Chapter Three
The big, old watering can rose of the showerhead spewed hot water in torrents over his body, spray pounding his face as he rolled his head from side to side, trying to wash away the fatigue that was slowly creeping over him. The stress and strains of the past weeks had taken their toll. He couldn't find the time to deal with his own pain; another was too much in need for him to do that. The shower was a relief in a way, the water cleansing and purifying, stripping regrets and sadness with it. He knew the pain would never go away, but with time, he would heal. The ache in his muscles eased slightly as, turning slowly around in the deluge, he ran his hands roughly up over his face and through his hair, now a brighter shade of red in the water. He scraped it backward out of his eyes, and leaning back, he rested his head against the wall as the water ran in cascades down his chest, falling freely over his stomach and, like mercury, merging into rivulets to spiral inwards and down his legs. The water swirled like a maelstrom around the bottom of the tub before being sucked away through the drain.
Steam colliding with the cold glass panes of the small wooden window condensed and ran down the frame as the small room fought to keep the heat within its boundaries. The wood walls shimmered in the glow of the dim yellowed bulb as the moisture settled and glazed them. Pushing back the musty, moth-eaten shower curtain, he stepped tentatively onto the now-slippery slate floor. Reaching for his bag, he pulled out a towel and rubbed his hair until it stopped dripping down his neck. Wrapping the now sodden-towel around his hips, he tucked it in. Water ran slowly from still-wet shoulders, moving slowly down the indentations either side of his spine. The hairs on his arms and legs, still dark with moisture, clung to taunt muscles as he moved a little more smoothly now and leaned over the old basin. Wiping the mirror with his hand, he leaned forward and looked at a face changed and aged with the grief of the past weeks. New lines crept steadily from the corners of his liquid blue eyes. A sadness that he always carried there cut deeper now. He looked gaunt and tired. He knew he had lost weight; his face showed that first; it always did. The old faded mirror was gentle on him, though, fogging faster than he could keep it clear. Running a hand over the stubble on his face, he decided against trying to shave. Walking on bare feet, he opened the door and moved silently through into the bedroom.
Her cries shook him from his own fitful sleep, and he scrambled groggy-eyed from the warmth of the throw, the room suprisingly bright in the depth of night. The fire's low glow casting long shadows on the old walls guided him to where she tossed and turned in her sleep. She wasn't awake, and he was worried in case he startled her. Tears poured from tightly-closed eyes as her nightmare gripped her, and she struggled to get out of the wrappings that confined her limbs.
Carefully, he reached out to her, comforting her with his touch, soothing the damp locks of hair from her burning forehead. Pulling her towards him, he lifted her gently, talking constantly to her, not caring what he said as long as she could hear him. He knew most of his words were lost on her, but he kept trying, struggling to reach her. Holding her body close, he carried her into the bedroom and settled her on the bed. Laying her down on the soft bare mattress, he curled himself around her, holding on, never wanting to let go. He hung on. She was the only thing that kept him going; she needed him, and he had to be strong for her. Slowly, she settled under his touch; he took heart that when she was asleep, he could reach her. His voice and his hands reached through into her subconscious, giving him hope.
The snow had fallen, softly, quietly in the night, laying a blanket of white as far as the eye could see. The clouds in the morning sky still tinged yellow with the burden that they needed to expel before they could move on. They sank down low over the mountains, straining to shed the weight that stopped them clearing the range. Trapped between the valley walls, ensnared, they circled fluidly like a penned wild cat, blocking out the sun and rapidly draining the last heat stored in the ground from the long, hot, dry summer past. The icy wind that had so quickly brought the snow to bare whipped around the granite walls, whirling and moaning as it spread its frozen clutches across the land. Heavy-laden branches drooped low under the white, endlessly-growing weight, every so often a crack ripped, and echoed in the air as a branch gave out under its overwhelming stress.
She sat curled up in the bedroom window seat, snuggled deep within the confines of several layers of blankets and encased within the deep velvet cushions. Staring outside, her eyes unfocused as the snow built up. Snowflakes swirled and drifted on eddies of wind that whirled like mini snowstorms across the yard outside. Every so often, the wind picked up the softly-spread top layer of flakes and drove them against the already heavily-laden barn. Its roof sagging slightly, it groaned and strained to remain whole. The mug of steaming coffee releasing its aroma beneath her nose finally tempted her to drink it. Grasping it between both hands, she sipped it slowly, feeling the warmth spread through her, driving away the cold that threatened to seep through the old window and engulf her.
He watched her from the bathroom doorway, taking in every nuance of her, his eyes moving from her eyes to her lips as they lightly sipped from the steel mug, her eyelashes fluttering as her lids closed against the steam rising from the cup every time it met her lips. He normally loved to watch her drink coffee as she savoured every drop. Now, he was just thankful that she was drinking anything.
He had not slept after he had woken with her in the night; he had seen the snow, and he was worried. He hadn't been able to sleep again and had settled himself to cleaning the house. It took his mind off his own misery as he was catapulted back to his childhood as he sifted endlessly through his grandmother's world, carefully dusting and replacing her treasures and revelling in happy memories, memories and feelings that had stood like the foundations of the building that they were now in, strong and firm against the tests of time.