boat like a canoe in the foreground. Shirtless, holding a spear, Simon’s piercing glare held the camera.
He towered over the dark man next to him. The angled shadows of the sun framed Simon’s muscled body like a beautiful sculpture as he gripped the weapon. Sunlight reflected off the sheen of sweat on his skin.
I felt almost guilty seeing him like this—as if I was peeking through a crack in his door. I flipped the photograph over. Dated fifteen years ago, it had three words scrawled across the back: Simon’s rite; victory .
I caressed the image of Simon’s face. A fresh cut dripped crimson along his jaw; the scar I noticed when we first met. A tug in my chest pulled my thoughts to him and that moment in the greenhouse when he’d told me I looked beautiful. His presence pushed logic out of my head. He made my breath catch. I’d known he was striking, but there’d been more; something I couldn’t understand until I saw the picture. I finally understood the undercurrent that pulled me to him. Hidden beneath crisp shirts and proper manners lived the man in this photograph. The man who stared fearless from the depths of a strange land.
I’d almost lost track of where I was, and footfalls on the stairs outside the door caught me off guard. Someone was coming. Had they followed me in from the library? Three jarring bangs shook the door panel, and I stumbled from the stool, knocking the photographs to the ground as I backed up. I rushed forward, blew out the candles, and stood against the wall shaking. Another bang sent me to whimpers, and I listened to sliding movement along the wall as someone searched for a way in.
Something poked my back, and I felt behind me, my hand closing around a door knob. A second door.
“Please open,” I whispered and turned the knob.
The handle clicked, and I rushed out of the room. Desperate not to be discovered, I scurried down a dark corridor searching the walls on either side for doors, and finding none. The sensation of sliding down threw me off balance, and I stumbled along the hallway. A few feet in front of me, I spotted a slit of light on the floor. I reached out, pushed on the wall in front of me and toppled out into the foyer of the house. Panting, I blinked with confusion. Behind me, the grandfather clock stood next to an open panel. The passage led out here? I staggered around the foyer, confused. I was back on the first floor of the house.
A thought occurred to me. If the storage room had two entrances, then perhaps the room behind the library wall had two, also. I made a mental note to visit the room again in the daylight. Remembering the moans, I decided I was done exploring for tonight.
I rubbed my eyes, exhausted and overwhelmed. Heading for my room, I realized I still had the picture of Simon in my hand and shoved it in the front pocket of my sweatshirt.
“Daddy!” Lavender’s terrified scream warbled through the floor.
I ran for her room, the echoes of my dream still rattling through my head. I burst through her door. She stood on her bed, huddled in the corner under the large canopy, hugging her arms. Candles on her mantel cast the room in an eerie flickering glow.
“Daddy!” Eyes wild, she screamed again. “They’re coming!”
“Shh, it’s OK, Lavender.” I ran to her, scooped her into my arms, and held her close.
She buried her face against my neck, trembling. “Did you hear it? Did you hear the monster?”
“It’s OK, sweetie,” I murmured.
She shook her head vehemently, her face wet with tears.
“How about a song?” I asked and started a Sunday school song.
She listened for a moment, but her lip quivered again. “I want my daddy.”
“I’m here, Lala.” Simon’s deep voice brought on relief I hadn’t expected. “Come here.”
She dove for his chest and clung to him with her arms around his neck. She sobbed into his shoulder, and he stroked her hair soothingly, murmuring softly as he walked with her around the room. His
He towered over the dark man next to him. The angled shadows of the sun framed Simon’s muscled body like a beautiful sculpture as he gripped the weapon. Sunlight reflected off the sheen of sweat on his skin.
I felt almost guilty seeing him like this—as if I was peeking through a crack in his door. I flipped the photograph over. Dated fifteen years ago, it had three words scrawled across the back: Simon’s rite; victory .
I caressed the image of Simon’s face. A fresh cut dripped crimson along his jaw; the scar I noticed when we first met. A tug in my chest pulled my thoughts to him and that moment in the greenhouse when he’d told me I looked beautiful. His presence pushed logic out of my head. He made my breath catch. I’d known he was striking, but there’d been more; something I couldn’t understand until I saw the picture. I finally understood the undercurrent that pulled me to him. Hidden beneath crisp shirts and proper manners lived the man in this photograph. The man who stared fearless from the depths of a strange land.
I’d almost lost track of where I was, and footfalls on the stairs outside the door caught me off guard. Someone was coming. Had they followed me in from the library? Three jarring bangs shook the door panel, and I stumbled from the stool, knocking the photographs to the ground as I backed up. I rushed forward, blew out the candles, and stood against the wall shaking. Another bang sent me to whimpers, and I listened to sliding movement along the wall as someone searched for a way in.
Something poked my back, and I felt behind me, my hand closing around a door knob. A second door.
“Please open,” I whispered and turned the knob.
The handle clicked, and I rushed out of the room. Desperate not to be discovered, I scurried down a dark corridor searching the walls on either side for doors, and finding none. The sensation of sliding down threw me off balance, and I stumbled along the hallway. A few feet in front of me, I spotted a slit of light on the floor. I reached out, pushed on the wall in front of me and toppled out into the foyer of the house. Panting, I blinked with confusion. Behind me, the grandfather clock stood next to an open panel. The passage led out here? I staggered around the foyer, confused. I was back on the first floor of the house.
A thought occurred to me. If the storage room had two entrances, then perhaps the room behind the library wall had two, also. I made a mental note to visit the room again in the daylight. Remembering the moans, I decided I was done exploring for tonight.
I rubbed my eyes, exhausted and overwhelmed. Heading for my room, I realized I still had the picture of Simon in my hand and shoved it in the front pocket of my sweatshirt.
“Daddy!” Lavender’s terrified scream warbled through the floor.
I ran for her room, the echoes of my dream still rattling through my head. I burst through her door. She stood on her bed, huddled in the corner under the large canopy, hugging her arms. Candles on her mantel cast the room in an eerie flickering glow.
“Daddy!” Eyes wild, she screamed again. “They’re coming!”
“Shh, it’s OK, Lavender.” I ran to her, scooped her into my arms, and held her close.
She buried her face against my neck, trembling. “Did you hear it? Did you hear the monster?”
“It’s OK, sweetie,” I murmured.
She shook her head vehemently, her face wet with tears.
“How about a song?” I asked and started a Sunday school song.
She listened for a moment, but her lip quivered again. “I want my daddy.”
“I’m here, Lala.” Simon’s deep voice brought on relief I hadn’t expected. “Come here.”
She dove for his chest and clung to him with her arms around his neck. She sobbed into his shoulder, and he stroked her hair soothingly, murmuring softly as he walked with her around the room. His
Similar Books
