it while you work today and if you really must leave I will pay you your wages early. But if you would stay on, I am sure I could ask for a higher payment from Mr. Whitaker."

"It's not a matter of payment. I just can't stay," I try, but Mrs. Smith holds up a hand.

"Yes, yes. No matter. I'll inform Mr. Whitaker of your decision if your mind is made up. But it really is a pity; do you know how difficult it is to find competent help?"

I smile weakly, and after a sigh she returns the look and pats me on the shoulder. "Go on now, don't think I'll let you slack since you are leaving."

"Of course not, ma'am."

The work feels a little heavier today, but I want to be diligent. I don't like that Mrs. Smith will have a worse impression of me, so I clean quickly and thoroughly and return to her when I am finished for new tasks. She seems to have softened a bit since this morning and no longer asks me to think about staying on, and I appreciate that she is still kind even though I've disappointed her. I hadn't realized that I would feel so guilty for my ruse and for how becoming a temporary fixture at a place can upset the flow of things.

When I bring Elijah tea today I'm hopeful that Mrs. Smith has not yet had a chance to tell him of my leave. I doubt that he would bring it up to me anyway, but I worry that if he did, he would see how much more this meant to me than anyone else. As I slip through the door, I close it behind me in anticipation of being told to read, and the noise causes Elijah to glance up from his desk with his usual warmth. He sits back in his chair with a sigh and closes his eyes for a long moment.