His voice was weak. “All right.”
“Now play the game in your head.”
But he didn’t, he couldn’t. The air was so close. The darkness, so black. He was in his grave. He was dying, if not already dead.
No. No. His light, his life was on the other side of the door. And she was going to embarrass him by kissing him all over, in front of the farrier, the grooms, whatever other staff members were there. And he didn’t care one bit because he wouldn’t be embarrassed. He would feel the most blessed relief. As long as he didn’t die in the next five minutes.
It took ages longer than five minutes.
Her voice again. “Move away from the door, sweetheart. As far from the door as you can.”
No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t move farther into the darkness and away from her voice.
“Do you hear me, George? Say yes.”
“Y-yes.”
“Move away from the door now. I promise you it will be all right.”
With her promise, he found the strength to slide on his stomach away from the door, down the little passageway, back into the main chamber.
Oh, my God. This is going to be my tomb.
Loud bangs, creaks, scuffles. Then one tremendous clang and George could feel the air around him had changed. He opened his eyes and there was light coming from the passageway into the chamber. He heard Phoebe’s voice, louder and clearer than before.
“The door is open. Can you come out, George? Or should I come in there?”
“No, no, no. I’m coming out, I’m coming out.” And he crawled toward the light.
He came out into the cellar, blinking, drawing deep breaths. Bright lamps everywhere, men clapping him on his back, a cup of water being given to him. He drained it, then looked around.
“Where’s my wife?”
“I’m here.” She stepped from behind the men. He had a moment of not believing it was her, so firmly was her old pink dress in his head. She was in the black mourning she had worn every day since they had married and she had tears in her eyes and her nose was running and her hair was hanging down and she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He opened up his arms and she came into them.
“Give me your dirty face to kiss, George.” He leaned down and she kissed him all over just as she had promised with “I’m sorry” between each kiss.
“Don’t be sorry, Phee,” he whispered and captured her mouth with his.
George was surprised to find the cellar empty when he stopped kissing his wife.
“Everyone left.” She giggled. “I didn’t embarrass you. We embarrassed them.”
She stepped away from him, holding his hands and looking up at him. Now she had smudges on her cheeks she must have gotten from his own face. “But I’m glad, George. Because I have something important to tell you.”
“What’s that, Phee?”
“I love you, and I forgive me.”
“You forgive you?”
“Well, I forgive you, too, but that’s easy because you’re George and I’ve always forgiven you. But this time, I forgive me. For not liking myself, for being a silly girl for so long, for not being a good wife to you.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
“You don’t live in my head, George.”
“No.”
