Free the 13th Hour by Richard Doetsch Page B

her body dead upon the floor.
And just as suddenly, beyond all reason, she stepped in the room.
She looked at Nick, her eyes confused at his troubled state.
"Honey," Julia said, softly. "Are you okay?"
    CHAPTER 9
    6:01 P.M.
N ICK STOOD IN THE kitchen, unable to breathe, the words caught in his throat.
Julia came closer, not a strand of her blond hair out of place, her eyes bright, filled with life, love, and concern. Her body stood tall and confident, as if she had just stepped from an impossible dream, the coalescing of all the love and joy he had ever felt embodied in the woman before him.
"Nick?"
Without a word, he grabbed her, pulling her close, holding her as if she were about to slip away again, as if he were just being given a few moments to express his love for her before she would be ripped away for all eternity.
"Honey, what is it?" Julia asked, wrapping her arms about him in return.
He still couldn't form words.
And then she saw his tears. In all the years they had been together, she had seen him cry only twice--at the age of fifteen when he failed to qualify for nationals and three years ago at the dual funeral for his parents.
"You're really scaring me." Tears of fear, of sympathy welled in her eyes. She hugged him, trying to calm him, to reassure him. "Please tell me."
But Nick didn't know what to say. He was overwhelmed by her presence, he had been granted an impossible wish. And he couldn't possibly tell her what had happened--he corrected himself--what would happen.
"I love you," he said as he took her face in his hands. "I love you with all of my heart and soul. I'm sorry about this morning, about what I said."
"This is all about that, about not wanting to go out for dinner with the Mullers?" She gasped in an uncontrollable sob that became intermingled with laughter. "You scared me so bad, I thought," she paused catching her breath, "I thought someone had died."
Nick pulled her close. He couldn't tell her what he was going through. He kissed her, deeply and lovingly, as if he were inhaling her. And she returned the affection, gently stroking his back.
And before they knew it, they were on the floor; their clothes couldn't come off fast enough. Their passion was driven by sorrow and forgiveness for their fight earlier, for taking each other for granted. Nick loved her with all of his being, with all of the emotion he could put forth, tenderly, forcefully, loving her in thanks as if she was a gift returned from the gods.
    J ULIA LAUGHED AS she dressed in front of Nick, who sat with dangling legs on the kitchen counter, watching her every move. And as she stepped back in her black skirt she lost her balance, catching her foot in the zipper, tearing the seam. She grabbed the center island, recovering with a burst of laughter. "I love late-day passion."
"Sorry about that." Nick smiled back as he saw the tear in her dress.
"If you'd like, you could tear them all off again."
Nick laughed, but his humor quickly fell away as his mind resumed the fear he felt for her. He jumped down off the counter, reached into his pocket and pulled out the gold watch.
"Nice watch," Julia said as she buttoned her shirt, surprised at seeing the timepiece. "A gift from your girlfriend?"
"Believe me when I say this," he said as he flipped it open, looking at the time: 6:15. "I have enough trouble handling just you."
"Do you think they'll get the power back on tonight? Not that I would ever complain."
Nick ignored her, hustling out of the room without explanation. He went to the dining room, locking the French doors that led to the rear slate terrace, drawing the curtains closed; he did the same in the living room. He checked the windows of every room, latching them before emerging into the foyer. Finally he confirmed the dead bolt on the front door.
"Okay, now what are you doing?" Julia asked.
Nick spun around to find her sitting on the third step of the maroon-carpeted main stairs.
"You're beginning to freak me out again."
"Just