I caught my breath, sat up and dressed. Harley moved about silently for a few moments and then said he was going back to the door to work. He face was masked in guilt.
"Harley," I called to him. He shook his head and kept walking.
I rose and went to the little mirror to look at myself and finger my hair. I found a hair brush and washed it out and moved a few strokes down my strands. Then I heard him call to me and came out of the small bathroom. He was holding another carton.
"More of her food," he said. "and water and what looks like a dessert. I don't know how she opens that door and shuts it without me hearing her move that damn cabinet away. She has to have him helping her for that, don't you think?"
I nodded.
He placed the carton on the table and we both looked down at the contents.
"We can't eat any of that. Harley."
"I know," he said. "Got to tell you though. It smells good." he said.
"Like a trap." I muttered.
He nodded. but I could see he was still thinking about it.
"If she was going to poison us, she would have done it in the first carton of food, don't you think. Summer?"
"I don't know. I'm afraid," I said. "Okay."
He returned to the door.
Hours went by. I fell asleep and when I woke, he was at my side. He looked very guilty again, but this time, it was for different reasons.
My eyes went to the carton. He had eaten.
"All that effort made me hungry," he said shrugging. "I'm not feeling bad. Summer. It's okay. I was your food tester," he quipped.
"I'm still not hungry, Harley," I said even though I was starting to get some pangs.
"Whatever that cake is, it's good," he said. He smiled. "Our jailer is a gourmet cook."
"It's not funny."
"I know. I'm just trying not to crack up," he said, wiping the smile from his face.
I stared at him a moment and then nodded. realizing he was right.
"Daddy always says a branch that won't bend will break," I told him.
"Good advice. We'll roll with this until we get an opportunity to change it. Maybe, if I keep myself awake. I'll hear them move that cabinet out of the way to put out another carton of food and then I'll rush the door," he planned aloud. "I'm going to sit at the foot of the stairs out there."
He rose.
"I'll come with you then," I said.
"No, Summer. It's very uncomfortable. It's almost decent in here. There's no sense in both of us being up all night, is there?"
He looked at the bed.
"Why don't you dig out the bedding from that trunk and fix the bed for yourself. We don't want both of us to be exhausted. okay?"
"No," I said. "I want to be with you. Harley." He shook his head.
"I'm not going to let you get sick."