From the way her late Aunt Charity frequently fainted, Angelika knew immediately he had done the same.
“Andrew!” she cried out.
Of course it was too good to be true. That this beautiful young woman could keep his attention on anything other than the fact that he was outside—out-of-doors—for more than five minutes. If only he could keep his eyes downcast. To imagine the snow was merely white carpeting. That the gray clouds above were simply a painted ceiling in a large ballroom.
As soon as the sun had appeared in a rather small break in the clouds, he had glanced up. His imaginary safety net dissipated as the sun’s rays hit his face and he saw the awful clouds surrounding the ball of light.
Although it had felt good to feel the sun like that, it was also a reminder that he was outside. The protection of indoors was gone. Memories from when he was six invaded his mind. Terrified him, much as they had done back then.
Instead of crying out in fear or burying his head into Angelika’s shoulder to block out the sensation, he succumbed to it, his eyes rolling up. The sense of vertigo overwhelmed him, and he fell back, his arms spread out as if they might be able to stop his downward descent.
Expecting a hard landing, he was pleasantly surprised when it felt as if he had fallen into a large pillow. Despite a faraway voice calling his name, he allowed the darkness of sleep to take him.
