THE MILLPOND

When Maximus had gotten back to the church and found Alistair still sitting against the hallway wall, he'd helped him to Ahnna's car. The first spatterings of rain had sent the clumps of people talking in front of the church scurrying to their own cars. Joimus had told Claire to go along to her apartment as she wasn't opening the Greenery that afternoon. Maximus and Joimus had followed Ahnna's car so he could make sure Alistair got into the mill all right, then the two of them had gone on home.

Alistair slipped off his slightly damp suitcoat, then made his way into the bedroom, lying on the bed, watching Ahnna as she set down the Inogen pack nearby on the floor. "It was stupid of me to try that," he said softly.

She sat beside him on the bed. "No, it was just you not wanting to let anybody down. That's who you are."

His brow creased deeply and she quickly asked, "Are you in pain?"

"It's not that," he replied. "I'm quite concerned about Cort."

"Cort has Maximus right now, my darling. And you need to tend to you at the moment. You look like you could use a good nap."

"I am tired," he agreed, and had the dark smudges under his eyes to prove it. "I seem to have left my strength somewhere back in that old recliner. I wish I...."  But his eyes closed and he drifted off before finishing what he wished.

Ahnna touched his cheek then moved to undo his tie and his belt. Slipping off his shoes, she let him lay as he was, covering him with the comforter that was folded atop a trunk. Going to the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and stood a while, looking out the
window as the raindrops made ring-patterns on the water of the millpond.

After an hour and with Alistair still sound asleep, she curled up beside him on the bed. He made one soft little sound, curved his arm around her, but didn't wake. There was something very cozy about being with him there, listening to the rain on the roof.

In the early evening he roused and changed into more comfortable clothes, then came with her to the living room where she'd gotten the fireplace going. She made him tea and a light dinner and they leaned together on the couch, watching the flames.

The lighter rain lasted for two days and then it began to pour and the wind picked up. All day and into the next the rain came down steady and heavy. One or the other of them was always going to the back windows of the mill, checking on the level of the millpond, which wasn't all that far from that side of the house. Thank heavens just on the far side of the little bridge, was a sharp drop-off and the pond drained fairly well despite the increased inflow of water.

Between the millwheel and the back chimney was a small vegetable garden with a wattle fence and the ground there completely disappeared, but the mill itself stayed above the water, though only by a couple of inches. They watched the pond, not knowing if they would be forced to evacuate.

There was also a closeness to it for them, isolated, contained as they were, just the two of them, and she read to him from his favorite books, cosseted him with tea, with crumpets and jam, with muffins and honey, and by the time the rains finally stopped and the wind died down, he was actually feeling somewhat stronger again.