“I’m so angry. And sad. But mostly, angry. For years I wanted my father to call me, to forgive me for the picture I didn’t remember taking. To be proud of me for everything I’d accomplished and . . . ” I shook my head and swallowed again. “For what? He didn’t even side with his own daughter.”
“He didn’t know how.”
I glanced up and met River’s gaze again. The room was dark, but I could swear I saw the compassion in his eyes.
“Sometimes men don’t know how to deal with the mistakes of another, so they ignore them instead.” He shut his book and set it down, sitting back in the daybed and stretching his long legs out. “We make excuses for ourselves in hopes for our salvation. We ignore others’ wrongdoings so that we don’t have to look too closely at our own. It’s the way we survive.”
“That doesn’t make what he did okay.”
“It doesn’t.”
“It doesn’t make what you did okay.”
“I’ve learned to live with my sins, little witch. I don’t need your judgment, or your penance.”
“I’m not a witch.” I felt myself scowl.
River looked like he wanted to smile, but didn’t.
I yawned loudly. “I can’t believe I’d actually go to sleep after all of that.”
“Sleep.” He stood up and walked over to one of the gas lamps, switching it off. He was wearing khaki pants and a white button-down and didn’t look ready for bed at all.
“Will you . . . ” I bit my lip. “Are you going to stay?”
“Do you want me to?” He paused by the fireplace. “After everything?”
I nodded. I didn’t know why. It didn’t make sense. I should be angry with him. I should never want to see his face again. And yet . . . I sighed. River turned around and clicked another lamp off before walking over to the bed and sliding under the covers. I lowered my legs and scooted farther down in bed until my head was on the pillow.
“I had a dream about you.” I licked my lips.
“A good dream?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Hm.”
I turned in bed, facing him, even though now the room was pitch black and there was no chance of me seeing him at all. “Do you dream?”
“Everyone dreams.”
“Do you have good dreams?”
“Only when you’re in them.” I could hear the smile in his voice when he said it, so I knew he was making a joke. My face went hot anyway. God. If he only knew the dream he’d starred in. “Good night, little witch. I hope you dream about me again tonight.”
I opened my eyes to the sound of murmuring voices nearby and turned to see that River was no longer beside me. When I sat up, I followed the sound of the voices to the door, which was slightly parted. River wasn’t there though, but I could make out a dog standing there. A large dog. A wolf. As if sensing me, the wolf looked over at me, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness, and looked away once more. The person on the other side of the door said something else, but this time no one answered. I held the comforter higher on my chest. For some reason, the wolf didn’t elicit fear in me the way you’d think an animal known to be vicious would. I wanted to stay up, wanted to keep my eyes open, but instead, I lay back down and closed them.
When I woke a second time, I sat up quickly, looking around. There were two lamps on now and no River in bed again, but I could hear the faint sound of the shower so I assumed he was in there. The bedroom door opened suddenly, and I gripped the comforter tightly. If I saw Esteban again I wasn’t sure what I’d do. Run? Scream? What could I do to a ghost that could touch me? It was Mayra.
“Breakfast is served.”
“Oh. Okay.” I felt myself frown. “Aren’t you supposed to knock?”
“I never knock on Master Caliban’s door.” She smiled a small, secretive smile that spoke volumes. He’d said they weren’t lovers. Had he lied? Did it matter? I was quick to gather my bearings. I’d had a hell of a night. If I could face a ghost from my past, surely I could flick off a little gnat like Mayra.
“Well, please knock next time. After all, I am staying here as well, and I don’t wear clothes to bed.” I smiled the same secretive smile right back. She glared and shut the door with a loud thump.
The bathroom door opened. I hadn’t even heard the water turn off, but River was standing there bare chested, wearing khaki pants as he towel dried his hair.
“That was Mayra. She wanted you to know breakfast is ready.” I stood from the bed and walked over to the bathroom, feeling inexplicable anger rise with each step I took. I brushed past him and walked into the bathroom, ignoring the pull, ignoring the sudden, insane urge to claim him as mine. Instead, I kept my voice steady. “I need the bathroom now.”