The Way of the Sea

Chapter Fifteen: Rest and Fear

Fredric massaged his neck, certain that the bruise Gregory had left on the back of his head was half the size of his face. The man was unconscious at the bottom of the stairs, but only moments before, he had busted through the lock on the front door and shoved him away in his hunt for his children. Fredric's head had smacked against the wall before he could brace himself. Now, his skull ached, and his elbows were bruised, but at least Gregory was lying unconscious on the floor.

Merida stepped lightly down the stairs and studied him, sprawled on his stomach at the foot of the stairs. Her loosely braided hair fell around one shoulder as she bent and peered at him, and the wide silk ribbon that bound it slipped a little as she did so. "What should we do with him?" she asked Fredric, straightening her back and tightening her ribbon.

Fredric sighed. "There's nothing we can do right now." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I'll walk to the Post Office and send word to the police in the morning. They'll have to take him in for this. There's no room for ignoring evidence, this time," he murmured.

Merida maneuvered around Gregory and stepped into the kitchen, leaning against the wall. "I'll go instead. You need rest, Fred."

"We all do," he said, fighting the urge to yawn. "And you should sleep first. I'll keep an eye on him. Besides, Aidan and Darin have my bedroom for now. Felt better having them in a room with a door while Gregory's here." The yawn escaped, and Fredric wiped his face with one hand. "We can decide who goes into town after we've all gotten some shut-eye."

Merida smirked as if she knew that convincing him to rest now was pointless. She slipped the ribbon from the end of her braid, untied the knot, and handed it to Fredric. "You might want to at least bind his wrists."

Fredric tested the strength of the crinkled, rose-colored ribbon between his fists and smiled ruefully. "Thanks."

"Goodnight." She turned around and headed for her bedroom.

"Sleep well," he said as she disappeared, lifting himself out of the kitchen chair and lowering himself next to Gregory. Fortunately, the man was already lying on his stomach with his arms spread out beside him. Fredric gathered his wrists behind his back and used Merida's ribbon to tie them together as tightly as he could. With the rest of the strength he could muster, he muscled Gregory's sturdy frame into a sitting position and dragged him backward, propping him up against the back of the couch. His head lolled to one side and his shaggy, unkempt brown hair stuck to the side of his face where sweat dampened his skin.

With a weary sigh, Fredric sank back down into the creaky kitchen chair, facing the table head-on. He framed his thumbs evenly against the edge of the table and drummed his flat fingers against the tabletop. Tilting his head past the back of his chair, he stared at the ceiling, unseeing. He closed his eyes, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders.

I can't keep going like this, he thought.

Eden had broken into new territory, and it was impossible to navigate. He had prepared for Eden's possible curiosity after he told her the truth about Caitlin. But for Eden to have practically turned into Caitlin...for that, he was not prepared.

In his mind, Caitlin shimmered in the chair next to him; an image summoned by sheer willpower. He focused on the memory of her brown sweater, which was soft with years of use; her eyes, ever curious and wise; and the way her shoulder-length auburn hair would flip toward her chin when she tucked it behind her ear. She always did like short hair better. Fredric thought it was something about the wind; how it would play with the ends of her hair on a mild day and whip it into the air above her head on a windy one. But when she tucked it behind her ears, it usually stayed there.