Good gods, it had been a long night.
He chuckled to himself, knowing that he said that every time, but it seemed a little truer this time. In fact, the whole project had taken a lot more out of him than usual.
Was he getting too old? Was there too much on his plate? Had he lost his joie de vivre?
He certainly hoped not, because a new project would start in a matter of days and he needed to be ready.
As he gathered the will to get out of the rig, he looked at the house and smiled.
Little fairy lights surrounded every window, twinkling in the late-night darkness, and a soft glow came from the window closest to the door. He knew the old lamp was on a table there, waiting to welcome him home. The ground was covered with mounds of snow, and the trees had been coated in lace-like finery.
Wanting to be inside where it was warm, he finally hauled himself out and onto his feet. He slowly trod around the rig, giving it a quick inspection. Satisfied, he snapped his fingers twice and headed for the front door.
He took great care to be quiet as he opened and closed the door, not wanting to wake anyone. He dropped his bag onto his big chair in the sitting room and walked on into the kitchen. It was dark and silent, and a glance out the window showed the snowflakes falling again. He shivered as a chill seemed to grip him for a moment.
Opening a lower cabinet, he easily found the bottle he wanted and brought it up to the counter. Fetching a glass from behind another door, he poured a long stream of the amber liquid. Swirling the glass, he sipped and exhaled.
He carried it with him and walked through the large dining room, neat as a pin, with every chair pushed in just so. That was the work of his amazing wife, he knew.
Continuing down the long corridor, he could hear the sounds of soft snoring and other sleep sounds as he passed some of the bedroom doors. His eyes were on the one at the end of the hall, where his warm bed and his darling, slumbering wife waited.
His hand was on the doorknob when he stopped and hesitated. Turning to his right, he opened the door there instead.
No reason to turn on the lights just to undress, he thought. He dropped down onto the sturdy little chair in the corner and began to undo the laces of his thick black boots. Pulling the sides apart, he eased his foot out of one, and then the other. Leaning back, he wiggled his toes and sighed quietly.
Setting the boots aside for later polishing, he undid the big belt at his waist then stood and unbuttoned his fly, letting the pants fall to the floor. He stepped out of them, picked them up and laid them across the now-unoccupied chair. One by one he undid the hooks and buttons on his coat and reached up for the last one at the neck. As he released it, he felt it snag in his beard.
Oh for heaven’s sake, he thought, I’m too tired for this.
He tugged at it once or twice, to no avail. Finally, he flipped the light switch on the wall. He scrunched up his eyes as bright light filled the room, then peered into the mirror. Ah, there it was! He extricated the hook from his facial hair and slid the coat off gratefully. Last to go was the long underwear—the shirt off over his head, and pants slid down and kicked aside.
Leaning against the counter, he curled his shoulders and stretched his back, then bent at the waist and let his upper body hang down. He felt his bones crackling and his muscles releasing and he sighed again. His thoughts turned again to his soft bed and the idea of spending about a week sleeping.
Just then, the lights flickered. He stood up straight and looked around. The storm must be picking up, he thought. Thank goodness he was home.
Turning around to collect his clothes from the floor and put them on the chair, he was stopped in his tracks once again—this time by the sight of the big soaking tub, which was filled and steaming.
How in the world…?
He walked over, sticking his hand into the water, confirming that it was, indeed, steaming hot. Since he was already naked, and not one to miss an opportunity, he rubbed his chest and belly and climbed into the tub. Settling back on the bench, he sank down and let the water engulf him.
His eyes closed and time passed.
He sat up with a start. Had he fallen asleep? What time was it? He must have slept because some of the overwhelming weariness he’d felt had left him.
He took the bar of handmade soap and gave himself a good scrubbing, then piled out of the tub and grabbed a big warm towel. Sufficiently dry, he wrapped himself in his favorite thick red robe and headed for the bedroom.
Quietly turning the doorknob, he crept in and closed the door just as quietly behind him. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the sleeping outline of his beloved wife. He stood, smiling, thinking of how much she had sacrificed for him over the years and how much he depended upon her. There was just no way that any project could be successful without her, and he had proof of that every single day. Whether she was cooking and feeding workers, or smoothing out disagreements, or supervising a project, she was an absolute necessity in his life. Not to mention how deeply he loved her…and the devotion he felt to her…
He moved to the side of the bed and gently peeled back the covers, trying to get in without waking her. Working on slipping between the sheets, he stopped as she stirred. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, and he continued on, finally fully on the bed. As he began to nestle down into the featherbed and his comfiest pillow, she rolled over to face him.
“I was waiting for you, Chris.”
“Jess, darling, I’m sorry I woke you! I was trying…”
“It’s alright,” she said, sitting up, still bundled in blankets.
She tossed the blankets back and stood, and as her feet touched the ground, the room was suddenly lit with candlelight.
He raised an eyebrow and propped himself up on one arm.