I Would, Wouldn't You?

Chapter Four

Henry

Henry climbed up onto the window ledge in their bedroom and then offered Elizabeth his hand. She climbed up too and settled between his legs, her back to his chest. Each breath that she took rose and fell through him, her soft warmth an antidote to the chill that seeped in through the window. A lone car sailed by outside, the roar of its engine like a tide that surged and ebbed into the night.

She rested her head back, her hair silken against his cheek, and he wrapped his arms around her, surrounding her, their own little refuge. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear. "I'm here. I've got you."

She swallowed, then nodded, then began. "It was a week before my birthday..."

***

1983

Elizabeth

Elizabeth was sat at the small wooden desk in the corner of her bedroom. The golden glow of the late afternoon sun filtered in through the window behind her and filled the room with a lazy warmth. It mingled with the smell of baked potatoes that wafted up the stairs, and as she imagined their skins blistering in the oven, her stomach grumbled.

The pen slipped across the page of her notepad. "Shoot." She grabbed the bottle of white-out and applied a thin sheen to the paper. Then she blew on it—the surface ruffling—until it dried.

"You know, if you make a mistake, you can just cross it out." Will's voice came from the doorway—from the door that should be closed.

Elizabeth jerked her head up and scowled at him. "Get out of my room, Will."

Will flashed that smug smile of his; his sandy blonde fringe flipping forward into his eyes. "I'm not even in your room." And he motioned to his feet, his toes just a hair's breadth beyond the line between the bedroom and the hall.

Elizabeth's pulse throbbed through her temple. She took a deep breath. Then—"Mom!" She shouted. "Will's annoying me."

And Will's expression fell, his lips disappearing into a pout.

"Will—" Their mother's voice echoed through the house. "—leave your sister alone."

"But I didn't do anything!" Will shouted, and a flush of red rose through his cheeks. He lowered his voice and hissed at Elizabeth. "God, Lizzie, you're such a nerd."

Elizabeth smirked as she looked him up and down. "Better than being a loser."

Will's face pinched. "You're the loser."

"Hey. That's enough." Their father appeared in the hallway and placed a hand on Will's shoulder. "Don't call your sister a loser."

"But she—" Will's voice shot up.

"Dinner's almost ready," their father said, and he steered Will away from the door. "Go set the table. Your mother and I need to have a word." He turned back to Elizabeth and flashed her a smile. "Five minutes, sweetheart." Then he undid the clasp of his watch and handed it to her.

A hug-like warmth spread through her chest; he knew how much she loved that watch. Until—

"Don't work too hard."

She caught her smile before it faltered. He would never say that to Will.

Ten minutes later, Elizabeth bundled down the stairs and the fourth step creaked as she hit it. She hurried along the hallway to the dining room, the smell of jacket potatoes calling to her. When she pushed open the door and stepped inside, she was met with the whine of Will's voice. "But it's not fair."