An Imperfect Librarian - Elizabeth Murphy [51]
The dogs think I’m playing with them when they see me running to the house. The four of us crowd into the porch. They shake as if they’re getting rid of water on their coats. I open the porch door then close it quickly behind me to keep the heat in. Octavo yelps. I go down on my hands and knees. “Sorry, Octavo. Poor dog. I didn’t mean to trap your paw.” The other two poke their wets noses in my face. A tongue licks my ear. Octavo wags his tail. I give him a final pat then close the door carefully. The nightlight guides my way up the stairs to the peak until I’m under the covers next to her warm body. “Francis is here,” I whisper. She doesn’t stir.
It’s quiet in the peak by her side. I fall asleep thinking about Rackham’s goblins, gremlins and trees with eyes and ears. They don’t haunt my dreams. The dogs do. They’re barking, herding me into the waves. Norah appears in the window in the peak. She puts her tongue in Francis’ mouth. An explosion frightens the dogs away. I turn to face a giant wave with the face of a monster. Pots clang in the kitchen, dogs bark and I’m saved. It’s morning. Outside, the sky and water are a colour of blue that denies there’d ever been darkness. No wind is blowing, no waves are crashing but the dogs are still barking.
I sit at the kitchen table and put on my socks. “Aren’t you going to do something about them? They were barking in my dream. They’re always barking.”
She unloads a fistful of utensils from the dishwasher. “Good morning to you too.”
“Sorry. I’d call the dogs myself but they don’t listen to me.”
She hands me a glass of juice then goes back to her kitchen chores. “Did they listen to you when they were barking in your dream?”
I’d nearly forgotten about that dream. “I saw Francis go into the Crimson Hexagon in the middle of the night.”
She doesn’t say anything. She goes to the bathroom. I get my breakfast. The toilet flushes then the door opens. She takes a broom from the closet and sweeps the floor.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd to have him around here at two or three in the morning?”
She doesn’t look at me while she sweeps. “I don’t bother to think about it.”
I cut some bread and put it in the toaster. “Why do you have to be evasive about it?”
She goes to the closet for the dustpan. “You see it as evasive,” she says. “I see it as answering your question the best I can.”
I move out of her way and sit at the table again. “Why don’t you come out and say what your relationship is with him?”
This time she stops what she’s doing and looks directly at me. “Not so early in the day, please.”
How can the day be early if the night was so long? Every time I woke, it seemed like another night. “You could be more–”
“I don’t expect you to be more of anything.” The toast pops. She puts it on a plate and lays it in front of me.
“Why can’t you trust me, Norah? How can we be together if you’re hiding things?”
She goes to the porch. “Why can’t you trust me? How can we be together if you have to satisfy every ounce of curiosity–”
“Are you saying you don’t want to be together?”
She pulls her jacket on over her sweater. “I’m saying I enjoyed our summer together but for now I have more important things to do than satisfy your idle curiosity. My application for tenure is due next week, I’m teaching three large classes. I’m already under enough stress without you pressuring me.”
I stand up from the table to face her. “Idle curiosity? Is that how you see