VoyForums Notice -- Quick Contributions:
Donate $10 to the Red Cross: Text the word REDCROSS to 90999
Donate $10 to the Salvation Army: Text the word STORM to 80888
* The charge will appear on your cellphone bill.
She rose from the bed on unsteady legs, rumpled and groggy, with the feeling that she had slept no more than a minute or two. The fire had burned down to a small nest of coals though, and the room was softly lit, infused with the soft pearl of snow light. She walked to the window and looked out over the yard. It was the wee hours, maybe two or three of the clock. The snow was thick in the branches of the trees, and piled snug and deep upon the roof of the barn. Random flakes still fell, drifting down feather-like, tracing arabesques upon the cold November night. She wondered what it was that had woken her, for she was still sleepy, but certain that something had jarred her deep in dreams. A noise? Something that didn’t belong in the quiet landscape of the house in the night hours?
She padded down the hall to check on the children. But Conor was still fast asleep, turned on his stomach, one arm above his head, exactly as his father always slept. Isabelle was snug in her crib, cheeks flushed, lashes fanned against them thick and dark. Finbar was in his usual position on the rug by Conor’s bed. He seemed unfazed, and only raised his head to give her a sleepy questioning look, before putting his tousled head back between his huge paws. If the dog wasn’t disturbed then there was likely nothing to be worried about.
She was thirsty though, the head cold had dehydrated her. She grabbed her robe off her own bed and wrapped herself in it, before proceeding downstairs. She paused on the landing, just for a moment to look out over the yard, through the octagonal window. She touched her hand to the frosted panes, as she always did when traveling down these stairs alone. It was like saying hello to Casey, acknowledging that his presence still lived in this house, still permeated every board and detail. She knew this was the window where he had paused himself at times, to say good night to his father, or to simply have a word with the man, particularly on the nights when Vega was high and blue in the summer skies. Tonight the stars were invisible though, but she stopped still and spoke.
“I miss you, man.” Just that, no more. Casey understood the words meant far more than the bare simplicity of them.
She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, which was hampered rather badly by her congested state. She needed a hot cup of tea with lemon and honey. She stepped down into the kitchen and froze, hind foot still on the last stair. There was a man standing in her kitchen, she couldn’t actually see him, only a dark blot against the back door, but she could sense him. A big man. Her heart began to pound and she thought suddenly that she smelled the scent of him—her own man, that distinctive scent that was comfort and disturbance to her all at once. Earth and musk and that sweet, deep indefinable note that always made her pulse race. The skin on her arms prickled, and her breath was caught just under her throat.
“Casey?” she croaked out, half afraid that his name upon the night would dissipate him back to wherever it was he had gone.
