Read Online Recipes for a Perfect Marriage by Kate Kerrigan - Free Book Online

eyes were like lead, but as sleep began to pull me down into its velvet blackness, I suddenly felt something behind me. I sat up in the bed and called out in terror. My voice was so loud that I hardly recognized it, and that served to frighten me even more.
    James had climbed into the bed next to me. Although he was under the covers, I could see that his arms and shoulders were bare, which I took to mean he was naked. I did not know whether to laugh or cry, but I wasn’t afraid. The room was light and he was looking at me.
    His eyes were stuck on my face. Love being too much to hope for, he was searching for the finest thread of feeling. Evidence to prove there could be some comfort in being married to me. He would not have expected much after the year we had had together. Just enough to get him through that night. Enough warmth for him to hide in; enough spirit to hold him up; enough strength for him to cling to. He found nothing and I knew then that he had seen my disdain for him, and heard it in my voice when I cried out in shock.
    In that instant, I witnessed the depth of his grief. His face crumpled in on itself, and he turned his back to me. Our bed became a boat floating on the waves of his grief, as it rocked in rhythm with his sobbing. I might have lost patience, were these the petulant, self-pitying tears I was so familiar with in myself. But this was justified grief. He was a naked, rejected man unable to physically lift himself away from me, such was the power of his sorrow.
    I was afraid, not of what James might do, but of what I could not do. Afraid of my own coldheartedness. So afraid that I tried.
    I reached out my hand and I touched the top of his head. His hair was wiry and this surprised me. I had looked at it often and wondered, yet never touched it before. I had expected his body to freeze, as if a single innocent touch from me was enough to quell a mountain of passion. I was disappointed when he continued to cry. More than that, I wanted him to stop. I did not feel I was strong enough to bear witness to such pain. So I leaned across his back, and clumsily kissed the wet of his cheek.
    He turned on me suddenly and kissed me hungrily on the mouth. I felt betrayed, as if he had tricked love out of me by weeping for his dead mother. I knew that was not the case, but that was how it felt.
    When you are young, feelings are your truth; love is how you feel. The years have taught me that love is not an emotion that you feel about someone, but what you do for them, how you grow with them.
    That night I gave James my body. I did not give with the feeling or the passion I had given to Michael Tuffy. Although I choose not to remember it now, I probably did not give with much good grace. But I gave.
    In the years that came after, I never told him I felt only pity in my heart for him that first night. That truth was hard and I knew it would hurt him, so I kept it to myself. I compromised my own truth for his.
    Yet the truth is not always as it seems. Many years afterwards, James told me that the person I had called out for in my fear had been him.

Honey Cake
    Although I always had a sweet tooth, I never liked honey until I ran clean out of sugar one day and tried this.
    Mix 1 tablespoon corn flour, 2 teaspoons baking powder, and 1lb flour and set aside. Cream together about 5oz butter with just short of a full jar of honey. Gradually add the dry ingredients, along with 3 eggs beaten into a ¼ pint milk, until the mixture is smooth and creamy. You can add 1 teaspoon of vanilla, or cinnamon to taste—but I always preferred it plain. Turn into a greased loaf tin and cook in a medium hot oven for up to 1½ hours.

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    Replacing sugar with honey may seem like a straight swap, but it isn’t as simple as that. Honey works best when used with sugar, not instead of it. Sugar does the hard work of sweetening, and honey acts as the top note. Of course, a lot depends on the honey—and as with all ingredients, some are better