A Long and Lonely Mile

Chapter 17

Marigold stumbled into the kitchen, a large stack of papers in one hand and a noisy paperclip-filled mason jar in the other. She took a quick sip of coffee and proceeded to categorize and clip the papers accordingly. She assumed that Tavington was sleeping in the guest room and tried to work as quietly possible. Once the task was complete, she pulled five paper folders from her tote and started to place the papers inside- neatly, obsessively. The noise of Moxie's feet clattering against the hard floor gave away his entrance to the kitchen. He embraced Marigold warmly from behind.

"You should have asked me to make your coffee, Darling," as his arms pulled around her, Marigold noticed that he wasn't in his bed clothes at all.

She turned, preparing to kiss him good morning and to argue in favor of making her own coffee, so long as he was acclimating to his treatments and medications. He was dressed very handsomely, just as she had suspected- dark jeans, dark boots and a freshly ironed blue button down. As Marigold smoothed her hands across his dark hair, still damp from being cleaned, something delightful and memory-evoking filled her nose.

"I see you found my essential oils collection," she grinned, locating the exact spot on his neck where the fragrant patchouli oil had been dabbed and was still drying.

"I chose the one that you were running the lowest on- your most loved out of the bunch, I hope you don't mind the intrusion."

She kissed his cheek and breathed deeply, "Have you ever noticed that it smells like just about every other store on Main Street?"

"I have. I assume you're fond of it because it smells like home to you."

"Don't ever stop wearing it," Marigold whispered in his ear, working the damp smudge of patchouli into his hairline, "my past should be yours, too. Seeing as I have already given you my present and my future."

His eyes dropped to the project on the counter that Marigold had been working on. "What's this?"

"Resumes," she said casually, "I am going to have to take on two- maybe three jobs depending on the hours that they have available. Don't give me that look. It's a blessing in disguise," she opened a folder and started to move through the pages, "see? This one is for the flower shop! And here's one for the record shop! And this one... this one is for the music store, I could even give piano lessons or teach voice, if they'll have me, of course..."

He directed her hand away from the papers, kissing her knuckles softly. "It's because of my medical expenses, isn't it?"

"It's because we're a team. We help one another out. I don't want you to worry about working right now, I just want you to be comfortable and happy. I want to take care of you, William. Now... are you going to tell me what the occasion is?"

"We're going to the theatre today, remember? The matinee of "Our Town"? If we leave now, we'll still have plenty of time to get there."

Marigold retreated to her papers, "Are you sure? I understand how maddening it is- being cooped up all week. There are plenty of things for us to do close by..." the look on his face won her over. "But since you got all dressed up. Who am I to argue?"

She hated the idea of revisiting Charleston, especially on the one-week anniversary of his diagnosis. They struggled to find their way back to the mindset that they were in before it happened. Discussion of the untimely winter weather barely cut it. What saved them and their rapport was the excitement of being able to share their mutual love for theatre. Marigold and Tavington regaled themselves with tales of their days on stage for most of the drive. The mention of Tommy Martin's constant heckling of Giselle's performances slowed their conversation down slightly.