51
Mitchell sat at the kitchen table, knowing that it was better to keep out of the way when a woman was busy running around packing things. Corrine March sat at the table with him. Both sat there enjoying a beer, while Jen hurried around the house.
“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Mitchell asked Mrs. March.
“No, after all I’ve been through, I think some time with Jen’s brother Derek and his family in Chicago is in order. He has three little ones I can spoil rotten for a couple of weeks before coming back home,” replied Mrs. March. “Besides as they always say: two’s company, three’s a crowd.”
Jen stepped into the kitchen holding up a couple of shirts in her hands for her mother to help her decide what to pack.
Mitchell, seeing her standing there, instantly stood and wrapped his arms around Jen’s slender waist, pulling her towards him. He took in a long intoxicating breath of Jen’s perfume.
“Easy does it, Mister Mitchell,” said Jen playfully. “Mom is in the room.”
Mitchell shook his head. “You do know we’re going for a week, not a month, don’t you?”
“A girl’s got to look her best,” shot back Jen.
Letting go of Jen, Mitchell raised his hands in surrender and sat down. From out of nowhere, a chill ran up Mitchell’s spine. The room grew quiet. Shrugging it off, Mitchell reached for his beer, but stopped in mid-reach. Standing there quietly was Jen; her head was turned away as if she was intently listening for something far away.
Mitchell reached over and gently touched her hand. “Hey sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Slowly, Jen turned towards Mitchell, a calm look on her face. “No, I didn’t see a ghost, but for some reason, I feel I don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
Mitchell sat there holding her hand, wondering what Jen had meant. Knowing it would serve no purpose to ask, Mitchell simply squeezed Jen’s hand and sat there in the room, knowing that he would always be bound to the woman who had just entered his life.