Ethan ambled across to the far wall and its floor-to-ceiling shelves. It was filled with every kind of medical book imaginable, from Western anatomy books and shiny new medical textbooks to Eastern Ayurveda, natural remedies, and acupuncture. Some were in English, some in Welsh, and others in languages Ethan couldn’t begin to decipher.
Bryn settled onto a narrow wooden chair and gestured for Ethan to sit on the only sofa. Bryn grinned. “Let’s talk about anatomy,” he said, launching into a series of increasingly complicated questions about Ethan’s experiences as a paramedic.
They ate their lunch sitting at a small kitchen table and discussing Shadow meditations, and then moved back to the sitting room to drink coffee and debate the placebo effect and what psychosomatic really meant, followed by exercises to focus Shadow Healing.
It was the most fascinating and eclectic conversation Ethan had ever had, and yet his mind still wandered, his thoughts turning to Kay. What was she doing? What was she thinking? Was she thinking of him?
Every time it happened, Bryn gave him a sympathetic look and then asked him something so complicated that he became completely caught up in their conversation again. For another few minutes, anyway.
By the time the sun started to set, Ethan was exhausted. He hadn’t slept for days, his heart felt like it had been run over, and when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Kay sitting in her bed, trying not to cry.
Bryn made them a delicious stew of Welsh lamb, rich with herbs and buttery dumplings, which they ate while drinking red wine and discussing energy meridians. Then he showed Ethan upstairs to a small, shared bathroom with an ancient shower over the bath, and a tiny bedroom with most of the space taken up by a desk, more bookshelves, and one narrow, single bed pushed against the wall.
There was no TV. No music. No noise from traffic. Ethan took a quick, and mercifully hot, shower then collapsed into the bed to lie surrounded by darkness and books as the house creaked gently in the wind.
He checked his phone. Still no response from Kay.
Finally, he closed his eyes and drifted, lulled by exhaustion and the warmth of the isolated farmhouse.
He woke early the next morning to the sound of rain beating relentlessly on the roof and gurgling down the gutters. His dreams had been disturbing and exhausting, filled with old playground bullies dressed as druids and preparing to sacrifice their classmates. They had slowly turned to face him, lifted their hoods, and revealed James’s face under every cowl. He spun away only to see Kay, exploding into Shadows, again and again.
Ethan swung his legs out the bed and wiped his hand down his face tiredly. When last had he shaved? He honestly couldn’t remember. He leaned his elbows on his knees and dropped his head as the indefinable sense of danger slowly slipped away. The peace of the house and the gentle tapping of the rain cleared the fog from his mind, but the tiredness and sorrow stayed with him.
He lifted his phone. Still nothing. He tried calling Elizabeth, but it rang out with no answer, and he ended the call before he could leave a message.
How did you fight for someone who didn’t want to be fought for? Unless she answered, or chose to reach out, her last request had been for him to go. He couldn’t ignore her wishes, no matter how much it killed him.
Ethan pulled on his dirty jeans and a plaid shirt that Bryn had loaned him and then headed down for a breakfast of oatmeal porridge covered in treacle.
After breakfast, they dashed across to a small wooden shed where Bryn was housing a sick sheep that a local farmer had dropped off the day before. They worked together, looking for areas of pain and disease and then using their Shadows to heal the illness. The moment that the sheep shook them off, stumbled to its feet, and trotted over to the metal feeder was one of the most satisfying of Ethan’s life. But he couldn’t help constantly checking his phone to see if Kay had replied. And she never did.
Bryn’s next challenge—sorting herbs into piles based on their energy patterns—was bloody difficult. If it wasn’t for the enormous cup of coffee the older man had handed over, Ethan would have lost the will to live in the first five minutes. As it was, even half an hour later he still wasn’t convinced there was a right answer. Not that he was going to say that to Bryn. Ethan stretched his arms behind his back, loosened his neck, and tried again. He wasn’t about to be beaten by a pile of greenery.
Bryn looked up from the notes he was writing, stared at him for a few seconds, and then stood up. “I’m going out.”
Ethan blinked. “In the rain?”
“Yes. I need to… do something.”
“Okay,” Ethan agreed slowly. “Give me a minute and I can come, if you like.”
Bryn gave him a considering look. “No thanks. I’d rather you finish and then take a break. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
Ethan watched Bryn in confusion as the older man bustled around and then jogged through the rain to his old Ford. Maybe this was what Bryn was always like?
Either way, if he could get the piles organized, maybe he could take a break. Eat something, or lie on his bed and regret his mistakes. One of those.
Not even five minutes had passed when he heard tires coming back up the drive and he smiled to himself, wondering what Bryn had forgotten. His keys, judging by the brisk knock at the door.
Ethan pushed himself out of his seat and made his way to the entrance, stretching his neck from side to side, and opened the door without even looking. And then froze, hand still on the doorknob.
It was Kay. She was huddling against the door, trying to get under the eaves and out of the downpour, but failing miserably. Her hair was plastered wetly to her face and her clothes were soaked, sticking to her as she shivered.
How could anyone be so bedraggled and so beautiful at the same time? He wanted to pull her inside and into his arms. To get her out of that soaking shirt and against his skin. To warm her body and feel her Shadows twining with his.
Instead, he stepped back to let her in, then jogged upstairs to fetch a towel.
By the time he got back, she’d taken off her boots and padded into the sitting room to warm herself next to the fire. He passed her the towel, thankful that the room was so snug, and she dried herself with a murmured thanks, turning her back to the flames.
