It had been a few years since my wife had passed away and somewhere along the line I found myself interested in going to church, reading my Bible, and studying online. The site that got most of my attention was called 'BibleWatch' because they had a very active forum section. Over the course of time I got to know several people and one in particular just clicked with me and that was Chloe.
We shared a lot on the chat section and discussed the ups and downs of life. She was early in what I assumed was her college education but she had promise. She was very bright and our conversations were most engaging. In due time I found myself having feelings for someone I'd never actually met. I suspected she had feelings for me, too.
But, you know...Bible discussion. That was the point, right? It wasn't supposed to be a dating or romance site. Even though I had developed feelings for her I didn't feel comfortable pursuing anything past our topical discussions and how they related to Scripture.
We had known each other online for about six months when one night she asked me in chat where I lived. I replied that I lived in Kansas City and she abruptly left the chat. I didn't see her online for a couple days and then there she was again. I immediately opened up a chat window with her.
B: Is everything okay? You just cut out the other night
C: I'm fine. Just had to collect my thoughts is all
B: What disturbed your thoughts?
C: You said you live in KC
B: Why is that a problem?
C: I live in Lee's Summit
B: Okay, and why is that a problem?
C: It just seemed safer when I thought you lived far away
B: I can understand that but why would you not feel safe with me?
C: It's me. Not you.
B: Okay. Why?
C: Because I want to meet you.
There it was. Chloe had feelings for me, too. The chat quickly moved to arranging a meeting and the next day we met up at a Starbuck's on Route 291.
We had never described ourselves to each other yet somehow we both knew who the other was on first sight. I had gotten there early and set myself up in a comfy chair looking straight at the door. When she walked in she beelined right for me.
"Are you Baz?" she asked.
I stood up to greet her with a handshake and a smile. "I am. And you're definitely Chloe!"
She simply had a sweet countenance about her that I instantly liked. The rest of her look was decidedly not very modern. Long brownish hair tied in a braid, simple black walking shoes, stockings, and a very plain dress that covered her pleasingly proportioned frame. She looked like someone Central Casting would send over for a 1970's version of a 1940's movie.
What stood out though were her big brown eyes. They drew me in and made me want to just sit and lose myself in them.
We sat down and started in on a meandering conversation that lasted until sunset. I wish I could tell you what we talked about but there wasn't much of anything discussed, it was more the experience of simply talking to each other that was the point.
At the end of it I asked her how she was going to get home and she said she could walk. Naturally I insisted on driving her home. She politely refused the ride, of course, but then politely accepted when I insisted it was no problem and that I wanted to see her home safe.
She gave me directions and I'll admit being somewhat surprised when we ended up in the relatively upscale Lakewood Lakes neighborhood. The neighborhood has larger homes and most are well manicured and well maintained. Chloe's home was flagrantly plain in comparison. It featured a featureless expanse of grass for a front yard, a home without any ornamentation, and a monochromatic all-white color scheme.
She spoke her appreciation for the ride home as she opened the car door and then scampered off into the big, plain house.
Over the following few days we chatted more and reflected on our meeting. The discussion was very proper and chaste. I was interested in Chloe but the thought of anything more than our friendly relationship seemed absurd. Why would she be interested in someone like me?
We did share more personal information in those days. Like I learned that she was the third oldest daughter in a family that included twelve children. Money was tight because her father had a hard time keeping a job due to his unusual religious views as a 'Torah Keeper'. In short, they were Old Testament Christians.
That weekend she was offline on Friday night as that was when her family observed the sabbath. When she came back online on Monday night she asked me what I'd done over the weekend and I mentioned doing a lot of chores around the house. It was a big house and I loved the place but it was a lot of work especially after my wife died. She used to keep the place spotless.
Chloe ended our chat and a few seconds later my phone rang. It was Chloe.
"This is a pleasant surprise!" I said.
"Hi, Baz! You said you have a lot of chores to do? I can do all sorts of housework if you need it! I can cook and clean and sew..."
I cut her off, "Chloe, if you're asking for a job you can have it. I'd love to have some help around here!"
She paused for a moment, "You'll need to talk to my father if that's okay. I can't work for you unless he approves."
Torah Keeper. Patriarchy. Noted.
The next day I was back over at Chloe's family home and knocking on the door.
The guy who opened the door was about what I expected. Dour, serious, a long beard, white shirt and black tie, black pants, and about as plain as his house.
"You're Michael?" he said. No hello, no courtesies.
"Yes, but most people just call me 'Baz'."
He opened the door and invited me in. At this point his pleasantries started up and I was offered tea and a seat in an old wing chair.
"I hear you want hire Chloe as a maidservant?" he got right down to business.
"Well, yes, she and I had been talking and..."
He put up a hand to interrupt me. "What she has to say isn't our concern. This is between men." He sipped the tea. "Chloe's yours for a year and the price is ten thousand dollars. Cash."
What in the actual fuck did I walk into?
"I don't understand, I was just looking to hire her and..."
He interrupted me again. "I know your ways aren't our ways but our ways are how this happens or not at all. One less mouth to feed around here helps us and you're partly paying us by taking care of her. The other is her indenture."
'Indenture'? Like as in the Sixteenth Fucking Century?
My head was spinning with how this guy handled everything but I ended up accepting his terms. A quick trip to the bank and I returned with a neat bundle of one hundred $100 bills. Money was exchanged, hands were shaken, and Chloe got into my car with a carry-on bag full of all her worldly possessions. She didn't own much.
There was no one outside the house to wave goodbye as we drove away. Chloe was fighting back tears and I allowed her some space. I turned on the radio to my favorite classical station and was fortunate enough to catch the intro to Bach's 'Air on the G string'.
Chloe didn't say anything until six minutes later when the piece ended.
"That was beautiful!"
"You've never heard that before?" I asked.
"No, papa won't allow music because he says it distracts our minds from God."
"Well, I guess that's his rule in his house. In my house we have music."
I turned up the radio as Debussy's 'Clair de lune' started up. Chloe liked that, too.
We were wrapping up the end of Einaudi's 'Primavera' by the time we made it to my house. I pulled the car into the garage and flicked the remote to close the door.
"This is amazing!" remarked Chloe as she pointed out the exposed joinery work in the beams.
"This is just the garage, come on." I gestured to her to follow me to the house.
Chloe was fairly awestruck by the full glory of my lovely 1915 Craftsman. I'd bought the place some twenty years before when I'd moved from the Carolinas. It needed a ton of work to restore it. A new foundation was built, decades and layers of shitty paint were removed from masterpieces of woodwork, the kitchen was updated and restored to its original appearance, and all manner of upgrades were tastefully incorporated into the home but not so as to distract from the original design. There were a couple awards on the mantle from historic preservation groups acknowledging the final result.
I loved the place and Chloe warmed my heart with her appreciation of it.
"My house is so plain compared to this. There's art work everywhere in this place!"
She marveled at the whole place and I told her to go pick a bedroom for herself since she'd be living here for a while. She rather surprised me by picking out the attic dormer suite for herself. It was a modest room with its own bathroom but it also had the best view of the backyard. Smart girl.
It was late enough that I was ready for dinner so I got things started while Chloe settled in to her new room.
When she came down to find me in the kitchen I was halfway into a simple Chicken piccata. Naturally she made me explain what it was and how I was preparing it all while marveling over and exploring the kitchen. Discovering the Sub-Zero fridge camouflaged as a cabinet pantry surprised her.
"This is all yours?" she asked.
"Yeah. It looks impressive especially when it's time to clean everything, which is why I needed some help here."
She nodded. "Yes, I can see that. It's pretty but it takes work to keep up with it. Still, it's much nicer than a plain house."
The dinner was welcomed and Chloe complimented me on my cooking. Afterwards she insisted on cleaning up and I had to show her where the pan went and how to load the dishwasher. She'd never actually seen a dishwasher before. Hard to believe this was 2022 when she first came to live with me.
After dinner she wanted to get to work cleaning and I said no. It was well after seven, the sun was down, and I wanted to relax.
"But papa always has us working until we go to bed."
I smiled at her, "Papa isn't here. I am. And I say that when the sun goes down we stop working and we start settling down for the evening. So go get yourself changed and then come down to the living room and we'll listen to some more music and chat for a while, okay?"
"Changed? Into what? This is all I have."
I sighed. "You've never had pajamas or a nightie?"
She shook her head. "No, just this and my underdress is all. I wear my underdress for bed."
"Okay. Come with me."
She followed behind me as I walked up the stairs to my bedroom. She stopped at the door as if it were forbidden territory.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
