Chapter 13

Sunday, Aug 26, 6:14 am

Sarah woke slowly. The pain pill had worn off, but, although she ached and was incredibly sore, she didn't think she would need another ... well, maybe to sleep with tonight, let's be real.

Sitting up carefully, she pulled the sheet and blanket back. Moving her hips carefully, Sarah turned and set her feet on the floor. She stood with a little wobbliness that passed quickly.

Mostly.

Carefully going to the door, telling her bladder to quit it's bitching, Sarah grasped the handle and opened it. Stepping out, she turned ... and stopped.

There sat Bill, his chin slumped onto his chest, his computer on his lap, still powered up. She smile ... then scowled. Silly man, did he think she was that weak?

Then she smiled again, closing the laptop, her thumb brushing the Return key by accident, and she sent herself an email without knowing. Setting the computer down on the floor, Sarah brushed the long locks out of Bill's face. Her smile was soft.

"Bill," she whispered.

He moved a bit, his face moving into a smile...

Her smile broadened. This was fun.

"Bill-l-l-l-l-ly," she purred. "Wake up, Bill, and go to bed."

"hmmmhh?" he muttered, his eyes fluttering.

She smile as he focused on her. He smiled, seeing her standing on her own in the hall. "Well, look at you."

With a smirk, she said, "Well, look at you." Her eyes went to his poor nose, both his eyes still slightly blackened. She chuckled.

"Aren't we the pair."

Bill laughed. "Yeah, aren't we."

She looked at him. "Bill, go to bed. How are you going to spoil me rotten if you're too tired?"

He laughed again, but not as freely. "Alright. I will. If you will too."

She nodded. "Yes sir, Master, sir, as soon as I use your restroom."

Slightly startled, Bill said, "Oh ... um ... sorry. It's back there, first door on your right."

She smiled, and headed for the bathroom.

Quickly.

Bill picked up his computer and grasped the chair by the back ladder. Walking slowly forward to his room, he set the chair inside his room, and the laptop on top of that. He closed his door ... then opened it slightly.

Crossing his room, he took off his tee shirt, dropping it to the side. Pushed off his socks with the toe of either foot, then unbuttoned his jeans. Sliding them down and stepping out of them, Bill climbed between the sheets, naked.

Then thought about it and got up, digging through a drawer, finding some cut off sweat shorts. He pulled these on and climbed back in bed.

His last thought before he fell asleep was how he would never be able to fall asleep.

Sarah looked down at the toilet. Pink swirled there. She felt like throwing up. Oh, that fucking bastard. That rat ass fucking bastard.

She flushed and washed her hands, walking slowly from the bathroom. She stopped as she reached the staircase. She really wasn't sleepy, was thirsty in fact.

Making her way carefully down the stairs, she became aware of the trouble spots she would have physically in the days to come. Her ribs howled each time she took a breath. Her right knee kept wanting to give up. Her eye, god. And her sex ... hurt.

At the bottom of the staircase, Sarah paused to gain her bearings. Then she looked about.

Before her was the front door, with a table nearby. On it, she saw her keys, and what had to be Bill's keys. To her left was a hallway that had another door in it's left wall and a doorway at the end. To her right was a doorway into the living room. To her immediate right was the hallway that ran parallel to the staircase. She saw that that led to the kitchen.

Following the hallway, stepping gingerly, she entered the kitchen, the linoleum cool under her bare feet. To her right was a door way similar to the one at the end of the staircase, seemingly leading to the same rooms. It also had a door that lead outside, however to a patio kitty corner with the kitchen and the hallway to the right. A huge window in the kitchen looked out on the patio and backyard. A largish garage faced away from the house.

A small table set against the wall to her left, under the kitchen window. Pleasantly set with antiques, Sarah noticed. Nothing expensive, but tasteful.

The fridge was to her left, and she opened it. Finding a thawed steak, some eggs, and english muffins, she set about making her breakfast.

A half hour later she sat down. The eggs, over medium and perfect, the steak well done, the english muffins with some sort of canned jam that Bill had (she could not picture the man canning fruits and veggies no matter how hard she tried). A steaming cup of coffee and a glass of juice.

She smiled down at the food. She had worried while making the meal that she would lose her appetite, but that hadn't happened. The simple act of putting together breakfast had done small wonders for her.

She dug in, ravenous.

Saturday, Aug 25, 7:52 am

Tom entered the bar, his lack of sleep showing. He waved at Julio and grabbed an apron, getting immediately to work. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could go back to bed.

Around noon he was sweeping up in the kitchen when Bill came in. Not looking up, he listened while Bill bitched him out for missing Saturday night.

Still not looking up (not much in the mind for Bill's shit right now, either), Tom said, "Like I said when I called, it was an emergency."

"Hey Tom? Fuck your emergency! You weren't fucking sick: you don't miss fucking work! Got it?"

Tom stood, turning. But his anger dissipated when he saw the bandage on Bill's face. Not knowing he was the first with the balls to ask Bill what had happened to him, Tom said, "What the fuck happened to you?"

Bill stopped, remembering (Christ, how could I forget it?) his bandage, and wounds. "Cut myself shaving. Ditch on me again, Tom, and you can take a fucking walk."

Spinning around, Bill left the kitchen.

Julio came up near. "What's been up his ass for the last two days?"

Tom stared after Bill. "Oh ... oh fuck."

Staring at the swinging door. "sonovabitch," he mumbled.

Saturday, Aug 25, 1:20 pm

With a sigh, Bill rolled out of bed. Sleep had been deep, but short. Grabbing a robe, he shrugged it on, slipped on his Tasmanian Devil slippers and padded out of his room.

The guest room where Sarah had been put was open. A brief check showed she wasn't in there. He continued on to the bathroom, closing the door. Moving to the toilet, he pulled his shorts down, grasped his limp penis and peed, sighing. Really should have gone before bed.

Flushing when he finished, he moved to the sink. Turning the water on, he washed his hands, then cupped water in both hands to splash his face. He repeated this a few times, then ran his drenched hands thru his hair, sweeping it back. Looking in the mirror, he sighed, and dried his hands on a hand towel.

Downstairs, he looked in the living room, but no Sarah. Same with the kitchen. He had seen her keys on the little table by the door so he was sure she was still here. The den...

Heading into the den, he found Sarah sitting on the antique sofa, looking at a photo book on the coffee table. She looked up as he entered, giving him a soft smile.

"Hope you don't mind. Saw it here, couldn't resist," she said softly.

Bill shook his head, sitting down next to her, trying not to notice how good she looked in his tee shirt. "That's why they're out."

She turned back to the photo book. "You all look so happy."

"We were. I really believe that there was some happiness involved in our relationship. The kids were just about always happy."

She nodded, turning the page slowly.

"Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"Did you ever go back to sleep?"

Smiling again, she continued looking at the pictures. "Your boys are darlings, Bill."

"Nice dodge. Yeah, they are, aren't they?"

"Do you see them often?"

Not wanting to think of the phone conversation with Renée first thing yesterday morning when he told her an emergency had come up, Bill said, "Every chance I get. Think I'll grab a cup of coffee. Want a refill?"

She nodded, handing him her cup. He took it, rose and headed back to the kitchen. Sarah watched him leave, then turned back to the book.

Both were quiet until Bill returned, setting the cups down carefully.

Sarah smiled her thanks. "Bill? I ... I don't think I'll be ready for school tomorrow."

Bill shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Sarah. I've contacted those who need to be contacted and let them know you had a family emergency. They are understanding ... and hope your grandfather recovers well."

Chuckling, Sarah picked up her cup carefully, taking a sip.

"Now that that worry is done and over, here's another I want to clear up. You will stay here, with me, until you're better. I won't take any arguments, Sarah. Trish will be by to help out, as will Lou and Tom. You try leaving, they'll have my ass."

Smiling into her cup, Sarah thought to herself, As if I'd argue...

The doorbell rang. With a sigh, Bill got up and headed out of the room.

Sarah looked down at the pictures. His wife was pretty. She smiled in every photo, and seemed taken by Bill when they appeared together. What had happened?

Bill returned with Trisha, who offered Sarah a smile as she entered. Sitting down near her, setting a pair of shopping bags down on the table, Trisha turned to Sarah.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked.

Sarah shrugged, slightly uncomfortable with the fact that so many knew of her attack.

Trisha said, "Well, you're up and about, and that says enough. You may not feel like eating, Sarah, but do it anyway. You need to keep your strength up."

Bill chuckled. "No problem there ... she ate my Sunday breakfast steak."

Sarah smirked at him, wincing as she did so from the tinge of pain the movement caused.

Trisha seemed slightly surprised, but hid it well. "Well ... good! I've brought some more pain killers, and some clothes ... we aren't too far apart in size."

Beaming a smile at her, Sarah said, "Trisha, thank you. I can't tell you..."

Trisha shook her head. "Then don't. I was glad to help. Bill, I'm going to put some tea on - why don't you go get dressed?" With a sigh, Bill rose, mumbling, "In my own house ... my house ... should be able to wear what