A Quiet Kind of Wanted
A slow burn romance about an arranged marriage, a quiet countryside life, and two lonely people learning what it means to be wanted.
Chapter 4
Long Distance
The call came on a Thursday afternoon.
Elena was sitting on the porch steps with a cup of tea she'd made herself — she'd found the box in the third cabinet she'd checked, which felt like a small victory — when her phone buzzed and her mother's name lit up the screen.
She almost didn't answer.
She answered.
"Elena." Her mother's voice was the same as always — measured, precise, carrying that particular tone that managed to sound both affectionate and disappointed at once. "How are you settling in?"
"Fine," Elena said.
"Good. Your father and I were wondering — "
"Were you." It came out flat.
She hadn't meant for it to, exactly.
A pause. "We made the best decision we could with the situation we were given, Elena. You understand that."
"I understand that you gave me away."
Another pause, longer this time.
Outside, somewhere near the barn, she could hear the distant sound of Troy working — the rhythmic knock of something being repaired, unhurried and steady.
It was strange how quickly she'd learned to identify that sound.
"The Burnetts were a good family," her mother said finally, like that answered something. "His parents and your grandfather had an understanding, years ago. It was always — it was always a possibility, Elena. For the right time."
"The right time," she repeated. "You mean when I became inconvenient."
"That's not — " Her mother stopped. Reset. "Is he treating you well?"
Elena looked out at the fields, gold and green under the afternoon light, and thought about lavender sheets and a covered plate and a note with her name written carefully at the top.
"He's treating me fine," she said.
"Good." The relief in her mother's voice was almost worse than indifference would have been. "That's good. We'll talk soon."
The call ended.
Elena sat with the phone in her lap for a long time, the tea going cold in her other hand.
So there was a history between the families — something old, something arranged long before she'd ever been considered.
She was the last piece of a deal she'd never been told about.
She heard the knocking from the barn stop.
A minute later Troy appeared around the corner, wiping his hands on his jeans, and slowed when he saw her face.
He didn't ask.
He just came and sat on the step below her — giving her the higher ground, she noticed, like he did that on purpose — and looked out at the same stretch of fields she'd been staring at.
"You don't have to talk," he said.
"I know," she said.
They sat there until the light changed, and neither of them said another word, and somehow that was the least alone Elena had felt since she arrived.
The call came on a Thursday afternoon.
Elena was sitting on the porch steps with a cup of tea she'd made herself — she'd found the box in the third cabinet she'd checked, which felt like a small victory — when her phone buzzed and her mother's name lit up the screen.
She almost didn't answer.
She answered.
"Elena." Her mother's voice was the same as always — measured, precise, carrying that particular tone that managed to sound both affectionate and disappointed at once. "How are you settling in?"
"Fine," Elena said.
"Good. Your father and I were wondering — "
"Were you." It came out flat.
She hadn't meant for it to, exactly.
A pause. "We made the best decision we could with the situation we were given, Elena. You understand that."
"I understand that you gave me away."
Another pause, longer this time.
Outside, somewhere near the barn, she could hear the distant sound of Troy working — the rhythmic knock of something being repaired, unhurried and steady.
It was strange how quickly she'd learned to identify that sound.
"The Burnetts were a good family," her mother said finally, like that answered something. "His parents and your grandfather had an understanding, years ago. It was always — it was always a possibility, Elena. For the right time."
"The right time," she repeated. "You mean when I became inconvenient."
"That's not — " Her mother stopped. Reset. "Is he treating you well?"
Elena looked out at the fields, gold and green under the afternoon light, and thought about lavender sheets and a covered plate and a note with her name written carefully at the top.
"He's treating me fine," she said.
"Good." The relief in her mother's voice was almost worse than indifference would have been. "That's good. We'll talk soon."
The call ended.
Elena sat with the phone in her lap for a long time, the tea going cold in her other hand.
So there was a history between the families — something old, something arranged long before she'd ever been considered.
She was the last piece of a deal she'd never been told about.
She heard the knocking from the barn stop.
A minute later Troy appeared around the corner, wiping his hands on his jeans, and slowed when he saw her face.
He didn't ask.
He just came and sat on the step below her — giving her the higher ground, she noticed, like he did that on purpose — and looked out at the same stretch of fields she'd been staring at.
"You don't have to talk," he said.
"I know," she said.
They sat there until the light changed, and neither of them said another word, and somehow that was the least alone Elena had felt since she arrived.
Chapter 4
— Chapter 4 of 6