AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Sorry I haven’t been around the office,” I whisper to Dad, seated beside me.
“It’s what happens when you resign.” He winks at me.
“Yes, although I want to check in occasionally and offer to help out.”
Dad rolls up his shirt sleeves. “You’ve a lot going on, my girl. We’re not going anywhere. When you have time, come by and say hello to everyone.”
I pat his forearm and lean closer to lower my voice. “I wanted to let you know I almost finished Gran’s journal.” He stares at me, waiting, only I don’t know what to say.
“You need to read it.”
He runs a hand along his jawline. “I don’t think I can.”
“It’s important. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe you should. It will give you a better understanding as to what happened, and I can’t express words for the respect I have for what she went through. My heart shatters into a million pieces with every page, which is why I can’t tell you about it.”
Dad stares at me for a few seconds. “Okay. I don’t read much these days except theFinancial Times, except I’ll do it for you.”
“Not for me, Dad. For Gran.”
He nods politely and then turns away when Mum carries the pudding to the table.
* * *
It’s after nine o’clock when everyone leaves, and I want to fall into bed. My feet ache, and I’m in pain from overeating. Caroline and Christopher thank us for an enjoyable day and head to bed.
I take Samuel’s hand and lead him to the bedroom. “How are you feeling?”
He kisses my lips. “I’m fine. Everything is going to plan, and so far, there are no setbacks.”
I nod, even though he isn’t convincing. Minutes after I switch off the light, I hear the gentle sounds of Samuel sleeping.
I can’t relax. Some nights I wait until after two-thirty in case he has another nightmare. Holding a pillow to my chest helps to calm me. Not tonight. I give up and reach for my iPad and open the E-book app. I’m not ready to read Gran’s journal tonight.
* * *
A loud grunt jolts me awake.
I gather my bearings and realize it’s labored breathing.
“Please not again,” I murmur.
I check the time—4:23 a.m.
“No. No. No…” I groan.
I grab my phone, and with the light, I shine it so I can see his face and not directly on him to wake him.
His breaths are fast and shallow. I find myself counting, and the only thing I know about hyperventilation is I’ll need to get a brown paper bag for him to breathe into.
Samuel’s eyes remain closed, yet there’s movement beneath his eyelids. His face is twitching as his head moves gently from side to side.
“Run,”he croaks.
I hate the dreams where I scream at the top of my lungs for help, yet only a squeaky voice comes out. I imagine him feeling like this.
“Run.”Jagged breath.
“Run.”Sharp inhales.
