Fading Thunder: A Historical Romance (In the Shadow of the Cedar Book 3) by Sheila Hollinghead

Author:Sheila Hollinghead [Hollinghead, Sheila]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: clean and wholesome, historical, historical romance, Clean Romance, sweet romance
Publisher: Sheila Hollinghead
Published: 2015-05-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21—Memories

I awoke the next morning and stretched. The sun streamed through the translucent curtains. Michael wasn’t lying beside me, and I looked more closely. The bed sheet was as smooth as it had been each morning while he was overseas. I had been so tired last night, had slept so soundly, that I couldn’t remember if he had come into the bedroom or not — he had definitely not been in bed with me. I stood carefully, with one hand against the wall, and made my way through the sitting room and into the kitchen.

I leaned against the sink for a moment, peering out the window. Michael was nowhere in sight. I retrieved the pot from the stove and filled it with water, planning to make hot lemonade. There was no lighter in the wood box.

I went out to the back porch, my dizziness increasing with each step. Afraid I might faint, I dangled my legs off the edge of the porch and waited for the sickness to pass. Despite my indisposition, the beauty of the day assailed me — the sun shone brightly in a cloudless, azure sky

The fresh air helped dispel a bit of the nausea. Cautiously, I slid off the porch until I was standing beside it, holding on for a moment. The woodpile was only a few feet away, and I slowly edged toward it until I was able to steady myself on the large stump. We used its surface as a platform for the cutting of smaller pieces of wood, like lighter. The aged middle of the pine was indispensable for starting a fire, and I needed some. I looked around for the axe and then remembered Michael had put it away. I moved toward the shed, twenty or so feet from the woodpile, the bile rising again in my throat. I stopped and leaned forward, my hands on my knees, until I felt better. I made it to the shed and unlatched the chain hooked on a nail. The door swung open, but the axe was not there. I snorted in frustration.

I sighed. No lemonade for me. And where was Michael? He should be here, helping me. I frowned. The events of last night were fuzzy, as if they had all been a dream. Surely what Dan had said was just that — a dream that should have evaporated with the rising of the sun.

I made it back to the house, thinking I would pour some lemon juice into a cool glass of water. But when I searched the pantry, I found we had none. I rummaged some more, looking for the tin of saltines, but we didn’t have them either. I settled for a glass of water and went to the phone. I’d call Aunt Jenny, find out if Laurie was there, check on James Colton, and ask her if she had seen Michael.

Laurie answered the phone.

“Laurie —”

“Jay! I wanted to call, but Mike said not to disturb you, to let you rest.

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