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By Root 613 0

way he winced when she put pressure on his ribs, then applied a series of cold compresses to the more severely damaged areas. She made him hot tea, then excused herself to go wash up. He heard her climb the stairs, then heard a shower running. He sipped at the tea and looked around the kitchen. It was filled with little touches that marked it as Josie’s — a series of painted teakettles set along the top of the cupboards; pictures of her daughter, tacked to a bulletin board; drawings taped to the refrigerator that she must have done at different ages, some beginning to fray about the edges; fresh flowers in a vase at the window above the sink; and a small dish with cat food in it sitting by the back door. He studied the bright print curtains and wallpaper, the mix of soft yellows, blues, and pinks that trimmed out the basic white of the plaster and woodwork. He liked it here, he decided. He felt at home.

He was beginning to grow sleepy, so he refilled his teacup and drank deeply, trying to wake himself up with the caffeine. If he went to sleep now, he would dream. If he dreamed, he would be back in the future — only this time, because he had used the staff’s magic to save himself in the present, he would be bereft of any protection until he woke. He knew what that would feel like. It had happened before. It would happen again. It was the price he paid for serving as a Knight of the Word. It was the cost of staying alive.

Josie came back downstairs in fuzzy slippers and a white bathrobe, her long, light hair shiny with dampness. She gave him her best smile, radiant and embracing, and asked how he was feeling. He told her he was better, admiring the fresh-scrubbed glow of her skin and the high curve of her cheekbones. She asked him if he was hungry, laughed when he told her no, made him some toast anyway, put out butter and jam, and sat down across from him to watch him eat. She sipped at her tea, telling him about the way her grandmother always made her toast and tea late at night when neither of them could sleep. Ross listened without saying much, finding he was hungry after all. He glanced once at the clock. It was after eleven, later than he had thought.

“Are you tired, John?” she asked when he was finished eating. “You must be. I think it’s safe for you to sleep now.”

He smiled at the thought. “I should be going, Josie.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Not a chance, buster. You’re staying here tonight. I’ve got too much invested in you to let you wander off to that hotel room alone.” She paused, realizing the implication of what she had said. She recovered with a shrug. “I thought I made it pretty clear that I would feel better if you slept here tonight. Do you mind?”

He shook his head. “No, I just don’t want to be underfoot. I feel bad enough about what’s happened.”

She stood up, tossing back her hair. “In more ways than one, I bet. You come with me.”

She put her arm around his waist to help him to his feet, then kept it there as she guided him down the hall and up the stairs. The house was mostly dark; the light from the kitchen stretched only as far as the first half-dozen steps. After that, they were left in starlit gloom. Beneath their feet, the old wooden stairs creaked softly. Ahead, from farther down the hallway that connected the second-story rooms, lamplight glimmered softly. Ross felt his way up the stairs with his staff and Josie’s surefooted guidance, taking his time, leaning on her even when it wasn’t necessary, liking the feel of her body against his and the smell of her hair against his face.

“Careful, John,” she cautioned as they made their way, her arm tightening about his waist, trying to stay below his injured ribs.

He winced silently. “I’m fine.”

At the top of the stairs they paused for a moment, still locked together. “Okay?” she asked, and he nodded. She lifted her face and kissed him on the mouth. His lips were bruised and swollen, and her kiss was gentle. “Does that hurt?” she asked, and he shook his head wordlessly.

She eased him down the hall and into a darkened bedroom, a guest room,