April 29, 2005
Bryce Canyon, Utah
Neville gathered Josie’s body in his arms; she let out a small gasp of pain, the sound of which cut through him like shards of glass.
“I’m going to take care of you,” he whispered into her hair. “Everything is going to be all right.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, letting his body slowly fade, picturing his destination clearly as he forced himself through the mental image. There was an audible “pop” as he disappeared from the spot he’d previously occupied, only to reappear in the lobby of L’Abbaye Saint-Feuillien hospital. A nurse, dressed in a green uniform looked up as he Apparated into the waiting room.
“What is the nature of the magical injury?” the nurse at the check in station asked.
“I’m not sure. She – we were hiking and she fell,” Neville gasped out, cradling Josie in his arms.
“Name?”
“Josie Rutle… er Longbottom. Josie Longbottom.”
“Why don’t you place her on that gurney over there.” The nurse waved her hand at the line of gurneys against the far left wall. Neville hesitated. “Oh do set her down before you injure yourself as well,” the nurse snapped.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he mumbled, staggering over to the wall. Neville placed Josie down on the wheeled bed and smoothed the hair back from her sweaty, tear-stained face.
“Was there any magic involved in the event? Any spell that might have gone awry?”
“No.”
“Was she given any potions?”
“I gave her a general pain reliving draught as soon as I was able to get to where she fell,” Neville said tiredly. “I didn’t know it would cause this sort of reaction – I thought our potions were safe for Muggle consumption.”
“She’s a Muggle?” The nurse gave him a shocked look. “You can’t just go around giving out potions to Muggles; it’s just not done.”
Neville turned pale at her words. “But – she’s – ah, she’s my wife.”
“Just because she’s your wife doesn’t mean that she’s able to ingest a magical potion,” the nurse said with an exasperated air. “ Why do you think there are regulations preventing this sort of thing? Muggles can sometimes have strange allergic reactions to certain potion ingredients, that’s why every magical medical facility runs a allergen spell on any Muggle relations.” She moved around the desk, brandishing her wand. “Do you have any idea what sort of harm you might have caused?”
“Harm?” he gasped out. “You mean I’ve hurt her more? But… you can help her, can’t you?” He watched as the nurse moved the wand through the air above Josie’s prone body. “Please, tell me you can help her.”
“Only time will tell, Mr. Longbottom.”
~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~
May 4, 2005
L’Abbaye Saint-Feuillien Hospital, Utah
Josie slowly opened her eyes, blinking at the harsh glow of light coming from the door to her left.
“Ah, you’re awake now,” a voice said from the right.
Josie blinked hard, trying to adjust her eyes as she focused on a redheaded figure in a long green dress.
“You’ve been out for some time,” the redhead said, bending over her. Josie tried to push herself up.
“No, no, no, you really shouldn’t get up just yet. You’ve had a nasty fall, Mrs. Longbottom, as well as a severe allergic reaction to the potion your husband gave you, so it’s best if you just lay there.
“Water…” Josie rasped out, closing her eyes. The light still hurt her eyes, though not as much as before. A glass of water was pressed against her lips; water trickled down her throat.
“Where am I?” Josie asked in a stronger voice, once the nurse removed the cup.
“You’re at Saint-Feuillien Hospital; your husband Apparated you here almost immediately after your fall.”
“He… what?” Josie asked, not understanding. “I’m sorry… I think there’s been some sort of mistake.” She struggled to sit up again.
“Hold still, Mrs. Longbottom,” the nurse said in a firm voice, trying to push her back onto the bed. “I need to run a diagnostic spell; you’ve had it pretty nasty the last couple of days. Once I’ve finished the spell, I’m sure the Healer Brimshaw will want a word or two with you.” The nurse muttered a Latin phrase and Josie found herself pinned to the bed, unable to sit up.
Josie struggled against the invisible constraints, blanching white as the crazy woman brought out a long thin stick. “Let me up,” Josie whimpered, trying to twist her body. She watched with horrid fascination as the tip started to glow as the woman muttered a litany of strange Latin-sounding words while passing the stick up and down over her prone body. “Let me up please, I don’t want to you to do this.”
“Are you refusing treatment?” the nurse asked in a huff. “Seriously, what is wrong with you Muggle types? I’m not hurting you, now am I?” She pulled back her wand, and glanced down at Josie’s frightened face. “Really, there’s no need to get all panicky. I do realize that you’re not used to the diagnostic spells, since these aren’t taught to the general public, but honestly do you think they’d harm you?”
“Please,” Josie sobbed, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “I don’t understand – there’s been some mistake! Let me up please. Don’t make me stay trapped this way. I want – I want to go home.”
The woman looked at her for a moment then walked to the door. She spoke to someone just outside of the entrance, though Josie couldn’t see whom from where she was at. A minute later, the nurse nodded and pulled back into the room.
“Your husband will be here in a minute, Mrs. Longbottom, as will Healer Brimshaw,” the nurse said, flicking her wand in Josie’s direction. “I’ve removed the locking spell, but I must insist that you stay in bed, there’s no telling what harm you might cause yourself in getting up without a once over from the Healer.”
“I – when will –” The rest of Josie’s words were cut off when Neville entered the room, followed by a squat, rotund little old man with a long graying beard.
“Josie, you’re awake,” Neville said with obvious relief. “I’ve been so worried. I – I didn’t know you were going to have an allergic reaction; I could have killed you!”
“Now, now, Mr. Longbottom, it isn’t your fault at all,” the squat man told him, moving to the edge of Josie’s bed. “One can never quite tell how magic will affect a Muggle, even one such as your wife.”
“She’s been hysterical since she awoke,” the nurse told older gentleman. “I tried to do the standard diagnostic spells to track her healing and she panicked. I realize, sir, that she is a Muggle, but I would’ve assumed someone married to a Wizard would be better prepared.”
“You know better than to make those sorts of assumptions Nurse Witherspoon,” reprimanded the older man. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to learn that these two have only been married a short time. Haven’t you dear?” He asked, patting Josie’s hand.
Josie looked over at Neville, and he gave her a pleading look. “You have no idea,” she said dryly.
“Indeed, indeed,” the Healer said absently. “Now then, would you have any objection to me performing a series of detection spells? I do assure you that they will not harm you, there shan’t be any allergic reaction and hardly any discomfort.”
“It will be all right, I do promise,” Neville assured her, reaching for her hand. Josie pulled her fingers from his warm grasp, refusing to meet his eye.
“Will I be able to go home once you’re finished?” she asked the healer.
“Baring any problems, I shouldn’t see why not. Your husband looks quite capable of monitoring your condition and meting out any required potions – though I daresay we will run an allergy spell on you to make sure we don’t cause another potion’s mishap.”
~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~
May 4, 2005
L’Abbaye Saint-Feuillien Hospital, Utah
“Here you are, sir; please sign at the bottom of the release form, notarizing that you are aware of what precautions your wife must take for the next week or so.” The hospital administrator flipped through another packet of papers. “Here is the form authorizing the release of funds from Gringotts to Saint-Feuillien for treatment expenses.” She handed Neville another packet of papers. “And finally, here is the apothecary prescription. Mrs. Longbottom will need to take the first three potions twice a day for the next two weeks and the fourth potion once a day for the rest of the month. They aren’t as effective as the normal run of the mill potions, but given her allergic reactions, these will be much safer for her to ingest.”
“Anything else I should know?” Neville asked, stealing a quick glance over to where Josie sat.
“She should avoid Apparating and traveling by Floo for good measure, at least for the next week or so. If you need transport from the hospital, we do have low impact portkeys leaving to various destinations every other hour in the lobby, for a small fee. These were specifically designed not to jostle patients around who are in no condition to Floo or Apparate, so there shouldn’t be any problems for her if you chose this option.”
“Thank you, you’ve been most helpful,” Neville muttered, gathering up the various forms.
“You know – that is if you don’t mind me saying…” the woman started. “You two don’t seem to have been married long, give her a bit of time. My dad was this way too, when he found out Mom was a witch. Completely shell-shocked for a while. If she loves you, she’ll come around.”
If she loves me, he thought to himself, rolling the packet of papers up. “Thank you,” Neville told her once more, giving the woman a wry smile. “I’ll keep that under advisement.”
~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~
May 4, 2005
L’Abbaye Saint-Feuillien Hospital, Utah
The lobby the administrator indicated turned out to be nothing more than a long hallway with benches and plush chairs pushed against the wall for those waiting. The room was empty, a fact that pleased Josie to no end; she was in no mood to deal with more of them. She sat down in one of the chairs, refusing to look at Neville as he pulled another chair over to where she sat.
“You lied to them,” Josie stated baldly, breaking the silence.
Neville reached out for her hand, but she pulled it from him. “Yes,” he answered dully.
“And you’ve been lying to me.”
“No, Josie, I haven’t – I’ve never lied to you.”
“Really?” she asked with a strangled sob. “And you call keeping all this” she waved her hand in the air, “a secret wasn’t a lie by omission? I don’t even know you.”
“I haven’t lied to you,” his whispered, reaching out to touch her face. “I am me. All this doesn’t change who I am.”
Josie turned her face from him. “It might not change who you are Neville, but you can’t change the fact that I don’t know you, not really. What other things have you kept from me? How can I trust you, when I’ve shared everything but you haven’t?”
“I had to lie to them. I need you to understand; they – these people wouldn’t have helped you had I not told them you were my wife,” Neville said softly. “It’s not as if I enjoyed lying to them, but I couldn’t very well take you to a Muggle hospital, not in the state you were in!”
Josie sighed. “It isn’t the fact that you lied to them, Neville. You lied to me! You deliberately kept a part of yourself from me, a very important part of yourself I might add, and you expect me to be okay with that?”
“Josie,” he hissed out. “I never, ever lied to you. Yes, there are certain things I kept from you, but I had to – if you would just let me explain.”
“I thought...” She looked up into his face. “I suppose it really doesn’t matter what I thought now, does it? Obviously I was wrong; so very wrong.” Josie looked down at her lap, her hands smoothing down an imaginary crease as she tried to control her feelings. “I want to go home,” she said quietly, after a moment. “I think it’s best if you let me leave alone – I… I can’t do this right now.”
“That isn’t such a good idea, Josie.”
“Probably not, but it’s what I want,” Josie told him firmly. “I need… I need some time to think.”
~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~
May 6, 2005
Henderson, Nevada
“I’m sorry, Neville, but Josie isn’t in any position to talk to you right now,” Sarah said through the apartment door.
“Can’t I just come in and see her?” Neville asked.
“No, Neville, you can’t. Just go on home.”
“Damn it, Sarah, let me in – let me see with my own eyes that she’s all right.”
Sarah opened the door just a crack and caught Neville’s eye. “Neville, if you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the cops. You cannot come in to see Josie, I’ve already told you she is in no position to talk to you. She is recovering from whatever you did to her. So just go.”
“I didn’t do anything to her, Sarah!” Neville snapped, trying to pull the door open. It snagged on the chain. “You have got to let me see her, please, Sarah, let me see her!”
~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~
May 7, 2005
Henderson, Nevada
“Sarah, open the door,” Neville shouted, pounding on the apartment door.
“Go away Neville, Josie doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“She told you that? She doesn’t want to see me?”
“You’re not seeing her,” Sarah yelled through the door. “Just go away. You’ve done enough damage already.”
“Damn it, Sarah, open the door!”
She yanked it open and glared at him through the screen door.
“Look, Neville, I can’t pretend to understand everything that happened between you and Josie this last week, she won’t talk about it. All she asks is that I – and everyone else – leave her alone, that she needs time to think,” Sarah said through the door screen. “I’d let you in if I honestly thought it would do any good, but it won’t. She was the same way after her parents died. Give her the space she needs.”
“But, Sarah, I have to talk to her – I have to explain,” he responded, shoving a hand through his hair.
“Explain?” Sarah asked, arching an eyebrow. “What exactly is it you need to explain? You aren’t married, are you?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What did you do to her, Neville?”
“Nothing – everything – it’s complicated. Please, Sarah, just let me in to talk to her.”
“Okay, so tell me, and I’ll tell her.” Sarah rested her hip against the doorframe and watched Neville’s face.
“I can’t – it’s – I just can’t,” he said softly, stepping back from the door.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” he asked, a confused expression flitting across his face.
“Why should I let you talk to her? Why should I let you go off and explain all these mysterious reasons to her when you can’t tell them to me first? Give me one good reason why I should let you anywhere near her, Neville.”
“Sarah…” He scrubbed a hand over his weary face. “I need her,” he said after a moment.
“That’s it?” Sarah asked, her voice full of vitriol. “You need her?”
“She’s everything. Please, Sarah, let me talk to her – I’m begging you,” Neville said softly.
They stared at one another through the screen door, until Sarah turned away. He stood in the doorway, not daring to hope that she might actually bring Josie to the door. His spirits sank as Sarah reappeared in the doorway. She gave him a long, measured look.
“She’s not here,” Sarah finally said.
Neville opened his mouth to ask where, but Sarah went on. “Josie’s gone up north, north-west to be exact. She went to the cabin her grandparents left her, up near Portland, Oregon. I don’t know when she’ll be back.”
“She’s gone?” He repeated dully.
Sarah pulled open the screen door and shoved an envelop into his hands. “Don’t tell her I gave you this. If you hurry, you can probably make it up there in a day or two.” Neville looked up at her with an expression of gratitude.
“I – I don’t know how to thank –”
“You can thank me by fixing this mess you made,” she interrupted him. “Don’t make me regret this.”
~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~
Bryce Canyon, Utah
Neville gathered Josie’s body in his arms; she let out a small gasp of pain, the sound of which cut through him like shards of glass.
“I’m going to take care of you,” he whispered into her hair. “Everything is going to be all right.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, letting his body slowly fade, picturing his destination clearly as he forced himself through the mental image. There was an audible “pop” as he disappeared from the spot he’d previously occupied, only to reappear in the lobby of L’Abbaye Saint-Feuillien hospital. A nurse, dressed in a green uniform looked up as he Apparated into the waiting room.
“What is the nature of the magical injury?” the nurse at the check in station asked.
“I’m not sure. She – we were hiking and she fell,” Neville gasped out, cradling Josie in his arms.
“Name?”
“Josie Rutle… er Longbottom. Josie Longbottom.”
“Why don’t you place her on that gurney over there.” The nurse waved her hand at the line of gurneys against the far left wall. Neville hesitated. “Oh do set her down before you injure yourself as well,” the nurse snapped.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he mumbled, staggering over to the wall. Neville placed Josie down on the wheeled bed and smoothed the hair back from her sweaty, tear-stained face.
“Was there any magic involved in the event? Any spell that might have gone awry?”
“No.”
“Was she given any potions?”
“I gave her a general pain reliving draught as soon as I was able to get to where she fell,” Neville said tiredly. “I didn’t know it would cause this sort of reaction – I thought our potions were safe for Muggle consumption.”
“She’s a Muggle?” The nurse gave him a shocked look. “You can’t just go around giving out potions to Muggles; it’s just not done.”
Neville turned pale at her words. “But – she’s – ah, she’s my wife.”
“Just because she’s your wife doesn’t mean that she’s able to ingest a magical potion,” the nurse said with an exasperated air. “ Why do you think there are regulations preventing this sort of thing? Muggles can sometimes have strange allergic reactions to certain potion ingredients, that’s why every magical medical facility runs a allergen spell on any Muggle relations.” She moved around the desk, brandishing her wand. “Do you have any idea what sort of harm you might have caused?”
“Harm?” he gasped out. “You mean I’ve hurt her more? But… you can help her, can’t you?” He watched as the nurse moved the wand through the air above Josie’s prone body. “Please, tell me you can help her.”
“Only time will tell, Mr. Longbottom.”
May 4, 2005
L’Abbaye Saint-Feuillien Hospital, Utah
Josie slowly opened her eyes, blinking at the harsh glow of light coming from the door to her left.
“Ah, you’re awake now,” a voice said from the right.
Josie blinked hard, trying to adjust her eyes as she focused on a redheaded figure in a long green dress.
“You’ve been out for some time,” the redhead said, bending over her. Josie tried to push herself up.
“No, no, no, you really shouldn’t get up just yet. You’ve had a nasty fall, Mrs. Longbottom, as well as a severe allergic reaction to the potion your husband gave you, so it’s best if you just lay there.
“Water…” Josie rasped out, closing her eyes. The light still hurt her eyes, though not as much as before. A glass of water was pressed against her lips; water trickled down her throat.
“Where am I?” Josie asked in a stronger voice, once the nurse removed the cup.
“You’re at Saint-Feuillien Hospital; your husband Apparated you here almost immediately after your fall.”
“He… what?” Josie asked, not understanding. “I’m sorry… I think there’s been some sort of mistake.” She struggled to sit up again.
“Hold still, Mrs. Longbottom,” the nurse said in a firm voice, trying to push her back onto the bed. “I need to run a diagnostic spell; you’ve had it pretty nasty the last couple of days. Once I’ve finished the spell, I’m sure the Healer Brimshaw will want a word or two with you.” The nurse muttered a Latin phrase and Josie found herself pinned to the bed, unable to sit up.
Josie struggled against the invisible constraints, blanching white as the crazy woman brought out a long thin stick. “Let me up,” Josie whimpered, trying to twist her body. She watched with horrid fascination as the tip started to glow as the woman muttered a litany of strange Latin-sounding words while passing the stick up and down over her prone body. “Let me up please, I don’t want to you to do this.”
“Are you refusing treatment?” the nurse asked in a huff. “Seriously, what is wrong with you Muggle types? I’m not hurting you, now am I?” She pulled back her wand, and glanced down at Josie’s frightened face. “Really, there’s no need to get all panicky. I do realize that you’re not used to the diagnostic spells, since these aren’t taught to the general public, but honestly do you think they’d harm you?”
“Please,” Josie sobbed, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “I don’t understand – there’s been some mistake! Let me up please. Don’t make me stay trapped this way. I want – I want to go home.”
The woman looked at her for a moment then walked to the door. She spoke to someone just outside of the entrance, though Josie couldn’t see whom from where she was at. A minute later, the nurse nodded and pulled back into the room.
“Your husband will be here in a minute, Mrs. Longbottom, as will Healer Brimshaw,” the nurse said, flicking her wand in Josie’s direction. “I’ve removed the locking spell, but I must insist that you stay in bed, there’s no telling what harm you might cause yourself in getting up without a once over from the Healer.”
“I – when will –” The rest of Josie’s words were cut off when Neville entered the room, followed by a squat, rotund little old man with a long graying beard.
“Josie, you’re awake,” Neville said with obvious relief. “I’ve been so worried. I – I didn’t know you were going to have an allergic reaction; I could have killed you!”
“Now, now, Mr. Longbottom, it isn’t your fault at all,” the squat man told him, moving to the edge of Josie’s bed. “One can never quite tell how magic will affect a Muggle, even one such as your wife.”
“She’s been hysterical since she awoke,” the nurse told older gentleman. “I tried to do the standard diagnostic spells to track her healing and she panicked. I realize, sir, that she is a Muggle, but I would’ve assumed someone married to a Wizard would be better prepared.”
“You know better than to make those sorts of assumptions Nurse Witherspoon,” reprimanded the older man. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to learn that these two have only been married a short time. Haven’t you dear?” He asked, patting Josie’s hand.
Josie looked over at Neville, and he gave her a pleading look. “You have no idea,” she said dryly.
“Indeed, indeed,” the Healer said absently. “Now then, would you have any objection to me performing a series of detection spells? I do assure you that they will not harm you, there shan’t be any allergic reaction and hardly any discomfort.”
“It will be all right, I do promise,” Neville assured her, reaching for her hand. Josie pulled her fingers from his warm grasp, refusing to meet his eye.
“Will I be able to go home once you’re finished?” she asked the healer.
“Baring any problems, I shouldn’t see why not. Your husband looks quite capable of monitoring your condition and meting out any required potions – though I daresay we will run an allergy spell on you to make sure we don’t cause another potion’s mishap.”
May 4, 2005
L’Abbaye Saint-Feuillien Hospital, Utah
“Here you are, sir; please sign at the bottom of the release form, notarizing that you are aware of what precautions your wife must take for the next week or so.” The hospital administrator flipped through another packet of papers. “Here is the form authorizing the release of funds from Gringotts to Saint-Feuillien for treatment expenses.” She handed Neville another packet of papers. “And finally, here is the apothecary prescription. Mrs. Longbottom will need to take the first three potions twice a day for the next two weeks and the fourth potion once a day for the rest of the month. They aren’t as effective as the normal run of the mill potions, but given her allergic reactions, these will be much safer for her to ingest.”
“Anything else I should know?” Neville asked, stealing a quick glance over to where Josie sat.
“She should avoid Apparating and traveling by Floo for good measure, at least for the next week or so. If you need transport from the hospital, we do have low impact portkeys leaving to various destinations every other hour in the lobby, for a small fee. These were specifically designed not to jostle patients around who are in no condition to Floo or Apparate, so there shouldn’t be any problems for her if you chose this option.”
“Thank you, you’ve been most helpful,” Neville muttered, gathering up the various forms.
“You know – that is if you don’t mind me saying…” the woman started. “You two don’t seem to have been married long, give her a bit of time. My dad was this way too, when he found out Mom was a witch. Completely shell-shocked for a while. If she loves you, she’ll come around.”
If she loves me, he thought to himself, rolling the packet of papers up. “Thank you,” Neville told her once more, giving the woman a wry smile. “I’ll keep that under advisement.”
May 4, 2005
L’Abbaye Saint-Feuillien Hospital, Utah
The lobby the administrator indicated turned out to be nothing more than a long hallway with benches and plush chairs pushed against the wall for those waiting. The room was empty, a fact that pleased Josie to no end; she was in no mood to deal with more of them. She sat down in one of the chairs, refusing to look at Neville as he pulled another chair over to where she sat.
“You lied to them,” Josie stated baldly, breaking the silence.
Neville reached out for her hand, but she pulled it from him. “Yes,” he answered dully.
“And you’ve been lying to me.”
“No, Josie, I haven’t – I’ve never lied to you.”
“Really?” she asked with a strangled sob. “And you call keeping all this” she waved her hand in the air, “a secret wasn’t a lie by omission? I don’t even know you.”
“I haven’t lied to you,” his whispered, reaching out to touch her face. “I am me. All this doesn’t change who I am.”
Josie turned her face from him. “It might not change who you are Neville, but you can’t change the fact that I don’t know you, not really. What other things have you kept from me? How can I trust you, when I’ve shared everything but you haven’t?”
“I had to lie to them. I need you to understand; they – these people wouldn’t have helped you had I not told them you were my wife,” Neville said softly. “It’s not as if I enjoyed lying to them, but I couldn’t very well take you to a Muggle hospital, not in the state you were in!”
Josie sighed. “It isn’t the fact that you lied to them, Neville. You lied to me! You deliberately kept a part of yourself from me, a very important part of yourself I might add, and you expect me to be okay with that?”
“Josie,” he hissed out. “I never, ever lied to you. Yes, there are certain things I kept from you, but I had to – if you would just let me explain.”
“I thought...” She looked up into his face. “I suppose it really doesn’t matter what I thought now, does it? Obviously I was wrong; so very wrong.” Josie looked down at her lap, her hands smoothing down an imaginary crease as she tried to control her feelings. “I want to go home,” she said quietly, after a moment. “I think it’s best if you let me leave alone – I… I can’t do this right now.”
“That isn’t such a good idea, Josie.”
“Probably not, but it’s what I want,” Josie told him firmly. “I need… I need some time to think.”
May 6, 2005
Henderson, Nevada
“I’m sorry, Neville, but Josie isn’t in any position to talk to you right now,” Sarah said through the apartment door.
“Can’t I just come in and see her?” Neville asked.
“No, Neville, you can’t. Just go on home.”
“Damn it, Sarah, let me in – let me see with my own eyes that she’s all right.”
Sarah opened the door just a crack and caught Neville’s eye. “Neville, if you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the cops. You cannot come in to see Josie, I’ve already told you she is in no position to talk to you. She is recovering from whatever you did to her. So just go.”
“I didn’t do anything to her, Sarah!” Neville snapped, trying to pull the door open. It snagged on the chain. “You have got to let me see her, please, Sarah, let me see her!”
May 7, 2005
Henderson, Nevada
“Sarah, open the door,” Neville shouted, pounding on the apartment door.
“Go away Neville, Josie doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“She told you that? She doesn’t want to see me?”
“You’re not seeing her,” Sarah yelled through the door. “Just go away. You’ve done enough damage already.”
“Damn it, Sarah, open the door!”
She yanked it open and glared at him through the screen door.
“Look, Neville, I can’t pretend to understand everything that happened between you and Josie this last week, she won’t talk about it. All she asks is that I – and everyone else – leave her alone, that she needs time to think,” Sarah said through the door screen. “I’d let you in if I honestly thought it would do any good, but it won’t. She was the same way after her parents died. Give her the space she needs.”
“But, Sarah, I have to talk to her – I have to explain,” he responded, shoving a hand through his hair.
“Explain?” Sarah asked, arching an eyebrow. “What exactly is it you need to explain? You aren’t married, are you?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What did you do to her, Neville?”
“Nothing – everything – it’s complicated. Please, Sarah, just let me in to talk to her.”
“Okay, so tell me, and I’ll tell her.” Sarah rested her hip against the doorframe and watched Neville’s face.
“I can’t – it’s – I just can’t,” he said softly, stepping back from the door.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” he asked, a confused expression flitting across his face.
“Why should I let you talk to her? Why should I let you go off and explain all these mysterious reasons to her when you can’t tell them to me first? Give me one good reason why I should let you anywhere near her, Neville.”
“Sarah…” He scrubbed a hand over his weary face. “I need her,” he said after a moment.
“That’s it?” Sarah asked, her voice full of vitriol. “You need her?”
“She’s everything. Please, Sarah, let me talk to her – I’m begging you,” Neville said softly.
They stared at one another through the screen door, until Sarah turned away. He stood in the doorway, not daring to hope that she might actually bring Josie to the door. His spirits sank as Sarah reappeared in the doorway. She gave him a long, measured look.
“She’s not here,” Sarah finally said.
Neville opened his mouth to ask where, but Sarah went on. “Josie’s gone up north, north-west to be exact. She went to the cabin her grandparents left her, up near Portland, Oregon. I don’t know when she’ll be back.”
“She’s gone?” He repeated dully.
Sarah pulled open the screen door and shoved an envelop into his hands. “Don’t tell her I gave you this. If you hurry, you can probably make it up there in a day or two.” Neville looked up at her with an expression of gratitude.
“I – I don’t know how to thank –”
“You can thank me by fixing this mess you made,” she interrupted him. “Don’t make me regret this.”
Comments