blinked.
Books, most of them open, were scattered on every possible surface. Three or four lay on cushions and the arms of the couch. Reed, looking like hell with a day's growth of beard and dark circles under his eyes, sat in the middle of them with one open on each leg. As she forged a slow path through the room she glanced down at the open pages. All of them had one thing in common.
The Civil War.
Her eyes flew to Reed's, and as he saw the look of sympathy on her face he rose in stages, like an old man. The books fell to the floor unnoticed. He took a few hesitant steps in her direction, then she had her arms around him, his face buried in her shoulder. He leaned against her as if it hurt for him to stand on his own.
He held her tight, almost squeezing the breath from her, and er knees started to buckle. They both sank to the floor and knelt against each other. Finally she guided Reed's weight over to lean against the couch, his face still buried in her neck.
She smoothed his hair and rocked him back and forth, trying to find soothing words. His head shook in denial.
After several minutes he finally took a deep breath and blew out slowly. Stiffly, he started moving away from Elise. He sat up straight and flopped his back against the couch, his knees pulled up in front of him. Plunging his fingers through his hair, he held on to his head with his palms cupped at the back.
"Now I know why you evaded the word ‘antebellum.’" His voice wasn't much more than a whisper. Elise looked at him, sitting there, with forearm dangling on one knee and shoulders slumped.
She opened her mouth to speak but could find no words to comfort him. Finally she simply let her heart do her speaking for her. She gathered him into her arms and held him tight, waiting until he was ready to talk.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The coffee had just finished brewing when Elise thought she heard Reed moving around upstairs.
What a hellish night. It had been one-thirty in the morning when she'd walked into the scene in the den, and four-thirty or later before, exhausted and numb, they had finally gone to bed. That was only after Reed had barraged her with questions, some of which she could answer, and some which no one could. After three hours of talking, Reed had still asked questions, trying to fathom the devastation of the war. But he'd seen that Elise was nearly asleep on her feet, and he'd had to admit he was, too. They'd both fallen into bed with their clothes on.
She turned toward the refrigerator to pull out a couple of eggs to scramble when she saw Reed standing in the doorway. With palms on the door frame he leaned into the kitchen, studying her. The night had taken its toll on him.
Closing the space between them, Elise slid her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. It only took him a second to wrap his arms around her and rest his head on top of hers.
"How's my best guy this morning?" she whispered as she snuggled up closer.
He was quiet for several seconds before he shrugged.
"I feel better, I suppose." He released her, scooped up two mugs and poured each of them a cup of coffee. After tipping a few drops of milk into one he handed it to Elise then leaned against the counter. He crossed his ankles with misleading nonchalance.
"I've had time to think about it. I woke up a couple hours ago and just lay there, trying to sort out my feelings. The news about the war was devastating, and I believe it will haunt me for the rest of my life. But I realized this morning that up until last night I've never really come to grips with or accepted the fact that I'm here, in this time, seemingly for good. With all the things to see and learn, and with you here to help me, I guess I've always felt this was more like a dream than reality. Last night the reality came crashing home. I'm here. I don't know why; I don't know how. All I know is that if it weren't
Books, most of them open, were scattered on every possible surface. Three or four lay on cushions and the arms of the couch. Reed, looking like hell with a day's growth of beard and dark circles under his eyes, sat in the middle of them with one open on each leg. As she forged a slow path through the room she glanced down at the open pages. All of them had one thing in common.
The Civil War.
Her eyes flew to Reed's, and as he saw the look of sympathy on her face he rose in stages, like an old man. The books fell to the floor unnoticed. He took a few hesitant steps in her direction, then she had her arms around him, his face buried in her shoulder. He leaned against her as if it hurt for him to stand on his own.
He held her tight, almost squeezing the breath from her, and er knees started to buckle. They both sank to the floor and knelt against each other. Finally she guided Reed's weight over to lean against the couch, his face still buried in her neck.
She smoothed his hair and rocked him back and forth, trying to find soothing words. His head shook in denial.
After several minutes he finally took a deep breath and blew out slowly. Stiffly, he started moving away from Elise. He sat up straight and flopped his back against the couch, his knees pulled up in front of him. Plunging his fingers through his hair, he held on to his head with his palms cupped at the back.
"Now I know why you evaded the word ‘antebellum.’" His voice wasn't much more than a whisper. Elise looked at him, sitting there, with forearm dangling on one knee and shoulders slumped.
She opened her mouth to speak but could find no words to comfort him. Finally she simply let her heart do her speaking for her. She gathered him into her arms and held him tight, waiting until he was ready to talk.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The coffee had just finished brewing when Elise thought she heard Reed moving around upstairs.
What a hellish night. It had been one-thirty in the morning when she'd walked into the scene in the den, and four-thirty or later before, exhausted and numb, they had finally gone to bed. That was only after Reed had barraged her with questions, some of which she could answer, and some which no one could. After three hours of talking, Reed had still asked questions, trying to fathom the devastation of the war. But he'd seen that Elise was nearly asleep on her feet, and he'd had to admit he was, too. They'd both fallen into bed with their clothes on.
She turned toward the refrigerator to pull out a couple of eggs to scramble when she saw Reed standing in the doorway. With palms on the door frame he leaned into the kitchen, studying her. The night had taken its toll on him.
Closing the space between them, Elise slid her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. It only took him a second to wrap his arms around her and rest his head on top of hers.
"How's my best guy this morning?" she whispered as she snuggled up closer.
He was quiet for several seconds before he shrugged.
"I feel better, I suppose." He released her, scooped up two mugs and poured each of them a cup of coffee. After tipping a few drops of milk into one he handed it to Elise then leaned against the counter. He crossed his ankles with misleading nonchalance.
"I've had time to think about it. I woke up a couple hours ago and just lay there, trying to sort out my feelings. The news about the war was devastating, and I believe it will haunt me for the rest of my life. But I realized this morning that up until last night I've never really come to grips with or accepted the fact that I'm here, in this time, seemingly for good. With all the things to see and learn, and with you here to help me, I guess I've always felt this was more like a dream than reality. Last night the reality came crashing home. I'm here. I don't know why; I don't know how. All I know is that if it weren't
Similar Books
