In My Bedroom by Donna Hill

Author:Donna Hill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

Rayne glanced up at him, covering the wounds of her conscience with her hand. “Hello.”

“Beautiful day after the one we had yesterday,” he said, taking a white handkerchief from his back pocket and wiping the sweat from his face.

A dark patch, the size of a child’s fist, crested beneath each arm. Twins almost.

It was hot. Waves of heat fluttered up from the ground, seemingly attempting to escape.

She closed her journal.

“How are you today?”

“How … is your father?” she asked in answer.

Robert felt his body coil. He didn’t want to think about the man on the sixth floor. Not today. He knew he’d visit later. Sit by the bedside, listen to the meanderings, the truths. But not now. Not in this space.

“Mind if I sit down?” Robert asked.

Rayne moved over a bit, made room on the short bench.

“It’s beautiful in this spot. I can see almost everything from here,” Rayne thought, wishing she could push the words out of her mind and into the summer air.

“Is that what you’re writing about?”

She looked at him curiously. Had she spoken the words out loud, or did he truly have some secret power to read her thoughts? “No,” she murmured—at least she believed she did. She put the journal beside her thigh, away from him. “How old do you think this tree is?” The words burst past her lips, surprising her with their sudden arrival. She looked up at the willow that canopied them. Her heart pounded.

Robert shrugged. “You can only tell for sure if you cut it down. Count the rings.”

“To … destroy something to find out how long it’s lived. People are like that, too.”

How could she know what was in his thoughts? he wondered.

Suddenly she wanted to unbutton her blouse. Her hands gravitated toward the top button. Her fingers played with its smoothness. She curled her fingers around it, breathed a bit faster.

“Are you all right?” Robert asked, breaking the spell.

Ashamed. Dirty. Her eyes began to burn. Don’t cry, girl, the voice warned. Just answer the man. “Fine. Just … hot.”

“Let me get you some water.” He got up, walked briskly across the lawn to his van parked on the other side of the facility.

Robert returned with a plastic cup of water. A lone ice cube melted by degrees.

“Drink this. You’re probably overheated.”

Rayne raised her eyes to meet his and brought the cup to her lips. The cube of ice teased the outer folds of skin. She wanted to wrap them around it. Suck it until it was only a cool memory. She slipped the diminishing cube of ice into her mouth, drawing on the last of what it had to offer. And then it was gone.

“Thank you.” She handed him the cup.

Their fingers brushed.

“You seem different,” Robert said.

“How?”

“You’ve … opened up.”

“Like a bud?” she asked in an almost childish voice.

He smiled. “Yes.”

The heat hung between them now, like that last note on Christmas night. On the dance floor. That first night, when she wanted to hear the chorus. Who would sing it?

“You said you’d show me one day how to tend the garden … make things grow.

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