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Evangeline Lewis was a creature of habit. She had to be. It was the only way she could hold on to her sanity.
Every morning her alarm went off at precisely 7:35 a.m. After she negotiated with it for another eighteen minutes—two complete snooze cycles—she shoved her covers back, stumbled into her bathroom, and took a piping hot shower.
On mornings when she slept soundly through the night, her shower was quick; ten minutes, tops. Then there were the flashbacks to her accident when she stayed underneath the spray until the water turned cold, hoping to finally rinse the lingering aches and pains and bad memories down the drain.
And then there were the mornings after he visited her dreams.
Evangeline had no idea who he was. The same tall, dark, menacing figure had a starring role in her nightt
ime fantasies—and, she secretly admitted, they were fantasies. Despite how graphic and vivid those dreams were, she never saw his face. He was always hidden in the shadows.
The only things she ever remembered were a pair of glowing golden eyes and strong, calloused hands that were surprisingly gentle and amazingly wicked.
Those mornings? Nothing less than an ice-cold shower would cool her down before she could start her day.
After she was dressed and ready, she checked her e-mail and assessed her workload as she ate breakfast. If it was a light day, she gave herself until noon to take a walk around town and get any errands done; if she was coming up on a deadline, she made sure she was back at her apartment by eleven. Evangeline was new to Grayson, having only moved to the predominantly human community at the beginning of the spring. She was still finding her way around and enjoyed taking her daily walks around its small downtown area.
Evangeline was grateful to be able to work from home. She was an editor for a small publishing house, one who communicated mainly through e-mail. Her boss would shoot over the manuscripts she was assigned; so long as she finished her edits on time, no one cared where she did her work. It was such a change of pace from the hectic position she held at another agency before her accident. The sky-high office building in Woodbridge was always so frantic and busy. In Grayson, things seemed calmer.
Just what she needed.
Though there were quite a few leftovers from the accident—her dreams, a constant headache, the twinge in her right hip that wouldn’t go away—her enjoyment for her work was the same as before. Evangeline lost herself in her edits for hours each day until 6:30 when she closed the lid on her laptop and made herself a quick dinner.
And it had to be quick. Because, at 7:00 every night like clockwork, Naomi Lewis called her daughter for her daily check-in and, as Evangeline learned a few months ago, if she didn’t eat before that phone call, she wouldn't be eating at all.
Sometimes, she thought wryly, that was one part of her routine that made her question her sanity.
Evangeline knew her mother would call. She always did. If Evangeline didn’t answer her the first time, she dialed twice more before she convinced herself that there was some sinister reason behind her daughter’s silence. God forbid Naomi leave a message on Evangeline’s voicemail, or wonder if perhaps her adult daughter was too busy to answer the phone.
It would never occur to her that Evangeline might be avoiding her, either. Oh no.
The first time Naomi had the police stop by for a welfare check, Evangeline learned it was much easier to grit her teeth, paste a fake smile on her face, and answer the phone whenever her mother called.
She was just finishing her plate of pasta when the phone rang that night. Without even looking to see who was calling, she answered as she always did.
“Hi, Mom. Yup, I’m still alive.”
Naomi’s soft sigh was the only sign that she didn’t appreciate her daughter’s morbid sense of humor.
Skipping over any pleasantries, she asked after Evangeline’s day—though demanded might have been a better word for the rapid-fire questions she let loose in a barrage of well-meaning.
What did you do today? Where did you go? What did you eat?
If Evangeline’s answers were satisfactory, Naomi would then move on to the heavy hitters.
Did you have any nightmares last night, honey? Any sudden headaches? What’s today’s date? I hate to ask, but you know Dr. Morris said that we have to... are there any new blanks in your memories?
And then, no matter how many times she said no, her mother always had to add one last question.
Are you ready to come home yet?
Evangeline played her part by telling her mother what she wanted to hear—whether it was the truth or not—in the hopes that it would get Naomi off the phone faster. Except for that last question.
She always said no. Even if her wards failed and something happened to her building, she would rather live in the woods than spend one more night living under her parents’ roof. It had been a major blow to her pride to move back in after her accident. It took nearly three years before her mother and father agreed that she could live on her own again.
She would hold onto that scrap of independence with her teeth if that’s what it took to keep it.
Naomi’s obvious disappointment when Evangeline refused to consider moving back to East Windsor usually signaled the end of their phone conversation. She would suggest that perhaps Evangeline was tired and should head to bed. Desperate to end the conversation, she would agree.
