Whispers of Refuge Box Set

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 32

“I’m telling you, she’s positively delightful.”

Delightful wasn’t the word Roger would have chosen for their new guest, but he grunted at the appropriate times as Juliette flitted around the kitchen, taking down at least twice as many ingredients from the cupboards as she actually put into the pan. A dash of this, a pinch of that. Chocolate powder smudged one of her cheeks right below her glasses frames.

“So things went well?” Roger leaned against the countertop, thankful for the chance to stretch his legs after a ten-hour day behind his desk.

For the past several weeks, Juliette had answered Roger’s questions in monosyllables. Now, she wouldn’t stop jabbering. “Well, she slept in pretty late, but I finally brought her breakfast around eleven. We had a little — just a minute, really — chat over tea, and then she must have taken an hour in that bath tub. She spent the rest of the afternoon in her room, but she said she’d join us for dinner, and I just can’t wait for you to see her. She actually fits fairly well in some of Kennedy’s old things. You’ve got to cinch up the belt quite a bit, but I think she’s cleaned up nicely since you found her last night.”

Roger studied his wife. Her face was lit up with a radiant glow and glistened with tiny drops of sweat as she labored over the stove. He couldn’t remember the last time she had made such a mess in the kitchen. “Where’s Eve?” He hadn’t seen their housekeeper all evening.

“Oh, I told her to take the day off. She’s been working so hard keeping me company lately, you know. I started to feel really guilty for hogging up all her time. I think she’s in her room. At least, I haven’t seen her since I started cooking.”

“Strange.” Roger couldn’t remember the last time Eve had stayed away from his wife. Even on Sundays, which were supposed to be her day to relax, she waited on the Sterns with the exact same puppy-dog dedication as on any other day of the week.

Juliette chopped up a garlic clove and uncovered some meat on a platter. “Everyone needs time off every once in a while.”

Roger inhaled deeply. It was kind of pleasant coming home to his own wife in their own kitchen, just the two of them. He smiled. “Remember that vacation in Mexico when we tried to save money by eating-in every night?” Roger waited for his wife to smile at the memory. He put his arms around her from behind and breathed in the fresh scent of her curls.

“I hope Mee-Kyong likes chicken.” Juliette reached up for one of the carving knives, and Roger let go.

“I’m going to wash up before we eat.” He glanced back once while his wife hacked at the raw meat on the cutting board and doubted she’d even realize he was gone.

***

While she ate, Mee-Kyong glanced at the Americans’ security guard seated across from her. His palms alone were probably larger than Mee-Kyong’s face, and his demeanor reminded her of the officers she had encountered back at Camp 22. He hadn’t said a word all meal. Gauging from the way he kept his eyes to his plate and fidgeted with those massive hands, she guessed he was hired more for his body size than intellect.

The Sterns’ housekeeper looked just as out of place as she slouched in her chair next to Mee-Kyong, prompting Mrs. Stern to ask after her health every few minutes. Eve mumbled into her plate, “It’s just a headache. Nothing to worry over.”

In an exhausting display of verbosity, Mrs. Stern managed the conversation even with such a mismatched, sullen group. Unfortunately, she spent most of dinner talking directly to Mee-Kyong. “If you had arrived just a few weeks earlier, you would have had the chance to meet our daughter.”

Several times during their morning meeting over tea, Mrs. Stern had assured Mee-Kyong there was no need to talk about her history. “Your past is a closed book, and I’m not going to browse through the pages without invitation.” Mee-Kyong suspected behind the catchphrase was the expectation that in time she would invite Mrs. Stern to “browse the pages” of her short, pathetic life story, but for now, she intended to enjoy her well-earned right to privacy.

Mrs. Stern, by contrast, had no problem divulging more information about her own family than anyone would care to digest in a single sitting. Mee-Kyong’s temples throbbed. The food was far richer than what she was accustomed to, and she had to fight the urge to devour every morsel in sight. Even the slightest swelling in her belly put extra pressure on her ribcage. As hard as she tried, she still couldn’t figure out exactly what type of home this was. Who were these do-gooders, and what would they demand in return for room and board?

When Mrs. Stern was halfway through the story of their only daughter’s seventh birthday party, her husband put his hand over hers. “Perhaps our guest would like some more water.” He gestured subtly to Mee-Kyong’s empty cup.

“Of course.” Mrs. Stern stood up, nearly taking the cloth covering the table with her due to her wide girth. Before she made her way to the kitchen, the housekeeper overtook her.

“I’ll get it, ma’am.”

“It’s really no problem,” insisted the American. “Thank you anyway, but I don’t mind.”

Eve put her hand on Mrs. Stern’s shoulder — a bold gesture for a servant, in Mee-Kyong’s opinion. “Please.” There wasn’t a trace of humility or questioning in the housekeeper’s voice. “Allow me.”

***

“So you had a good day, then?” Roger stretched his legs out on the bed and unbuttoned the top of his pants. He sighed and let his stuffed belly expand to a more comfortable diameter.

Juliette swung her head to the side as she brushed her hair, and Roger noticed how long it had grown lately. “Yeah. It was fun to have the kitchen to myself for a change.”

“You know you’ll be having even less time to yourself now that the new girl’s here.”

“Mee-Kyong,” Juliette inserted.

Roger already knew her name but didn’t want to spoil Juliette’s mood by saying so. He hadn’t seen his wife this chipper in months. If it would keep Juliette this content, he was willing to forget all about their late-night spats, their frequent arguing, their accident-prone floundering through the waters of empty-nesting. “She seems like a very nice girl.” Roger didn’t know if he believed the words himself yet, but as he finished dressing for bed, he decided to capitalize on Juliette’s good humor as much as he could.

“She will be.” Juliette put her brush down and joined Roger in bed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Roger asked.

She snuggled herself up against him. “It means she’s been through a lot, but with the right kind of love and direction, I think she’ll end up just fine.” Juliette made their new guest sound like some kind of meringue pie that had to be treated just a certain way in order to turn out right in the end, but Roger didn’t say so. It didn’t matter. Juliette was herself again. She had eaten more than flimsy greens for dinner, she had a new project to invest her time and energy into, and she wasn’t constantly badgering Roger about going back to the hotel district. He breathed in deeply and shut his eyes.

Yes, life was good.