Cimmerian Sunrise

Chapter 11 - ***REVISED***

The man was insufferable.

Reese had made it all but impossible for her to avoid him. Only through sheer force of will and use of ingenuity had she managed to evade his persistent endeavors to foist his company upon her. Two and a half weeks had gone by, and in that time, Breanne concentrated on working her own property, instead of laboring alongside him as she had before.

Over those two weeks, Breanne added stubborn and bull-headed to the running list of faults she mentally tallied under his name. Despite the fact that he had countless duties to see to, he managed to poke his nose around her place at least once a day. Whenever Breanne caught sight of him riding over on his horse, or skulking about her property, she'd high-tail it inside, finding that he would accomplish whichever pretense he'd invented to bring him there—a fence mended, a railing straightened, the hinges of a gate oiled, a horse's hooves trimmed and re-shod—and leave.

Many a task was purely redundant, and yet he would be on his way without a pounding on her door. Clearly, he meant to see her by "happenstance," rather than out-and-out intrusion. Well, he could happen 'round as many times a day as he liked. She would happen to be busy inside her own four walls, no matter what she might need out of doors. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction, nor go back upon her word. There were many close calls. Many times when she would make it in her own front door, out of breath, and with mere seconds to spare before he rounded the bend in the drive and caught her mid-evasion. Once, she was working in back of the house and didn't hear him at all, having to duck into the stables, double back behind him once he'd passed, and climb in through a window. But he hadn't seen her. Who knows what he heard!   

In the wee hours of the morn, Breanne was awakened with a jolt by loud pounding. Flipping over to her other side, Breanne stared at her bedroom door through squinted eyes, certain that she had dreamt the invasive knock. Surely she had, for it was so early, the sun hadn't even made an appearance.

The knock sounded again, louder than before. Breanne groaned, pulling the coverlet over her head. "If the sun hasn't risen, why should I be expected to?" she mumbled aloud.

More pounding.

"No," she objected to no one in particular. "What a ridiculous hour for anyone to be about; I'll not succumb to the ludicrousness of the uncivil interloper," she grumbled, dramatically. Then she paused, opening her eyes under the covers.

She was doing it again. She was talking to herself.

When the knocking continued, Breanne—angry at the world at large and early morning imitators of woodpeckers in particular--flung the covers aside, jerkily donned her dressing gown and stomped down the steps. Plainly, it was pointless to ignore whoever stood on the other side; had things continued as they were, she was quite certain the day would wear on with her ignoring the knocker for hours upon end whilst talking to herself. Over the past few days, she had begun to question her sanity. With none but her own company, she found herself breaking out in monologue; or worse yet, dialogue!

Her eyebrows furrowed in irritation and a frown was firmly fixed upon her face as she opened the door to face her intruder beyond. She froze in disbelief, her mouth parted. Her eyes went wide with surprise and tears pooled within them.

She widely smiled through the haze; throwing herself into Alla's arms.

"What are you doing here?" Breanne exclaimed, happily. Turning to Brandon, she hugged him as well. "I cannot believe you two are actually here. You must be an apparition!"

"Should I pinch you so that you know it is truly us?" Alla cheekily responded.

Breanne laughed, pulling her into another hug. Alla smiled, wiping stray tears from her eyes. "We are here for several reasons; one of them was to get out of this dreary weather."