Coming Home to Greenleigh

Chapter 19

The lyrics to "Save Me," by Gareth Emery/featuring Christina Novelli, are courtesy of Genius.com [https://genius.com/Gareth-emery-save-me-lyrics]:

[Verse 1: Christina Novelli]
Hide Behind
These Four Walls
Will they crumble, crumble down
Time to fight
Who we are
No where to run from, run from ourselves

[Hook: Christina Novelli]
So is this my, last breath
Am i going to make it?, make it trough
Ready to fight
Yeah we are
I'll follow the flame into the night

[Chorus: Christina Novelli x3]
So who, will save me?, save me
Who will bring me back?
From the darkness comes the light
I've been searching all my life
Singing who will save me?
Can you save me tonight?
Can you save me tonight?
Can you save me tonight?

"Listen. Gunnar." In spite of herself, Elisabeth put her other hand over his. She took a deep breath. She needed to just nip this in the bud.

"No, you listen," Gunnar shot back, but she could tell he was teasing. "Is there any food around here?"

Momentarily distracted, Elisabeth paused, looking around the kitchen. "Uh—sure—"

"Shall I make something?"

"Gunnar!" She pulled her hand away but he kept hold of her other hand.

"What?" He sounded annoyed, but he was grinning.

"You are all over the place! You can't stay on a topic for more than ten seconds."

"Yeah, all the teachers said that. Screw'em." He released her hand and stood up.

"I'm hungry. I'll make something. Omelet?"

"You're nuts," Elisabeth sighed. "We need to talk, Gunnar. We need to talk. I'm not going to Seattle with you. We hardly know each other. And I have a life here. I don't know what you plan to do in Seattle but—"


"You have eggs, right?" Gunnar was peering into her refrigerator. "Okay, you do have eggs. But Elisabeth—" He straightened, turned to her. "There's hardly anything in here. You can't live on this."

Elisabeth looked away.

"I'm gonna say it, because maybe no one ever says it to you. But you can't live like this. I can see what's going on."

"Maybe," Elisabeth said, trying to keep her voice steady. She looked up at him, which took effort. "But things are better. No—they really are," she said hastily, as Gunnar frowned at her. "They were much worse, and now I've got—" She paused, not knowing what to say. How to explain this situation to someone who clearly had never bothered with any kind of structure or rules—how to explain the fact that being independent was sometimes worse than just knuckling under and taking whatever lumps you had to take, even if it meant humbling yourself to an old boyfriend—she couldn't think of a way to explain that would make any sense to Gunnar.

"You know what?" Gunnar was pulling the eggs out of the refrigerator, along with a block of cheese. "You're having trouble explaining things to me because you don't believe any of it. It's crap."

He spoke matter-of-factly, as if he were discussing the weather. He wandered around the kitchen, looking at the various pans and utensils hanging up on the walls.

"Elisabeth Burnham. This is a disgrace. These pans are so dusty, I'll have to wash them before I can use them."

"No one said you had to cook anything," Elisabeth said.

"I'm hungry. I came as soon as I finished my last client. I didn't even stop to pick up food. I should have, though. Elisabeth, I'm going to make omelets, but there isn't much of anything for tomorrow. How the hell does that boyfriend of yours let you live like this?"