*Oliver*
Upon my first return to the bedchamber, much to my surprise, I discover she’s tidied up the mess… shattered plate, butter smeared on the stone floor… placed the copper tub, which had been against a wall, in front of the fireplace, and dumped the pail of water I left behind into it.
I bring another plate of buttered bread along with another bucket. After that, I lumber up the stairs numerous times, carrying a pail in each hand. The current trip will be my last.
Like the times before it, returning to the chamber is pure torment… and absolute heaven.
With my shirt hiked up just below her hip, she sits on the bed, one leg curled beneath her, the other dangling off the edge of the mattress, her gaze focused on the windowpane where raindrops sluggishly answer gravity’s call.
B
