Page 35 of These Rough Waters

“You and I both know that’s a damn lie.”

I chew my lip as Ruthie grills him and start to back away, “I’m going to go. Harper needs collecting from school.”

Ruthie huffs, “I’ve got to get back to the lodge, and Torin can’t be left alone right now. You stay, I’ll grab Harper, I’m sure she’ll love to see Pickles.”

“Pickles?” I question before remembering, “Oh, the chicken.”

“She has a chicken called Pickles?” Torin asks.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say, ignoring him, “I can get her. Maybe Imogen or Shawn can watch Torin.”

“I’m not a child!” He growls.

“No, the diner is prepping for the festival, so they’ll be busy. Honestly, it’s no bother sweetness, plus Harper is a good girl, I’ll bring her by after dinner.”

“Oh, um,” I glance back to Torin who has propped himself onto his good elbow and is scowling in our direction, “Yeah okay.”

I see Ruthie out, watching as she wraps herself in her raincoat and begins the walk back to the lodge in the rain. It wasn’t far to go but she’d be soaked by the time she gets there. I stay there watching until I can’t see her anymore and slowly turn back to the man I’m suddenly babysitting.

And he doesn’t look pleased.

Seventeen

She awkwardly sits on the couch, rigid with her hands clasped in her lap as she looks at everything except me.

I can’t get the image of her reaching out to me, of her begging for help and while I know it was an illusion brought on from the whack to the head, it felt too real to be ignored.

One thing was clear, she was running and whether she neededsavingwas yet to be determined.

The pain, thanks to the meds Ruthie found in the cupboard, has eased, the throb in both my shoulder and head dulled by the drugs. I push up on the couch, leaning back on the cushions while my eyes continue to watch the little doe in my den, and she continues to avoid me.

“Um,” She clears her throat, “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“I think I swallowed enough of that in the bay,” I say, trying to ease her slightly.

How I went from trying to keep her away to wanting to bring her some comfort is beyond me. I’ll put it down to the hit on the head.

She winces which wasn’t the reaction I was going for, “Why were you on the boat?” She asks. “You knew it was dangerous.”

Climbing up from the couch, I trudge into the kitchen, switching on the coffee machine to brew a fresh pot. I didn’t like tea and Maya’s was pretty much gone now. “Sometimes our demons don’t stay in our nightmares, little doe, sometimes they chase us while we are wide awake too.”

“I can do that,” she stands.

“Sit down, Maya,” I order gently.

She flops back down, chewing her lip. Silence settles while I brew the coffee, my hand absently rubbing my dud shoulder but behind me I hear her fidgeting, the fabric of the sofa shifting every time she moves her weight around.

“You pulled me out.” I say.

“Um, no, I tried, I couldn’t do it by myself.”

“But it was you.”

“I was there, yes.” She pauses, “What were you running from?”

“My past.”

“We all have one of those,” she sighs as I cross back over and hand her the coffee which she cups in her hands and stares down into as if that holds all the answers.

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