“I can handle this,” I said, and meant it. I thought of the library in the church basement, how I’d lovingly catalogued and shelved each volume, even if I wasn’t allowed to read them all.
Tap smiled, backing us out of the libraries and taking us through an open doorway behind the living area.
To the immediate right was a well appointed kitchen and dining area.
“Are you hungry at all? Thirsty?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” The thought of food might appeal soon, but my stomach would have to finish unknotting first.
“I’m due a thorough restocking, but there should be something worthwhile to eat in there. Please help yourself to anything you’d like.” He gestured to a door across from the open kitchen. “Through there is the washing tub and a drying line, as well as an extra bath and toilet.” A bit further down he paused at another set of doors directly across from one another. He gestured to the one on the left. “This is my room. Down the hall are the workshops and…” He shook his head. “No matter.We can discuss those another time. This one will be yours.” He opened the door to the right, and we stepped inside.
The room was impressively large compared to the tiny space I’d kept at the church and included a private bathroom. The walls were bare, and the furniture was limited to a bed and a small dresser, but it was clean and warm.
Tap was frowning again. “We’ll need to get you some things.”
“This is fine,” I insisted, a blush heating my cheeks, uncomfortable making any requests or continuing to take. Over the last several years, I’d become used to living in similar simplicity. Additionally, it not only felt like an abuse of his generosity, but also as though payment would be required at some point. I had no money to trade with, which left me feeling as though suspended above a pit, waiting to see whether the rope would get pulled one direction or the other, or simply let go of. I blinked and forced myself to shove such thoughts aside. “Where are the linens?”
“Just here.” He slid a small trunk out from under the bed and pulled sheets, a pillow, and blankets from it. We worked in silence, movements oddly coordinated as we tucked and straightened.
“Thank you,” I said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Urgency flooded my veins as my heart pounded impossibly fast and my fingertips went numb. I needed him to leave. I didn’t want him to see me have another attack. “I think I might clean up and maybe rest for a bit, if that’s alright?” I could only hope he ignored the tremor in my voice, how breathless I sounded. My shoulders began to ache as I silently pleaded for him to go.
“Certainly.” He ducked his head and backed toward the door. “Please move about freely. The portals excepted, of course.” Tap hesitated in the doorway, and I forced myself to breathe through my nose instead of panting like my body wanted to. “It should be mentioned that time moves differently here than it does onEarth. Every hour here is about half again what one there is. I’d imagine that you’ve become well acclimated to that cadence. No need to push yourself if you’re tired.”
I nodded that I understood, my tongue too heavy to use. Once his footsteps moved down the hall, I slid to the floor, limbs like lead and mind too full to function.
My last thought before I lost the ability to think straight or speak was that it wasn’t fair; I should have had longer between episodes. There weren’t even any church bells here.
Chapter 8
Phin
Once the numbness passed, I got shakily to my feet, determined to make good use of the bath. The thought of languishing in hot water to chase away the chill that lingered in my bones after living in the drafty church for so long was a temptation I couldn’t resist. If nothing else, I could wash the fake colorants from my hair and face.
The bathroom itself was just as plainly decorated as the bedchamber. A small water closet for the toilet was set off in one corner, and the shortest wall hosted a length of countertop and sink with a plain mirror over it. The tub was oversized, and the main attraction of the room. It sat under a four-paned window with a plain curtain, the windowsill extra deep and serving as a shelf for the cake of soap and shampoo bottles. To my absolute delight, water ran steamy directly from the faucet, and the towel I’d been left was plush and soft. The soap and shampoos smelled like lavender. Tears sprang to my eyes as I took stock of the space, moving from one thing to the next with an odd sense of wonder.
Father Morton had done his best, but luxury was not in his vocabulary. Old, scratchy towels and the cheapest of soaps had left my hair dry and skin itchy and raw more often than not. Myclothes were all second- or third hand. Not that he was living any differently—everything the church had was old and worn. The new items presented to me here were a much-appreciated novelty, one that reminded me of the comfortable life I’d had before my parents had left me at the church.
As I settled into the hot water, I shoved away all thought; it could wait for a little while. I soaked and scrubbed, emerging only once the water had cooled and my fingertips were wrinkled.
After dressing in my most comfortable tunic and the one pair of soft woolen leggings I’d managed to keep in good repair, I emptied the contents of my bag onto the bed. There wasn’t much to put away, but I methodically stored my meager collection of clothing in the dresser and lined up my collection of pretty rocks on the nightstand by color.
My stomach finally decided to come around, growling loudly as I returned to the bathroom, hanging my towel to dry and making sure that the tub had emptied. The one in the church had a habit of draining very slowly, then stopping with an inch or so left in the basin. This one, on the other hand, worked perfectly.
Finding everything in order and with no other tasks to distract me, I cautiously went back down the hall toward the kitchen.
Despite the quiet, there was an ambient hum, like the whole of the crossroads was breathing. It likely had something to do with the energy flowing to and from all the portals, but it reminded me of the way Heaven had always sounded, just lower, softer. I found it comforting.
As I peered into the kitchen, I stiffened at finding Tap standing at the counter. His broad shoulders moved with precision as he worked, barely wrinkling the sleeves of his shirt. He turned, sensing me staring. His quick glance turned into a longer one, and I blushed as he scanned me up and down.The corner of his mouth ticked before he turned back to his preparations.
“I thought you might still be resting, I was going to bring this to your room. Did you find everything you needed?”
I stepped closer, unsure what to do with myself. “Yes, thank you.”
“Good. It’s just sandwiches, but I thought I should make an attempt at a proper meal.” He turned, two plates in hand, and gestured with his elbow toward the table. “I don’t often have guests, at least not ones aside from my brother, so I’m afraid my hospitality skills are a little rusty.”
I sat in one of the four mismatched chairs, and he selected the one across from me, setting a plate in front of us both. “You’re doing just fine.”
He visibly brightened at my compliment and turned back to get a pitcher of water and cups, along with a bowl of cut fruit. “That’s kind of you to say.”
