Page 2 of I Dream of Danger
But it didn’t really matter because then he’d say, Have a drink with me. Please. Just five minutes. I’m so glad to see you.
And, well, this was Nick. And so she would. And then he’d say he loved her and would never leave her again.
It was a fine daydream and it had to be, because it replaced more or less everything a young girl should have—school, friends, first love, dreams, plans…
The details wavered but the core of it was always the same, though. He found her whole and happy and successful. Beautiful and elegant and self-assured.
Not the miserable creature she was now. Pale and pinched from the last four nights of watching her father die when she hadn’t slept at all. Wearing a too-thin jacket that didn’t protect in any way against the cold, because the only winter coat she had was ripped along the sleeve.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way at all. But it was.
She simply watched as he walked toward her and everything about her was numb except her heart. Her treacherous, treacherous heart, which leaped in joy to see him.
He didn’t hurry down to her, but his long legs seemed to carry him to her quickly. He had on a big down jacket that came down to mid-thigh, gloved hands hanging down by his side.
Elle was aware of her own hands, gloveless, almost blue with cold. Embarrassed, she stuck them behind her back.
And that was how they met, Nick towering over her, face in shadow, looking down at her. The sun was at his back, huge just before sunset, an enormous pale disk. They stood and looked at each other. Elle was struck dumb.
He was here, right in front of her.
How she’d longed for this moment, and here it was, by the side of her father’s coffin.
She should say something, she should?—
“Miss?”
Elle turned. She’d completely forgotten the attendants. “Yes?”
“You’re going to have to stand back, Miss. We’re going to cover the coffin with dirt.”
“Oh.” She stepped back and Nick stepped with her. “Of course.”
She and Nick watched as dirt covered the coffin of her only living relative. She didn’t cry. She’d shed so many tears over the years. There were none left. Her father had gone long before this. What had been left behind was a shell of a person, human meat.
Her father had been witty, well-read, strongly opinionated, charming. That man had died years ago.
So she watched as they covered the coffin, quickly and efficiently. It was cold, and they wanted the job over with as fast as possible. When they finished, they put away their tools and faced her.
There was a gash in the ground now, raw and red. Someday it would be covered with grass as the other graves were, but for now, it was clear that the earth had recently claimed one of its own. A tombstone would come, eventually, when she could afford it.
The funeral home director had quoted figures that made no sense to her. The cheapest one cost over two thousand dollars. It might as well have cost a million. She didn’t have it.
She didn’t have anything.
One of the gravediggers pulled off his hat. “Real sorry about the Judge, ma’am. You have our condolences.”
Elle dipped her head. “Thank you. Um…” She opened her purse and peered inside, though she didn’t need to look to see what was in it. One bill. Not a big one, either. She pulled out the twenty and handed it to the man, well aware of the fact that it should have been a hundred-dollar bill, fifty each.
He picked it up gingerly, looked at his mate in disgust, stuck it in his pants pocket and glared at her.
Elle understood completely. They had done a hard job. The ground was frozen and they’d toiled. The funeral director had let her know clearly that the cheap option she’d chosen didn’t cover the diggers, and that she would have to recompense them herself.
This was so awful. She felt so raw and exposed, reduced to ashes, to dust. All of this was playing out right in front of Nick, who was observing everything.
She remembered how observant he was. He always had been. He was seeing her humiliation in 4K HD, up close and personal.
Elle cleared her throat, reached out a hand toward the gravedigger, then stuck it in her pocket. “I’m sorry it’s not more,” she said quietly. “Perhaps?—”
