He listened for the dull silence, the little click and monotonous hum until he was sure that she had gone before replacing the receiver as if it was made of glass. Somewhere beyond the door to his study he could hear his wife’s footsteps n the stairs. He could feel her presence, the pall of suffocating air that she carried with her since the dream had turned into a nightmare.
“Richard. Richard where are you?”
He closed his eyes and tried to find a better place, of late it had grown very small and he had begun to fear that very soon he might look and not find it.
“I’m in the study, ”to his own ear, his voice sounded thin and broken.
“What are you doing?” Her voice had grown thin too, as had the pale reflection of the face he had married appearing in the crack in the doorway.
“Nothing dear.” He rearranged his features carefully and walked toward her deliberately slowly and arms held in an empty embrace. “Everything is fine, it’s very late. Go back to bed.”
“Is it asleep, I can’t hear it.” Her pale eyes appealed to him with the look of the near deceased and crushed his heart all over again.
“Rebecca, Mary. Her name is Rebecca, and yes, she is asleep I checked on her a few minutes ago.”
“Good,” Mary Davenport lolled against her husbands shoulder and allowed herself to be steered back in the direction of the stairs in the comfort of his arms. “She makes me angry. I hate it,” she turned to face him one bare foot on the bottom step of the stairs, her grey eyes like moons sinking in a bottomless lake.
“That’s alright darling,” Richard cupped his hand under her chin and kissed her forehead. “You go to bed and it will be better in the morning.”
“Will it?”
“Yes I’m sure it will.”