To everyone who wrote, thank you and I'm sorry this is so late. With
special affection to Erin, Mindy and the newly-resurrected Misti. I'm glad
you're back.
Away from it all (part 8)
Often when people cannot cope with one thought, they obsess about others. It's a defense mechanism and is used as commonly to protect oneself from terrifyingly good news as with terrifyingly bad news. Niles' first thought when he woke up that morning was one he should have had almost 20 hours earlier instead of harping on and on about bad timing and then later about how evil and stupid Donny Douglas, attorney at law, was.
Daphne was free.
The thought woke him up at seven and in a stunned daze he got up to fix breakfast. He did not really expect her down so early but it did not hurt to take precautions. The impossible had happened; Daphne was free.
When she did not appear by nine he left breakfast on the set table set and went back to bed.
He awoke again at noon, finally feeling fully rested but still in shock. He was not worried when he found Daphne's plate untouched, aware that late nights and heavy crying sessions both required extra bed time. He cleared breakfast and replaced it with lunch, anticipating that she would be up soon with a ferocious appetite. Then he went into his study and made arrangements with the remainder of this week's patients.
He poked his head out of the office at 2 o'clock to find that Daphne had still had not emerged. He checked again at 3, at 3:30, 3:45, 3:50 and 3:52. He could no longer concentrate on his work. At 4 o'clock he knocked softly on her bedroom door.
"Daphne?" He knocked a little harder then tried the door. It was unlocked.
The first thought that went through his mind when he opened the door was that of tornados that caused selective damage in the Midwest; demolishing a single house here and there while entirely sparing the neighbors. Tornados were like that, as capricious as they were cruel, and lent support to his lifelong conviction that Nature was Not To Be Trusted. Niles only felt safe in the great indoors, which was why the scene before him was so disconcerting: a room which was neat, tidy and untouched except for a disaster site bed worthy of the 6 o'clock news.
Sheets, blankets and quilts held each other in chokeholds as if they had reached an impasse at a wrestling match and were each waiting tensely for the others to yell uncle. Pillows had wisely jumped ship but judging from the single long leg and two arms that emerged limply from the fray, some poor soul had tried to be a hero and come out all the worse for it.
Niles took one step forward then another one back as the limbs jerked to life, acting as a propeller for the entire mechanism, and the bedding thrashed about for a full five seconds before settling back down in defeat and exhaustion.
A sleepy mumble escaped the depths of the beast and Niles almost smiled. Donny had mentioned before that Daphne was a restless sleeper and Niles, just before tuning him out, assumed he must be exaggerating. It now appeared, however, that the despised lawyer may have actually softened the truth. Looking at the nuclear fallout before him Niles wondered how any man could survive such a night.
Cautiously, he approached again. The toes of one exposed foot curled and rubbed against the sheets in a sensuous, almost feline motion which made him think wistfully that there were worse ways to die than to be throttled in the throes of Daphne.
After circling twice, Niles found a fragment of face hidden not only by the covers but by hair so wild it reminded him of the material one used to scour an unseasoned pan. An eyebrow frowned as if Daphne had heard the unflattering comparison and Niles' heart thumped hard against his ribcage. She was so impossibly beautiful. He picked up a pillow and gently lifted her cheek onto it. She turned her face inwards and whimpered.
"Shhhh." Niles reached out and tried to smooth her hair back. He had no idea what he would say to her if she woke up and found him not only in her room but touching her in her sleep. It did not matter. It was impossible to leave.
Slowly her hair untangled under his careful, patient fingers, slowly more and more of her face became visible. Daphne was free. When he received the news of the broken engagement he had not been thinking clearly. He had been upset when he should have euphoric. Daphne was no longer engaged and, frankly my dear, to hell with everything else. His fingers traced her cheek, coming as close as they dared to her lips.
Another whimper, another mumble, but still she slept. She thought him too decent and too good to ever leave one woman for another but he would show her. Although it mattered to her and therefore mattered to him, there had to be a way. He took a long breath as if it would help him take it all in. Daphne was no longer engaged. It was not too late.
Daphne turned again, the frown drawn miserably over her closed eyes. This time she actually cried out.
"Donny," she said. She shuddered and retreated from his hand back into the pile of bedclothes. A soft sobbing sound came from within, then stopped.
Closing the door behind him as gently as he was able, Niles stood outside her room forever. He could barely remember leaving. She did not want him, she wanted Donny. Yesterday's defense mechanism had not protected him so much from the truth as from delusion. Freedom only mattered if Daphne could love him back.
He had always known it was impossible for Daphne to love him as much as he loved her simply because no one, not even a goddess, could love anyone else as much as Niles loved Daphne. But could he spend the rest of his days with someone who called out another man's name in her sleep? Anyone with a shred of dignity would say no.
Bad choice of words, Niles acknowledged immediately, for when before and especially after Maris, had Niles had any dignity?
One strike against him. And even if he had dignity, how would it protect him from adoring Daphne when so far nothing else had. Strike two. What was it, three strikes that lost the set? The match? If he was so distraught that he had actually attempted a sports metaphor he needed some air.
He scribbled a note for her and left it by her plate.
Daphne,
I've gone to run some errands in town. I won't be long.
And he signed it, Niles.
Daphne stayed with him on the drive as she stayed with him always, but the startling blue sky brightened dark thoughts. The memory of Daphne calling out the name of her ex-fiancé was edged out by the memory of the way she had looked lying in bed, her eyelashes dark against her cheeks. It had been a long time since he had watched her sleep.
He thought of her tear-streaked cheeks last night, of her drawn, stressed face this afternoon, about the wild hair silkening at his fingertips. He may have lost count of the times he had promised himself that he would be there for her no matter how much it hurt him, but this time he really meant it. I won't be long, he promised silently. If it kills me, I will be there every time you need me. Always.
Niles did stop for groceries but not in Almede, or even in Bear's Creek. He drove through the mountains, passing town after town after town and ending up somewhere called Symphony, Washington. Despite the grandiose name it was a one-horse town but Niles was pleased enough to find ripe blueberries and a jug of homemade apple cider at the local store.
On the way back he placed a call to First Robin on his cell phone and stopped to pick up a large thermos of pumpkin soup and a loaf of warm bread, both house specialties. When he pulled up to the house he rolled down the windows and sat back to enjoy the brisk air and what was left of daylight.
His wedding ring lay quietly at the bottom of his pocket. Unlike every other time he had been away from Daphne, at this moment he felt no inclination to put it on. In fact, he had barely given it a though all day. Daphne may be mourning Donny but she was no longer with him. She was here.
Inside the cottage the table was bare except for a new note.
Have gone for walk. Thank you for lunch.
D.
Cue the panic attack. A walk? She had gone for a walk? Did she not know there were bears out there in them woods? None sighted in the past twenty odd years, but if there was one thing Niles could do it was sense danger in the wild. That was why he was the only one who knew about the bears. And the wolves. And the lynx. And everyone knew about the owls. At least - and thank god for that - it was still too cold for crickets.
Breathe, Niles. Daphne was in danger and it was up to him to go out and rescue her. He should take a gun with him. There was a rack of hunting rifles next to the back porch. He had never used one but how hard could it be? He just hoped they came preloaded. "Oh, hello Dr. Crane. How was your drive?"
"Fine." Niles felt faint. She was safe. "Fine."
"I'm sorry, I didn't really think you'd make it back before me." Nothing to forgive, Niles thought. All was forgotten from the moment she walked through the door, her eyes sparkling and her porcelain skin nipped pink here and there from the cold. She pulled off her gloves and blew on her hands. "I'm not used to being cooped up, what between your father and Eddie and errands for your brother I'm out of the house as much as I'm in."
Numb from relief and from the vision she made (she was wearing his down jacket!) Niles had temporarily forgotten himself. Now he remembered and he rushed over to help her out of the jacket. He wanted more than anything to put it on himself but settled for what he normally did when her back was turned and she was close; lean over and inhale.
"If you will give me a few minutes I'll light the fire for you," he said, wishing it would make her feel as warm and as happy as he had felt yesterday when she had made a fire for him. Daphne sat on the couch across from their brand new jigsaw puzzle.
"You know what occurred to me?" she asked, as he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. Her fingers touched his as she reached back to pull her hair free. They were still icy cold. Niles moved away quickly before his hands could reach for hers, longing as they did to warm them for her.
"Er, no. What?"
"That there was a time you and I were living in London at the same time." She was gazing at the puzzle box. "It's even possible that we might have run into each other."
"No, that's impossible. I would have remembered."
"But we could have..."
"I would have remembered."
She looked up at him, pulling him into her dark eyes. Niles busied himself lighting the fire, then fled to the kitchen with the promise of a warm drink. Her face lit up with pleasure when he put the mug of hot apple cider in her hands. He hoped she noticed that he had added a cinnamon, honey, lemon juice and brandy, just the way she liked it. He watched as she sipped it, immersed again in the picture on the cover of the puzzle. There was something else on the table; one of his books. Daphne noticed him lean forward to get a better look.
"'Love is Where it Falls.' I found it on your shelf. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all." Why did his heart start humming arias every time she said the word 'love?'
"Yes, well, I'm afraid I haven't gotten very far. But the first couple of pages are very good," Daphne held the mug close to her face. Steam rose and billowed around her in appropriately heaven-like clouds. "I thought it was sweet the way he remembered so clearly the first time he saw her, even after all these years."
"Folding laundry." Niles' ears heard his own words too late to send a warning to his brain.
"No, she was on the phone."
"I mean you. You were folding laundry."
"Sorry?"
"The first time I saw you. You were taking clothes out of the laundry basket, shaking them out and folding them into piles." What was wrong with him?
"I might have been." Daphne looked self-conscious "I don't remember."
"You were wearing a denim shirt and black leggings and a silver pendant on a black ribbon around your throat." Sure, now that his foot was in him mouth, why not just jiggle it around a little, see whether he could choke himself? "Your hair was very long and very curly. You looked beautiful."
Actually he had noticed neither the laundry nor her clothes at the time, they both were something he recalled much later on the ten or eleven thousandth playback of the moment. The first time he saw Daphne he had stopped breathing, almost more aware of his reaction than of the woman who was causing it. He must have known, even then, that from that moment onwards his eyes would hunger every time she left his sight. What he had not known then was how she would continue to transform his life for the next seven years. Nor had he known that he would discover new depths to both heart and soul or that through her he would catch his first and all subsequent glances of perfect happiness.
His angel stared at him. Can you blame her, his brain asked in disgust?
"So," Niles nodded towards the book. "Any thoughts on passionate friendship?"
"Just," she blinked. "Just that it sounds like a lovely idea."
"Yes." Lovely. When she got past the first few pages she would find that the woman in the story wanted more than friendship but was willing to take what she could get. Well, Niles could relate to that. "Does that mean that you've re-thought the whole Dr. Crane thing?"
"Not yet." Daphne bowed her head nervously further into her mug.
"Well, you're not off the hook but I won't pressure you just yet." Niles picked up the remaining groceries which lay forgotten on the table. "What do you say we get started on dinner?"
##
Daphne tried to insist it was her turn to help with the dishes but Niles would not hear of it. After dinner he found her on the porch and he stood as she sat, gazing at her as she gazed at the stars.
Although there had been no further mention of her broken engagement or of the night before, Daphne was still nowhere near the Daphne she had been. Her eyes, her words, even her smiles were guarded. Even sitting out here in the dark and quiet, her stance told him she was prepared to slingshot out of there and disappear into the woods in an instant if so provoked.
She was wearing his jacket again with the hood drawn just high enough to cover her ears and her hands stuffed into the pockets. Thank goodness he had transferred the ring to his lined coat this morning.
Her breaths came transparently white and misty. Niles' private theory was that Daphne was a changeling. That on their trip back from the hospital - with the obligatory stop at the pub - Daphne's parents drove drunkenly off the road (this part was not fiction or even infrequent, according to Daphne who merrily explained that "something about having yet another baby always put them in mind for a celebration") and their baby had rolled out into a field of flowers. Upon regaining consciousness, the Moons grabbed the first infant they found - accidentally kidnapping a newborn of faerie royalty - and took her home to raise as their own.
This exchange was unfortunate for everyone except Niles and even he winced to think that somewhere in a faraway kingdom was an oafish human, probably male and with a genetic preference for fermented berries, who had spent his childhood pulling the wings off his schoolmates.
Daphne had not turned when he came out and Niles had became convinced she had not even noticed him standing there, which is why it startled him when she suddenly turned and looked at him with cool and unsurprised eyes.
"What is it?" she asked tersely, almost impatiently.
"Nothing," but her expression forbade a lie. "Um, can I get you more apple cider?"
"Thanks. I'd better not." Her face softened but her laugh sounded forced.
"It may help you relax."
"Oh. Do I seem tense to you?"
"A little." Daphne seemed devastated by the idea that her act might not be as good as she'd hoped. Her act. The words reverberated in Niles' head.
"Daphne," the use of her name seemed to cause more strain rather than less. Note to self. "Er, do you remember what you told me once about secrets?"
"I'm not sure."
"It was that night you first came to help me prepare dinner."
"For your date with Daphyllis?"
"Yes," Niles sighed. "For my date with Daphyllis."
Daphne looked like she could use a bit more prompting.
"You said," he reminded her, "that you did not believe in secrets. Your theory, if I remember correctly, was that people keep secrets because they are afraid that the truth will lead to rejection: emotional, societal, what have you."
"Dr. Crane, I'm pretty sure I have never used the word 'societal' in my life."
"Quite right," he smiled. "What you said was that you felt the world would be a better place without secrets. That if everyone just came out and said what they were thinking, there would be less opportunity to judge others. There would also be less cause for misunderstandings."
"I remember," Daphne nodded. "But, why bring this up now?"
"Because I remember thinking a great deal about what you said and wishing that I had the ability to unburden myself of my secrets. One very big one in particular. I hoped that with time I might learn from you."
"And?"
"And it would appear that instead of my adopting your gift for honesty, somehow you have picked up my bad habit of holding things in."
"It's cold, we should go back inside."
To tell the truth Niles, whose skin was exceptionally sensitive to the elements, had hardly noticed the cold. What did not escape him was the textbook example of avoidance.
"You have been looking like this for months. It started right around Christmas, last year, I think."
"Maybe I will have a bit more of that cider."
"When we do things that are not natural for us it causes an inner rift which can have disastrous consequences." Niles followed her inside.
"You do it all the time," Daphne said sharply before returning to her normal voice. "Can I pour you some as well?"
"I may do it all the time, but I have had years of practice holding things in. Secrets are not normal for you. They are not your habit, nor do you believe in them." His psychiatrist's instinct told him, as it always did, that he was close to a breakthrough. He felt that customary excitement; that addictive, almost-there adrenalin that would not let him turn back even if he wanted to. These were the most gratifying moments of his professional career, for they culminated in an explosive revelation which invariably represented a gargantuan leap forward in the otherwise painstakingly slow road to wellness.
"What is it, Daphne?" Again she jumped at the mention of her name and he knew he was nudging her closer to the edge. "Is it Donny? Tell me. Let me help."
He stood in front of the door, more a psychological block than a physical one, letting her know that this time he was not going to let her get away. She was reaching her breaking point, he could smell it. Were the methods not so evolved, if he were not a Yale-educated being with an IQ surpassing genius, Niles would have said there was something almost predatory, almost animal about the process. But it was and he was and the aim of this goading was enlightenment. To cure, not kill.
"This is not like you... Daphne." Go on, he urged silently as he always did. Trust me to be there if you fall. Trust that maybe you won't fall; you will fly. "I'm worried about you. Please, you can tell me any..."
"I know you were in love with me for six years."
The explosion was blinding.
Away from it all (part 8)
Often when people cannot cope with one thought, they obsess about others. It's a defense mechanism and is used as commonly to protect oneself from terrifyingly good news as with terrifyingly bad news. Niles' first thought when he woke up that morning was one he should have had almost 20 hours earlier instead of harping on and on about bad timing and then later about how evil and stupid Donny Douglas, attorney at law, was.
Daphne was free.
The thought woke him up at seven and in a stunned daze he got up to fix breakfast. He did not really expect her down so early but it did not hurt to take precautions. The impossible had happened; Daphne was free.
When she did not appear by nine he left breakfast on the set table set and went back to bed.
He awoke again at noon, finally feeling fully rested but still in shock. He was not worried when he found Daphne's plate untouched, aware that late nights and heavy crying sessions both required extra bed time. He cleared breakfast and replaced it with lunch, anticipating that she would be up soon with a ferocious appetite. Then he went into his study and made arrangements with the remainder of this week's patients.
He poked his head out of the office at 2 o'clock to find that Daphne had still had not emerged. He checked again at 3, at 3:30, 3:45, 3:50 and 3:52. He could no longer concentrate on his work. At 4 o'clock he knocked softly on her bedroom door.
"Daphne?" He knocked a little harder then tried the door. It was unlocked.
The first thought that went through his mind when he opened the door was that of tornados that caused selective damage in the Midwest; demolishing a single house here and there while entirely sparing the neighbors. Tornados were like that, as capricious as they were cruel, and lent support to his lifelong conviction that Nature was Not To Be Trusted. Niles only felt safe in the great indoors, which was why the scene before him was so disconcerting: a room which was neat, tidy and untouched except for a disaster site bed worthy of the 6 o'clock news.
Sheets, blankets and quilts held each other in chokeholds as if they had reached an impasse at a wrestling match and were each waiting tensely for the others to yell uncle. Pillows had wisely jumped ship but judging from the single long leg and two arms that emerged limply from the fray, some poor soul had tried to be a hero and come out all the worse for it.
Niles took one step forward then another one back as the limbs jerked to life, acting as a propeller for the entire mechanism, and the bedding thrashed about for a full five seconds before settling back down in defeat and exhaustion.
A sleepy mumble escaped the depths of the beast and Niles almost smiled. Donny had mentioned before that Daphne was a restless sleeper and Niles, just before tuning him out, assumed he must be exaggerating. It now appeared, however, that the despised lawyer may have actually softened the truth. Looking at the nuclear fallout before him Niles wondered how any man could survive such a night.
Cautiously, he approached again. The toes of one exposed foot curled and rubbed against the sheets in a sensuous, almost feline motion which made him think wistfully that there were worse ways to die than to be throttled in the throes of Daphne.
After circling twice, Niles found a fragment of face hidden not only by the covers but by hair so wild it reminded him of the material one used to scour an unseasoned pan. An eyebrow frowned as if Daphne had heard the unflattering comparison and Niles' heart thumped hard against his ribcage. She was so impossibly beautiful. He picked up a pillow and gently lifted her cheek onto it. She turned her face inwards and whimpered.
"Shhhh." Niles reached out and tried to smooth her hair back. He had no idea what he would say to her if she woke up and found him not only in her room but touching her in her sleep. It did not matter. It was impossible to leave.
Slowly her hair untangled under his careful, patient fingers, slowly more and more of her face became visible. Daphne was free. When he received the news of the broken engagement he had not been thinking clearly. He had been upset when he should have euphoric. Daphne was no longer engaged and, frankly my dear, to hell with everything else. His fingers traced her cheek, coming as close as they dared to her lips.
Another whimper, another mumble, but still she slept. She thought him too decent and too good to ever leave one woman for another but he would show her. Although it mattered to her and therefore mattered to him, there had to be a way. He took a long breath as if it would help him take it all in. Daphne was no longer engaged. It was not too late.
Daphne turned again, the frown drawn miserably over her closed eyes. This time she actually cried out.
"Donny," she said. She shuddered and retreated from his hand back into the pile of bedclothes. A soft sobbing sound came from within, then stopped.
Closing the door behind him as gently as he was able, Niles stood outside her room forever. He could barely remember leaving. She did not want him, she wanted Donny. Yesterday's defense mechanism had not protected him so much from the truth as from delusion. Freedom only mattered if Daphne could love him back.
He had always known it was impossible for Daphne to love him as much as he loved her simply because no one, not even a goddess, could love anyone else as much as Niles loved Daphne. But could he spend the rest of his days with someone who called out another man's name in her sleep? Anyone with a shred of dignity would say no.
Bad choice of words, Niles acknowledged immediately, for when before and especially after Maris, had Niles had any dignity?
One strike against him. And even if he had dignity, how would it protect him from adoring Daphne when so far nothing else had. Strike two. What was it, three strikes that lost the set? The match? If he was so distraught that he had actually attempted a sports metaphor he needed some air.
He scribbled a note for her and left it by her plate.
Daphne,
I've gone to run some errands in town. I won't be long.
And he signed it, Niles.
Daphne stayed with him on the drive as she stayed with him always, but the startling blue sky brightened dark thoughts. The memory of Daphne calling out the name of her ex-fiancé was edged out by the memory of the way she had looked lying in bed, her eyelashes dark against her cheeks. It had been a long time since he had watched her sleep.
He thought of her tear-streaked cheeks last night, of her drawn, stressed face this afternoon, about the wild hair silkening at his fingertips. He may have lost count of the times he had promised himself that he would be there for her no matter how much it hurt him, but this time he really meant it. I won't be long, he promised silently. If it kills me, I will be there every time you need me. Always.
Niles did stop for groceries but not in Almede, or even in Bear's Creek. He drove through the mountains, passing town after town after town and ending up somewhere called Symphony, Washington. Despite the grandiose name it was a one-horse town but Niles was pleased enough to find ripe blueberries and a jug of homemade apple cider at the local store.
On the way back he placed a call to First Robin on his cell phone and stopped to pick up a large thermos of pumpkin soup and a loaf of warm bread, both house specialties. When he pulled up to the house he rolled down the windows and sat back to enjoy the brisk air and what was left of daylight.
His wedding ring lay quietly at the bottom of his pocket. Unlike every other time he had been away from Daphne, at this moment he felt no inclination to put it on. In fact, he had barely given it a though all day. Daphne may be mourning Donny but she was no longer with him. She was here.
Inside the cottage the table was bare except for a new note.
Have gone for walk. Thank you for lunch.
D.
Cue the panic attack. A walk? She had gone for a walk? Did she not know there were bears out there in them woods? None sighted in the past twenty odd years, but if there was one thing Niles could do it was sense danger in the wild. That was why he was the only one who knew about the bears. And the wolves. And the lynx. And everyone knew about the owls. At least - and thank god for that - it was still too cold for crickets.
Breathe, Niles. Daphne was in danger and it was up to him to go out and rescue her. He should take a gun with him. There was a rack of hunting rifles next to the back porch. He had never used one but how hard could it be? He just hoped they came preloaded. "Oh, hello Dr. Crane. How was your drive?"
"Fine." Niles felt faint. She was safe. "Fine."
"I'm sorry, I didn't really think you'd make it back before me." Nothing to forgive, Niles thought. All was forgotten from the moment she walked through the door, her eyes sparkling and her porcelain skin nipped pink here and there from the cold. She pulled off her gloves and blew on her hands. "I'm not used to being cooped up, what between your father and Eddie and errands for your brother I'm out of the house as much as I'm in."
Numb from relief and from the vision she made (she was wearing his down jacket!) Niles had temporarily forgotten himself. Now he remembered and he rushed over to help her out of the jacket. He wanted more than anything to put it on himself but settled for what he normally did when her back was turned and she was close; lean over and inhale.
"If you will give me a few minutes I'll light the fire for you," he said, wishing it would make her feel as warm and as happy as he had felt yesterday when she had made a fire for him. Daphne sat on the couch across from their brand new jigsaw puzzle.
"You know what occurred to me?" she asked, as he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. Her fingers touched his as she reached back to pull her hair free. They were still icy cold. Niles moved away quickly before his hands could reach for hers, longing as they did to warm them for her.
"Er, no. What?"
"That there was a time you and I were living in London at the same time." She was gazing at the puzzle box. "It's even possible that we might have run into each other."
"No, that's impossible. I would have remembered."
"But we could have..."
"I would have remembered."
She looked up at him, pulling him into her dark eyes. Niles busied himself lighting the fire, then fled to the kitchen with the promise of a warm drink. Her face lit up with pleasure when he put the mug of hot apple cider in her hands. He hoped she noticed that he had added a cinnamon, honey, lemon juice and brandy, just the way she liked it. He watched as she sipped it, immersed again in the picture on the cover of the puzzle. There was something else on the table; one of his books. Daphne noticed him lean forward to get a better look.
"'Love is Where it Falls.' I found it on your shelf. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all." Why did his heart start humming arias every time she said the word 'love?'
"Yes, well, I'm afraid I haven't gotten very far. But the first couple of pages are very good," Daphne held the mug close to her face. Steam rose and billowed around her in appropriately heaven-like clouds. "I thought it was sweet the way he remembered so clearly the first time he saw her, even after all these years."
"Folding laundry." Niles' ears heard his own words too late to send a warning to his brain.
"No, she was on the phone."
"I mean you. You were folding laundry."
"Sorry?"
"The first time I saw you. You were taking clothes out of the laundry basket, shaking them out and folding them into piles." What was wrong with him?
"I might have been." Daphne looked self-conscious "I don't remember."
"You were wearing a denim shirt and black leggings and a silver pendant on a black ribbon around your throat." Sure, now that his foot was in him mouth, why not just jiggle it around a little, see whether he could choke himself? "Your hair was very long and very curly. You looked beautiful."
Actually he had noticed neither the laundry nor her clothes at the time, they both were something he recalled much later on the ten or eleven thousandth playback of the moment. The first time he saw Daphne he had stopped breathing, almost more aware of his reaction than of the woman who was causing it. He must have known, even then, that from that moment onwards his eyes would hunger every time she left his sight. What he had not known then was how she would continue to transform his life for the next seven years. Nor had he known that he would discover new depths to both heart and soul or that through her he would catch his first and all subsequent glances of perfect happiness.
His angel stared at him. Can you blame her, his brain asked in disgust?
"So," Niles nodded towards the book. "Any thoughts on passionate friendship?"
"Just," she blinked. "Just that it sounds like a lovely idea."
"Yes." Lovely. When she got past the first few pages she would find that the woman in the story wanted more than friendship but was willing to take what she could get. Well, Niles could relate to that. "Does that mean that you've re-thought the whole Dr. Crane thing?"
"Not yet." Daphne bowed her head nervously further into her mug.
"Well, you're not off the hook but I won't pressure you just yet." Niles picked up the remaining groceries which lay forgotten on the table. "What do you say we get started on dinner?"
##
Daphne tried to insist it was her turn to help with the dishes but Niles would not hear of it. After dinner he found her on the porch and he stood as she sat, gazing at her as she gazed at the stars.
Although there had been no further mention of her broken engagement or of the night before, Daphne was still nowhere near the Daphne she had been. Her eyes, her words, even her smiles were guarded. Even sitting out here in the dark and quiet, her stance told him she was prepared to slingshot out of there and disappear into the woods in an instant if so provoked.
She was wearing his jacket again with the hood drawn just high enough to cover her ears and her hands stuffed into the pockets. Thank goodness he had transferred the ring to his lined coat this morning.
Her breaths came transparently white and misty. Niles' private theory was that Daphne was a changeling. That on their trip back from the hospital - with the obligatory stop at the pub - Daphne's parents drove drunkenly off the road (this part was not fiction or even infrequent, according to Daphne who merrily explained that "something about having yet another baby always put them in mind for a celebration") and their baby had rolled out into a field of flowers. Upon regaining consciousness, the Moons grabbed the first infant they found - accidentally kidnapping a newborn of faerie royalty - and took her home to raise as their own.
This exchange was unfortunate for everyone except Niles and even he winced to think that somewhere in a faraway kingdom was an oafish human, probably male and with a genetic preference for fermented berries, who had spent his childhood pulling the wings off his schoolmates.
Daphne had not turned when he came out and Niles had became convinced she had not even noticed him standing there, which is why it startled him when she suddenly turned and looked at him with cool and unsurprised eyes.
"What is it?" she asked tersely, almost impatiently.
"Nothing," but her expression forbade a lie. "Um, can I get you more apple cider?"
"Thanks. I'd better not." Her face softened but her laugh sounded forced.
"It may help you relax."
"Oh. Do I seem tense to you?"
"A little." Daphne seemed devastated by the idea that her act might not be as good as she'd hoped. Her act. The words reverberated in Niles' head.
"Daphne," the use of her name seemed to cause more strain rather than less. Note to self. "Er, do you remember what you told me once about secrets?"
"I'm not sure."
"It was that night you first came to help me prepare dinner."
"For your date with Daphyllis?"
"Yes," Niles sighed. "For my date with Daphyllis."
Daphne looked like she could use a bit more prompting.
"You said," he reminded her, "that you did not believe in secrets. Your theory, if I remember correctly, was that people keep secrets because they are afraid that the truth will lead to rejection: emotional, societal, what have you."
"Dr. Crane, I'm pretty sure I have never used the word 'societal' in my life."
"Quite right," he smiled. "What you said was that you felt the world would be a better place without secrets. That if everyone just came out and said what they were thinking, there would be less opportunity to judge others. There would also be less cause for misunderstandings."
"I remember," Daphne nodded. "But, why bring this up now?"
"Because I remember thinking a great deal about what you said and wishing that I had the ability to unburden myself of my secrets. One very big one in particular. I hoped that with time I might learn from you."
"And?"
"And it would appear that instead of my adopting your gift for honesty, somehow you have picked up my bad habit of holding things in."
"It's cold, we should go back inside."
To tell the truth Niles, whose skin was exceptionally sensitive to the elements, had hardly noticed the cold. What did not escape him was the textbook example of avoidance.
"You have been looking like this for months. It started right around Christmas, last year, I think."
"Maybe I will have a bit more of that cider."
"When we do things that are not natural for us it causes an inner rift which can have disastrous consequences." Niles followed her inside.
"You do it all the time," Daphne said sharply before returning to her normal voice. "Can I pour you some as well?"
"I may do it all the time, but I have had years of practice holding things in. Secrets are not normal for you. They are not your habit, nor do you believe in them." His psychiatrist's instinct told him, as it always did, that he was close to a breakthrough. He felt that customary excitement; that addictive, almost-there adrenalin that would not let him turn back even if he wanted to. These were the most gratifying moments of his professional career, for they culminated in an explosive revelation which invariably represented a gargantuan leap forward in the otherwise painstakingly slow road to wellness.
"What is it, Daphne?" Again she jumped at the mention of her name and he knew he was nudging her closer to the edge. "Is it Donny? Tell me. Let me help."
He stood in front of the door, more a psychological block than a physical one, letting her know that this time he was not going to let her get away. She was reaching her breaking point, he could smell it. Were the methods not so evolved, if he were not a Yale-educated being with an IQ surpassing genius, Niles would have said there was something almost predatory, almost animal about the process. But it was and he was and the aim of this goading was enlightenment. To cure, not kill.
"This is not like you... Daphne." Go on, he urged silently as he always did. Trust me to be there if you fall. Trust that maybe you won't fall; you will fly. "I'm worried about you. Please, you can tell me any..."
"I know you were in love with me for six years."
The explosion was blinding.