Knight In Black Leather by Gail Dayton (people reading books .txt) 📗

him. This was the way it was, as if it were fated.

If she believed in fate. She'd just done what she had to do, what was in her nature to do. Maybe that was the definition of fate, people following their nature wherever it took them. So if she kept on doing what she had to do, would she find her soul at the end of the path?

Marilyn turned onto her side, toward Eli, and her hand brushed his. She started to pull back, but his hand turned. His fingers tangled with hers, and held on.

"'Night, Marilyn," he mumbled, mostly asleep.

"Good night, Eli. Sweet dreams."

He was still holding her hand, or maybe holding it again when dim daylight glowing through the mini-blinds woke her. Marilyn pushed her hair out of her eyes and peered at the clock.

"Lord, what time is it?" She sat up so she could see over Eli and looked again. Nine-ish. Late, if she'd had anywhere to go. "Eli, wake up."

"Why?" He opened his eyes--they both opened--and looked at her.

"So I know you can."

"I can. I woke up every hour on the hour last night." He closed his eyes again.

"Were you hurting bad? Do you want a pill?"

"I could take one." He talked with his eyes closed. He was probably afraid to look again. Marilyn knew she looked pretty scary first thing in the morning.

"It wasn't too bad, last night," he said, "except when I tried to turn over, which I did every time I got good asleep, and woke myself up again."

Marilyn brought him another pain pill and slid her arm under his shoulder to help him drink the water to wash it down. "You look a little better. Some of the swelling's gone down. Why don't you go back to sleep for a while?"

"Sounds like a plan." He turned his head to the side and let his eyes drift closed. He'd had to open them for the pill taking.

Marilyn looked at the phone as she passed, recalling that she'd disconnected it. She'd wait to plug it back in till after she got out of the shower. She didn't want the ringing to bother Eli, and she was sure Mom would already be trying to call again.

She dried her hair and dressed, even put on makeup before emerging from the bathroom, instead of wandering out to eat breakfast with wet hair as usual. And instead of dragging on her ratty, gray "at-home" sweats, she got out the red cowl-neck sweater she'd bought at the after-Christmas sales, the one that made her skin look so clear, and her second-best black pants.

She rationalized her wardrobe choice by telling herself she had errands to run and needed to look presentable for the public. But herself knew better. Even if she had nowhere to go, she would be dressed exactly the same.

Not that it would make a lick of difference. At her best, Marilyn couldn't compete with women Eli's age. And he'd seen her at her worst, straight out of bed in the morning complete with pillow face and rat's nest hair. She sighed.

Well, so what if she was dressing for Eli? It didn't mean she wanted to date him or anything. Any woman would want to look her best for an attractive man. That's all there was to it. All.

Eli was still asleep when she emerged, his good arm thrown up over his eyes. She plugged the phone wire back in and carried the phone with her to the refrigerator.

"Hey." Eli's sleep-slurred voice brought Marilyn around to see him sitting up on the bed, his leg already on the floor. He rubbed his face and ran his hand back over his hair, leaving it sticking straight up. He was too adorable for words, all rumpled up and sleepy, even with all the bruises.

"Hey, yourself." Marilyn smiled. "Hungry?"

"I could eat." He rubbed a hand over his chest and Marilyn had to look away. "I could stand to clean up a little, too."

"We probably ought to wait another day or two before we try the plastic-bag-over-the-cast bath thing, like it says in your instruction sheet, but there's washcloths and soap if you want to try a spit bath."

"A what?" Eli looked as if he thought she meant actual spit.

"You know, fill the sink with hot water, get the washcloth all wet and soapy, and wash. Mom always called that a spit bath." Marilyn came and leaned down so Eli could hook his arm around her shoulders.

She supported him as he hitched his slow way past the kitchen and into the bathroom. When the door was shut, she decided to make up the bed before starting breakfast. With only one good hand and one good leg, it could take Eli some while.

She'd just put the last cushion in place when her buzzer rang. She sighed and walked to the intercom. "Good morning, Mother."

"It's your lucky day." Her brother's voice was tinny but recognizable. "I didn't have time to bring Mom, so she made me come see 'what the hell's going on over here.' And I quote."

Marilyn laughed. "Mom did not say hell."

"She sure as hell did. Come on, Mare, let me in. I'm freezing my ass off out here."

For a minute, she considered letting him freeze, but Joey was her only brother and favorite sibling. Besides, if she didn't let him up, Mom would be her next visitor, and Marilyn wanted to avoid that if at all possible. Mom had been in the apartment once, right after Marilyn moved in, and her goal was to keep that from happening ever again.

"Okay, you can come up, but you can only tell Mom what I say you can tell her."

"Deal."

She hit the buzzer that would unlock the door. Joey would keep his end of the deal. They'd been keeping secrets for each other since Joey turned six and spilled red Kool-Aid on Gramma's oriental rug. She had the coffee on by the time he reached her apartment. She opened the door and bowed