Sarah is in her crib, happily grabbing at her toes as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world. Seeing the two of them warms my heart.
I snap my fingers softly and watch as the toys are sent back to their designated places. My magic has returned to its original form, without the assistance of the pendant I worried it would be as unpredictable as before, but I seem to have even more control.
Going over to Sarah, I pick her up and she nestles into me on instinct. I begin to hum her a lullaby I used to sing to myself when the nights were long and lonely. We sway together, lost in a melancholy melody.
“I get to stay, little Sarah.” I whisper to her dark curls she’s pressed against my cheek. “I get to stay.”
BARRETT
“Where are we going?” Marigold’s hand is snuggly fit into mine. Winter is fast approaching, and I can almost smell the threat of snow hanging in the clouds.
“You’ll see.”
She giggles into my shoulder, keeping close to ward off the icy wind that whips along the narrow streets. I’ve taken this route many times and can almost walk there in my sleep. Fog nips at our heels, parting with each step we take.
Birds of all types swoop above us staying close as they flitter about from tree to tree.
“You ever notice that birds seem to follow us sometimes?” I ask, pulling her tighter against me.
She looks up into the air. “Well, would you look at that. They must like us.”
“Hmm. They must.” I say with a frown, wondering why so many different bird species could be mixing at this time of year.
With the party coming up, Marigold and I haven’t’ been able to spend much time together. Decisions about linens and caterers have filled my evenings, and my days I’ve spent locked at the office. Getting reacquainted with my work has left me hardly a moment to spare for anything else. I’ve missed her fiercely.
Marigold is still looking after the children during the day, as I’ve yet to broach the topic of hiring another governess. I don’t want her to feel as if she’s being replaced. The decision of course, will remain up to her on whether or not we will have need of one. Most of my colleagues’ wives prefer to hire out, but Marigold might have other ideas. I know how much she cares for the children and they in turn, have taken quite the liking to her as well. Seeing them together fitting so seamlessly is a balm to my heart. Especially after learning they aren’t technically mine. It’s a good thing this Admiral Boone is only at port once a year, or I’d gladly put him in the ground to join my ex-wife.
We come into view of the place I’ve decided to take Marigold. It might not be a conventional idea, but I need to say my peace with the woman who has caused me so much pain, while the woman who embodies my every happiness stands beside me.
“The cemetery?” Marigold’s eyebrows shoot up, but she makes no objections as we walk the worn path to where my wife’s body is buried.
With it being so close to dusk, the place is deserted. Nothing but the ghosts and birds lining the trees to bear witness to our promenade. As we walk, Marigold’s fingers drag along some of the larger headstones. There are many neglected plots, headstones crumbling into the dirt. Seeing them in that state always brings a pang to my chest, knowing that one day not long from now, I will join them. And eventually, the people who remember me will no longer come to pay their respects. My name becoming one of many that people might pass and wonder who I was.
We reach the final stone, close to the edge of the graveyard. Harriet’s name stares back at me, etched into stone, only this time that I see it I’m not consumed with grief and assaulted with her last moments. No, this time I want to tear her headstone to pieces with my bare hands.
Marigold’s fingers squeeze mine and I let out a frustrated breath. Anger courses through my body for how she deceived me for so long. Years of our life that I’d thought were full of happiness were nothing but a carefully constructed illusion. How did I miss it? Were there signs that another man had been inside of my wife? Been loving her as fiercely as I loved her. When did their affair even start? I chide myself for being so blind to the truth.
Looking down at the dirt the realization that I put her here hits me and yet not an ounce of regret lingers. Maybe that makes me a monster. No better than the woman who betrayed me. In the end we betrayed each other.
“I needed to come here one last time. I needed closure and to put this part of my life behind me.”
Marigold nods and takes my face in her hands which are surprisingly warm. Her thumb tracks a tear I didn’t realize had escaped my eye.
“I don’t know why I’m crying.” I try to stop it, but more escape. Suddenly, her lips are mine and I hoist her against me, losing myself in her sweetness. I give myself over to the feel of her plush lips and find myself unbuttoning my trousers in desperate need of release. She pushes me back and begins to unlace her front. Frustrated, her fingers pull to no avail.
“Here, let me.” I say but she takes a step back.
“I’ve got it.” She snaps her fingers, and wind whips against my face as I see from my periphery the birds from the trees take off. Two black birds swoop down seemingly hitting her in the chest. I go to shoo them off, but realize belatedly, that they’re helping her. I shrug out of my shirt, as the birds go about removing her clothes.
Within seconds, her bodice is ripped open before me, breasts heaving, and nipples pebbled from the cold. “You are a marvel to behold, Marigold.” I take a step towards her, needing the feel of her around me.
I watch as this magical, magnificent woman lays back on top of my ex-wife’s grave and lifts her skirts for me. I kneel between her legs taking in her beauty, working my throbbing cock with my hand.
“You want me to take you right here?” I ask running the tip of my cock through her wetness.
She nods enthusiastically, her hair covering the name of the woman who used to mean the world to me. Her fingers grip into the damp earth as I press myself into her. Rocking my hips forward, I sheath myself completely into her with a gasp. I relish our depravity. There’s something so wrong and right about fucking her on this grave. As if I’m showing Harriet that I’ve moved on. A final fuck you to her memory. An act of desecration in this place of remembrance to mark the closure of one chapter and the beginning of another.
Marigold’s legs wrap around my back pushing to take me even deeper. “Use me.” She cries out. “Use my body to forget about her.” And I do. I take her hard, setting a punishing pace out here in the cold, like a man crazed or possessed. Leaning over her, I kiss her plush lips, feeling her bare skin against mine.
