If this were a horror story, the creamer I pour into my coffee would swirl and curdle into the form of a skull. Ted would walk into the kitchen, ask what was wrong, his voice oddly flat, and when I look up, his eyes would be vacant and cold.

But none of that happened. The creamer swirled, yes, but didn’t curdle or take on a malevolent shape of any kind. Ted did wander into the kitchen, hair a muss, yawning loudly before sighing happily, saying, “You made coffee.” He then shuffled over to the cabinet above the sink to take out his favorite “I’m a fucking ray of sunshine” mug. Yawned again. Poured a cup. He looked up and grinned, “You are a goddess.” He walked over to join me at the small table in front of the large window that overlooked our yard. He leaned down, kissed my cheek with a loud smooch then sat beside me and said, “and I don’t mean that in the one-size-fits-all Mumu and big chunky necklace kind of way.” 

If this were a horror story, I’d look up to see his face morph, just for a second, into a hollow cheeked, grey skinned, ghoul.  

It didn’t. He was waiting for a response, his eyebrows raised, drawing deep lines across his forehead. He’s aging, I noticed. Thought, not for the first time, we’ve been married a very long time.

I waited too long to reply, but answered, “I am a goddess, nice of you to notice.”  I smiled before reaching for the newspaper that lay in front of me.

He smirked before raising his mug and taking a sip of coffee. He groaned in pleasure, eyes closed, savoring the first taste of the start of a day off. A bright, seventy-two-degree Sunday morning—the day stretching out before him. No hour-long commute to the pressing concerns, looming phone calls, and demanding clients that came with the job he hated but had wanted and chosen. But he was in too deep and paid far too much to leave now. I still wasn’t certain of what he did since when I asked he’d joke and say spy or “what’s there to know? I’m an insurance salesman.” The latter being somewhat true, though with a large office in Denver, one in Lloyd’s futuristic building in London, and another in Bermuda, he wasn’t selling life insurance.

If this were a horror story, He’d scowl slightly and peer into his cup. “Is this flavored coffee? Smells like…almonds?” Would take another sip, testing, squint at me before saying “a little bitter.”

“Wanted to try something new. It’s better with creamer and sugar,” I’d say casually, sliding the small pitcher to him, not looking up from the paper.

He’d shrug and add the creamer, reach for the sugar bowl, add a generous spoonful.  Then he would empty the mug with two swallows, lick his lips and say “You’re right. Different. Not bad.”

Instead, he quietly savored the black coffee, smiled to himself, watched a doe and her yearling, frequent visitors to our tasty and terribly expensive landscaping. He doesn’t mind their grazing. He’s just pleased he is here, not in London or Bermuda, but surveying his acreage, his land, his kingdom in the heart of the mountains, easy walk into the trails he’s cleared to connect with the ones that wind, for what seems like endless miles, through the adjacent public game lands.

If this were a horror story, he would lightly slap a hand on the table before standing. “I’m going to hike all day! Want to join me?” 

“Oh, not today, my love, I’ve planned a bit of gardening, perhaps some cooking,” I’d answer.

“Okay, your loss,” he’d say, taking a deep breath of the fresh air coming in through the open windows. “It’s a perfect day.”

If this were a horror story, I’d purposely fail to remind him that it was Sunday and hunters would, likely, be out practicing on small game to sight their rifles in preparation for the upcoming hunting season. 

However, I continued reading the travel section of the Sunday New York Times. He flew all over the world on a regular basis for work. I, on the other hand, rarely went anywhere except for the occasional trip to New York to see my family, to visit my city, my old life, my friends from a past career. 

He noticed and reached over to place a warm hand on my shoulder. “We’ll take a trip this winter, after I wrap up some things and have a little time.  Spain? Paris? The Christmas Market in Stockholm? Anywhere you want, I promise.” He leaned over to kiss me and then stood. Would you mind if I went for a wander? I want to soak up some quiet before I leave for my work-trip tomorrow.”

“Of course not,” I said, looking up, finally lifting my eyes from the paper to meet his hazel eyes. When we first met they captivated me with their seemingly ever-changing hue from green to grey to brown. 

It didn’t take a moment for him to turn around, hum as he walked down the hall to change into, what I called, alternately, his gentleman farmer or Lord of the Manner costume.

If this were a horror story, a voice would whisper in my ear. “Text that agreeable fellow you met last week. The biker.  The one who readily took you up on your job offer.” I’d nod. I’d trust the voice, even though I would not know who it was, where it came from, or even when it had started. “Make the spice cake he loves,” it would add, “in case you need a backup.”

Expectantly, Ted kissed me as though he was leaving for some unknown land and did not know when or if he’d return.  I had to, playfully, push him away. “Go now, enjoy yourself. “

He started for the door, stopped briefly, said, “If you’re going to bake, be sure to have a treat for me when I come home.” 

I smiled. “Of course.”

He finally headed off toward the woods, happier than I had seen him in years. So much so that I saw, for the first time in a very long time, the boy I fell in love with, the one for whom I would give up everything. And did.

If this were a horror story my phone would quietly vibrate in my back-pocket, indicating the receipt of a text. “When?”

I’d respond, “An hour.”

I headed to the basement pantry where we store our bulk household purchases—the usual toilet paper, paper towels, cleaning supplies, and the like. I retrieved the small box stored behind all of that—for the second time today. 

If this were a horror story—

I had some baking to do.