Read Online His Wife for a While by Donna Fasano - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Donna Fasano
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction
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give us a chance to spend a little time together today."
"But your work..." she protested.
He shrugged. "It's Saturday. I deserve some time off. I really would like to spend some time with you." Then a little hesitantly he added, "If you don't mind."
She dipped her head so he couldn't see her face and he fought the urge to reach out and tilt up her chin with his fingertips.
"I don't mind," she murmured.
Ben's spirit soared and he felt he'd somehow won a small battle.
Half an hour later, Ben watched his wife kneel close to May's fireplace and look up into the dark recesses of the chimney.
"I swear I don't see anything." Her voice was muffled.
"Maybe it flew out already," May said. "I haven't heard anything for a while."
"Could be." Ben stood beside the mantle trying to keep his eyes on his aunt, but Chelsea 's shapely rear end sticking out of the fireplace opening was like a magnet.
Chelsea thumped on the inside wall of the chimney. "There he is!" she called. She ducked out of the fireplace. "I can see him now, but he's too far up for me to reach. It's a bird and it's perched on the edge of a rough brick or something up there and he's not moving. I hope he's not hurt."
Her face was so intent. She swiped at her bangs and smudged her temple with the creosote that stained her fingers. She's a beautiful woman, Ben thought. The observation entered his head in such a natural manner that it surprised him.
"I'll go up on the roof…"
"No, you won't," he cut her off. "I'll climb up there."
"Maybe if we leave him alone, the little bugger will just fly out," May said.
Chelsea shook her head. "He can't, May. Birds fly on air currents. They can't maneuver like a helicopter, flying straight up. No, he's stuck all right."
"I'll see if I can reach it from the roof," Ben offered.
"You'd better take a broom or something with a long handle," Chelsea said. "If you can't reach him, you'll have to nudge him off his perch and I'll try to catch him down here in the hearth."
"I'm glad I called you," May commented. "It sounds like you've done this before.''
"Actually, I haven't," she said. "But I did watch it being done once. I'll be careful, I promise."
Ben positioned the ladder against the side of the house and climbed the rungs with May's best straw broom in one hand, a flashlight tucked in his pocket. He carefully crawled onto the gritty asphalt roof tiles, stood up and made his way to where the brick chimney rose above the house.
Peering down into the flue, Ben decided he needed the flashlight. He directed the beam and quickly found a small owl perched inside the chimney.
"I see it," he called down to Chelsea . "It's an owl. Small one. A baby, maybe."
"Can you reach it?"
He stuck his arm inside as far as he could and felt along the sides of the flue, then pulled his hand free.
"Damn." Wrinkling his nose, he called down, "Chels, tell May it's time to have her chimney cleaned."
The sound of Chelsea's light laughter filtered up toward him and he stopped short. Granted, it hadn't been much of a laugh, hardly a chuckle really, but he realized that this had been the first time he'd ever heard it. He found the sound of it delightful and wanted badly to hear it again.
"I'm a mess." He directed his statement so she could hear.
He was rewarded with another tinkling of her laughter and she said, "Welcome to the club."
His chest filled with a warmth he would have thought impossible when it came to Chelsea . And he found it a marvelous revelation.
"I'm going to use the broom handle," Ben said.
"Gently, Ben," she called softly. "Please remember that he's scared, and he's probably hurt."
Ever so slowly, he lowered the broom, handle side down, into the flue. It took only a tiny nudge. The owl gave a frightened shriek and plummeted into the blackness.
There was a commotion of flapping wings and screeches from the bird, and Ben's heart hammered in his chest when he heard Chelsea scream.
" Chelsea ?"
She didn't answer.
When she
"But your work..." she protested.
He shrugged. "It's Saturday. I deserve some time off. I really would like to spend some time with you." Then a little hesitantly he added, "If you don't mind."
She dipped her head so he couldn't see her face and he fought the urge to reach out and tilt up her chin with his fingertips.
"I don't mind," she murmured.
Ben's spirit soared and he felt he'd somehow won a small battle.
Half an hour later, Ben watched his wife kneel close to May's fireplace and look up into the dark recesses of the chimney.
"I swear I don't see anything." Her voice was muffled.
"Maybe it flew out already," May said. "I haven't heard anything for a while."
"Could be." Ben stood beside the mantle trying to keep his eyes on his aunt, but Chelsea 's shapely rear end sticking out of the fireplace opening was like a magnet.
Chelsea thumped on the inside wall of the chimney. "There he is!" she called. She ducked out of the fireplace. "I can see him now, but he's too far up for me to reach. It's a bird and it's perched on the edge of a rough brick or something up there and he's not moving. I hope he's not hurt."
Her face was so intent. She swiped at her bangs and smudged her temple with the creosote that stained her fingers. She's a beautiful woman, Ben thought. The observation entered his head in such a natural manner that it surprised him.
"I'll go up on the roof…"
"No, you won't," he cut her off. "I'll climb up there."
"Maybe if we leave him alone, the little bugger will just fly out," May said.
Chelsea shook her head. "He can't, May. Birds fly on air currents. They can't maneuver like a helicopter, flying straight up. No, he's stuck all right."
"I'll see if I can reach it from the roof," Ben offered.
"You'd better take a broom or something with a long handle," Chelsea said. "If you can't reach him, you'll have to nudge him off his perch and I'll try to catch him down here in the hearth."
"I'm glad I called you," May commented. "It sounds like you've done this before.''
"Actually, I haven't," she said. "But I did watch it being done once. I'll be careful, I promise."
Ben positioned the ladder against the side of the house and climbed the rungs with May's best straw broom in one hand, a flashlight tucked in his pocket. He carefully crawled onto the gritty asphalt roof tiles, stood up and made his way to where the brick chimney rose above the house.
Peering down into the flue, Ben decided he needed the flashlight. He directed the beam and quickly found a small owl perched inside the chimney.
"I see it," he called down to Chelsea . "It's an owl. Small one. A baby, maybe."
"Can you reach it?"
He stuck his arm inside as far as he could and felt along the sides of the flue, then pulled his hand free.
"Damn." Wrinkling his nose, he called down, "Chels, tell May it's time to have her chimney cleaned."
The sound of Chelsea's light laughter filtered up toward him and he stopped short. Granted, it hadn't been much of a laugh, hardly a chuckle really, but he realized that this had been the first time he'd ever heard it. He found the sound of it delightful and wanted badly to hear it again.
"I'm a mess." He directed his statement so she could hear.
He was rewarded with another tinkling of her laughter and she said, "Welcome to the club."
His chest filled with a warmth he would have thought impossible when it came to Chelsea . And he found it a marvelous revelation.
"I'm going to use the broom handle," Ben said.
"Gently, Ben," she called softly. "Please remember that he's scared, and he's probably hurt."
Ever so slowly, he lowered the broom, handle side down, into the flue. It took only a tiny nudge. The owl gave a frightened shriek and plummeted into the blackness.
There was a commotion of flapping wings and screeches from the bird, and Ben's heart hammered in his chest when he heard Chelsea scream.
" Chelsea ?"
She didn't answer.
When she
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