Page 23 of Rebel Moon

“How sensible.” Her mouth tightened and she yanked herself away.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I said quickly. “But that’s not how I roll.”

I’ve got a lot of flaws. I’ll cop to most of them. But I do not take advantage of women who’ve had too much to drink, offering something she would surely regret in the morning.

“Let’s get you into bed. Doesn’t that sound nice? Cozy and warm?” I stood, pulling her to her feet and steering her to sit on the edge of the bed.

She immediately flopped onto her back and unbuttoned her pants. “These jeans have to go. They’re eating into my flesh.”

That made me laugh, even though my hands shook as I tugged her jeans off one inch at a time. Finally, I had the jeans off, leaving them for the moment as a clump on the floor. Now it was only long, shapely legs before me.

She sat up, as if freed from heavy chains and ripped her sweater over her head. “I feel kind of dizzy.”

Lord have mercy, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I averted my eyes from this gorgeous woman in nothing but a matching set of bra and panties. But not before I saw how splendidly God had made her.

She rolled to her side, curling up into a fetal position and closed her eyes. And then, she snored. One ladylike snort and then nothing. Asleep. Now I just needed to get her under the covers, as it was way too cold to sleep without them.

I pulled the covers back on the other side of the bed, then folded them over her. There was a thick throw on the chair, so I put that on her too. I filled a glass with water and put two painkillers I found in the bathroom next to it on the bedside table. She would have them there when she woke.

I moved the chair closer to the bed and sat, not at all sure what to do. It didn’t seem right to leave her. What if she woke sick and couldn’t get to the bathroom. People died that way. I’d stay, I decided. Keep watch over her for a few hours. I turned off all the lights except a lamp and then went back to the chair.

I must have fallen asleep myself because I woke at four a.m. stiff and sore from sitting in the cold room on a chair. Madeleine was in the same position I’d left her earlier. I went to the side of the bed, just to check if she was still breathing. She was. In the light shed from the lamp, she looked young and peaceful. I ached to touch her cheek, but I kept my hands to myself.

“You’re okay now,” I whispered, pulling the blanket up and over her shoulders.

I let myself out, locking the door behind me and then headed to my own cabin, wondering if the whole night had just been a dream. But no, it was real. What it meant was a whole different question.

6

MADELEINE

December 4

Adopt-a-Family Shopping Day

Overcast · Cold

Supper: Baked ham · Scalloped potatoes · Green beans

Iwoke the morning after the sleigh adventure fairly certain I was dying a slow, painful death. That was the only way to describe it. Something had gone catastrophically wrong with my head. It throbbed with every heartbeat, a slow sick pulse behind my eyes. My mouth was a desert. My stomach was not only uneasy and filled with anxiety, but I thought I might hurl if I moved the wrong direction. I was hot too, sweating and tangled in blankets.

I lay very still and took inventory. I was in my cabin. Good. That was a start. I was also, I registered with dawning horror, in my bra and underwear.

I sat up too fast. The room tilted and my stomach lurched in protest. I had to brace both hands on the mattress and breathe through it, eyes shut, while my pulse jackhammered in my skull. When I could open my eyes again without the room sliding, I looked around, and the evidence assembled itself into a narrative I wished was false but probably wasn’t.

My jeans and my sweater were folded neatly, edges squared, and set on the dresser in a tidy stack. My boots stood side by side at the foot of the bed, paired and straight. A glass of water was on the bedside table as were two burnt umber hued pills. Ibuprofen. Thank the heavens.

However, all of which begged the question. Who had taken off my boots and clothes and set out water and aspirin like they knew exactly what kind of morning I was going to have? Who had tucked me in under every blanket in the cabin?

I reached for the water because I was dying, and drank it greedily, then swallowed the pills. I sat there, my aching head in my hands and tried to remember the night before.

It came back in pieces. Broken, out of order, lit too bright in some places and gone entirely in others.

There had been the sleigh ride there, bells jingling, very cold air on my cheeks but my body warm next to Knox. We’d gone to the cabin all decorated for Christmas. Platters of food. Ribs with meat that fell off the bones and roast beef, neither of which I ate because I’m a vegetarian. I’d had some of the side dishes though. But mostly, I remembered the cocktail. My new nemesis. Sweet as punch, going down way too easy. I remember thinking, these barely taste like anything while a server filled the jar again. How many times? I wasn’t sure. Everything started sparkling after the second one, including me. There was dancing. A lot of dancing. In fact, I’d asked Knox to dance with me. He’d said yes. He’d spun me around the floor, making me laugh until my face hurt.

Then a slow song had come on. “Save the Last Dance for Me.” I loved that song. And with Knox's hand at the small of my back and the other holding mine, it had never sounded better. I’d pressed my cheek against his chest and heard the steady thud of his heart. He’d been as intoxicating as the sweet drink, smelling of cedar and leather. I’d thought, dreamily, that I could have stayed right there forever.

Oh no.