I
looked at my husband, fumbling with the clothes line uncoiling in his
hands. He was hiding something, I knew that from his tone of voice.
He's not a good liar, never has been. I suppose it's one of the
things I love about him.
Still
feeling disorientated, I glanced at Oak. He looked straight back at
me, his gaze strong and steady. Solid, you might say. I found that
rather comforting, I don't know why.
“Well?”
Edward asked, “What now?”
He
kept his eyes firmly on the washing line, so I wasn't sure if he was
talking to me or Oak, but I did know what I wanted to do next.
I
shook my head, trying to clear the last of my grogginess. “Now, my
dear,” I said, “It's time to find out what's coming down the
stairs.” And with that, I turned and reached for the living room
door.
