Whittaker 03 The Secrets We Keep by Donna White Glaser

Author:Donna White Glaser [Glaser, Donna White]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2013-09-03T22:00:00+00:00

TWENTY SEVEN

I‘d forgotten his tattoos. They twined around his arms, highlighting his biceps. The muscles across his back twitched as he whisked eggs. His spine created a pathway leading… Oy. I shook myself, then padded barefoot across the kitchen tile to the table.

He turned, looking at me speculatively. “Feeling better, babe?”

“It comes and goes, like waves,” I answered. “I can’t seem to get myself on an even keel.”

“What would you tell one of your patients if they felt like this?” he asked, leaning a slim hip against the counter edge.

I pondered a moment. “I’d tell her to let herself feel what she was feeling. To not fight it.” I sighed. “I’ve never been good at taking advice.”

“I noticed. But it’s good advice all the same.” Sitting down, he shifted a stack of law books to the side and placed a steaming pile of toast and eggs in front of me. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I just want some time to sit and think.” I picked up the fork and poked at the eggs. The law texts at my elbow provided a distraction.

“Don’t you have a final exam today?”

“Been there, done that. You were sleeping.

“By the way, Beth should be here in about an hour or so,” he continued, glancing up at the clock. “Unless you want me to call and tell her to cancel or come later.”

“You called Beth?” I said.

“I figured someone should know where you were. She decided we needed an emergency meeting.”

His use of “we” didn’t escape me. I forced a mouthful of eggs, swallowed before answering. “No. Let her come. But I don’t know how much I can contribute.”

“No problem. Listen, why don’t you sit quiet and finish your breakfast? I have some things I need to look into. When you’re done, you can sit out on the porch, go for a walk in the garden, go back to bed, whatever. If you need me, I’ll be in the den. It’s a couple doors back down the hall. Just holler.”

Gratefully, I met his eyes. He seemed to know exactly what I needed. As if to prove it, as I sat there numbly, he slid a safety pin across the table. I leaned forward, impulsively brushing his lips with a buttery kiss. He smiled, then stood and left me alone. Taking the toast, I walked down a short hallway leading past a pantry and a mud-room, then left by the side door.

I stepped out onto a wide, shady porch that appeared to circle the entire house. I hadn’t realized the size of the structure. One side of the porch alone was as big as my apartment. Ancient stonework ran halfway up the support pillars; themselves, great blocks of aged wood. The house, painted a simple white, was trimmed in forest green. I moved around the corner to the front where I discovered several rocking chairs and a couple of small tables placed seemingly at random down its length. Lush, potted ferns hung at intervals, swaying lightly in the breeze.

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