Page 12 of Together in Harmony
“If you say so,” I murmur.
After a two-minute drive we are back at the cabin, and then I am back in Asa’s arms.
“Want me to take you upstairs, or leave you down here?” he asks as he carries me over the threshold.
Hmm. The bathroom is downstairs, so there really isn’t much of an option. My ankle isn’t going to comply if I need to hop out of bed and pee in the night.
“Sofa,” I tell him.
“I'll get you some bedding,” he says. “Upstairs?”
I nod.
When he returns with blankets and pillow he squats next to the sofa. “I know you aren’t some fan-girl trying to make a move on us. Sorry about everything.”
He pulls the comforter under my chin, tucking in the sides. “You really didn’t know we were next door, did you?”
I shake my head. “I promise I didn’t.”
“I’m so sorry you got hurt,” Asa says as he strokes the hair away from my face. “Now get some rest and I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” He leans in and he kisses me gently on the forehead, then leaves.
The cabin feels empty without him.
HARMONY
Islept hard on Aunt Sheila’s sofa, deeper than I’d slept for years. I’m not sure why.
Post adrenaline-rush exhaustion? Painkillers and vodka?
Or was it the feeling of being looked after?
Not that. It can’t be that. I don’t need looking after, I look after myself.
But it was a lovely change to not wake with cheeks wet from crying. Not to have one of those dreams where I am being teased and tormented. When I have those dreams, I wander around in a daze all day, thinking of all the things I should have said or done.
Nope, today is a new day.
And I now need to look after my body, which is aching all over. Hobbling over to the bathroom, I sit on the toilet. I feel like I’d run a marathon. Or I imagine this is what a body would feel like after a marathon. Every movement is a gargantuan effort.
While I sit, I look at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are definitely on the red-side. I sigh and let out a puff of air, trying to blow a strand of long dark hair out of my eyes. It has frizzed into its usual giant hair cloud.
The palms of my hands are puffy and discolored. Trying to make a fist hurts. It’s going to make spreadsheeting painful today.
Back in the main room, I hold on to the back of a kitchen chair and wonder what to do next.
Coffee, painkillers and breakfast?
No. Sheila.
I need to find out who Waldo is and what he knows. I think it will be fine, but it doesn’t hurt to have a little reassurance.
“Hello darling, everything alright?” Sheila says as she picks up immediately.
“Yeah, I’m OK, I think.”
“You think?”
“Oh, Sheila. It's been quite the twenty-four hours. But the thing I really want to ask is about a man called Waldo.”
