Chapter 16
"I'll do the dishes, you go write."
I clutched the edge of the table and pretended to swoon. "I've been waiting my whole life to hear those words."
Daniel rolled his eyes and snickered, but in a way, it was true. I pretty much gave up on the relationship thing when Neil moved out. Before that, really. Before he ever moved in. Obviously, there was no man out there who could deal with my need for space and time to myself. They claimed they could. Maybe in the beginning, they even tried; but the accusations always came around like the same song on repeat.
"You're self absorbed, you don't care about my needs, you spend more time in front of that computer than you do with me."
Neil used to get so angry with me because I'd spend evenings in my office, where he was not allowed, with the door closed instead of going to clubs with him.
"Why do you even want me here?"
he asked and in the end, the answer was, I didn't. Maybe Daniel really did understand. Maybe he was the one man who could accept me the way I am but it didn't matter, did it? These few days of constant togetherness pushed us into an accelerated mode and things were moving so much faster than they normally would in the outside world. We'd never relate the same way when it was over, even if we did see each other again, and I doubted we would. It would never work, our lives were too different, we were too different.
But the fact that he'd noticed my distraction while we were eating, the way I flipped through my notebook and stared off into space, and knew I had to write made me feel a spark of hope that there might be someone out there for me after all.
Still, I hesitated. "But what are you going to do?" I asked uncertainly. I'd been made to feel like a shit so many times for wanting to write instead of "spending quality time" with someone that the guilt still lingered.
"Oh, don't worry about me, I can always find something to do." He was already pouring hot water from the pot on the stove into the sink for dishwater and he turned his head and gave me that smile that made my heart skip.
Shit,
I cringed inwardly. "I'll probably read for awhile. I saw some copies of your books in the bookcase and having time to just sit and read is rare for me. Now would you go?"
Just another second of hesitation because I couldn't quite believe he meant it, but he gave me an expectant look so I grabbed the notebook off the table. God, it had been a long time since I wrote anything longhand, but I used to do it for hours and hours upstairs at my desk, the view from the window nothing but acres of fields, swirling wheat or bright green corn, changing with the seasons. So cold up here, but that was nothing new. I grinned as I dragged the kerosene heater upstairs and set it next to my desk. Grandpa would never let me have it in here because of the risk of fire but now that I could have as much heat as I wanted, I'd long ago decided I was never going to be cold again.
Wrapping a blanket around my feet, I sank down into my old desk chair. At first, I wrote facing the door because I kept glancing up every ten minutes expecting Daniel to come through the door with some excuse to interrupt me, like a cup of tea. That's what Neil used to do and I tried to be nice about it, but it always got on my nerves. If I wanted tea, I would've come downstairs to get it.
After awhile, when Daniel never made the trip upstairs, I relaxed and forgot about it. The next time I looked up with any real awareness of my surroundings the wintry late afternoon light was fading outside. The snowy fields spread in every direction, turning shades of gray and blue; the wind rattled my windowpane and I grinned as I stuffed an old sock along the base of the window to keep out the persistent draft. This old house never changed.
Downstairs, Daniel was curled up on the couch with a quilt and a book in his lap, the oil lamp casting light on the page from behind his shoulder. He smiled when I flopped down next to him and stretched.
"What time is it?"
"Getting close to five." He flipped the book upside down on the coffee table to hold his place. It was one of my earlier works, Dark Beauty. I grimaced.
"That's not a very good one."
"I'm enjoying it." Daniel lifted the edge quilt and I slid under it next to him, snuggling down into the warmth, letting my head fall on his shoulder. He smelled fucking delicious. "Get a lot of work done?" he asked, wrapping his arm around me.
"Hmmm? Oh.... yeah, I guess so." I closed my eyes halfway. I wasn't sleepy, exactly, just still half in my fantasy world, and totally relaxed and content with his warmth surrounding me. As the fireplace crackled and popped, I watched the blue flame lick at the logs through my heavy eyelids. Daniel's thigh pressed against mine under the quilt and I put my hand on it so I could feel the muscle under the smooth, worn denim.
"Whatcha writing about? A strong-minded heroine who bucks social convention and follows her heart?" he grinned.
I laughed. He'd picked up the theme to most of my books quickly.
"No, not this time."
"Well, what is it then? I'm interested."
"Oh... It's stupid really." I blushed and talked too fast, the way I did when I got embarrassed. I hated talking about my work while it was still in the drafting phase, when the idea was so ephemeral that any criticism or negativity could kill it. "Earth has finally used up nearly all its natural resources and so the scientific community sends small groups of researchers into space to explore unknown planets and do experiments and surveys, to see if they can be mined for sources of energy."
"A sci-fi story," Daniel said, smiling with satisfaction. I blushed deeper and nodded.
"Yeah. I mean, it'll never sell or anything, I'm just writing it for fun. I'll probably never finish it."
"Who cares? Tell me more, it sounds interesting."
"Okay." I took a deep breath and plowed on. "So one particular group of scientists are headed to the planet KRS12. There's a malfunction with their craft and it crashes on the planet, and everyone dies except a small boy. He's rescued by the native race on this planet and a family takes him in and raises him as one of their own. He remembers his first name is Duncan but he grows up not knowing anything of who he is, or his parents, or his own race."
