Enemies To Lovers 19: Drop Of Blood

"I'm really a woman now," Joanna thought the next morning as she awakened and sat up in bed, then glanced at Jurgen, who still slept peacefully beside her. The irony that her most intimate treasure had just been given to a man she'd once loathed and feared wasn't lost on her.

Knowing she had a busy day ahead, she slipped from beneath the covers, dressed, and waited to find out what the morning would bring.

Soon Jurgen was also awake, and she was helping strap his artificial arm and leg on.

"Did you have a restful night?" he asked her.

"I slept well," she told him. "Did you?"

"Ja," he grunted, not looking at her.

Breakfast was served in the same crowded room with long tables. Because of his disabilities, Jurgen was allowed to sit at a round table with fewer occupants. Joanna found herself sitting at a table with eight men and only two other women. All except one of the women were significantly older than she was. The others chatted among themselves, completely ignoring her, with the exception of the younger woman, who glanced her way a couple of times.

After the meal was over, Joanna helped Jurgen back to their new quarters. She'd barely gotten him settled when she heard a knock on the door and opened it to see the young woman she'd sat with at the table.

"Are you Joanna Schilling?" the woman asked.

Joanna nodded.

"Come with me," the woman instructed. "We are to start harvesting oranges this morning."

Accustomed to obeying without question, Joanna stepped into line right behind her. The woman led her to a field covered with many trees bearing ripe oranges. Joanna recognized some of the workers from the breakfast table. They all carried buckets, and some stood on ladders. The woman led Joanna past the occupied rows to one where no one was working yet.

"You can start at this end, and I'll start at that one." The woman handed Joanna a bucket while nodding toward the end of the row. "In case you need anything, my name's Hedda, but of course that will have to change soon."

Joanna wondered what on earth she meant but was afraid to ask. She began picking oranges and carefully placing them into the bucket so as not to bruise them. Soon she developed a rhythm of picking and placing so she was able to go at a fairly rapid pace. After awhile, she became quite warm and felt sweat beading on her forehead.

"I see you're doing very well." Startled, Joanna turned to see Hedda smiling at her. "In about ten minutes, it'll be time for lunch. We'll all go together."

Too stunned to respond, Joanna watched as Hedda walked away.

When he'd awakened that morning, Jurgen had seen the drop of blood on the sheet on Joanna's side of the bed and smiled to himself. Alone in the small cabin,he had plenty of time to contemplate the recent turn his life had taken. Uprooted from his home, he would soon be given a new identity and, with it, the opportunity to make a fresh start in a new country. The past, the atrocious deeds he'd been witness to and participated in, could be swept under a rug, forgotten.

Or could they? He knew they'd come looking for him eventually. How long would a new name and identity protect him? What would become of her if he were captured and imprisoned?

Her. They were truly joined now as husband and wife, the act consummated as soon as possible, as had been both his right and his duty. With it had come a new closeness, a desire to protect her, that hadn't been there before.

Did he regret it? Not at all. To him, it had long ago ceased to matter where she came from or who her ancestors were. She was simply a lovely woman whom he'd come to not only admire and respect but, yes, to love. In his loneliness and boredom, he longed for her return.

At last the door opened and she entered the room, pink-cheeked, smiling, and smelling of a fresh spring day.

"Come here," he murmured, pulling her to himself.

Before long, Joanna's fellow orange harvesters began complaining about the heat, some of them even passing out. Hats were issued, and Joanna took one, although she supposed she didn't really need it, as she'd quickly adapted to the warmer climate of her new home. The others also began to blister, turning red as lobsters, while Joanna's skin only turned darker. She just smiled when they grumbled and looked at her with envy.

Rather than ignoring her, they seemed eager to befriend her. To her surprise, none of the men leered or made sexual advances to her; instead, they were always very kind and helpful. She had no idea whether or not their new attitude was sincere, but she was grateful for it.

Spanish classes soon began in the same building where the group was fed, and Jurgen and Joanna attended along with everyone else. The day was divided into three parts: harvest oranges, then attend class, then harvest oranges some more. For Jurgen and the others who were too badly disabled to work, the classes were a welcome respite from the monotony of their colorless days. For Joanna and the other workers, it was a chance to sit down and rest, out of the heat.

In the evening, Jurgen and Joanna practiced their Spanish.

"Donde es la senora linda?" asked Jurgen.

"Que senora linda?" asked Joanna.

"La senora linda quien vive en mi casa," Jurgen replied.

Realizing he was flirting with her, Joanna giggled. "Donde es el perro?" She'd been forced to leave Boychick behind with Frau Schiller and, although Paula had vowed to take good care of him, she missed him terribly.

Jurgen was silent for a moment, then looked at her with sympathetic eyes. "Maybe someday," was all he said.