Winter
Everything felt right. Sarah lay there, her eyes still closed but wide awake. Her head rested gently against Pat's chest, his steady heartbeat echoing in her ears like a comforting melody. It was in moments like these that all the terrible things she had experienced seemed to fade away. She wished those moments could last forever.
His arm, wrapped protectively around her, gave a slight squeeze. "I can tell yer awake."
A smile flickered across her face. "I am not," she murmured.
His hand traced a slow, teasing path down her back, eliciting a soft laugh. She lifted her head and opened her eyes to see Pat watching her with a mischievous grin. "Fine, I'm awake," she admitted. She pushed herself forward to kiss him.
In one swift move, Pat rolled her over, positioning himself on top of her.
A loud crash echoed from somewhere in the house, interrupting their moment.
Sarah's attention shifted, her brows furrowing with concern. "John," she said. "He must be trying to make his own breakfast."
"I've no doubt he can handle himself," Pat replied, his lips brushing against her neck.
Another crash, louder and more disruptive, echoed through the house
"He's only seven and he's going to destroy the house."
"Is he?" Pat murmured the question against her skin.
His hand slid up her nightgown, causing her breath to catch. "He doesn't know how to use the stove so I'm sure..." Her words trailed off as she pulled him closer for another kiss.
"He's a clever lad," Pat said. "He'd likely be able to figure it out."
But in an instant, Sarah's mind was seized by a sudden and vivid image—their house engulfed in flames, the result of a curious child and a dangerous mistake. The thought snapped her back to reality and she abruptly pushed Pat off of her. "You shouldn't have said anything. This is entirely on you," she teased, a playful glimmer in her eyes, as she took in the disappointed look on Pat's face. She stood and pulled on her robe, shivering slightly in the chilly air. She approached the window and looked out at the lazy drift of snowflakes dancing through the air. "Could you shovel the walk today?"
"I will as soon as the snow stops fallin'," Pat replied.
"What if it doesn't stop?" Sarah asked. "What if we need to leave?"
Pat reached out, his fingers closing around the tie of her robe and gently tugged her back towards him. "Ah, but then we'll just stay right here," he suggested, their lips meeting in another kiss.
"Mama!" The urgent shout reached them.
She gave him one last lingering kiss before reluctantly untangling herself from his embrace. "Shovel the walk," she instructed, her tone firm as she left the room.
~~~
No one could deny that it was a magnificent estate. Its grounds, a sprawling blend of manicured gardens and dense woodlands, housed an imposing clock tower and a recently completed pool. It was a place designed for entertainment. Cal couldn't complain when it was filled with people, which happened often enough. But during the quieter times, it became a cheerless and empty space.
Seizing the chance when his family happened to be home—thanks to Dinah's last-minute canceled trip—Cal bundled up the children, hoping to explore the grounds with them before his wife's return from her shopping or visiting friends or who knows where. He no longer cared about her whereabouts or activities.
YOU ARE READING
Waterbound
Ficção HistóricaWith the shadow of the Titanic tragedy hanging over their heads, the survivors strive together to rebuild their lives amidst the hardships of the 1920s. This is the sequel to When We Meet on that Distant Shore.