Screaming sirens.
Flashing lights.
The boy's face often morphed into Riley's, and no matter how hard he tried to wake her up, she never responded.
Thankfully, he hadn't had this particular nightmare for some time. The lack of nightmares made it easier to remain sober. But having Riley home must have triggered something.
Daniel stared at the extra dark spot on the wall that was a picture of him wrestling a steer back in his high school rodeo days. He focused on his breathing, slowly counting backward from onehundred. By the time he reached seventy, his breathing had calmed and so had his thoughts.
Then the urge for a stiff drink hit him like a freight train. He threw back the covers and darted to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.
Once again, he focused on his breathing as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.
You don't need that stuff.
You're stronger than that.
It'll pass in a few minutes.
The urge to grab his truck keys and drive to the liquor store didn't subside as fast as it usually did, so he grabbed his guitar, slid his feet into slippers, and headed outside. It was late, and he didn't want to wake his parents, so he sat on the front porch, far away from their bedroom at the back of the house. Settling into a wicker chair, he strummed a few notes.
Working out, whittling, and playing the guitar. Those had become his coping mechanisms when the cravings hit. But he'd already worked out tonight before heading to his AA meeting, and whittling in the dark was a bad idea. He often called his sponsor or talked to Emily when things were bad. But he'd already talked to Tom tonight at the meeting, and Emily was asleep. She often woke up at night with little Adam who was only two and a half months old, so Daniel refused to bother her when he had a rough time in the middle of the night.
Despite plucking out his favorite church hymn that usually calmed him, he couldn't help but replay the scene at dinner in his head. Sure, Jake had been out of line, but Riley had reacted much stronger than was typical for her.
In fact, she wasn't acting like herself at all.
A scream split the air, and Daniel bolted to his feet. He stood frozen, listening for more screams as he tried to figure out where it had come from. The whinny of a horse floated on the evening breeze, then a faint but steady thudding reached him.
He left his guitar on the wicker chair and walked toward the lanethat led to the big house. Dim light shone through the window at the front of the stables and more light filtered through the window at the back.
That's odd. I'm sure I turned the lights off after my workout.
The sound of dull thuds continued to sound at frequent intervals. Curious, he jogged down the lane.
The small door to the right of the big double doors was slightly ajar, so Daniel slipped inside. His slippers made no sound on the wooden floor as he walked to the other end of the stables. The frequency of the thuds grew more rapid and louder as he approached the door to the storage room that he'd turned into his weight room.
Another yell sounded as he reached for the doorknob. This one was decidedly feminine.
He jerked his hand back.
It came from Riley; he was sure of it, even though it was deep and guttural and full of pain. Knowing he shouldn't intrude, but feeling the need to protect Riley from whatever tormented her, he quietly opened the door.
Her back was to him, but perspiration soaked through her shirt and curled the tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck. He was about to say her name when a tortured sob tore from her.
She threw another forceful punch. "I hate you!"
And another sharp jab. "I hate what you did to me!"
Then she stopped and hugged the bag, leaning her head against it. Anguished sobs shook her shoulders.
Whatever demons Riley was trying to outrun, they were every bit as formidable as his own.
Daniel ached to pull her into his arms and take away her pain. But he feared he might be the source of her misery. Some of it anyway. He recalled the way she tensed up when he hugged her that afternoon. She’d never reacted that way before, so he couldn’t help assuming his touch repulsed her.
Was she tormented by the fact that she'd have to work with him every day? Or was this a carryover of her annoyance with Jake?
No. Something—or rather someone—drove her home.
