Chapter 43
She lay on her side, sheets bunched at her waist, arm outstretched.
Beside her, Danielle slept fitfully, only calming when she felt her mother's touch.
Sheridan rubbed her daughter's back in what she hoped were soothing circles.
But Danielle still whimpered softly, crying in her sleep.
Sheridan drew her daughter into her arms, pausing in her lullaby intermittently to press her lips against Danielle's damp cheek.
Gradually, Danielle relaxed completely against her, her breath escaping her parted mouth in slight puffs of air against Sheridan's neck.
A cool breeze from the ocean fluttered the curtains at the window, traveling across the room and moving across Sheridan's bare arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Danielle clutched a fistful of her mother's heather gray tank top almost desperately in her sleep, and it took several moments of Sheridan's soothing strokes along the back of her daughter's palm for the distraught child to relax her grip.
Sheridan lay awake, her daughter's comforting weight pressed against her and the fragrant scent of her silky dark hair filling her nostrils with every shaky breath she took.
The urge to cry was nearly overwhelming.
Her world was rapidly spinning off its axis, and she didn't know how to stop it. She only knew she couldn't let Luis take all the responsibility this time.
SHE had to do this, even if it meant doing it all on her own.
The distant sound of waves crashing against the shore lulled her, made her eyelids droop, and she rested her cheek against Danielle's head, finally allowing herself an unguarded moment.
Curled up together, their faces lax with sleep.
Alistair was almost moved by the beauty of the stark black and white picture they made on his flashing monitors.
Almost.
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Julian walked aimlessly along the streets of Harmony, having no particular destination in mind.
Night had fallen, and even in a small town such as Harmony, it wasn't a wise decision to be wandering around alone.
He should go home. But home didn't exist for him. Maybe it never had.
Miles of sidewalk blurred beneath Julian's feet, and he found himself standing before the imposing church building, its doors open and the glow of flickering candlelight spilling into the street behind him.
A huddled figure knelt before the altar, dark head bowed in prayer.
Julian turned from the promise of confession, following the stone path that led to the adjoining cemetery.
He shrank back in the shadows of one of the headstones when he heard a distinctly familiar voice.
Luis knelt on one knee before his son's grave, and even though his words weren't distinguishable, the anguish they were coated with was.
Julian felt his ill-used heart begin to swell painfully in his chest, and he turned his eyes away from the wrenching scene as Luis dropped to the cool ground beneath him, his weary dark head thrown back against Andrew's headstone and his eyes shut tightly against the tears leaking traitorously from them.
The dark, cloaked figure emerged from the church, and Julian felt a prickle of awareness fill his senses as the moonlight illuminated Pilar's sad, upturned countenance.
Right here, right now.he didn't belong here. He was intruding. He was unwanted and unwelcome, and no good would come out of him announcing his presence.
His footsteps were silent as he traveled the shadows. Disappearing into the night as if he had never been there.
She lay on her side, sheets bunched at her waist, arm outstretched.
Beside her, Danielle slept fitfully, only calming when she felt her mother's touch.
Sheridan rubbed her daughter's back in what she hoped were soothing circles.
But Danielle still whimpered softly, crying in her sleep.
Sheridan drew her daughter into her arms, pausing in her lullaby intermittently to press her lips against Danielle's damp cheek.
Gradually, Danielle relaxed completely against her, her breath escaping her parted mouth in slight puffs of air against Sheridan's neck.
A cool breeze from the ocean fluttered the curtains at the window, traveling across the room and moving across Sheridan's bare arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Danielle clutched a fistful of her mother's heather gray tank top almost desperately in her sleep, and it took several moments of Sheridan's soothing strokes along the back of her daughter's palm for the distraught child to relax her grip.
Sheridan lay awake, her daughter's comforting weight pressed against her and the fragrant scent of her silky dark hair filling her nostrils with every shaky breath she took.
The urge to cry was nearly overwhelming.
Her world was rapidly spinning off its axis, and she didn't know how to stop it. She only knew she couldn't let Luis take all the responsibility this time.
SHE had to do this, even if it meant doing it all on her own.
The distant sound of waves crashing against the shore lulled her, made her eyelids droop, and she rested her cheek against Danielle's head, finally allowing herself an unguarded moment.
Curled up together, their faces lax with sleep.
Alistair was almost moved by the beauty of the stark black and white picture they made on his flashing monitors.
Almost.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Julian walked aimlessly along the streets of Harmony, having no particular destination in mind.
Night had fallen, and even in a small town such as Harmony, it wasn't a wise decision to be wandering around alone.
He should go home. But home didn't exist for him. Maybe it never had.
Miles of sidewalk blurred beneath Julian's feet, and he found himself standing before the imposing church building, its doors open and the glow of flickering candlelight spilling into the street behind him.
A huddled figure knelt before the altar, dark head bowed in prayer.
Julian turned from the promise of confession, following the stone path that led to the adjoining cemetery.
He shrank back in the shadows of one of the headstones when he heard a distinctly familiar voice.
Luis knelt on one knee before his son's grave, and even though his words weren't distinguishable, the anguish they were coated with was.
Julian felt his ill-used heart begin to swell painfully in his chest, and he turned his eyes away from the wrenching scene as Luis dropped to the cool ground beneath him, his weary dark head thrown back against Andrew's headstone and his eyes shut tightly against the tears leaking traitorously from them.
The dark, cloaked figure emerged from the church, and Julian felt a prickle of awareness fill his senses as the moonlight illuminated Pilar's sad, upturned countenance.
Right here, right now.he didn't belong here. He was intruding. He was unwanted and unwelcome, and no good would come out of him announcing his presence.
His footsteps were silent as he traveled the shadows. Disappearing into the night as if he had never been there.