October Prompts
This is inspired by @ladyrosse âs cardgame request. Honor - (in whist) an ace, king, queen, or jack of trumps
Robert sighed as he flipped over another card. Three of spades. He surveyed the short lines of cards heâd laid on his bed tray and found he had nowhere to place itâno lonely four of hearts or four of diamonds, no orderly stack of spades resting at the top. He sighed, again, and drew a new card from the deck.
King of hearts. He frowned. Well, he had needed this card but he had no free space to lay it.
âOh, bloody hell,â he muttered irritably, and Robert drew another card.
He peered up from the new card as the door pushed open, and then he smiled as her face peered around the door.
âHello, darling,â Cora smiled, and Robert felt all-at-once relieved and envious. She had on her thin summer coat, her gloves, her hat; she moved to him and kissed the top of his head, and she smelled of fresh air and sunshine. He pouted.
âHow are you feeling?â She asked with a second kiss, this time to his temple, and he shook his head.
âAs if Iâve entered some ring of hell Dante neglected to mention.â
âOh,â a third kissâto his cheekâelicited a tiny spark of warmth, âit canât be so bad.â
Coraâs lace glove pointed at the cards arranged before him. âYour seven of clubs can go here.â And she walked, then, to her dressing table. Robert dropped the cards he held and watched her.
âHow is everyone?â he asked as she pulled her gloves from her hands. She glanced at him in the mirror. He continued. âFrederick and Beatrice? I suppose theyâre well.â
âThey are,â she answered, and he watched, still, as she took the pin from her hat and removed it from her head.
âI suppose Fredâs off somewhere, enjoying the glorious days of summer.â
He heard her grunt of a laugh and a small part of him delighted in the way she rolled her eyes. âThe grass is always greener, you know.â
His eyes followed her as she stood to take off her coat and came to sit beside him, near his feet.
âIâm not sure Fred would like to trade places with me. He rather enjoys food.â He paused as she took up the cards from the tray. âAnd wine,â he added in a soft groan, at which his wife shook her head.
âWell, I like you well.â She was looking at the cards, squaring the corners of the deck. âAnd not in a hospital bed.â
He hummed, conceding the argument with some reluctance, but with love for the way heâd heard the sincerity in her voice.
âNow,â she was shuffling the cards, âwhat shall we play?â
âHand of poker?â he smirked up at her. Cora narrowed her eyes.
âI wonât have my bedroom smell of cigars, thank you.â
He laughed. âVery well. German Whist, then?â
âAlright,â and she began to deal. âThirteen cards, isnât it?â
He nodded and watched the way she quickly dealt them out. He watched, too, the way she stood and made herself more comfortable as she put the deck between them, tucking a knee upon the bed. A quick image of her from years and years ago flashed in his mind, and his chest tightened sweetly.
There she was, lovely as ever, and here was he, an old man with a new scar marching across his soft stomach.
âHearts are trumps,â she said, and she looked up at him.
He laid down a card, she did too, and he took the trick.
They played a few more tricks in silence, Robert glancing up at his wife and finding her prettier and prettier, sweeter and sweeter, until at least he felt the wordsâI love youâgather on his tongue.
No. He swallowed them down. This too much resting, too little solid foods, it was making him irrationally emotional. And he knew his wife. She wouldnât know what to do with any of that.
He cleared his throat. âDo you know, this version of the game, of whist, is also called Honeymoon Whist.â
âOh?â She smiled at him, and she played a card. âWhyâs that?â
âI donât know,â he answered. He took up the trick. âBut considering the name, I thought youâd find it amusing.â
âYes.â He chuckled a little. âHoneymoon whist.â
She was quieter than he thought she should be, and suddenly he realized she didnât remember. âCora. We played whist on our honeymoon.â
âOn the train,â he rested his wrist in the tray, he was sure showing his hand. âYou do remember, donât you?â
She smiled, her brow furrowed, and then she shook her head. âDid we?â
âYes!â He nearly shouted. He looked back at his cards and selected one to play. âHonestly, Cora, I wonder about your memoryââ
She put down a card and took the trick. âI donât recallââ
ââin Scotland. Or rather on the train up to Scotland.â He put down a card. âDo you really not remember?â
But when he brought his eyes up to her again, he could see that she did.
Her crooked smile. Her bright eyes. Her tilted head. âOh,â she said quietly. âOur wedding night.â
âYes,â he arranged his cards. âOur wedding night.â
âI remember that you let me win.â
âNonsense,â he laid down a cardâking of hearts. âYou didnât have any help from me.â
Robert looked up at her, at her even quieter voice, and found her smiling at him.
âI had plenty of help from you.â
The pink smile she wore felt contagious, and the corners of his mouth tickled upward as he thought of that night thirty-five years before. How young they were, embarrassed and fumbling about. How tender and rose-tinted it all seemed now, nights and nights and nights of marriage softening the sharp corners of that evening.
âWe helped one another,â he grinned, his cheeks warming as he watched a small blush rise in his wifeâs cheeks.
She nodded, and, reaching his free hand out to the tray, he chuckled softly when she took it in her own. âYes. We did.â
âAnd, we will continue to help one another, wonât we?â
She extracted her hand from his, and she pushed the the trick he won towards him. âYes.â He loved the way her eyes sparkled when she cocked a brow. âThough, you have at least two more weeks before any of that, thank you.â
He laughed at her, unguardedly and, for the first time all day, happily. âThat isnât what I meant,â he lied.
And Cora only glanced up from her hand at him, smirking behind her cards.
âNo,â she lied, too. âOf course it isnât.