Thank you to everyone who has read and followed my story. Desideria79 this update, these next chapters are for you!
"Wait!" Julian caught up to her as she was halfway up the stairs. Of course she didn't take the elevator. He suspected that her paranoia would extend to claustrophobia in small, enclosed and uncontrollable places.
Rionach turned partially, then kept climbing. "Did you want something, Doctor Simon?"
"To talk to you." He followed her, trying to catch his breath, surprised by the firm grace of her steps.
"Did the Professor send you?"
He hesitated, then held out the toasted cheese sandwich. From behind her, he could see the blades of her shoulders protruding through the thin sweater. "Yes."
She turned, eyes still hidden behind the mirrored lenses, but watchful. For a moment she faced him, then took the sandwich. "Thank you for not lying about it."
"Can I help you pack?"
She stopped at the door, scanning the room with the sandwich still clutched in her hand, not moving to take a bite. Her shoulders still slumped slightly, but her chin was firm. "I thought you were supposed to talk me into keeping her here."
"Is that possible?" They both went in.
"No."
"Then why should I waste my time?"
"Because you're the persistent sort?" As she moved to pick up one of the stuffed toys on the bed, he noticed she was wearing a silver ring on her thumb, the tiny letters engraved on its wide band catching the light as she moved. Freak. Was that her opinion of them… or of herself?
For a moment she stared at the plush animal, turning it over as she blinked. "This was mine before it was Saoirse's. I gave it to her when we were separated." She cradled it for a moment in her hands, and her lips quivered. "I'm glad she still has it."
The floppy eared dog was worn and threadbare, and one of the painted-on eyes had been smeared until it looked as if it were crying.
"How long has it been since you've seen her?"
For a moment she was silent, holding the dog against her chest. "Seven years."
The shock made the words leap to his tongue before he could stop them. "Why?"
She shrugged. "I lived with my mother."
"Your parents were divorced?"
"You could say that." She pulled a roll of heavy garbage bags from a pocket of her cargo pants and began tossing the few things on the desk in. "My mother was… ill. My father didn't trust Saoirse with her, but Momma needed help. So I stayed."
Only eighteen words, summarizing a lifetime of pain and regret. He sat down on the bed. 'Coup de foudre' as the French said, love that came like a clap of thunder and he was lost. This was one of the shabbiest women he had ever met and yet—
"Rionach."
"Hmm?" She turned and suddenly a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. She took a bite of the toasted cheese, speaking around the food in her mouth. "You're not really helping me pack."
"I don't want you to go."
"I don't belong here."
He tried to inject all the concern and gentleness he was capable of into his voice. Anyone else he could have persuaded. There was something different about this girl. "Your sister does."
Her hands shook. "My sister is not something to be tucked away into a special school and treated differently—"
"She is different."
For a moment she glared at him and a migraine exploded in his head. He put a hand to his forehead and she spun away, stalking to the window, dropping the half-eaten sandwich in the bin. Through the haze of sudden pain he saw her clench her fists and slam them into her pockets. She turned to look at him and her face softened.
"I'm going to be right back." She pulled a bottle from her pocket. "You want an aspirin?"
"It's just a headache."
"I'm sorry."
He smiled at her. "It's not your fault."
"Yes it is."
She went out.