Page 14 of Redeem

Then it was like a switch had been flipped. She dropped her hands and then stood. “Are you finished?” she asked though she didn’t look at me.

I nodded, watched as she gathered the dishes and went back into the house.

I felt as though we had been on the verge of something, that I had been on the verge of something, and in an instant it had been taken.

I hated that.

Despite everything, I wanted to know what her draw was to this place, why she felt so strongly about it.

Because she did.

I had seen that in the care she took with everything she had done so far, the way she seemed almost resentful of taking help. Wanted to know if I was the reason why.

The door opened and Dana emerged, and when I took one look at her, I knew I wouldn’t find out, at least not today.

Any closeness that had developed, any openness that had been there was gone.

Everything about her screamed “stay away,” from the way she held her body, to the way she looked through me, not at me.

I should have been happy about that. How many times in the last hours had I told myself that I needed to keep my distance, told myself that everything I learned about her, every second I spent with her only added to the mountain of wrongs I’d already committed?

Still, though I knew as much, couldn’t deny it, I was finding I disliked the change in her.

There had been sidelong glances before, sneaking ones that simultaneously made me feel even more guilty, made me that much more curious. Now that she met my eyes head-on and seemed to be staring directly through me, I felt a profound discomfort. Dana had shared something of herself with me, given me insight that I didn’t deserve, and that openness only compounded my shame.

“Do you mind if I take you back now?” she asked.

Her voice was distant, almost robotic and I wanted to go to her, hold her, get her to let me back in.

I didn’t.

Instead I stood and walked down the stairs.

“No,” I said.

Seven

Dana

So fucking stupid, Dana.

What had I been thinking? Didn’t I know better?

The difference between the morning and afternoon couldn’t have been more stark.

Before lunch I had been a stupid, giddy woman checking out a hot guy.

After, I had fallen into a pit of despair and recrimination that was of my own creation.

I should never have picked him up, but since I hadn’t been smart enough not to do that, I shouldn’t have talked to him.

Despite knowing better I had let the giddiness of the morning get the better of my senses and let myself be engaged, interested in conversation with him when I had no room for such a thing.

And what had come of it?

He’d asked a couple of questions, none that were of any particular note, and I had found myself on the verge of spilling my guts. I had already told him too much and was risking telling him more.

I didn’t know whether to be more horrified at the impulse, or more afraid of his reaction.

---