A Calm Before the Storm by Kelley York & Rowan Altwood

Author:Kelley York & Rowan Altwood [York, Kelley & Altwood, Rowan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: x-potion designs
Published: 2018-12-09T05:00:00+00:00

It’s a long walk home, one I’ve made a thousand times, but it’s growing late enough after I’ve made a few stops at various stores and I worry William won’t have so much as fed himself in my absence, so that I grudgingly fork over the money for a cab.

Unsurprisingly, the house is dark when the carriage pulls up out front. I gather my purchases into my arms and hurry down the short driveway, battling a combination of excitement and nervousness. Will he be upset with me, I wonder? Because I’ve been working alone, because I’ve kept this a secret from him, because I got him a gift at all? Will he have been all right all day left to his own devices? I never worry about William so much as when he’s going through one of his melancholy episodes.

I let myself in and quietly deposit the violin case out of sight behind the Christmas tree in the sitting room. The tree itself is quite lovely, although sparsely decorated, but I had hoped it would bring dear William some cheer to have it there. Not that he’s come downstairs to see it much, but I was still determined to try. That’s really all that I can do, isn’t it? And I do and I will regardless of whether or not any of my attempts succeed because it’s the very least that I can do for William.

I leave another parcel in the kitchen—some biscuits, a loaf of bread, a fresh cut of ham for Christmas tomorrow—and take the last bag upstairs. Upon stepping into the bedroom, I grimace.

“Christ, William, it’s freezing in here. Why didn’t you keep the fire going?”

Except no one responds.

I still in the centre of the room, noting the absence of William’s form on the bed and the rumpled bedclothes, the deathly silence and stillness of the house around me. Dread settles thickly in the pit of my stomach. For half a second, the worst scenario flashes through my mind and renders it difficult to breathe. Either William lost his fight and went off in search of the nearest chemist, or—

Worse. It could be worse.

And I am not giving him enough credit, am I?

William is not one to give up so easily and certainly not one to (purposely) make me worry. He would not have gone far, wherever he’s wandered off to.

I scold myself promptly and hurry out of the room, having a look through the few other rooms of the house, each of them as empty as the last.

Before I can dive into a proper panic, I notice the bottle of milk set out upon the kitchen counter, and the kitchen door is cracked open just so. Heart racing, I step outside, and spot William crouched on back steps, a saucer of cream placed before him and his knees drawn to his chest. He’s still in his nightclothes and dressing gown, for that matter, though at least he had enough sense to put some socks on before venturing into the cold.

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