The Undomestic Goddess
All three of them raise their heads and regard me as though I’m some kind of alien.
“You charge … five hundred pounds an hour?” Trish doesn’t seem quite in control of her voice.
“They offered you full equity partnership?” Melissa looks green. “And you said no? Are you crazy?”
“Don’t read this stuff!” I try to grab the paper. “Mrs. Geiger, I just want to carry on as usual. I’m still your housekeeper—”
“You’re one of the country’s top legal talents!” Trish jabs the paper hysterically. “It says so, here!”
“Samantha?” There’s a rapping at the door and Nathaniel comes into the kitchen, holding an armful of newly picked potatoes. “Will this be enough for the lunch?”
I stare at him dumbly, feeling a clutch at my heart. He has no idea. He knows nothing. Oh, God.
I should have told him. Why didn’t I tell him? Why didn’t I tell him?
“What are you?” says Trish, turning to him wildly. “A top rocket scientist? A secret government agent?”
“I’m sorry?” Nathaniel shoots me a quizzical look.
“Nathaniel …”
I trail off, unable to continue. Nathaniel looks from face to face, a crease of uncertainty deepening in his brow.
“What’s going on?” he says at last. “Is something up?”
I have never made such a hash of anything as I make of telling Nathaniel. I stammer, I stutter, I repeat myself and go round in circles.
Nathaniel listens in silence. He’s leaning against an old stone pillar in front of the secluded bench where I’m sitting. His face is in profile, shadowed in the afternoon sun, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
At last I come to a finish and he slowly lifts his head. If I was hoping for a smile, I don’t get it. I’ve never seen him look so shell-shocked.
“You’re a lawyer,” he says at last. All the light seems to have gone out of his eyes.
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe you’re a lawyer.” There’s a hostility to his tone that I’ve never heard before.
“Nathaniel.” I swallow hard. “I know you had a bad experience with lawyers. I’m really sorry about your dad. But … I’m not like that. You know I’m not—”
“How do I?” he retorts with sudden aggression. “How do I know who you are anymore? You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie! I just … didn’t tell you everything.”
“I thought you were in an abusive relationship.” He bows his head, clenching his hands behind his neck. “I thought that’s why you didn’t want to talk about your past. And you let me believe it. When you went up to London, I was worried about you. Jesus.”
“I’m sorry.” I wince with guilt. “I’m so sorry. I just … didn’t want you to know the truth.”
“Why not? What, you didn’t trust me?”
“No!” I say in dismay. “Of course I trust you! If it had been anything else … Nathaniel, you have to understand. When we first met, how could I tell you? Everyone knows you hate lawyers. You even have a sign in your pub!”
“That sign’s a joke.” He makes an impatient gesture.
“It’s not. Not completely! Come on, Nathaniel. If I’d told you I was a City lawyer when we first met, would you have treated me in the same way?”
Nathaniel doesn’t reply. He’s taken a few steps away and turned to face the house, as if he can’t even bear to look at me anymore.
It’s all ruined between us. Just as I feared. I can feel the tears rising but somehow keep my chin steady.
“Nathaniel, I didn’t tell you the truth about myself because it was incredibly painful,” I say quietly. “And because everything was so wonderful between us, I didn’t want to ruin it. And because … I thought you might look at me differently.”
Nathaniel slowly turns to face me, his face still closed and unforgiving.
“Like you’re looking at me now.” A tear runs down my cheek and I brush it away. “This is what I was afraid of.”
The silence seems to last forever. Then Nathaniel exhales heavily, as though coming to a conclusion.
“Come here.” He holds out his arms. “Come here.”
He wraps them around me and I lean against his chest, almost overcome with relief.
“I’m the same person, you know,” I mumble. “Even if I used to be a lawyer—I’m still me. Samantha.”
“Samantha Sweeting, corporate lawyer.” He surveys me for a few moments. “Nope. I can’t see it.”