"They Call Us Gypsies" (closed)

Grace stood there for a moment as Harold announced that they needed her back at Jason's house. She knew that there would be trouble when he told them that the Sheriff and Jake were waiting for her. Of course Jake was involved in all of this. She should have known that he was there to take her back home. He wouldn't have sent her father earlier or the Sheriff now if he hadn't meant business.

"Then I suppose I have to go." Grace said softly as she stepped down from the vardo, looking between Gregor and Harold. "Sheriff Barlow won't let anything happen to me."

At least, she hoped that the Sheriff wouldn't let anything happen to her. He was a kind man from what she had gathered from her brief time knowing him. Jake had never said anything about him that would lead her to believe that he was bad in any way.

"You're welcome to come with me." She murmured, glancing at Gregor. "To assure yourself that it's alright."

By the time that Grace made her way to the house with Gregor and Harold in tow, she could see Inga on the back steps, smoking heavily. She was stressed, glancing towards the open kitchen door from time to time. She had a small pile of cigarettes in front of her, all smoked and then crushed beneath her heel. As soon as she spotted her cousin, she shook her head no.

"If that judge sees you here, he'll throw you in jail." Inga said without any preamble or introduction. "He's made it clear that he wants us all to be thrown in jail tonight. Jason is doing his best to calm the situation down, but it seems that he only wants to see her."

Grace suddenly felt the weight of the world on her shoulders as she heard that. Jake was making this entire fuss because she had walked away from the house the day before. It didn't seem fair, but she quietly promised herself that she would make everything right if it were possible.

"Just stay out here. I'll take care of it." Grace promised to the three Romani, mounting the steps and entering the kitchen.

She could hear discussion in the parlor near the front of the house and she quietly entered, pausing as the Sheriff stood to greet her properly. "Sheriff." Grace said softly, looking to Jason and then to Jake. "What brings you out here this late in the evening?"
 
Gregor had wanted to argue against Grace returning to the house -- returning to him -- but Harold had pulled him aside and quietly reminded him that Jake was a local Judge and that the Sheriff was waiting as well. As much as it broke Gregor, he knew there was no other choice. With the Law at the gate, in a manner of speaking, this was no longer about he himself. This was about the Family. And he couldn't risk having them run off again because of his lust -- albeit likely love this time -- for a woman he'd only just met.

And then there was Inga.

Although she might not have believed it, he was both paying attention and paying heed to her situation with their landlord, Jason. During the day, as Gregor had been entertaining Grace by turning her into a gypsy for a day, he'd heard about Jason's request for Inga's hand, about the alpaca fiber fibra de inel ring he'd presented Gregor's cousin, and -- causing him to laugh so hard he cried -- the nearly six hours of cât timp îl putem conduce înainte să realizeze că ne-o tragem cu capul lui.

Gregor wasn't going to mess this up for Inga. He couldn't. It would destroy her, and -- knowing it was fully his fault -- Gregor wouldn't never again be able to face her. He'd looked up to Grace with glazed over eyes, hesitated a long moment, then reluctantly offered her hand down from his vardo for their slow walk to the house.

He heeded Inga's warning to remain out in the yard as Grace entered to deal with the others, but before his love interest ascended the stairs Gregor pulled her into the dark behind the tall porch's edge, grasped her face in both hands, and pressed a kiss to her lips. It wasn't erotic: lips closed, tongues at bay. But it was passionate. When he pulled away from her, Gregor took three or four steps back, fearful that any moment he was going to clasp one of her hands and pull her away into the night with him.

Grace ascended to the porch, telling them...
"Just stay out here. I'll take care of it."

As she was entering the home's back door, Gregor began to do just as he feared he would. He started for the steps, getting only halfway to them before Harold stepped before him. The Romani who was bigger, stronger, and meaner than the Family's premiere fisticuffs fighter stopped the man not with might but with words. "She needs to do this. You know that. Say it, Gregor."

Gregor turned away to look into the night, feeling the first of several tears of the night leave his eyes and stick in the stubble of his two day growth. He drew and released a couple of breaths before saying to the dark world, "Grace needs to do this. I need to let her do this."

He was surprised to find the big lumbering Romani close to his side a moment later without a sound. Harold told him, "We will watch her. We will keep her safe. But ... you, Gregor ... you have to stay away from her. Do you understand? They will shoot you. They won't hesitate."

Harold was right, of course. And Gregor didn't even inquire as to who the they was of whom he was speaking. Jake? The Sheriff? The townsfolk who had shunned the carnavale and would bring violence to the Romani simply because they saw them as a threat?


******************​


Jason stood near the kitchen counter where he had made coffee for the other men accompanying him. He turned at the sound of Grace's fashionable boots on the hardwood floor. He eyed her for a moment, then smiled in delight at the sight of a single thin braid that she either had left in her hair intentionally or not realized she remained. He looked to his brother for his reaction to the new look. Jake had donned a cool, calm expression out in the field near the gate earlier -- the moment he'd realized that he'd won -- and that stone faced look hadn't changed since.

"Sheriff."

Barlow Barker was sitting at the kitchen table with Jake, and while the latter's cup of coffee was still full to the brim, the Sheriff had nearly finished his mug of steaming brew and was ready for a second. He smiled politely to Grace, stood to offer the cup to Jason as he kindly asked for more, then turned to walk slowly toward Grace.

"Good evening, Missus Townsend," Barlow said with a polite tone. He offered a hand to her, telling her, "Thank you for meeting us on such short notice. We should talk. Would you like to sit?"

Barlow wouldn't have been surprised if Grace didn't want to sit opposite the table from her husband, but he pulled a chair out for her anyway. He himself moved to the back door, looking out to the gypsy woman still standing on the porch and the two men on the ground beyond it. He smiled to them politely, then slowly closed the door and turned back to the others.

"Missus Townsend," he began with a soft but professional tone, "I don't pretend to understand all that had been taking place in my town over the past couple of days ... between the townsfolk and the gypsies ... between you and your husband ... between your husband and his brother."

"Get to it," Jake said in a volume so low that it took Jason a moment to realize that the other Townsend male had spoken them. When the Sheriff looked his way, Jake added with a bit more volume, "Give them the papers. If you don't mind, I would like to take my wife home ... where she belongs."
 
“The aren’t harming anything, Sheriff.” Grace said softly as she took the offered seat, glancing towards Jake as he muttered at them to simply get it over with. “I promise that they aren’t the lying, thieving, whoring kind ofmpeople that you might assume they are. Things like that have happened, but they’re simply a large family that needs a place to stay for a while.”

“And just how would you know?” Jake asked across the table, leaning forward to rest his elbow against the table, staring at his runaway wife.

“I spent time with them today. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Grace answered, looking at Jake for a long moment before she turned back to the Sheriff. “As far as what’s going on between my husband and myself...there have been some things that have occurred that I don’t agree with. However, I do want to try and make things work. I simply don’t feel safe going back home until he learns to control his temper.”

She had said that out loud, in front of an officer of the law, in front of her brother in law, in front of her husband. She even looked over at Jake as those words lingered uncomfortably in the quiet room. No one even seemed to breathe as they each waited for the other to make the first move. It was Grace that caved first.

“If I agreed to come home on a trial basis within the week, would you ignore the paperwork you’ve drawn up?” Grace asked Jake, knowing that she was trying to broker a deal that couldn’t have a good outcome.
 
The Sheriff looked to the folder sitting in the middle of the table. He'd shown the papers with all the writs, warrants, and as-of-yet unsubstantiated charged to Jason as the group waited for Grace's return, explaining that while he didn't personally feel that the gypsies had yet overstayed their welcome, it was only a matter of time. "They need to go. Tonight ... this will be their last night of carnival.

"Carnavale," Jason had corrected the man, using the accented word Inga had taught him during the cool down period after one of their energetic fuck session. He'd gone on to argue on behalf of the Romani, pointing out all the good they had done: shows and games for the kids, unique arts and crafts and fashion for the womenfolk, sports games and a bit of harmless gambling for the men.

"Tents full of whores and sight stealing gin," Jake had interrupted with a softly spoken voice. After a moment of silence in which Jason had been unsure of what to say, Jake had looked up to his off-guard brother and asked with a calm, cool tone, "Does she take your cock into her mouth?"

Barlow Barker had had to use his outside voice and his larger than life presence in between the two to get them let the conversation end, waiting for Grace to arrive, and for the next many minutes, they had. Now, with Grace negotiating a deal, the Sheriff looked back to the papers

Now, after Grace began her negotiation, Barlow felt confident that the night was going to end without him having to manhandle or even cuff someone and toss them into the back of Ford with his Deputy, who had been standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen quietly watching the goings-on.

Then, Jake just had to push things. He looked across the table to his wife and asked with just a hint of anger, "Did you take that man's cock into your mouth ... Missus Townsend?"
 
The words from her husband’s lips were designed to hurt, to damage, to make her feel embarrassed. Grace stared at him as he asked if she had sucked Gregor’s cock, spitting her married name at her with a calm, venemous control.

“No.” Grace said softly. “Did you?”

Again, the room settled into uncomfortable silence as Jake settled back in his chair. He was as smart as they came, cultured and highly educated, but Grace could scrap with the best of them if she had to.
 
Jason's eyes had opened in horror at his brother's question, but when Grace snapped back with her answer, he had to turn his head away as a smile spread his lips and his entire being threatened to tremble with the laughter that threatened yet didn't escape.

"Okay, okay, I think..." Barlow cut in quickly, not sure of what he'd actually been wanting to say but hoping that his reemergence in the conversation would cool things down. He stepped back to the table's edge, looking to Grace. "Missus Townsend ... it's time for you to go home to your husband."

Jason's humor quickly left him as he called out, "Sheriff, I think--"

"I don't care..." Barlow cut in, looking over his shoulder at the farmer, to finish, "...what you think, Mister Townsend. With all due respect and all ... this isn't about you at the moment."

The Sheriff turned back to the redhead and continued, "Grace will return to her husband's home ... where she will be safe and secure--"

He looked to Jake, who had returned to his emotional stone face as he stared hard at his wife. "--because her husband will show her the respect she is due ... and because my Deputy and I will be making twice daily visits to the home until I am satisfied that we are all just one big happy family again."

He looked between the two of them, asking, "How does that work for the two of you?"

Jake gave his answer by standing from his chair, turning his back, and heading away, saying without looking back, "I'll be waiting in the car, Sheriff. My car."

He practically pushed the Deputy out of the way. Behind him, Jason was eying Grace, wondering what her answer was going to be. He was pretty sure of it already: she had, after all, set the terms.

Before she spoke, though, Barlow continued, "I will file away the papers the judge presented me ... for now ... and, if there are no serious issues with the gyp-- with the Romani ... I will leave them filed away for now. Is this acceptable ... Grace?"

He asked the last question with obvious sympathy in his voice. He didn't like the gypsies anymore than the townsfolk who had shunned the carnavale over the past few nights. But, he was a law man, and he had laws to uphold. There had been complaints about things disappearing from stores, homes, and ranches since the Romani arrived, but no one had been able to identify any one gypsy who might have been responsible, so...

"Grace...?" Barlow repeated softly.
 
She had to go home. The Sheriff would make sure that she went home. He would come and make sure that she was safe in Jake’s care as well. She wasn’t so sure that was possible, but she had little choice in the matter as he said that he wouldn’t arrest anyone that night. She just simply had to go home.

“Alright.” She said softly, standing from her spot and looking at Jason. “I’ll gather my things tomorrow.”

She then turned and looked at the Sheriff and his deputy, nodding to the door where Jake had left just a few moments before. “Shall we?”
 
“I’ll gather my things tomorrow.”

"I'll bring them," Jason quickly chimed in concerning Grace's things, which were currently mostly upstairs. He looked between his brother's wife and the Sheriff and clarified, "I want to check in on Grace ... if that's okay with you, Sheriff Barker."

"Ten o'clock ... I'll meet you there," Barlow agreed after considering the request for a moment. Then, leaning in a bit as if to emphasize his words, he told Jason, "You will wait for me outside on the street. Is that understood?"

Jason nodded his acknowledgment, then looked to Grace. She asked the law man...
“Shall we?”

Jason could only follow behind the pair -- led outside by the Deputy -- worrying as they went about what was going to happen once Grace was no longer under the watchful eye of himself, the Sheriff, or even the Romani who had shown so much care and concern for her. Jason contemplated Gregor as he reached the front porch, wondering just what there actually was between the gypsy and Jake's wife. Jason himself had been so consumed with being near Inga that he hadn't witnessed much of the other couple's time together. All he knew about them was what he'd gleaned from the other Romani, and Jason had learned very quickly that they -- and even Inga at times -- could be very closed lipped about one another's activities, be they personal or professional.

Jake opened the passenger side door of his Model T for his wife, but the Sheriff gently reached out to take Grace's elbow, saying loud enough for both, "How about I give Missus Townsend a ride home. Deputy Parker, why don't you ride with Jake ... give him someone to chat with on the ride home."

Even from the porch, fifty some odd feet away, Jason could see his brother's jaws clench at the suggestion. But Jake only left the door open and moved to the driver's door, telling the Deputy, "Crank it."

Movement to his left caught Jason's attention, and looking down the length of the porch to just behind the arborvitae hedge, he caught sight of Gregor watching from the shadows. Jason looked for Inga but didn't see her, wondering whether she was simply out of sight or in the house or back at the carnavale. He hoped the latter wasn't true: he needed to hold her close to him to prevent this night from simply tearing him apart.
 
Grace was surprised when the Sheriff stopped her, holding her elbow as he suggested that she ride with him and the deputy would take her place. Jake said nothing, his entire body going tense before he simply told the other man to crank the car. Grace allowed the Sheriff to escort her to his car, helping her inside before he got himself situated. Glancing across the lawn, she saw Jason waiting on the porch, glancing towards the bushes where she also saw Gregor. There was nothing she could really do in that moment. The Sheriff was doing what he thought was best, making her go home to preserve the greater good from the temper of her husband. It hurt, like a punch deep to the belly. However, she had given up her soul a long time ago in order to help her family. This was simply something else she was giving up to help others.

Inga soon appeared at Jason’s side, watching the scene silently next to the man she was going to marry. “He’ll kill her one day. Whether killing her physically or spiritually, he’ll have her blood on his hands.”
 
Jason flinched at the unexpected though not unwelcome appearance of Inga next to him.

“He’ll kill her one day. Whether killing her physically or spiritually, he’ll have her blood on his hands.”

"I won't let that happen," Jason murmured. He meant it, though honestly he had no idea how he could prevent it. He slipped his arm around Inga's back, looked to Gregor again, then nodded Inga's attention to her cousin. He said with a meaningful tone, "He won't let that happen."


************************​


When he realized that Grace had caught sight of him, Gregor lifted his hand in an unmoving gesture, hoping it would reassure her that he was still there for her ... still there to protect her. As he watched, the Sheriff cranked his Ford to life, got behind the wheel, and headed it off after the vehicle already heading away down the road. There was nothing Gregor could do for Grace. Not now, anyway.

He looked up to the porch in time to see both Jason and Inga looking his way. They stared at one another in a meaningful silence before Gregor took one last look at the tiny disappearing taillights, then turned away toward the carnavale.


************************​


The farm house was barely out of view behind them when Barlow told Grace, "I have no plans of running the ... Romani out of the county. So long as they don't become an issue."

He looked to his right, catching Grace's face in the bright glow of the moon setting low over the distant mountains before them. He asked her with a serious tone, "Are they going to become an issue?"


************************​


In the farmhouse's kitchen, Jason pulled open a cupboard and removed a bottle. He turned to find Inga looking at the Țuică with recognition. He told her with a laugh and a low voice, "Gift from one of your Family members ... for painting the underside of their vardo with sealant."

He reached to his hair and tugged at a tangle. "Still got some of it in my hair."

Jason stared at the bottle for a moment, contemplating. He wasn't a stranger to alcohol, but Jason had never been the type to find solutions to his problems at the bottom of a bottle of it.


************************​


In the middle of the ring, Gregor stood over the man he'd knocked out with just his fifth punch. The crowd surrounding the rope roared; money exchanged hands; and Papa Don looked to Harold with an expression of disappointment.

Gregor had returned from the farmhouse, changed into his boxing pants, and begun walking about the carnavale announcing that he was taking on all comers. Fisticuffs matches weren't scheduled this evening, seeing how most of Papa Don's regular fighters had been drawn away to the farm house. And yet before Papa Don knew what was happening, half a dozen potential opponents and a flood of fans had filled the Big Tent.

The man being carried out of the ring while Gregor taunted other potential combatants was the second to hit the ground this evening. The typical odds that the Romani got on Gregor were no where to be found this night, now that all in attendance had concluded that the gypsy couldn't be beaten. And yet Gregor continued to ask for an opponent.

"I'll fight you!" a voice called out.

Gregor turned at the familiar voice, finding Harold stepping into the ring. The bigger Romani was already shedding his shirt, and at the sight of his massive, muscular torso the crowd went nuts with proposed bets. Gregor moved closer to Harold, asking, "What are you doing?"

"This is wrong," Harold told him, raising his clenched fist before him. "I understand, Gregor. You're hurting. But, this is wrong. There is another way to get your grief out."

Gregor didn't want a lecture. He wanted to hurt someone. He wanted to hurt Jacob Townsend. But without Jake here...

"You want to fight me?" he asked, lifting his fists, also clenched.

"No, I don't," Harold told him. "But if you're going to do this ... I will."

The two moved slowly about each other as the excitement continued amidst the crowd surrounding them. The Romani bet takers each looked to Papa Don for some sort of guidance. The Family's Patriarch considered the situation, knowing that he should prevent the fight. They had a way of doing that, of course: they had only to pull loose a single knot securing one of the key upright poles, and the whole tent would come down upon fighters and crowd alike.

Instead, Papa Don made a gesture familiar to the bet takers ... and calling out the odds, they began taking the biggest bets they'd seen in a long time ... on a victorious Harold the Hammer.
 
“They won’t be a problem.” Grace said, glancing over at the Sheriff. “I just hope that Jake won’t make them a problem. They might have taken a few things from town, but they’re harmless.”

Grace stared out the window as the farmhouse disappeared behind the scenery, the last vestige of her happiness going too. If Jake couldn’t learn to calm down, to loosen up, then she was sure it wouldn’t be long before she was seeking to escape again...perhaps this time for good.

“He paid my father to come out here earlier. I know he did.” Grace said softly, finally looking over at the other man. “And I’m sorry if he or my brother, Junior, have been in your hair. I wish Jake would quit stringing them along. He dangled a little bit of cash in front of them and then jerks it away when they do as he asks.”

Grace went very quiet then, wondering if she were brave enough to tell the Sheriff what had been happening that week. Jake had always had a temper, had raged at her in the past, but this was all very new. They hadn’t even been married seven months yet.

“If I needed you, can I call? I trust you to calm him down, Sheriff. I don’t know what has happened between the two of us recently, but I know this isn’t the life I want to live. He needs to see that, or I’ll leave again.” She didn’t add that she probably knew too much about Jake now for him to ever want to let her go.

“I never did anything with Gregor, no matter what Jake thinks. I’ve never done anything with anyone besides him. There’s no reason for this.” Grace wondered if there could be enough doubt sewed into the Sheriff’s brain to call a doctor or to have Jake examined.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Inga watched Jason move around the house in a haze. She knew how much Grace meant to him, as a former love interest and as a friend. There was little she could do to help him not think about what had happened just moments earlier. He stared at the bottle of liquor in his hands, the same liquor that could knock you on your ass if you weren’t careful in the Romani camp.

“Bring the bottle.” Inga’s murmured softly, motioning at him to follow her into the bedroom.

Once the door was shut, she turned and looked at Jason for a long moment. “We’ll drown your sorrows, in liquor and pleasure, so that you don’t brood in what happened. Then, when everything is done, I’ll let you place that ring on my finger and I’ll proudly wear it from this day on.”

She then pushed him to sit on the bed, the frame and mattess squeaking beneath him as Inga moved to straddle his legs, leaning in to kiss him with her soft, plush lips.
 
Barlow listened to Grace talk about her husband, and while he wished he could promise her that things would get better, the law man knew that the odds were against her. He'd seen so many of these situations, some not as bad and others horrific. And if he'd been asked to do so, Barlow doubted that he could name a single abusive man who had changed horses and suddenly become the ideal husband.

“If I needed you, can I call?"

He listened until Grace was finished, then reassured her that his earlier promise to stop by twice a day was real. Barlow knew that theirs was one of the small number of homes in town with phones, so he continued, "I am always only a call away. If I'm not there or the Deputy, Edith is, all hours of all days. And ... if it makes you feel safer ... I'll leave Deputy Parker out front of your house until you settle down for the night."

“I never did anything with Gregor, no matter what Jake thinks..."

When she finished talking about her relationship with the gypsy -- or lack thereof -- Barlow told her, "I believe you, Grace,"

They pulled up before the house to find the other police car parked out front as expected and the Deputy leaning back against it casually. Jake was nowhere to be seen. Barlow told Grace he would walk her to the door and -- regardless of whether she wanted him to or not -- got out to help her out and up the walk. Barlow was going to check the house ... and check Jake's current state of mind.

Jake was waiting patiently just inside the door, a calm expression on his face. He welcomed them both in and stepped deeper inside the living room. No sooner did he turn back to the pair then he politely said, "Thank you, Sheriff, but ... you've done your job. You may leave me and my wife now."

"I'd like to take a look around the house," Barlow said with a tone that he hoped the man understood meant that this wasn't a negotiation. He looked to Jake and added, "If you don't mind, Mister Townsend."

Barlow sensed that there was something just not right about what he was seeing in the room. He'd been here only once before, for the celebration party after Jake had been appointed District Judge of Clark County. And a party had been very different than ... than whatever this was. And while he was just a small town cop, Barlow's detecting skills were still good enough to realize, to his shock, that there didn't seem to be anything in the living room that spoke of Grace.

He glanced to Jake's wife for her reaction and instantly knew that she'd sensed the changes as well. On the wall was the happy couple's wedding's photo, as well as a photo of the Townsend family taken before the deaths of Jake and Jason's parents. But the portrait photograph of the Evans family, one of Grace and her siblings gathered at a lake's shore, as well as one from the wedding that included Jake, Grace, and their respective parents were gone.

And there was more, though Barlow wouldn't notice it. Only Grace could know, and as she made her way through the house, she would see that anything and everything that was special to her than Jake felt he no longer needed in his life was gone.

Barlow looked to the kitchen, wondering, then took a step toward it. But Jake quickly stepped to his left -- not entirely but partially in the Sheriff's way -- to imply his unhappiness with the law man's nosiness and said with a formal tone, "Those papers I presented you, Sheriff ... the ones that you seem to be ignoring, despite them coming to you with the authority of the Court ... not a one of them gave you the right to look through my home."

The two men stared at one another for a moment before Jake repeated, "Thank you, Sheriff, but you may leave me and my wife alone now."

Barlow hesitated before turning back to Grace. He crossed the room to stand very near her and -- loud enough for Jake to hear -- reassured her, "I'll be right outside, Grace."

He gave her a smile and exited, returning to his Ford. He stood near it a moment before looking back to the house, just in time to see Jake at the window. The Townsend man stared for a moment, then reached up to pull the drapes closed. Barlow had planned on simply sitting in his car for a while.

But a wisp of smoke blown into view from the backyard got him curious. He took a walk around the corner to find the burning barrel. And he just shook his head in amazement. Jake's intention in burning his wife's possessions had been about punishing her. But he hadn't felt the need to cover his actions, so looking down inside the still warm barrel, Barlow could see remnants of clothing, shoes, jewelry, and -- to his disappointment -- portrait photographs.

It's gonna be a long night, he thought to himself. He glanced up toward the back of the house and -- just as had happened out front -- he found Jake at the door, pulling the shades shut.
 
Even though Grace had lived in that home for months, she felt like a stranger within its walls. She didn't see any of her things there as Jake watched the Sheriff move from room to room with a tenseness that told of secrets he wanted to keep hidden. The photos of her family were all gone, along with the books she kept there in the living room and some of her knitting.

She would soon come to realize that all of her things were gone, save what she had stuffed into her suitcase that day that she had fled. When the Sheriff left, declaring that he would be right outside, she watched Jake move to close all of the drapes. Without the electric lighting that burned in every room, Grace would be standing in near darkness with a husband that was acting far too calm for her liking.

"Jake? Where are my things?" She finally asked in a small voice, knowing that whatever he said next, she wouldn't like the answer.
 
"Jake? Where are my things?"

Jake pulled the string on an a lamp sitting atop his desk. The light shone up into his still emotionless face, likely giving him an eerie look until he moved away from it, closer to his wife. He finally showed some emotion with a friendly smile.

"You have all you need here, sweetheart," he said with a loving tone. After all that had happened, that voice was probably as scary as his smile. He half turned toward the kitchen, gesturing Grace toward it as he said, "Come, let's have dinner. The Kelvinator is full. I had some fresh vegies and fruits delivered ... meat, too. Mister Cooper cut us a nice roast. And I got you those little onions you like so much."

He took a step toward the kitchen, gesturing and widening his smile. "I'll help you. I know, I know ... I've never helped you before, but ... fresh start. What do you say?"

Jake tone was about as genuine as could be. In fact, if she thought about it, Grace might have recognized in his tone, expressions, and body language the Jacob Townsend she'd met and for whom she'd fallen. There was no sign whatsoever of the man who had so brutalized her over the two days since the arrival of the Romani ... since the arrival of Gregor.

Jake turned and headed into the kitchen again, pulling the string of the electric light in the ceiling. They'd only had it installed a couple of months earlier, a fixture with an unbelievable total of four bulbs in it, something few homes in the town had. He set about pulling ingredients out of the fridge and cupboards, waiting for his wife to join him and begin their fresh start with one of her delicious evening meals.
 
“Bring the bottle.”

Jason looked up from the glass container of Țuică to the beauty as she gestured him to follow. He did as told, pulling out the cork as he went and tossing it aside.

“We’ll drown your sorrows, in liquor and pleasure, so that you don’t brood in what happened."

Jason tried to smile, but his lips barely curled at the edges. He was so afraid for Grace yet couldn't do anything for her. He'd tried once, confronting Jake out before the house the day before. But, his brother the judge had the law on his side. And the Sheriff. And, come tomorrow, a dozen or more deputies from around the region who had been promised in an effort to rid central Oklahoma of the gypsy menace.

While they'd waited for Grace to come up from the carnavale, Barlow had told Jason about the combined law enforcement force upon which he could call if it became necessary. That threat was still real, he knew, even if Sheriff Barker had promised that Grace's return to Jake's house would prevent it. Jason didn't trust Barlow and Jake anymore than half of the county's population trusted the Romani.

"Then, when everything is done, I’ll let you place that ring on my finger and I’ll proudly wear it from this day on.”

That made Jason smile finally ... and begin to swell down yonder. He pulled the cork from the purple glass bottle of equally purple liquid and tossed it onto the floor somewhere. They weren't going to need it: this bottle was going to finish the night empty and rolling about the floor, maybe next to its wayward cork.

Jason found himself turned and pushed, landing on the squeaking bed. Like a drunkard afraid of spilling his brew, Jason kept control of the bottle, preventing it from spilling a drop. As Inga crawled atop him, he lifted his head to fill his mouth with the thick liqueur, gulping it as she began kissing him. He laughed and rolled her to her back. Filling his mouth with the Țuică again, he pressed his lips to her, tilted his head, then parted his lips. She must have known what he had planned, because only a small portion of it missed filling her own mouth.

"You're wasting it!" Jason complained with a loud laugh, licking her lips, chin, jaw line, and neck to reclaim every drop of the liquid. Once she was clean, he repeated the swapping with another big gulp and a more erotic kiss, as well as another licking of the strong drink from her skin. Then he smiled to her devilishly and told her with a suggestive tone, "I have an idea. Don't ... move ... an inch!"

Jason set the bottle on the nearby lamp table, unbuttoning the front of Inga's dress from her collar bones to her belly button -- enough to allow him to pull her dress from her shoulders, down her body, and away. He wasted no time in removing her boots, stockings, and panties. He stood and stripped his own self as he ogled her now naked body hungrily.

Crawling back onto the bed as naked as she, Jason retrieved the bottle, took a smaller drink that before, gave Inga another devilish look ... then leaned down to press his lips around a hardened, pert nipple, parting them to allow the Țuică to flood as out against her tit about as wide as her areola. As she reacted to the room temperature liquid contacting her hot skin, Jason chuckled against her firm breast. He sucked her nipple into his mouth, gulping as much of the plum liqueur as possible.

"You're spilling it again," he laughingly complained, using his tongue and lips to once again save the drink that he'd missed. He repeated the erotic gesture with another gulp of alcohol and another nipple. He murmured when he was done, "I'll never dirty a glass again. This is so much ... tastier."

Jason reached his head up with a mouthful of the Romanian treasure to kiss his Romanian treasure on the mouth again, this time making the kiss last longer than the previous one. He sat up taller, then lowered the bottle slowly over Inga's face as he told her, "No ... hands!"

Whether or not Inga opened her mouth to take the liquid about to be spilled from three or four inches above her, Jason would do it. He told her as the liqueur began to leave the bottle's neck, "You said we were going drown our sorrows in liquor, so ... this might be the drowning part if I do this wrong."

And after a gulp full had been poured, Jason returned his face to Inga's, to kiss her and again clean up any mess that occurred. Then he took another mouthful ... then began slipping down her body. He shifted his legs from outside Inga's to between them causing her thighs to part.

He leaned over her belly, letting some of the purple stuff fill her belly button. He sucked it up again, swallowing. He looked up at Inga for her expression, took a final mouthful, and handed the bottle to her. He moved off the end of the bed, grasped Inga's calves, and pulled her until the meeting of her thighs was at the mattresses edge. He knelt, put his mouth to her pussy, and parted his lips. The cool liquid hit her warm flesh.

Jason was peeking upwards at her, watching for her reaction. He began licking her flesh, cleaning her of the Țuică ... but ... once done, not ceasing the working of his lips and tongue upon her. He whispered, "This is the drowning with sex part ... just in case you hadn't figured that out."
 
Grace was scared when Jake suddenly appeared calm, moving to turn on the light that was on his desk before turning to her and declaring that they had all that they needed right there. There was no mention of her personal possessions, which she would find out the next morning just before Sheriff Barker arrived for his first check in, were still smoldering in the trash barrel out in the garden.

"Jake, you're scaring me." Grace murmured in a soft voice, wrapping her arms around herself in an effort to stop the shaking that had started.

He spoke in the same loving tone that he had first used when they had been dating. In fact, everything about him seemed to be from that same man who had brought her trinkets, made her feel like there really might be a life off her father's little farm, and had in effect stolen her away from his brother.

He wanted a meal, moving into the kitchen without waiting for her to follow. When she did follow, she noticed a few things. The front door had been fixed, but there was a new lock, a little higher than what Grace could comfortably reach. It was the same situation on the back door as well. She would have to point all of that out to the Sheriff or Jason when they came by in the morning.

Jake was pulling out things to make that roast he had spoken of, the counter filled with all kinds of fruits and vegetables that he had had delivered earlier that day. She noticed a dent in the wall, just next to the Kelvinator, a dent that had been caused when he launched the silver tray into the wall earlier during his conversation with the Sheriff. Of course, Grace would know nothing of that conversation, only noticing things as everything seemed so terribly out of place.

She soon took over the cooking, cutting and chopping with the sharp knife from the block. Soon enough, Jake moved from her side, pouring himself a drink before he took a seat at the table to simply watch her work. When everything was placed in the big pot, she put it in the oven to cook for the allotted time.

Turning to look at her husband, she leaned against the counter and wondered if she was brave enough to ask him what needed to be asked. The Sheriff had said he would be right outside. If he wasn't, her had promised that the deputy would stay until they had gone to bed. Then they would be right back in the morning.

"I think we need to talk about what happened." Grace started in a soft tone, wrapping her arms around her again in what had become a defensive gesture. "About what came over you. Jake, I didn't do anything wrong. You attacked me, in probably the worst way a man can treat his wife, and I left because of that. You've never acted this way before. And getting my father involved in this is probably the worst decision you could have made. He doesn't care about anything other than getting money to feed my brothers and sisters. It's cruel to dangle that in front of him, knowing that you're not going to give him what he needs."
 
If Inga hadn't have known better, she would have thought that Jason was trying to get her good and drunk. He was generous with the plum liquor, sharing with her through erotic kisses or pouring straight into her mouth. Her head was swimming as he licked the liquor off her naked body, suckling a nipple until both were hard as rocks and pointing towards the ceiling.

When he passed her the bottle and pulled her towards the edge of the bed, she finished off the last of what was left as he attacked her weeping pussy. Inga let out a cry as Jason latched onto her clit, sucking with abandon until her hips were lifting from the bed and a hand curled in his hair to encourage him. If she closed her eyes, the entire world exploded into stars. If she opened them, all she could see was that messy blonde hair nestled comfortably in the cradle of her hips.

"Jesus, Jason." Inga groaned, writhing and wriggling beneath him. "Fuck."

She came hard, her fingers pulling at his hair as her entire body shivered violently. Her sticky skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and from the little grin on Jason's lips, she knew that they were far from done.

He fucked her in nearly every position possible, moving her from place to place as if he were an expert on what would bring her the most pleasure. She had absolutely no complaints, cumming at least three times more before she found herself with her cheek pressed to the mattress, her lover pounding away at her backside as his hand slapped down on her pert ass. She whimpered and moaned, gasping each time he brought his palm down on her skin. She would be sore in the morning, but she would happily endure for him.

When he came, she relished in the groan that he issued and the way that his fingers tightened over her hips, pulling her tightly against his hips as he emptied himself inside of her. Maybe the thoughts of filling her belly with a child really had spoken to him, exciting him to the point that he would finish inside of her until that had been accomplished. She would have to remember in the morning to stop drinking the brewed tea that would keep a child at bay. If she could remember in the morning.

Her head was swimming as he pulled her to the mattress at his side, his strong arms wrapping around her and holding her tightly.

"You got me drunk on purpose." She accused, kissing him as she pressed her body against him.

Their tongues fought for a few short moments before she let out a sigh and settled beside him. She gave him a small smile as her head found a comfortable spot on his shoulder to rest, her defenses completely gone.
 
Jake's work in the kitchen had resulted in his wife assisting, then -- as he simply took a chair to watch her -- take over completely. He sat there at the opposite side of the table from her in silence. Any time she glanced his way, he would give her a polite smile. Once, just before she was done with her tasks, he even said with a happy tone, "It's good to have you back, Grace."

"I think we need to talk about what happened."
...Grace asked.

"Talk about what, honey?" he asked in a polite tone, as if having absolutely no idea what had happened between them.

"About what came over you..."

Jake sat there still and silent as Grace went on, his expression never changing. She spoke about her father and the money she assumed Jake had offered him for his assistance in getting Grace back...
"It's cruel to dangle that in front of him, knowing that you're not going to give him what he needs."

It was only then that Jake rose and spoke. He curled around the table toward her, saying, "I offered your father nothing. He was simply worried about you."

Again, his expression hid his emotions and his honesty so well that Grace wouldn't have known whether or not he was lying. He had a past of doing just as she'd claimed, though. Sometimes, Jake had come through with his promises to the poor dirt farmer; sometimes he hadn't.

"If you would like, Grace, you can call him in the morning to see that what I'm telling you is true," he said, still getting slowly nearer to her. He didn't tell her, of course, that he had swapped two wires inside the body of the very simply manufactured, wall mounted phone, nor that without knowing exactly which wires had been swapped she couldn't crank the phone to gain the attention of the Operator to make a call, whether to her father, to Jason, to the Sheriff, or to anyone else. He finished, "Is that sufficient for you, Grace?"

He listened to but didn't honestly hear her answer. He had little interest in what she had to say on the subject. His smile widened a bit and -- just out of her reach -- offered out a hand. "I've missed you. Come with me. Come upstairs with me. I want to make love to you."
 
Grace had no idea how he could remain so calm. He didn't seem like anything bothered him at all about the entire situation. It made her wonder for a brief moment if things were really as bad as she thought they were. She only really had her father's marriage to compare to, but she never recalled her father raping her step-mother. Maybe she was oblivious to all of that.

"If you would like, Grace, you can call him in the morning to see that what I'm telling you is true." Jake offered, stopping in front of her before he offered her his hand. "I've missed you. Come with me. Come upstairs with me. I want to make love to you."

"I just started dinner." Grace said, looking at him with a concerned glance. "It might burn."

Jake had never wanted to "make love" to her before. He simply took his own pleasure, leaving her incredibly unfulfilled. It had only been recently that she had learned what an orgasm actually felt like, and she wasn't sure that he had even started out to help her achieve one. He had been drunk, more open and receptive to things, and he had stroked her with his fingers until she came. It had frightened her at first, unsure of what exactly was happening, and that seemed to amuse him. He had done it twice more before he had passed out beside her on the bed.

"Jake, I don't feel like going upstairs right now." Grace finally admitted, knowing that she might make him angry with that admission.
 
"I just started dinner ... It might burn."

Jake casually leaned forward to turn down the gas flame burning under the large pot. He returned to height again, smiled, and said softly, "It'll wait."

"Jake, I don't feel like going upstairs right now."

He studied Grace for a silent moment, his lips still wide with a friendly smile. Then, offering his hand out again and -- still smiling to her -- told her with a tone that was a bit more firm, "I do."
 
He reached beside her and turned down the heat until the pot before he looked back to her with that friendly smile and insisted that he wanted to go upstairs. Grace felt sick to her stomach, knowing that he wouldn't back down to something that he wanted. If she walked outside to the Sheriff and the deputy, she would simply be seen as complaining. The Sheriff believed her, but beyond the few strange things that she had seen in the house like her lack of personal belongings and the new locks on the doors, there was no reason to believe that Jake was going to hurt her.

Grace wanted to cry as she placed her hand in her husband's, wondering what would happen next.
 
Without a word, Jake turned and began to lead Grace slowly away ... from the kitchen, to the hall, up the stairs, and into their bedroom, leaving the door opened behind them.

As they went, there would be more signs of Jake's purging of Grace's possessions as they went: a small rug she and her sisters had made one winter; some artwork -- from both her male and female siblings -- pinned to the stairway wall (which Jake had already despised as clutter); a small hallway table Grace had inherited from some Aunt Jake had never shown an interest in meeting; and more.

The true sign that Jake had nearly erased Grace from the home would come when they arrived at the bedroom, of course. Grace would see that there was nothing left of her possessions other than -- beyond the open closet door -- a simple cotton dress and a pair of slip on shoes.

Jake released his gentle grip on his wife’s hand, moved to the chair upon which he always laid out his clothes (with which Grace was to deal at a later time, of course), and turned to face her as he began to undress.

“Go ahead,” he said with that eerie polite smile. “Undress, Grace.”
 
The things that were no longer in the house made Grace feel ill in the pit of her stomach. Jake had practically erased her from his life, save for the clothes that she had at Jason's house and the simple dress that she saw hanging in the closet. It seemed that Jake had been busy in the few days that she had been gone.

She watched as he went to his chair in the corner of the room, slowly undressing as he turned to face her with that smile still plastered on his face. She didn't want to undress. She wanted to have a conversation with him about why he had felt it necessary to get rid of all of the things that meant anything to her.

"Jake, I don't think we should do this. Not now." Grace said softly, watching as he paused in unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm scared. I'm scared of you and why you felt the need to get rid of all of my things from this house. What did I do that was so wrong that you feel like I need to be punished? I've done everything you've asked of me."

She had played the part of a future politician's wife beautifully. She was quiet and polite, smiling when she needed to smile, and standing beside her husband when he needed a beautiful woman on his arm. She knew when to talk and when not to talk and she always had dinner on the table for him when he was home from a long day at court. It was all that he had wanted. The one time that she dared to defy him and his calmly curated mask had melted away, leaving behind the ugly individual that she saw before her now.
 
Jake resumed undressing as his wife was concluding…
”What did I do that was so wrong that you feel like I need to be punished? I've done everything you've asked of me."

He chuckled lightly, removing his shirt and laying it over the arm of the chair. “Punish you…? Who said anything about punishing you, Grace. I only want to make love to my beautiful wife.”

He sat in the chair to begin removing his shoes, aiming toward shedding his pants when he asked with a hopeful tone, “Do you want me to undress you…?”

His lips spread in a devilish smile as he reminded her, “Like our first time…? You remember that, don’t you?”

Jake remembered the night he deflowered Grace as a magnificent evening, filled with romance and passion and the joining of two souls. Of course, women tended to recall their first time with a little less enjoyment and more pain. And, if he were honest with himself, Jake would also have remembered that once he’d intruded upon Grace’s tight hole, he had been more interested in thrusting to drive himself to orgasm than in worrying about whether or not he’d been hurting Grace.
 
“Like our first time…? You remember that, don’t you?”

He had ripped the back of her gown open without warning once they had been alone in the very room that she was currently standing in. She had done her best to repair the obvious rip in the back before she had stored it away in the attic, but the damage had been done. He had sworn that he couldn't wait any longer to be with her and that she could enjoy it. She was just as nervous and scared as she was right now, doing her best to make him think that she had enjoyed what had happened.

"But why my things?" It was all she could really think about, wondering if he had just stored them away to punish her or if they were truly gone forever. "This is just as much my house as it is yours."

It was a bold statement. This was his house, before their marriage, bought and paid for by him. He had designed every single detail, only allowing her to make small changes along the way. However, she knew enough that in marriage, they shared the property. Even though she knew that if she tried to divorce him, he would probably make sure that she left just as penniless as she had been when she entered the marriage.
 
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