Running with the Demon - Terry Brooks [144]
“Wait here,” she said.
She left the room and disappeared down the hall. A moment later, the hallway light went out. She reappeared soundlessly, a shadowy figure in the gloom. She crossed to the bed and stood next to him, looking down. He could just make out the sheen of her tousled hair and the curve of her hip.
“Can you take the rest of your clothes off by yourself?” she asked.
He slipped off his walking shoes, socks, and jeans, then eased himself into the cool sheets, letting his head sink into the softness of the pillows. A profound weariness settled over him, and he knew that sleep would claim him soon. There was nothing he could do about it; he would sleep and then he would dream. But perhaps the dream would not be as bad as he feared.
“John?” Josie spoke his name softly in the dark.
He took a deep breath and let it out again slowly. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’ll be all right, Josie. You go on to bed. Thanks again for...”
He felt her weight settle on the bed, and then she was lying next to him, pressing close, her cool arms enfolding him, her bathrobe gone. “I think I better stay with you,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.
He closed his eyes against the smooth, soft feel of her body, against the soap scent of her skin and hair. “Josie ...”
“John, do me a big favor,” she interrupted him, her lips brushing his cheek. The fingers of one hand stroked his arm like threads of silk. “Don’t say anything for a little while. I made it this far on raw courage and faith in my instincts. If you say the wrong thing, I’ll fall to pieces. I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want to give me. I just want you to hold me for a while. And to let me hold you. That’s all I want. Okay?”
Her touch made the pain in his body ease and his fear of sleep’s approach lessen. He knew the risk of what he was doing, but he couldn’t help himself. “Okay.”
“Put your arms around me, please.”
He did as she asked, drawing her close, and all the space between them disappeared.
Old Bob crossed the grassy expanse of Sinnissippi Park, heading straight for the pavilion and the crowd, his shoulders squared, his big face intense. Nest’s friends struggled to keep up with him, whispering among themselves as they marked the determination in his long strides. Someone was gonna get it now, he heard the Heppler boy declare gleefully. He ignored the remark, his brow furrowed, his eyes troubled. Something wasn’t right about all this. That Nest was missing was reason enough all by itself for concern, but this business about poisoning trees suggested a depth to the matter that he knew he didn’t begin to understand. Nor did he like the fact that a bunch of older boys were involved. But mostly there was the look in Evelyn’s eyes. Behind the worry and fear for the safety of their granddaughter, Old Bob had seen something else. Evelyn knew something about this, something that transcended the boundaries of his own knowledge. Another secret perhaps, or maybe just a suspicion. But the look was unmistakable.
He crossed the parking lot fronting the pavilion and slowed as he approached the crowd. The band was still playing and couples still danced beneath the colored lanterns and bunting. The humid night air was filled with the bright, clear sounds of laughter and conversation. He glanced over his shoulder for Nest’s friends, then waited for them to catch up.
“Which one is Danny Abbott?” he asked.
They glanced about without answering. His heart tightened in his chest. If the boy had gone home,