UNBROKEN PROMISE

~28~ Not An Enemy

The morning sun poured through the windows of the house, bathing the dining room in a soft, golden light. Despite the brightness of the new day, the atmosphere between Logan and Oma was heavy with unspoken words. They sat across from each other at the breakfast table, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The only sound was the occasional clink of silverware against plates, a noise that seemed amplified in the oppressive silence.

Oma kept her head down, focusing on the food in front of her though her appetite had long since fled. Her hands trembled slightly as she cut into her eggs, the ache in her backside serving as a constant reminder of the day before. She tried her best to sit still, but the lingering sting made her shift every now and then, her movements small but telling. She hadn’t dared to meet Logan’s gaze since she’d come down the stairs that morning.

Across the table, Logan ate in his usual unhurried way, though his eyes flicked to her occasionally, observing her with a mixture of guilt and concern. He could tell she was trying to hold it together, trying to act as though everything was fine, but he wasn’t fooled. Her silence spoke louder than any words could have.

When they were done eating, Oma began gathering the plates onto a tray, her movements careful and efficient as she stood to take them to the kitchen. She kept her head low, avoiding Logan’s gaze as she moved.

“Leave the dishes for now, Oma,” Logan said suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet.

Oma froze mid-step, her fingers tightening around the edge of the tray. For a moment, she didn’t move, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what he wanted. Slowly, she set the tray back down and nodded, rinsing her hands quickly at the sink before drying them on her apron.

“Yes, sir,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan stood, gesturing for her to follow him back into the dining room. She hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and followed, her heart racing as she sat down across from him. He pulled out his chair and settled into it, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the table. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and the silence between them stretched on, thick and uncomfortable.

Oma folded her hands in her lap, staring at the wooden surface of the table as she waited. Her stomach twisted into knots, and she fought the urge to fidget under his steady gaze. Finally, Logan sighed, breaking the silence.

“I ain’t spanked you to be mean, Oma,” he said, his voice slow and deliberate. “You know that, right?”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Oma nodded, though she still didn’t look up. Her throat felt tight, and she blinked quickly, willing the tears that pricked at her eyes to stay put. She knew he hadn’t been cruel, not intentionally, but it didn’t make the experience any easier to bear.

Logan rubbed a hand over his face, clearly searching for the right words. “We gotta build some trust between us,” he said, his tone softening. “And that can’t happen if you’re lyin’ to me or scared of me all the time.”

Oma swallowed hard, nodding again. “I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Her quiet words seemed to take some of the weight off Logan’s shoulders. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath as he studied her. “Look, I want this marriage to work, Oma. I do. And I’m willin’ to take things slow, but as the head of this house, it’s my duty to discipline you when you step outta line. But it’s also my duty to make sure you’re comfortable here. You hearin’ me?”

Oma hesitated before nodding, her hands twisting in her lap. She understood what he was saying, but it was still hard to reconcile the two roles he was trying to play—the stern husband who disciplined her and the man who was supposed to care for her. It felt like a contradiction, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it.