Lost in La La Land(34)

I didn't want him to think me under an illusion as to our time spent together and what it meant. He hadn’t given me reason to believe there was anything beyond companionship in our own personal tragedies. And if the one-sided relationship was nothing more than a crush, I didn't care. As least I told myself I didn't.

Mary and Charles lumbered in, sounding like ten people instead of two. “What a peaceful sleep, so good for my condition.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Yes, what a wonder it is for one’s mental state, being away from one’s children.”

“The noise of them aggravates my ailments.” Mary sat, wiping her noise with a handkerchief before sipping the tea. She wrinkled her nose and added two lumps of sugar, stirring and marveling at the room. “What a lovely breakfast room, Captain. Your aunt had an eye for décor.”

“Yes.” The captain lifted his brow, amused.

“Are we going to have a hunt when the other men arrive?” Charles asked, taking a large bite of sausage without cutting it. “A hunt would be capital.” He spoke and chewed like an animal.

“We shall. I was thinking tomorrow after they have rested. Harville tires easily.”

“Right, of course he does.”

“And if you don't mind not mentioning the death of Harville’s sister, I would appreciate it. It’s a sensitive subject for poor Benwick. He loved her so.” The captain’s eyes darted to Mary’s and then mine. “Are Louisa and Henrietta coming down?”

“They’ve already gone outside for some air.” Mary scoffed as if the notion were something disgusting.

“Is Anne going to come?” I asked Mary, half hoping she would say no.

“She is. She’ll be leaving Bath within a fortnight. She sent word this very morning that we should be expecting her.”

“Excellent.” I smiled and sipped my tea. I couldn't shake the displeasure in the news that Anne was coming, even though I had only intended to warn her myself. It was selfish and awful, but I wanted the captain’s attention and I didn't want to share it with Anne or the ghost of his feelings for her. My ghost had left and it would seem his was just arriving.





Chapter Fifteen


Wyoming, Rhode Island, 2027



I blinked, staring at the candle and the shadow of her sleeping silhouette against the floral wall. Lana had been in for nine hours. We were testing it, just to see.

Her vitals were strong and her heart rate steady.

The machine was replacing sleep for us completely now. Her nine hours would turn to my nine hours. We would be awake and in each other’s company the other few hours of the day.

A noise stirred in the hall.

I lifted my gaze, listening for it again.

The bell at the front gate startled me.

I sent the siren’s call to wake Lana up and shot up from the chair, hurrying downstairs to the door. I peeked through the window, confused and wondering if I was hallucinating when I saw who it was. The sound of the bell a second time assured me I wasn't.

I pulled on my raincoat and hurried outside in my rain boots.

“Emma!” Marguerite waved at me through the wrought iron and vines. “You’re here!”

“Marguerite, what a surprise.” I couldn't lie and say pleasant.

“I tried calling but your phone’s off. And you haven’t emailed me back. So I drove out, hoping I would catch you here or at least get some clue as to where you were.”

“Did you bring Lola?” I asked as I unlocked the gate using the large old skeleton key.

“No. She’s with the kids, probably helping the babysitter maintain the chaos that is necessary for my house to run. We’ve moved, did you know?”

“No.” I offered a smile. “I’ve been so busy.” I glanced back at the house.

“Can I come in?” She laughed, hugging me.

“Sure.” I hugged back, noting she smelled like perfume and soap.

“When did you get back from England?”

“What?” I scowled.

“You’re speaking with an accent.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Last week. I was there for a while. I always do that when I travel, pick up the accent. My old nomadic ear.” I laughed it off and headed into the house, trying to sound American again. “How is Lola?”

“She’s amazing. So spicy. She’s a little monster in that tiny body. And what a garbage dog. I catch her in the trash more often than not. I have a video.” She pulled out her phone as we got into the house. She paused and it took me a second to comprehend what she was staring at. I turned, seeing it through her eyes. “Oh, Emma.” She gasped.

“Sorry, I haven’t had the guys by to pick up the recycling. Like I said, I just got back into the country.” I smiled, hoping we could move on. But she couldn't. I saw that too.

Her eyes fixated on the piles of magazines, newspapers, and bags of garbage that we hadn’t ever taken to our bins. I didn't even know where they were.

The path that led from the front door to the kitchen was lined with stacks of newspapers and garbage bags. I hadn’t noticed it in a while. I didn't know when I last had.

The kitchen was a sight as well. Old stained countertops and what appeared to be mouse poop met her as she turned the corner.