I’ve just set a release date for my next book, “The Architecture of Vision.” It’s next Friday, November 9. It’s the second book in The Seedling Homestead series, so while you’re waiting for it to come out, I thought I’d give you a quick peek at the first book, “The Composition of Order.”
So, without further ado …
Chapter 1: The Composition of Order
The signs were there, but Sarah Ward didn’t see them because they stood outside the confines of her perfectly ordered world. Or, perhaps more accurately, she didn’t see them because she wasn’t looking.
It was the first Friday in June, one week before her only daughter’s high school graduation, and Sarah Ward was accepting an invitation to a sex toy party.
“Please, just come,” said her best friend Marcy Owens. “No pun intended.”
She tittered, and Sarah couldn’t help but laugh, too. They were running the audio for the graduation rehearsal, and Sarah was glad they were tucked safely inside the announcer’s booth at the football field. Then she experienced a moment of panic. Was the mic on? She checked. It wasn’t, and she let out a breath. Imagine that: her daughter’s entire graduating class hearing Marcy’s invitation.
She didn’t want to go, not really. She had so much to do the next day.
“Wait,” Marcy said. “Let me guess. Your to-do list for tomorrow is two pages long. Your day is planned out, to the minute, and it does not include an evening party.”
Sarah nodded. It was true: she’d already written out her to-do list and planned her day hour-by-hour. But, she always left room in her schedule for unexpected events—like a sex toy party.
This event was particularly unexpected for two reasons: one, because it doubled as a bachelorette celebration for Marcy, who was marrying a man who went by Stevie (and how sexual could he possibly be?). And two, Sarah realized the moment Marcy invited her that she hadn’t had sex with her husband in … well, in longer than she could remember. And she certainly hadn’t touched or even looked at a sex toy since before Amelia was born.
After making some quick mental calculations, Sarah said, “All right. If I get up a little early, I can shift some things around to make time for it. I’ll be there. But I’m not sure if I’ll buy anything.”
“Oh, live a little!” Marcy said, and Sarah blushed.
“I—it’s been a while, Marcy.”
“What? I thought you had lovemaking scheduled into your weekly routine like, three days a week or something. Surely you and Donny use toys to spice things up.”
Where in the world had Marcy gotten that impression? Sarah and Donny hadn’t done the deed three times a week since they were teenagers. In fact, Sarah thought, awareness dawning, they were intimate on Saturdays only, in bed, after dark. In the missionary position. And even those weekly sessions had tapered off recently, as Sarah, president of the Saguaro High School Parent-Teacher Association, planned graduation. Sarah made a mental note to stop neglecting her sex life. This thought process should have been the first sign something was amiss.
After all, she’d worked relentlessly to perfectly manage and balance every aspect of her life—marriage, motherhood, career, hobbies, and exercise. It was nothing if not predictable. Because after Sarah’s early childhood, predictability was a sign of safety.
“I’ll be there,” Sarah said again. She nodded. And then she thought that perhaps she could revisit Sex Saturday after returning home from the party. She’d took her little spiral notebook out of her purse and added Marcy’s Party and Sex Saturday to her list.
That evening when Sarah mentioned to Amelia that she was going to a party with Marcy the next day, Amelia’s mouth dropped open.
“Mom,” she said, her hazel eyes—Donny’s eyes—wide. “Jess said she’s having a sex party. She’s completely traumatized that her mom is inviting other moms over to look at dildos. I can’t believe you’re going to that.”
“Amelia,” Sarah said, shocked enough that she put a hand over her heart. “I never thought I’d hear that word come out of your mouth. Anyway. I’m sure you know your father and I—”
“Oh, gross, Mom! I know you guys did it once! But the way you two act, I thought it was a one-and-done kind of thing. You guys don’t even hold hands or kiss or anything. Stop talking about this!”
Sarah was stunned.
Amelia’s words held some humor. But they also held truth … which, when Sarah looked back on this conversation, was the second sign something was amiss.
The next day, which was the Saturday six days before her only child’s high school graduation ceremony, Sarah found herself sitting in Marcy’s living room, surrounded by giggling women. And dildos of varying shapes, sizes, and colors, with varying features and vibrational capabilities.
“Ohmygawwwd! Does that one actually have glitter?” Zelda Bankowitz, who had twin sons in Amelia’s graduating class, picked up the item in question and examined it. Then she pretended to put the tip of it in her mouth and, while making thrusting movements, repeatedly poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue.
“Whaddya think, Sarah? How about buying one of these, eh? Take it home tonight and…”
She held it up, wiggling its giant tip.
Sarah blanched. “That’s, um, a little bigger than I prefer.”
The room erupted in laughter.
“You know, that’s what I thought when I first saw it, too,” said Hailey, the adolescent salesgirl who didn’t look old enough to drive a car, much less sell these scandalous items. “But then I tried it. And let me tell you—”
“Ohmygawwwd!” Zelda said again. “Honey, wrap one of these up for Sarah, here. She’ll take it.”
From across the room, Marcy stared at Sarah, her eyes full of mischief. Sarah just shook her head, one part amused and one part embarrassed.
An hour later, as Sarah prepared to leave, Marcy grabbed her bag, opening the top and peering in to peruse the contents.“Got everything?”
“You’re invading my privacy!” Sarah shrieked, grabbing it back.
“I thought we did away with privacy years ago,” Marcy said. “When Amelia and Jess were in the fifth grade and I asked for your advice on hormone treatment.”
Seventeen years ago, the two had met at a playdate for a local mothers’ group. They’d since been through everything together: parenting, and exercise regimes, diets, meal plans, wine drinking… and most recently, Marcy’s divorce and subsequent dating escapades.
Sarah handed the bag back and Marcy peered into it.
“Ooh, you got the enhancement gel. Remember, exterior use only,” Marcy said, and Sarah repeated what Hailey had said when she showed it: “Fire in the hooole!”
“You know, you didn’t have to get the glittery dildo.”
“I know,” Sarah said. “But I thought it wouldn’t hurt to, you know, give it a whirl.”
As she drove home, Sarah visualized the list she’d made for the next day:
Wake up: 7 a.m.
Drink coffee.
Complete the next module in photography class.
Wake Amelia: 9 a.m. sharp.
Cook and serve breakfast.
Leave for soup kitchen: 10 a.m.
Return library books on the way home.
Chores: fold laundry, mop the kitchen floor, put dinner in the slow cooker.
Study: 2 p.m.
Sarah realized then that she was already turning into her subdivision and she hadn’t even made it to three p.m.
It was time to switch gears, mentally. Sex. It had been so long since she initiated sex that Sarah wasn’t sure exactly how to go about it. She didn’t think Donny even realized Marcy’s party was a sex toy party, so it was unlikely he was expecting her to come home bearing gifts.
Should she just hand him the bag? No, she should change into the lingerie she’d bought. She pulled into the driveway and noticed immediately that with the exception of Amelia’s bedroom light, the house was dark. She wondered if Donny was already asleep.
If he was, should she wake him? Maybe she should save the sex toys for another night. Or, maybe that idea was actually an invention of procrastination. Sarah wondered why she was so nervous. They’d been married for two decades, and they’d been having sex for longer than that.
But, come to think of it, when was the last time they’d been intimate? How long had it been? Too long. In fact, it had been so long that doing so now would probably feel beyond awkward. How would he respond, tonight, when she produced the bright purple vibrator the consultant had said was, “Not only waterproof, but disappointment-proof, too”?
This was the moment Sarah Ward’s realization began.
Standing in the garage, one hand on the doorknob to go inside and the other gripping a bag of overpriced sex toys, she realized she was terrified of what her husband’s reaction would be. And if that wasn’t a sign something was not quite right, what was?
The door flew open.
Sarah jumped back, and put her hand on her chest when she saw that Amelia stood on the other side.
“I heard the garage door,” Amelia said.
Her gaze landed on Sarah’s bag.
“Wow, Mom. That bag looks really full. Heavy. Like you bought some … big stuff.”
Sarah felt her face start to burn.
“I can’t even put into words how inappropriate this is,” she said, even as a smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“I waited up for you,” Amelia said. “I wanted to see if you had fun at the party. It looks like you did. But that was only the beginning.”
Sarah put her head down and brushed past Amelia into the house.
“Wow, Mom,” she said again. “You’re embarrassed. This is fun.”
“This is so not fun,” Sarah said, although the other side of her mouth was heading upward, too.
“So, are you going to, like, go seduce Dad right now?”
“Go to bed, young lady. We have a busy day tomorrow and you need your rest.”
Squeaking with muted laughter, Amelia trotted up the stairs. Just before going into her room, she whisper-yelled, “Have fun, Mom!” and then, “This is so weird.”
Sarah couldn’t imagine what life would be like when Amelia left for college in a few short weeks. At the moment, Sarah was half-questioning her decision to sign Amelia up for a summer session. But it was all part of the master plan. Sarah had put in place every piece of the puzzle to increase Amelia’s chances of getting a college scholarship. The hard work paid off. Amelia had a full ride to Northern Arizona University, where she’d be a member of the track team.
As she walked up the stairs to the bedroom she shared with Donny, Sarah thought about how she had carefully orchestrated every moment of Amelia’s life to ensure she grew up into a kind, hard-working, determined young lady while making beautiful memories. And she’d gone so far as to cultivate new hobbies for herself (scrapbooking and Italian cooking) and to prepare for a new career (photography) so she’d have something to do when Amelia moved out.
But what she hadn’t done was plan for the changes her marriage would go through. She’d just put it on autopilot, assuming it would remain the same forever. Yes, she’d planned bi-weekly date nights and weekly sex nights. But as Amelia got older and her schedule became more intense, those were the first to go by the wayside.
Before going into her own bedroom, she paused and took a deep breath. Darkness greeted her when she stepped inside. Donny was already asleep. Momentarily, Sarah considered scrapping the whole seduction idea. She could just slip between the sheets and pretend she hadn’t just spent the equivalent of a weekly grocery bill on battery-powered toys and flavored lubricant. Strawberries and whipped cream. What had she been thinking?
If Donny woke up now, he’d see her there, frozen just inside the room. He’d barely be able to make out her silhouette in the dim light.
When was the last time they had sex?
Was it—no, this was impossible. They definitely hadn’t done it in the past several weekends. Possibly even months. There’d been a statewide education policy conference in Phoenix, an orientation at Amelia’s college, and, well, life. There’d been a track meet at one point, but no hot hotel sex on that weekend’s itinerary. She’d insisted that Amelia stay in the hotel room with her and Donny, rather than in the room Amelia’s teammates were sharing) so she’d be rested for the track meet. Sarah’s hand made its way to her forehead as she ran backwards through all the recent weekends, weekdays, and months … and realized she couldn’t even remember the last time she and Donny had acted like anything other than roommates.
She was torn: one part of her thought, Something must be done about this, immediately. She imagined leaping onto the bed at this very moment, straddling her husband, and having her way with him. The other part wasn’t sure how Donny would respond. She imagined crawling into bed as quietly as possible and going straight to sleep.
But, the first part reasoned, if she did that, would they ever have sex again?
There was a third option: Sarah could sneak into the bathroom and call her sister, Margaret. Margaret would know what to do. She was an expert on all things related to the opposite sex—always had been. How many times had she advised Sarah on these matters? Exactly how to angle her head to get Donny to kiss her the first time, precisely what to say to let him know she was ready to go all the way, even how to convince him they should use the plates with scalloped edges at their wedding.
Donny’s breathing remained even as Sarah tiptoed past him and into the bathroom. Then she realized she didn’t have her phone. In all the excitement, she’d left it in the car. She could picture it there, now, tucked into the cupholder.
What would Margaret say if she were standing here now?
Get over it, Sarah. You’ve been with Donny since the beginning of time. Why wouldn’t he want to have sex with you? Put on your big girl panties, get in there, and you-know-what your husband.
Margaret always used the f-word, which Sarah found amusing and appalling at the same time.
Smiling now, and with her confidence slightly bolstered by the imaginary pep talk from her sister, Sarah took off the practical jeans and sweater she was wearing and slipped into the lingerie she’d bought at Marcy’s party.
She stood in front of the mirror. Her blond hair curled around her face and shoulders, and her eyes matched the cornflower blue of the see-through nighty. She’d spent enough time outside this spring that her arms were tan, and enough time at the gym that they were toned, too. Yes, her waistline had lost just a bit of that hourglass shape, but she was still trim and fit.
Why wouldn’t her husband want to have sex with her?
If Margaret were here, standing in the bathroom with her, she’d say something about how Sarah was a fine piece of ass or how she looked totally—well, Sarah couldn’t even bring herself to think of the word in its entirety. Maybe she could soften it: Sex-able? No, that wouldn’t do. Sex-able didn’t have quite the same ring to it. Anyway. It was time to pull out all the stops. Or something like that. Was there a bawdy way of saying that? Probably. She could Google it.
When Sarah found herself reaching for her phone, she froze. Not only was her phone in the car, but she recognized procrastination for what it was. She’d never get Donny in the sack if she hid in the bathroom Googling slang phrases for going all out. Sexing it up. She took a deep breath. Maybe a glass of wine would help. But she was in her lingerie now, and what if Amelia came downstairs while she was in the kitchen?
“I’m going to brush my teeth,” she said to her reflection.
“Sarah,” Donny called, then. She jumped. He was awake. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Sarah called back. “I’m fine!”
“You’ve been in there a really long time.”
It was now or never. Although, she could brush her teeth. She should. Sarah closed her eyes and consciously relaxed her shoulder muscles. She opened the bathroom door. She closed it. Finally, she opened it again and marched into the bedroom, concentrating on her posture and her breathing.
Later, Sarah would reflect on this moment and think she should have researched synonyms for surprised. Shocked, astonished, amazed, bewildered … because Donny’s expression, illuminated in the light from the bedside lamp he’d turned on, showed all of those things when he noticed what she was wearing.
The younger Donny would have practically jumped off the bed and come toward her at warp speed, eager to get his hands on her. But this Donny, after recovering from his shock, seemed uncertain of what to do. He remained motionless, his back against the headboard, his legs crossed at the ankles, his hands folded in his lap.
A tiny flare of anger went up in Sarah’s mind, but she quickly snuffed it out, acknowledging it for what it was: fear of rejection. She lifted her arms, palms up, and said, “Well? What do you think?”
Donny cleared his throat. He uncrossed his legs and then recrossed them. “Wow.”
The fear dissipated, just the tiniest bit. “Well, I guess ‘wow’ is good.”
“It’s been a while.” He cleared his throat again.
Sarah nodded, feeling even more self-conscious. “I know. It has. Maybe I shouldn’t have—”
She was smoothing her hands over her stomach, and managed to resist the urge to turn right around and go back into the bathroom. She could put on sweatpants. And have that wine.
“No,” Donny said. “No, you should have. I’m just surprised, that’s all. You look really nice, Sarah.”
Finally, he did stand up. He approached her slowly, like she was a wild animal that might get spooked and take off. For some reason, this situation brought to mind the time when the four of them—Sarah, her sisters, and Donny—had found an injured rabbit at the base of the old cottonwood tree. It had lain so still they weren’t even sure if it was alive. Then Donny walked toward it and it leapt into action, its back legs moving up and down so fast the children stepped back, startled. After that, he moved slowly, cautiously, closer, until he managed to sit down next to it. When he lifted it in his hands, the rabbit didn’t even struggle.
He was standing in front of her now, and he took her shoulders in his hands. “You’re so beautiful.”
It came out in a whisper, which, for some reason, Sarah found very touching. So much so that she started to cry.
“What’s the matter?” Donny pulled her against him, resting his chin on top of her head. As always, he tried to lighten the mood with a joke: “Geez, I’ve never seen anything like it: a wife who cries when her husband says she’s beautiful.”
Laughing, she tipped her head back to look at him. “It’s not that. It’s just that I feel like it’s been way too long. We’ve both been so busy and you’ve been working so hard and Amelia’s had so many practices and meets and—”
“Shh,” Donny said. He kissed her, then, and a little flame started up at her center.
Well, this is nice, Sarah thought. It had been a long time since she felt that sensation. She kissed her husband back, relishing in the familiar-yet-unfamiliar feeling of his lips on hers. His hands were on her waist, bringing their hips together, and now they traveled up her torso and into her hair.
“Let’s take this horizontal,” he said.
It was one of their inside jokes, and it dissolved whatever was left of Sarah’s awkwardness. Sarah backed Donny up to the bed, and he pulled her down on top of him. They kissed for a few minutes more, and then Donny flipped Sarah onto her back. His lips roamed over her neck and her collarbone, and then his hands came up her torso to cup her breasts.
She trailed her fingertips along his back. When she realized he was still fully dressed, she tugged his shirt up and over his head and tossed it off to the side. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of her lingerie. When she was trying it on in Marcy’s bathroom, Marcy stood outside the door asking for detailed descriptions.
At one point, Sarah said, “I don’t know why women spend so much on this stuff. We wear it for, like, a couple of minutes and then we take it off. I’m probably spending thirty dollars per minute on this one outfit.”
“Then get something crotchless,” Marcy said through the door. “You’ll never have to take it off. If your hot and steamy sex session lasts for an hour, it’s only a dollar per minute. That’s a pretty good investment, if you ask me.”
Despite her misgivings, Sarah had followed Marcy’s advice and found something that not only had crotchless panties, but also was thin enough that the fabric over her breasts could slide easily down to reveal them. And not that she was watching the clock now, when her husbands head was between her thighs, but she thought she could make this last an hour. She ran her fingers through Donny’s hair and urged him gently back up so they were face to face.
“I love this outfit,” he whispered. “It’s sexy and practical.”
“I thought so, too,” she said.
Sarah reached down between them and was surprised to find that Donny wasn’t hard. Not even a little. Things down there were about as non-aroused as they could get.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
This had happened so rarely during their marriage that she wasn’t quite sure what to do.
“Yeah,” he said. “Just a bit rusty, you know. Like the tin man in Wizard of Oz. I need some loosening up.”
Sarah nodded, but that feeling of unease had returned. Still, she was determined. She began stroking him, slowly and gently.
“Harder,” he whispered.
She went harder, but still, nothing. His kissing gained ferocity, as if he were trying to will himself into being turned on. It didn’t seem to work. The flame in Sarah’s abdomen turned into a rock, heavy and solid.
“Donny?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you want to keep going?”
“Let’s just give it a few more minutes,” he said. “Out of practice.”
He had stopped kissing her and had buried his face in her hair. She didn’t know if it was because he was concentrating or because he was hoping the scent of her shampoo would turn him on. Her arm was getting tired and she felt stupid, here in her expensive lingerie, pumping away at a husband who obviously wasn’t into it.
“It’s okay,” she said, trying for a reassuring tone. “We can stop.”
Donny flopped onto his back then, and let out a huge sigh.
“I’m so sorry, Sarah,” he said. “It’s just—”
“It’s fine,” Sarah said, even though it wasn’t. “You don’t have to apologize. I know it’s been a while. A long while. I probably caught you off guard.”
“No, it’s not that,” Donny said. “I—”
“You don’t have to explain,” Sarah said. “It happens. I’m just used to you being such a, you know, stallion. But I guess we’re getting older.”
She sat up, patted him on the thigh, and went into the bathroom. For a moment, she imagined sinking down, her back against the cupboards below her sink. She imagined putting her head down on her knees and crying. Sobbing, actually. But she didn’t do that.
Instead, her movements wooden, she removed the lingerie and put on her sweatpants. They were far more comfortable, anyway, and she’d worn them for hours and hours—days, even—which meant they’d yielded an excellent return on investment. She picked up the lingerie, holding it between her pointer finger and her thumb like it was a stinky sock. Then she dropped it into the trash can next to the toilet. When she went back into the bedroom, Donny was in bed, his back to her. If he wasn’t actually asleep, he was definitely pretending to be, so she turned off the light on her nightstand and lay down.
Sleep came in snatches that night, and when it did, Sarah dreamed of her childhood home, the creek bubbling through the meadow and her best friend, Donny, laying next to her, the two of them staring up at the sky.
Get your copy of “The Composition of Order” here, now, before Book 2 comes out next week!