Page 111 of Absolution

PartThree

Blessings

Twenty-Eight

Kerry

Christian has an amazing house. An old mansion built in the forties, part brick, part wooden panel. Back then it was probably pretty much the only house on the hill. Now a whole community of more modern, and larger houses surrounds it, but they lack the charm of this older building. It’s got pillars on either side of the front door, two floors and a mysterious attic window, nooks and crannies, a balcony on the backside with my favorite view in life, and a large, old swimming pool with blue mosaic in the pattern of a dolphin on the bottom.

It’s also almost empty of furniture. It’s like he sleeps here, but I wonder where he lives.

I got the tour when I left off Cecilia the first time, but after that I’ve only stood in the hallway. I don’t want to intrude on their time together. It’s like this place has become theirs. Father’s and daughter’s.

A light chair on his patio has flipped over and flaps in the wind, rattling against the hard surface. It bangs and slams like an out-of-control child. I look out into the darkness where the streetlights are dancing a funny dance and then I glance behind me. He should secure the outdoor furniture and wrap up the newer plants. It’s getting colder. Why hasn’t he already?

He’s reading to Cecilia and the wind has increased dramatically just in the last twenty minutes. Maybe he isn’t even aware of the severity of the situation.

A storm is well on its way and I need to get her back home before it gets too bad. I press my nose against the window. The rage outside translates through the soulless surface and makes me quiver. Where are they? I spin around and walk with determined steps across the room only to meet Christian in the doorway. “I wondered where you were.” I can barely hide the irritation in my voice. “It’s getting windy. You should put your patio furniture in the garage.”

He looks uncomfortable. I frown. “Trust me,” I add. “You don’t want to leave them loose. If something comes flying through the air, your windows will crack like eggshells if this thing keeps up with its promise.”

He pushes his fingers through his hair and sighs. “I know. I’m not sure I can do it alone.”

That is the least likely of all answers I would have thought possible. “Why?”

“Can you please help me?”

And there’s that word again. Please. It’ll never cease to amaze me, hearing it from his lips. “Oookay. Where’s Cece?”

His features lighten. “Sleeping. After the walk she was exhausted.”

“Sleeping? But… we need to get going. Real soon.”

He steps into a pair of boots. “Are we doing this?”

I frown and reach for my sweater. “Sure.”

We almost have to double over as we fight against the gusts and I curse him more than once for not having done this earlier this afternoon. When it was still bright. When it wasn’t so cold. Together we carry furniture across the dark patio and Christian struggles with canvas and rope to tie around the plants, saving them from the rage and the possible frost. I think of my bed, my TV, of a warm cup of tea and my cozy pajamas. Why am I here again? I frown as I look at Christian who seems to be more holding onto a large terracotta pot than wrapping it.

“Hur—” The wind steals my words, almost before they even leave my lips, and I realize I can scream as much as I want to and he won’t hear it anyway, not over the wind. I struggle across the lawn and shudder. The temperature has dropped several degrees in just the last couple of hours. He jerks when I tap his shoulder. “You need to—” Even in the dark I see how pale he is. He looks exhausted. “Just leave it!” I shout. “Come on!”

The wind comes from behind us now and shoves us forward, almost lifts us back. Once inside, the door slams shut behind us and we’re thrown into silence, our hearing temporarily stunned by the alarm we’ve just fought our way through. I gasp and lean back against the nearest wall. Christian’s chest heaves and he’s sweaty.

I frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Noth—ing’s wrong,” he hitches.

I leave my spot by the wall, taking a few steps closer, studying him. “You look absolutely exhausted, Christian. Are you ill?” Putting my hand to his forehead, I feel if he has a fever. He’s sweaty and warm, but not hot. At least not feverish hot.

“Funny,” he gasps, his eyes following the track of my hand as I let it drop. “Isn’t it quite the déjà vu? The wind, the cold.”

“Not the isolation, though,” I say quickly.

“Not the isolation. Hell, I don’t ever wanna see a forest again in my life.” He sighs deeply and kicks off his boots. “You should stay, you know.”

“No. We have to go!” Sleeping in the same house as him… bad, bad idea. Memories of ropes and belts, of pain and half-panic run through my mind, making my blood run hotter through my veins.

“You don’t have to go, Ker. I have like… six guest rooms or something.” He sighs. “Just… be reasonable for once. I won’t touch you. I know what you said.”

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