started laughing. “Thought you said you knew how to make a fire,” he said, opening the flue. The plume of smoke was immediately sucked up into the chimney. “Ta-da,” he added with a grin.
As the smoke around them thinned out, Emily gave him a displeased look, too proud to thank him for the help she’d so clearly needed. But she was relieved to finally be warm. She felt her circulation kick in, and the warmth returned to her toes and nose. Her stiff fingers loosened.
In the firelight, the living room was illuminated and bathed in a soft, orange light. Emily could finally see all the old antique furniture her dad had filled the house with. She glanced around her at the shabby, uncared for items. The tall bookcase stood in one corner, once crammed full of books that she’d spent her endless summer days reading, now with just a few remaining. Then there was the old grand piano by the window. No doubt it would be out of tune by now, but once upon a time, her father would play her songs and she would sing along. Her father had taken such great pride in the house, and seeing it now, the glowing light revealing its unkempt state, upset her.
The two couches were covered with white sheets. Emily thought about removing them but knew it would cause a dust cloud. After the smoke cloud, she wasn’t sure her lungs could take it. And anyway, Daniel looked pretty cozy sitting on the floor beside the fireplace, so she just settled down beside him.
“So,” Daniel said, warming his hands against the fire. “We’ve got you some warmth at the very least. But there’s no electricity in the house and I’m guessing you didn’t think to pack a lantern or candle in that suitcase of yours.”
Emily shook her head. Her suitcase was filled with frivolous things, nothing useful, nothing she’d really need to get by here.
“Dad used to always have candles and matches,” she said. “He was always prepared. I suppose I expected there to still be a whole cupboard full, but after twenty years…”
She shut her mouth, suddenly aware of having articulated a memory of her father aloud. It wasn’t something she did often, usually keeping her feelings about him hidden deeply inside of her. The ease with which she’d spoken of him shocked her.
“We can just stay in here then,” Daniel said gently, as though recognizing that Emily was re-experiencing some painful memory. “There’s plenty of light to see by with the fire. Want some tea?”
Emily frowned. “Tea? How exactly are you going to do that without any electricity?”
Daniel smiled as though accepting some kind of challenge. “Watch and learn.”
He stood up and disappeared from the vast living room, returning a few minutes later with a small round pot that looked like a cauldron.
“What have you got there?” Emily asked, curious.
“Oh, just the best tea you’re ever going to drink,” he said, placing the cauldron over the flames. “You’ve never had tea ’til you’ve had fire-boiled tea.”
Emily watched him, the way the firelight danced off his features, accentuating them in a way that made him even more attractive. The way he was so focused on his task added to the appeal. Emily couldn’t help but marvel at his practicality, his resourcefulness.
“Here,” he said, handing her a cup and breaking through her reverie. He watched expectantly as she took the first sip.
“Oh, that’s really good,” Emily said, relieved, at last, to be banishing the cold from her bones.
Daniel started to laugh.
“What?” Emily challenged him.
“I just hadn’t seen you smile yet, is all,” he replied.
Emily looked away, feeling suddenly bashful. Daniel was about as far away from Ben as a man could be, and yet her attraction toward him was powerful. Maybe in another place, another time, she’d give in to her lust. She’d been with no one but Ben for seven years, after all, and she deserved some attention, some excitement.
But now wasn’t the right time. Not with everything going on, with her life in complete chaos and upheaval, and with the memories of her father swirling round in her mind. She felt that everywhere she looked, she could see the shadows of him; sitting on the sofa with a young Emily curled into his side, reading to her aloud; bursting in through the door beaming from ear to ear after discovering some precious antique at the flea market, then spending hours carefully cleaning it, restoring it to its former glory. Where were all the antiques now? All the figurines and artwork, the commemorative crockery and Civil War–era cutlery pieces? The house hadn’t stood still, frozen in time, like it had in her memory. Time had taken its toll on the property in a way she hadn’t even considered.
Another wave of grief crashed over Emily as she glanced around at the dusty, disheveled room that had once been brimming with life and laughter.
“How did this place get into this state?” she suddenly cried, unable to keep the accusatory tone out of her voice. She frowned. “I mean, you’re supposed to be taking care of it, aren’t you?”
Daniel flinched, as though taken aback by her sudden aggressiveness. Just moments earlier they’d shared a gentle, tender moment. Seconds later she was giving him a hard time. Daniel flashed her a cool stare. “I do my best. It’s a big house. There’s only one of me.”
“Sorry,” Emily said, immediately backtracking, not liking to be the cause of Daniel’s darkened expression one bit. “I didn’t mean to take a dig at you. I just mean…” She looked into her cup and swirled the tea leaves. “This place was like something out of a fairytale when I was a kid. It was so awe-inspiring, you know? So beautiful.” She looked up to see Daniel watching her intently. “It’s just sad to see it like this.”
“What were you expecting?” Daniel replied. “It’s been abandoned for twenty years.”
Emily looked away sadly. “I know. I guess I just wanted to imagine that it had been suspended in time.”
Suspended in time, like the image of her father that she had in her mind. He was still forty years old, never having aged a day, looking identical to the last time she’d seen him. But wherever he was, time would have affected him just like it had affected the house. Emily’s resolve to fix up the house over the weekend grew even stronger. She wanted nothing more than to restore the place, if only slightly, back to its old glory. Maybe in doing so, it would be like bringing her father back to her. She could do it in his honor.
Emily took her last sip of tea and set the cup down. “I should get to bed,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”
“Of course,” Daniel replied, standing. He moved quickly, waltzing out of the room and down the corridor toward the front door, leaving Emily to tag along behind. “Just call on me when you find yourself in trouble, okay?” he added. “I’m just in the carriage house over there.”
“I won’t need to,” Emily said indignantly. “I can do it myself.”
Daniel hauled open the front door, letting the bracing snow swirl inside. He hunkered down in his jacket, then looked back over his shoulder. “Pride won’t get you far in this place, Emily. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”
She wanted to shout something at him, to argue, to refute his claim that she was too proud, but instead she watched his back as he disappeared into the dark, swirling snow, unable to speak, her tongue completely tied.
Emily
