Before I Wake by Robert J. Wiersema Page B

keep pace with him over his usual distance, but I think I surprised him with what good shape I was in.
    â€œThat’s what aerobics four times a week will do for you,” I panted after our first run, hunched over, barely able to feel my legs but refusing to let on.
    Most nights, after showering, we’d retrace our route, hand in hand, the golden lights of the legislature reflecting off windows and waves.
    At first we’d both felt awkward being together in public, but as summer turned to fall and beyond, we’d become comfortable. It was such a pleasure to be able to walk outside and not be afraid of who might see us.
    We went to Pagliacci’s on Remembrance Day. We usually went at least once a week, avoiding the weekends when you had to line up for an hour for a table. It was a Monday night, but it was a holiday for most people, and the place was packed. The walk over had been frosty.
    Simon poured more wine into our glasses, sliding mine carefully toward me.
    I took a sip of my wine then broached a subject I had been nervous to mention. “I was thinking that maybe we should go away for a bit.”
    The idea obviously took him by surprise. “What?”
    â€œWell, it’s been so busy. I mean, today was a holiday and we were in the office for what—ten hours? And last weekend?”
    â€œI’m not arguing the need, I’m just wondering what you had in mind.”
    â€œI thought maybe pack up the car, go up to Tofino, get a room right on the beach. Maybe the Wickaninnish.”
    He sat back, cradling his wineglass in his right hand. “Right on the beach,” he repeated. “Maybe a fireplace, whirlpool tub? When were you thinking of going? The next couple of weeks are pretty tight. What about over Christmas?”
    â€œCan’t. I told my folks I’d be up at their place from the twentieth or so. You could come too, if you like.”
    â€œWhat about the weekend of December seventh? We could even head up that Wednesday afternoon, make a four-day weekend of it. I figure the firm owes us a little time.” He slipped past the invitation to spend Christmas with my family.
    I didn’t want to bring it up, but I had to ask. “Will you be okay leaving Sherry for a few days?”
    â€œShe’s…”
    He paused and I could almost hear him sifting through everything before he spoke.
    â€œIt’s only for a few days. I’ll let her know what’s going on. Tell her when I’ll be back.”
    â€œAnd Karen?”
    â€œWell.” He took another sip of his wine. “I don’t think Karen’s going to be too pleased about it. She always wanted to go to the Wickaninnish.”
    That thought made me strangely happy.
    â€œSo. December 4?” he asked.
    I nodded. “I’ll make the reservations tomorrow.”
    HENRY
    â€œWell, come on,” the big man called. “Time and tide wait for no man.”
    I hesitated in the doorway. The people were all staring at me.
    â€œOkay, the rest of you, back to what you were doing,” the big man said.
    As if he had flicked a switch, everyone went back to work: back to the shelves, to their tables, their heads down in their books.
    â€œWell,” he waved me toward him. “Come on.”
    I made my way through the crowded room to where he sat.
    â€œGood, good,” he said, as he looked me over. “I was worriedthere for a minute that maybe you were a bit tetched.”
    â€œWhat are…what are all of you doing here?” I stammered. My mouth was not quite under my control.
    â€œWell, reading, of course.” He laughed heartily, and I felt less afraid. He was a great bear of a man, with graying hair and beard still touched with red, his face full and rosy. His clothes were rumpled and plain; even looking directly at him I couldn’t tell what he was wearing.
    Static suddenly whirred over the PA system, then horns kicked in with a blast.
    â€œAnd