Threads by Patsy Brookshire

Author:Patsy Brookshire [Brookshire, Patsy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance, Historical Fiction
ISBN: 9781601741127
Publisher: Uncial Press
Published: 2011-03-18T07:00:00+00:00

17. Their Room, My Room

The whole lower floor was one big living room. The large fireplace was the first thing I saw clearly, almost as clearly as I saw David coming toward me. Amy's hand dropped from my back; I was alone.

David's face at that moment is as clear to me now as if I had taken a photograph. His eyes were especially bright, his face was flushed from the fire, his hair was slightly dark and wet with comb marks. His usual grin was absent, his sweet mouth slightly open like he'd been breathing deeply. I must of looked as frightened as I felt, because his expression changed as he reached for me. His forehead wrinkled and his mouth tightened at the corners.

As aware as I was of David, I was even more aware of Amy, she was a blur of movement. While I stood frozen by the door and David moved in slow-motion towards me, Amy was busy to an extreme.

She'd thrown her coat onto a peg behind the door. I heard pans being banged around and dinner being made. Now faced with David, I wanted to flee to the safety of women's work with Amy, but stood rooted to the spot.

Almost without me being aware of it, David reached me and gently, hugged me. He would have kissed me right on the mouth, but I squirmed away so he only brushed my cheek. Amy was right in the same room. I tried to cover my embarrassment with movement, like Amy was doing. I struggled to get out of my coat, David helped me, then hung it up beside his and Amy's.

We stood still for a long time and even the kitchen area was quiet. I saw Amy looking at us, her face without expression. She caught my glance and once again she was full of purpose, her eyes focused on her husband. "David, take Sophie to the fire. She must be cold." It broke the spell.

"I was just going to. Sophie, you must be cold."

"Well, I'm just a little chilly," I admitted. In truth, a cold fear shook my very heart.

David put his arm easily around my shoulders and sat me in his chair by the fireplace, pulling up a stool for himself. He no sooner sat down than he was up again, poking at the fire, adding another small log from a hole in the right side of the fireplace.

"What a beautiful fireplace. I like this room." I chattered on about the room until David regained his composure.

He and Amy filled the evening with stories of how they'd found this area, selected the place, built the house, how happy they were with it but there were improvements they wanted to add. Amy made coffee and fried ham sandwiches, which we ate at a table set close to the big window facing the sea. The view was the same as mine but more so, including my cabin.

Every time either of them stopped talking, I asked another question

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