Free Inevitable Sentences by Tekla Dennison Miller Page A

to make the soreness go away, but decided against it. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to Max’s circumstances. She’d rather spend their time in a happier conversation.
    “Ah, well, the worst is over.” The twinkle disappeared and Max’s expression turned serious again. “Back to storms.” He sounded concerned. “Is that generator running?”
    “Barely.” Celeste gently laid his hand down so she could pull the chair closer to the bed, then slid into it with the elegance of someone about to be served tea. “Doug will be by on Monday to prep it for the winter. He’s out of town until then. If we get any snow to speak of, it will take a lot of shoveling to get to the outbuilding where it’s stored anyway.” She paused before she said, “I think he’s smitten with Adrian, but I don’t think she’s ready for a relationship.” She could nearly picture the thirty-year-old, shy, gentle, and gangly farm boy with Adrian.
    “Adrian, eh?” Max reached for Celeste’s hand this time. “I’ve seen a slight glimmer in her eye when he’s around. Doug’s a decent person and a good handyman. You’re lucky you’ve found him. Adrian is, too.” He paused. “You know, you also have a houseful of women and children who can handle the shoveling if needed. Have them make a game of it.”
    “Still.” Celeste sighed. “I wish you could be with me.” She lowered her head and stared at their entwined hands.
    “Soon.” Max raised Celeste’s hand and kissed it. He studied her.
    Celeste took note of his concentration. Max always made good eye contact. She could never hide from it. He had once told her he had learned it was a certain way to gauge an inmate. If the prisoner kept eye contact, he had nothing to hide, and he could be trusted. She knew there was no way to hide from Max how worried she was.
    “Celeste, dear, is there something troubling you?”
    She lifted her eyes to him. “Why? Besides all those machines you were hooked up to?”
    “No. You didn’t only bring in the frigid air. There seems to be a cloud hovering over your head, like that kid in the Peanuts cartoon.”
    “Pig Pen,” Celeste said.
    “Yes. Pig Pen.” Max waited for a response.
    Celeste said nothing.
    Max’s mouth tightened and formed a shape that wasn’t quite a smile or a frown. “I want to see the usual cheery and bright-eyed gal I’m used to. What’s put you in such a gloomy mood—besides the weather, and my condition?” He waved his free hand around the room. “And, of course, my absence at the lighthouse?”
    Celeste couldn’t answer. She didn’t want to worry Max when he needed to rest and get well. He had enough to deal with at the moment without her adding to his problems. Her heart ached at how pale he was. She was used to seeing a robust, tanned Max. She wanted that man back, and soon.
    “How are all the women and children?”
    Celeste wasn’t fooled. Max was fishing for a clue to what might be troubling her. “They’re scared of every sound—the wind, the trees rustling in the forest, any creak in the house. I would be, too, if I had been through what they have.” Celeste removed her hand from his, stood, and walked to the window.
    She wiped the pane trying to free it from the icy glaze but without success. She thought about how the sun tried to rise to its fullness that morning and the way the mounds of clouds the color of charcoal had pressed their heaviness into the gold ball, holding it flat against the horizon until it spread into a thin line so red it looked like wet paint. Then it disappeared entirely into the thick, bleak sky. She’d have to be satisfied with only a hint of sun each day until spring.
    Celeste turned to Max, his face lined with worry. Had she made him feel anxious? “I’m not sure I’ve done the right thing.” Celeste gave in to his inquiry and shook her head.
    “How’s that?” Max’s voice was hardly a whisper.
    “I’ve promised those women a safe haven.” She