Chaos of the Heart: Chapter 7: The Morning
Awaking from a deep slumber the next morning, Rick is refreshed. He nestles into the soft sheets and pillows of Adele's luxurious four-poster bed with his eyes closed, completely relaxed, very reluctant to get up. It has been a long time since he has felt this well. Letting his mind wander freely, he thinks of how surprised Michael will be when he finds out how fast he won Adele back. Tada! Pretty quick work, he thinks proudly. One night! It is his first success for the ODS team in too long a time. And he is satisfied with how firmly he handled Adele - he kept his cool and laid down the law - she knows she won't get any ODS team's secrets out of him anymore!
He briefly wonders what Michael's plan is, but lovely thoughts of the beautiful Adele soon muscle in, and he contemplates his renewed relationship with her with wonder and joy. She loves him! She told him so herself. He is sure of it, too. Well, he thinks, sure may be too strong a word. Adele is very good at deception and she is a convincing actress, he has seen the proof of it. She says what she needs to, to get what she wants. No, no, he decides, she really does love him, she had always loved him, she just didn't know it. Yes! And his clever, clever heart knew all along! That is it. He is sure. He loves her and she loves him. It is simple, really. Simple. Except for the fact that they are both spies, accustomed to lying and keeping secrets. That's the only little wrinkle. Well, that, and the fact that she works for Higgins and he works for Michael, and they are enemies. Just two wrinkles. Two, and also he is pretending to hate her so he can stay on the ODS team. Just some minor glitches. That's all. Nothing that true love shouldn't be able to easily overcome.
He thinks over the previous night's activities. Like everyone else, he had heard of the mythical, magical, wondrous pleasures of makeup sex, but last night was the first time he'd experienced it himself. It was fantastic. Yes, indeed! Being an easy going sort of fellow not prone to rocky on-again off-again relationships he never knew what he had been missing. Hoo-boy! Last night was … hmmm … he couldn't immediately think of a superlative superlative enough to describe last night. It was amazing. Adele was amazing. Now, it could well be that Adele's tearful avowal of love was faked, maybe it was, it could be, it was so very unlike her … no, no, no, what is he thinking? She does love him, she does, it's a fact he has already decided. But in any case, the rest of last night she definitely did not fake. His masculine pride does not admit the possibility. There is no doubt in his mind that she felt every superlative just as superlatively as he did.
He reaches out for Adele but the bed is empty. He opens his eyes, the room is dark, the thick drapes still closed. He is disappointed she isn't there, until he hears a crackling sound from the kitchen. Ah! She is up, and she is cooking, how wonderful, he is famished! They skipped last night's reservation at the Parisian restaurant and this morning his appetite has returned with a vengeance. He smells the air, something is cooking but he can't quite tell what. He visualizes a large plate piled high with thick pancakes, drenched in sweet syrup, sunny eggs and plump sausages tucked all around them. Egads! Did Adele get up early to prepare breakfast for him? The joys of making up just get better and better! Adele in the kitchen cooking, what a thing! She is accomplished at so many things but even he wouldn't say she is much of a cook. Usually they stop for takeout on the way to the agency. But today is special, obviously it is. She's making him breakfast. There is the proof of love! No question. Who would question it? She's so in love with him she's making him breakfast in bed.
He detects a burning odor, it must be toast burning, he can smell it distinctly. She must be busy frying eggs or pancakes or sausages and letting the toast burn. If she doesn't get to it soon the toast will be ruined. He worries, if he runs to the kitchen to rescue it, would she resent his interference? She obviously wants him to stay in bed. He really doesn't want to run the risk of upsetting her today. He wonders if he should pull on his boxers just in case. The smell of burning becomes stronger and Rick begins to wonder why none of the house's smoke detectors are squealing. It is too dark to see so he turns on the bedside lamp and looks up at the ceiling. There is a dangling screw where the bedroom's smoke detector should be mounted. How strange it isn't there. He's certain there used to be one there. How odd. Tendrils of smoke appear around the edges of the bedroom door. His heart begins to pound.
Alarmed, Rick leaps out of bed and runs to the door. When he touches the door handle it is hot, scorching hot. He checks the door panel, and it is hot too. The smell of smoke is strong now, definitely worse than before and he can tell the crackling noise is a lot closer than he thought, much closer than the kitchen. Fire! There's a fire on the other side of the door! The house is on fire! Where is Adele? Rick calls out to her but she doesn't answer. His stomach tightens into a knot. Did she set the kitchen on fire? Did she run out of the house? Would she leave him in a burning house? Is she trapped in the kitchen? He must find her! He calls her again, but still there is no answer.
He scans the bedroom. The only escape is through the window and he runs to it. Just as he is about to pull aside the brocade drapes he hears a hissing sound barely audible over the crackling of the fire. It's the shower! Rick runs to the other side of the bedroom, to the door of the adjacent bathroom. The door is ajar, the shower splashing full force. He calls to Adele but gets no answer. Rick pushes the door open a little farther and sees the shower curtain fluttering against the edge of the tub. He calls her again, and again, gets no answer. What is going on? He steps in and looks around, there is no exit from the bathroom.
With the deadly smoke thickening in the bedroom, there is no time for propriety. He slams the bathroom door, jumps over to the tub, and yanks back the curtain.
