The Storyteller

Chapter 25: A Mending

Lynna was the first to wake. She blinked in confusion as she found herself unable to sit up. Her head felt slightly muddled, she turned her head to one side and with a squeak recalled just where exactly she was. Guy was still asleep against her, his head against her shoulder, and one arm draped around her, almost possessively.

Memories of yesterday filtered through her mind and her heart fell. She would let him sleep for a while, no need to wake him and remind him of the hell he would find himself in. Besides, she had no real desire to leave the bed immediately, at least here she was safe and warm.

Her focus was jarred as she heard the faint sound of a door being opened. She quickly shut her eyes, feigning sleep, not wishing to be disturbed. There came a very loud, very distinctive gasp. Lynna tried not to wince at the sound, she was going to have to do some very quick explaining later.

Moments later the door shut, or rather slammed as quietly as possible behind the intruder. Lynna felt Guy stir against her, groaning slightly as he did so. Lynna gave a small smile in spite of herself. She should have known he would awake with a splitting headache after drinking himself into oblivion last night. She tried to keep the cause of his actions out of her mind. She didn't want to think about it, not just yet.

She managed to prop herself up slightly on one arm and lean over just enough to whisper in his ear, “Good morning.”

Guy's eyes snapped open. He stared at her incredulously for a moment. He raised a hand to caress her face, almost as if he was trying to see if she was real. Lynna let herself fall back against the bed. She saw Guy's expression go from sheer surprise to a haunted sorrow. He pulled away from her, but Lynna touched his arm softly, “It is all right.” It was hardly any comfort, she knew, but in truth she was still at odds with what to say to him.

“Nothing about this is right anymore.” Guy said, his voice was raspy and Lynna could hear the pain behind it.

“Stop.” Lynna hushed, rolling back onto her side so that she was against him, “Don't think about it. For just a moment, Guy, you don't have to think about it.”

But it was all he could think about. He glanced down at Lynna, she was tracing the edges of one of his coat clasps. He tried to recall last night, but there were not so many memories as there were flashes of images and words, but nothing was going to take away the memory of his father's words. It stained his mind; reminding him of just how much of a failure he had turned out to be.

The sound of Lynna's faint humming cut through his thoughts. The tune was haunting, melancholy and he recognized it. The sweetness of it, the fright in the tone, the pain, the loss in the ebb and flow of the sweet, little voice which hummed it. Suddenly full memory of the song dawned on him. It was the song Lynna had sung before the Sheriff, but of course, not until Guy had sufficiently terrified her, nearly had her tortured, and had thrown her brutally down the stairs. Yes, he could just picture the bruised, frightened waif she had been as she sang:

There lived a maiden by the sea

And fair and lonely was she, was she

too a lay a lie a lee

They say her love had gone away

Still she prays he'll come back one day

too a lee a lie a lay

She watches the shore with a careful eye

Does she know her love has died?

Too a lee a lay a lie

He wanted to tell her to stop humming that song. He looked down at her and noticed she had her eyes screwed shut, she was biting her lip with such an intensity it was a wonder she had not yet drawn blood, and her small hand was clutching the clasp she had been tracing; her knuckles had gone pale white.