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“I'll–I’ll be fine. I'm just going to sleep.” He looked at the clock. “Shit, is it really only six o'clock?”
“Yes, that's why I asked you about dinner.” She smiled gently. “You have a wicked mouth when you drink, do you know that?
He nodded. “I know. I'm–I’m sorry, it just kind of slips out.” He let loose a long sigh and rubbed his face with both hands, then looked at his sister sadly. “This has just been a really long day.”
* * *
Elizabeth had sether alarm for nine a.m., knowing her father would arrive by ten. He’d promised to bring enough wood to board up the windows, and insisted he would only need help holding the wood while he hammered.
She’d forced Jane to tell her more of what she’d learned from Lydia, and after hearing about what Lydia and George had done—and where they’d done it—she’d slept on the couch; she didn’t want to be anywhere near her bed. She’d stripped it of the sheets and comforter, and left everything in a pile in her bedroom. Now she rose slowly and a little stiffly, and tried to focus on the tasks that lay ahead.
She’d cried on the phone with Jane, cried after hanging up, and cried herself to sleep. Glancing at herself in the bathroom mirror, she wasn’t too happy with her appearance; it was evident she’d spent the majority of the previous day and night in tears.
She dug through the duffel bag she’d brought back from South Carolina and pulled out yoga pants and an old T-shirt. She hadn't eaten the night before, and her stomach complained loudly. She would have to grab something to eat when she went to the market to pick up some empty boxes.
Her phone rang, and her stomach flipped until she saw it was her father. “Good morning, Dad.”
“Hello, Lizzy. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be there in about an hour.”
“Great, thanks. Um, Mom isn’t coming, is she?”
Her father chuckled. “No, Lizzy. She's all upset about something to do with Lydia and her new boyfriend. I have no idea what she's been going on about.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Oh. Okay. Um, do you have enough wood for the windows?”
“Plenty. And a few extra boxes for your things.”
“Oh, good. I’ll grab a few from the store anyway. Thanks, Dad. I’ll see you in a little while.”
She hung up, and thought about what her father had just told her. Obviously, her mother was privy to some of things that had transpired with George Wickham. She sighed, wondering when it was going to come to a head—because she knew it would.Not my concern.Not right now.
She sighed in frustration, and glanced around the house as she sipped her coffee, pushing her parents out of her mind and trying to figure out which room to tackle first, and decided on the darkroom. But before she did anything, she needed to get more boxes and something to eat. Before leaving the house, she tuned on the Weather Channel, and within a few minutes, the update on Hurricane Danielle was given.
A sigh of relief escaped her when she saw that the storm would be taking a more easterly track. The Carolinas would still be hit, but would fare better than initially expected; they would probably feel winds in the range of a category one storm. The Cape would still feel some heavy winds and rain, but at more of a tropical storm strength. Still, she knew that boarding up the windows and removing valuables from her home was necessary; the storm surge could cause high surf, which could lead to flooding and significant damage.
She grabbed her keys and her sunglasses, locked up the house, and headed downstairs to her Jeep. On the way to the market, she thought about how she would deal with Lydia. She knew sheneeded to have a conversation with her, but it would have to wait. As necessary as it was, it wasn't high on her list of priorities; no amount of venting her anger on her younger sister was going to change anything.
The damage is done.
* * *
“Hey, Will.”
“Hey, Charles.”
“How did it go?”
“She doesn't want anything to do with me.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be, it's all my fault. I blew it.Idon't even want anything to do with me.”
“So that's it then?”
“No, not for me. I have to keep trying. I can’t give up yet.”
“So what are you going to do?”
