Free The Night Visitor by Dianne Emley Page B

bound her wrists. Her eyes were half open and shifted restlessly.
    “Sun…”
    Tom was asleep in a chair. Rory’s stirrings didn’t wake him.
    “Angel…”
    She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, the edges of her lips turning up. Her body quieted as she was drawn deeper into the images in her mind.
    Cyan.
    Pearl.
    Marigold.
    Blue.
    Angel.
    Tom awakened with a start, jolting forward in the Naugahyde recliner, sending the brief he’d been reading scuttling to the floor. He didn’t know where he was, but a quick, horrible glance around brought everything back.
    A burly man wearing shoes with cushioned soles and a light blue uniform moved silently as he attended to Rory.
    Tom rubbed his face, bristly with a fresh beard, and swallowed dryly.
    “Good morning. I’m Brad, Rory’s day nurse.” He had a round, friendly face.

    “Good morning.” Tom’s voice was thick. He cleared his throat. “I’m Tom. Rory’s fiancé.”
    “Looks like you got a little rest.”
    “It’s after ten?” Tom looked at the wall clock.
    “Sure is.”
    Tom had changed from his tuxedo and put on khakis and a golf shirt from a bag in his car trunk, which he’d packed to spend the night at Rory’s after the ball. They would have been walking from her Manhattan Beach condo to the omelet shop about now, joining the line that would have already formed down the sidewalk, holding hands in the morning fog. There would have been people in line they knew — there always were—and they would have both been hoping, without saying it, that they’d be able to duck invitations to join others at their tables. They would have been tired and talked out from the previous night and eager to sit quietly, just the two of them. They would have already discussed the ball when they’d arrived at her home in the wee hours of the morning. Too wound up to sleep, they would have roamed around her condo, windows and doors thrown open to let in the ocean breeze, holding mugs of Sleepytime tea, trying to power down.
    After breakfast, they would have gone down to the sand. She’d have her tablet to read the newspapers and blogs she kept up with. He’d have the thick biography of John Adams he was reading—no electronic books for him. They would just float, as she liked to say. Float to wherever the day took them.
    In the early afternoon, when Rory’s fair skin couldn’t take more sun, they would have retreated to the balcony of her condo, where there was the best glimpse of breaking waves. Her ocean peek, she called it. They’d have had a snack and after would have thrown a sheet over her bed coverings and made love that was flavored with sweat, suntan lotion, and salt water.

    That’s what they would have done.
    He and Rory both felt that this was a magic period in their lives. Few responsibilities. No children…yet. Their parents were in good health. Their careers were on the upswing. They both loved their jobs. Later, things would get more complicated in some ways and more fulfilling in others. But that was life. They knew that in the future they’d remember these days as simple, innocent, and carefree. They were embarking upon the adventure of their lives, together.
    A sense of abandonment and helplessness stabbed Tom’s heart. Tears unexpectedly sprang to his eyes. He blinked them back as he climbed from the chair, his aching muscles chasing the emotions away. He composed himself before going to Rory’s bedside.
    With a ripping sound, Brad pulled open the Velcro strap on one of the cloth restraints around Rory’s wrist. “She’s calmer now, but I still want someone to watch her to make sure she doesn’t pull out that IV. Will you be here?”
    “Yes. Me or her mom or her aunt, Donna.” Tom hadn’t been fully aware of the extent of the animosity between Evelyn and Donna, Evelyn’s only sibling. When Donna got word that Evelyn was planning on sending her servants to sit with Rory, Donna called Evelyn and told her that she’d take the