The House

Chapter 43 - Day 5: Boiling Rage and Freezing Pain

Sometimes the breadth of a kitchen island can be as vast as the universe. I know that now.

I'm seated at the large island in the middle of the kitchen with my back to the wall where the cuckoo clock used to hang before it committed suicide, and David is seated with his back to the crockery cabinets and shelf with the big laundry washbasin next to the back door. He might as well be on a different island... or the mainland since we are currently literally on a storm-created island.

He built a fire in the old coal stove that is no longer used for cooking but still taking up its space next to the more modern stove and double sink built into the stone shelf running along the wall under the windows to my right. It's one of those beautiful antique cast iron wood and coal stoves that could potentially warm the entire house if the house is small enough.

Outside, the storm is still raging, but some heat has returned to the house, and the kitchen would've been cosy if the atmosphere between David and me wasn't frozen solid with unspoken words and dreadful thoughts.

"You first," I finally tell David, and he lowers his mug of steaming coffee, taking a slow breath, his eyes gazing into mine in a pleading way that tugs at my heart. I try to smile encouragement at him, but my lips won't respond.

"I woke up naked in the cave," his answer startles me. The sea will be boiling with vicious waves right now; I hate the idea of him out there in this raging storm. "When I realised where I was, I ran out to the beach to see if you were there. There was no sign of you; I ran up and down that section of beach, trying to see if you were in the water; I really started to think that you'd been washed away. I was terrified."

He picks up his mug, taking a long sip, and I can see his hand tremble lightly, his knuckles white with the force he is using to grip his mug.

"There was no sign, Belle; I thought I'd lost you," he says, his eyes burning into mine, and I swallow against the lump forming in my throat. I thought I'd lost him too, and I can see the same anguish on his face as the thought of losing him brings to mine.

"I finally realised that just because I was outside, it didn't mean that you were. I got some hope that you were in the house, so I came back and searched it. It wasn't going well because I was wet and cold, so I got dressed and searched every single room, but there was no sign of you," he narrows his eyes, looking for answers on my face, but all he'll be able to see there is confusion mixed with compassion.

 Then I ran out and searched the gardens and the lookout where the old path down to that cove is, but I could not find any trace of you. I couldn't face the possibility that you were in that sea, so I decided that I was going to take my truck and drive along the edges of every orchard and take a look at the ground keeper's house and then go down to the river. I was going to search everywhere."

A frown draws his eyebrows together, and he is once again gazing at my face as if all the answers are written there. "When I came into the house to get my keys, I found you in the hallway. Where were you?!"

Great, now it's my turn. I don't like my turn; my turn makes even less sense than his did. My turn is terrifying me to a level I cannot voice.

"In the little room," I croak, a jolt of fright slicing through my body when David's chair scrapes loudly against the stone floor, and he gets to his feet, stomping past me. I turn warily to look when he yanks open the door in the hallway.

I know what he is seeing, even before he turns to look at me with a face edged in dread and confusion.

The closet is back. I'm not surprised.

He doesn't say anything; he just shuts the closet, returns to the kitchen and takes his usual seat close to mine. His warmth spreads from my fingers up my arm and fills my heart when he takes my hand in his.