Page 131 of Sky Song
He left her alone in the room.
Cricket quickly put herself to rights in the cramped bathroom and smoothed out the bed.
Before she left the room, her hand settled over the mattress as if trying to absorb the dissipating warmth of their entwined bodies.
She found Lyle in the kitchen with Rosamma. A small frown creased the woman’s paper-white face, and the energy emanating from Lyle was strong but disjointed.
“Good morning!” Cricket announced cheerfully.
“Oh, Cricket! Good morning.” Her face relaxing into a genuine smile, Rosamma stood up and went to greet her. She gazed into Cricket’s eyes, and Cricket’s face heated because Rosamma had a way of looking at a person as if she could guess their deepest secrets. “Were you able to rest?”
“Very little,” Cricket admitted, afraid her face gave it all away.
“Me, too. I couldn't sleep, thinking about this situation. What’s going to happen to you all? To Ren? Such nagging thoughts and they wouldn't leave me alone.” She waved her hands like she was chasing away mosquitoes, and her bangles responded with a melodious chime. “I am annoyed at myself. Those thoughts don’t help anybody.”
Cricket sat down and accepted a cup of coffee, feeling guilty. She had stayed up all night, too, butshehad had no problem forgetting her troubles while Rosamma had worried herself sick.
She glanced at Lyle. He was focused on the window, though God only knew what he could see out there from the table. He seemed a bit strung out, and perhaps she should be more strung out too, but their lovemaking mellowed everything down. She wanted to hug him. She wished he’d rise and come to her, to crush her in his hearty embrace, murmur a sweet good morning into her mouth as he kissed her.
He stayed seated, gazing into the distance.
“Where’s Ren?” Only now Cricket noticed Rosamma’s brother’s absence.
“He went to Atticus,” Lyle said and finally turned toward her.
“Is it a good idea?”
“He knows to stay downstairs.”
She felt Lyle’s regard fully focused on her, and that little frown between his tawny eyebrows remained in place. If he was having morning-after regrets, she was going to personally deliver a kick in that smooth place between his legs and hope it hurt.
His energy didn’t feel particularly regretful, more like angry. From up close, his skin appeared stretched taut across his cheekbones, and his little slashes of nostrils opened and closed as he breathed.
Her own worry spiked as if a live line got plugged in. The events of yesterday hit her all at once. She had irrevocably lost her way of life, and what lay ahead was unknown.
Suddenly, Cricket felt shaky. Control had slipped away and she was hurtling down the river of life toward an inescapable waterfall. There was always a waterfall, wasn’t there?
Grinding her teeth together, she slammed a mental door on the swelling panic.
Clearing her throat, she looked Lyle in the face. “What are we going to do today?”
His dark eyes remained dead and flat. “I’m going out. You should stay here and wait for Paloma.”
“Paloma is coming?”
“She is bringing back the tablet with the records.”
“Oh.” She’d paid scarce attention to the details yesterday, but predictably, he had never lost focus. After all the shooting and flying and running, he had stayed sharp. He stayed sharp after their night together, whereas her brains had plunged into a fog of total confusion. A telling difference, that.
“Where are you going?”
He hesitated only a little before saying, “To the spaceship depot.”
“Of all the places… Why?”
“We need a ship.” He smiled slightly and stood up. Something about him was off, and Cricket couldn't in all honesty chalk it off on her warped sense of perception. But he moved and acted cohesively, and she couldn't tell what it was that worried her.
Lyle left without saying goodbye, as he often did, and though Cricket was no longer afraid that he’d disappear for good, his going left her uneasy.
