Chapter 19: Let Me Lead

He was awake when I came in, propped on three pillows with his arm strapped across his chest.

The room over the grove had one lamp, and the lamp made his face older and gentler.

"You should be asleep," I said.

"The vet said sleep. He didn't say how."

I shut the door and turned the key.

He watched me do it, and his good hand closed on the sheet.

"Viola."

"Be quiet a minute."

I crossed the room and stood beside the bed.

I had not slept in two nights, and I had been shot at, and I had found my father's coat in his closet.

Nothing in me wanted to talk.

"I'm not forgiving you," I said. "I told you."

"I know."

"I'm also not leaving."

"I know that too."

"Then you can stop waiting for me to take it back."

"I'm looking at you," he said hoarsely, "because I'm afraid it's the last time you'll let me."

I pulled the cover down to his waist.

The bandage ran from his collarbone to his ribs, white and neat, and his chest rose and fell under it faster than it should have.

I put my palm on his stomach and felt the muscle jump.

"The first night you said we sleep apart," he said, with a ghost of the old grin. "I've been a good husband and kept to the floor."

"You've been awful, and you slept on it anyway."

"Is this the night you say?"

"Is this the night I say what?"

"Touch me. You said I don't touch you unless you say."

"I'm saying," I said. "Don't use your arm."

I took off my dress and left it where it fell.