Free Love Lies Bleeding by Jess Mcconkey

wasted. She rubbed a spot on her chest as if to loosen the knot around her heart. She couldn’t let that happen. Whether Samantha Moore wanted her help or not didn’t matter. She’d do whatever it took to keep Lawrence Moore happy.
    Flinging the car door open, she got out and strode across the sandy yard to the front porch. She’d taken one step when a plant growing at its edge caught her eye. Had it been there yesterday? Anne moved closer to take a look.
    Stalks with deeply veined, green leaves shot skyward and were beginning to arch toward the ground. Looking closer, Anne saw tiny clusters of buds forming. She’d driven by this cabin for years, but she’d never noticed this bush growing by the porch. The landlord must have planted it.
    “Ah, who cares?” she mumbled to herself, fingering the leaves. “Time to quit dithering and get my butt in there. I’ve got a patient who resents me.” Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. “But I’ve faced worse.”
    With firm steps, Anne crossed the porch and unlocked the cabin door. Swinging it open, she peered into the semidark room. The silent atmosphere was stifling. This won’t do, she thought. Quickly, she moved to the French doors, and flinging back the curtains, jerked one open. Immediately sunlight flooded the cabin, chasing away the darkness, and the air lightened as a breeze from the lake fluttered in.
    Anne took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Better.”
    Moving back to the kitchen, she began making preparations to cook breakfast. She’d wait until it was ready before waking Sleeping Beauty. As if the young woman had been summoned by her thoughts, Anne turned to see Sam shuffle into the kitchen.
    Squinting against the sunlight, Sam ran her fingers through her butchered hair.
    Glancing at Sam over her shoulder, Anne decided that was the worst haircut she’d ever seen. It looked like the woman had used a Weedwhacker. Maybe she should gently suggest a trip to Alice’s Beauty Barn in Pardo?
    “Good morning,” she said, schooling her face into a cheery mask. “What would you like for breakfast? How about eggs and sausage?”
    Sam tugged at her errant spikes of hair, looking first at Anne then glancing toward the open door to the deck. “Nothing—just coffee,” she mumbled.
    During the interview, Lawrence Moore had shown Anne pictures of Sam, but looking at her now, she was amazed at the difference between the woman in the photos and the one who stood there, pulling at her hair. In the photos, she’d been smiling and confident, but now? It was like she’d been stripped to the bone. Light pouring in highlighted her hollow cheeks and her almost skeletal frame. And her eyes—shadowed and haunted—darted around the kitchen with uncertainty. At that moment Anne thought she’d never seen anyone less confident than Samantha Moore.
    Catching Anne watching her, Sam dropped her hand away from her hair and gave Anne a defiant look. “What are you staring at?”
    “Nothing,” Anne replied quickly, pulling the eggs and milk out of the fridge. “You don’t look like you slept well. Did you have a bad night?”
    Sam gave a rough bark. “You might say that.” She looked back toward the door to the deck. “There’s too much light in here. And,” she called over her shoulder as she limped across the room, “don’t ever leave here again without pulling all the drapes and blinds.” Reaching the door, she closed both the door and the drapes, plunging the room back into gloom.
    Breakfast forgotten, Anne was beside her in an instant. “It’s as dark as a tomb in here,” she said, opening the drapes. “A little sunshine will make you feel better.”
    Sam shut the drapes. “No, it won’t.”
    Anne opened them. “Yes, it will.”
    Sam’s hand wavered on the curtains while her eyes narrowed. “I like it dark.”
    “I don’t. The curtains stay open,” Anne said, drawing herself up to her full six feet and staring down at Sam. As she looked