Read Online In the Time of Kings by N. Gemini Sasson - Free Book Online Page A

pills, take this up to my wife, ride out to the kirk and be back by noon.” Wishful thinking, I know, but it sounds like a good plan. If Reverend Murray has somewhere to be later today, I can only spend so long with him — which is a blessing, considering the talker he seems to be.
    “I’ll fetch the bicycle from the shed and prop it next to the side door for you, then.”
    “Thanks, Dermot.”
    I duck into the bathroom by the front hallway and pop open the medicine cabinet. I have to hold the bottles at arm’s length to read the labels, but I finally decipher what’s what. I pour a handful of aspirin into my palm. Then, not wanting to take advantage of Dermot’s generosity, I count out four and put the rest back. There are only two acetaminophen capsules left, so I take the bottle, reminding myself to buy him a replacement when I return later.
    Again, the stairs creak under my feet on the way up. I’m more successful in opening the door quietly this time, though I expect to find Claire curled up under the blankets, dozing off her potent Glenfiddich. Instead, I hear her in the bathroom, puking up last night’s dinner of haggis and rosemary potatoes. I warned her. Waiting until I hear the toilet flush, I set the coffee on the bedside table and go to look in on her, like any good husband would.
    She’s donned one of my ratty old college T-shirts. Hair springs raggedly from her loose ponytail, one unruly lock covering her left eye. Pushing it out of the way, she rolls back onto her bottom, then leans her head against the wall.
    Extending my palm, I offer her the pills and a glass of water. “You really are a mess.”
    “I’ve felt better.” In two quick gulps, she downs the pills. “Better hurry up. You’re going to miss breakfast.
    “Already back from there.” I run a washcloth under cool water and dab her forehead, then press the cloth into her hands. “You know, I was going to meet with Reverend Murray this morning, but I’m not sure I should leave you like this.”
    “Oh, Ross, I’m so sorry. I’m ruining our honeymoon already.”
    I sink to my knees on the glossy tiles. “You’re not ruining anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
    “I’ll be okay once I can hold the pills down. Mostly it’s my head that hurts. I feel better just having emptied my stomach.” She screws her eyes shut, then covers her entire face with the washcloth. “Really, not much you can do here, except watch me hurl some more and maybe take a nap, if I’m lucky.”
    “You sure?”
    Her head bobs in a feeble nod behind her terrycloth veil.
    “Don’t be mad at me if I tell Dermot to look in on you, okay? I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Well, three at most, knowing Reverend Murray — I promise. I’ll have my phone with me.”
    She flaps a hand at me.
    “You sure?”
    “Go, before I throw up on you.”
    ––––––––
    M y transportation, missing its kickstand, is propped against the brick wall along the driveway. When Dermot said there was rust on his bike, he wasn’t kidding. It looks like a relic from the days of the Wright Brothers’ cycle shop, with big, knobby tires and an oversized seat. A basket is strapped to a wire platform over the back tire, big enough to transport a few days’ worth of groceries. The original color was once royal blue with white trim, but oxidation has taken its toll, splotching the frame with patches of deep red rust. The inner tubes may have been well inflated, but fine cracks in the tires’ rubber hint at the beginnings of dry rot. I push down on them several times, expecting the telltale hiss of a leak. If they go flat, the worst thing that will happen is that I’ll have to walk back. Luckily, it isn’t that far. I’ve been telling myself I need to start an exercise program. Maybe today’s the day. I hike a leg over the seat and glance down to notice a big smear of oil from the chain streaked across my pants leg.
    “Just great,” I