pulled a wry face and answered, “Funny. As if spring has any intention of ever getting here.” She opened the door for him and then shut it behind him as he stepped into the foyer. “Just sprucing up the place a little.”
He noted a pail and mop in a doorway just under the stairs. “Well, if no one’s been here in five or six years, I’d say you have your work cut out for you. Need a hand or a break?”
She smiled and Nathan saw she was as beautiful as he remembered, with facial skin the color of roses and milk.
“A break would be welcome. Come in and have a seat. Want me to build a fire?”
“Not now, thanks. Do you have any coffee?”
“Coffee sounds good. I’ll brew up a fresh pot.” She disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen.
He followed her into the kitchen. She busied herself with the preparations.
“The coffee’s perking, or whatever they call it now―dripping? Yuck. That sounds terrible,” she said, and laughed, glad Nathan was here and glad to be spared for a while the task she had undertaken for the day: scrubbing the downstairs bathroom floor.
“How did you survive the storm last night?” Nathan asked, seating himself on the sofa in the parlor. Sarah sat down close by.
“It was a pretty weird night. I had dreams that seemed so real. And they weren’t all good dreams. In fact, I finally had to make myself wake up from one of them.”
“Sounds like my night,” he said. “Only I didn’t have a dream—just a strange hallucination or something. I think maybe our imaginations must be getting the better of us and I’m just glad it’s daylight, even with a storm still blowing outside.” He remembered the smell and the slithering, dragging noise only too well. He glanced over at a window, draped in a sheer cotton fabric that permitted thin daylight into the room. “Looks like it’s finally winding down out there.”
“I hope so,” Sarah said. “I really don’t miss television or radio―or even Internet―i left my SmartPhone at home, can you believe it? But I’d like to know there will be an end to this snow sometime soon. My vacation here won’t last forever”
Nathan laughed. “I feel the same way. I’m without my Blackberry for the first time in months, but I wanted no distractions. I enjoy my work, but when you pack your vacation into two weeks right before the busiest tax time of the year, you want it to be relaxing.” He smiled at her and said, “You really are a thorough housekeeper, scrubbing the floors down.”
She laughed again, but this was a more nervous sound, forced out rather than uttered naturally. “Not really. If you want to know, it has to do with the dream I had last night.”
They walked back into the kitchen. Nathan took the steaming mug of coffee from Sarah’s hands and held it gratefully up to his nose, sniffing it like a connoisseur with a rare vintage in front of him. He took a sip and said, “This is great. Thanks. So, tell me about this dream.”
And Sarah recounted it, exactly as she had experienced it, right down to the unfortunate incident in which the entire dinner party had been interrupted by the shrieks of Mrs. Presbury in the bathroom doorway.
She was grateful when Nathan did not laugh or ridicule her. Now that she had told it, the whole thing sounded like foolish nonsense. “I’m overreacting, I know.”
Nathan shook his head and set his coffee mug on the kitchen table. “I’m not so sure.”
“What in the world does that mean?” Sarah said, eyeing him carefully over the rim of her coffee mug.
He fell silent for a moment, thinking. Sarah looked at him, and noted how boyishly handsome he was―again, in a Peter Parker, boy-next-door sort of way. His brown hair poked out from under his Phillies ballcap and his startling blue eyes―almost the color of reef water in the Mediterranean, she thought―were now unfocused and dreamy, clearly reflecting his thought process. She sipped her coffee and
He noted a pail and mop in a doorway just under the stairs. “Well, if no one’s been here in five or six years, I’d say you have your work cut out for you. Need a hand or a break?”
She smiled and Nathan saw she was as beautiful as he remembered, with facial skin the color of roses and milk.
“A break would be welcome. Come in and have a seat. Want me to build a fire?”
“Not now, thanks. Do you have any coffee?”
“Coffee sounds good. I’ll brew up a fresh pot.” She disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen.
He followed her into the kitchen. She busied herself with the preparations.
“The coffee’s perking, or whatever they call it now―dripping? Yuck. That sounds terrible,” she said, and laughed, glad Nathan was here and glad to be spared for a while the task she had undertaken for the day: scrubbing the downstairs bathroom floor.
“How did you survive the storm last night?” Nathan asked, seating himself on the sofa in the parlor. Sarah sat down close by.
“It was a pretty weird night. I had dreams that seemed so real. And they weren’t all good dreams. In fact, I finally had to make myself wake up from one of them.”
“Sounds like my night,” he said. “Only I didn’t have a dream—just a strange hallucination or something. I think maybe our imaginations must be getting the better of us and I’m just glad it’s daylight, even with a storm still blowing outside.” He remembered the smell and the slithering, dragging noise only too well. He glanced over at a window, draped in a sheer cotton fabric that permitted thin daylight into the room. “Looks like it’s finally winding down out there.”
“I hope so,” Sarah said. “I really don’t miss television or radio―or even Internet―i left my SmartPhone at home, can you believe it? But I’d like to know there will be an end to this snow sometime soon. My vacation here won’t last forever”
Nathan laughed. “I feel the same way. I’m without my Blackberry for the first time in months, but I wanted no distractions. I enjoy my work, but when you pack your vacation into two weeks right before the busiest tax time of the year, you want it to be relaxing.” He smiled at her and said, “You really are a thorough housekeeper, scrubbing the floors down.”
She laughed again, but this was a more nervous sound, forced out rather than uttered naturally. “Not really. If you want to know, it has to do with the dream I had last night.”
They walked back into the kitchen. Nathan took the steaming mug of coffee from Sarah’s hands and held it gratefully up to his nose, sniffing it like a connoisseur with a rare vintage in front of him. He took a sip and said, “This is great. Thanks. So, tell me about this dream.”
And Sarah recounted it, exactly as she had experienced it, right down to the unfortunate incident in which the entire dinner party had been interrupted by the shrieks of Mrs. Presbury in the bathroom doorway.
She was grateful when Nathan did not laugh or ridicule her. Now that she had told it, the whole thing sounded like foolish nonsense. “I’m overreacting, I know.”
Nathan shook his head and set his coffee mug on the kitchen table. “I’m not so sure.”
“What in the world does that mean?” Sarah said, eyeing him carefully over the rim of her coffee mug.
He fell silent for a moment, thinking. Sarah looked at him, and noted how boyishly handsome he was―again, in a Peter Parker, boy-next-door sort of way. His brown hair poked out from under his Phillies ballcap and his startling blue eyes―almost the color of reef water in the Mediterranean, she thought―were now unfocused and dreamy, clearly reflecting his thought process. She sipped her coffee and
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