Page 83 of The Man I Hate

I nodded. “I thought if he liked them enough to buy them for me, that he’d enjoy them just as much if I read them to him.”

“I’m sure he finds your voice comforting.” She raised her hand to my face and placed her palm against my cheek. “Sweetheart, you look like you haven’t been sleeping well.”

I sighed. “I was up all night. I haven’t slept yet.”

“Reading?”

Sipping the wonderful tea, I gave a nod.

She smiled. “Well, aren’t you a doll.”

“I’m trying my best.”

“How’s his breathing?” she asked.

“Much better.”

“What about the nightmares?”

“Since I started reading to him, it seems like they’re gone,” I replied. “He hasn’t been screaming at least.”

“I’ll thank the good Lord for that.” She gazed across the street, toward Braxton’s home. “I think that might have been the fever talking. Raymond used to wake up screaming all the time right after he got back from Korea. They said he was shell-shocked.”

I had no idea if Braxton’s dreaming was a product of the fever, or if it was something that happened all the time. I prayed that it wasn’t something he had to deal with day after day.

“Did it ever get better?” I asked.

“It did. Over time.” She sipped her tea as she seemed to recall the memories of her late husband. “He’d have episodes from time to time. Eventually, it all but stopped.”

“I wondered if it was something he had to deal with all the time, or if it was because he was sick.”

“It’s hard to say, for sure.” She patted my shoulder. “If his breathing is better and the nightmares are over with, he might be on the mend. That’s what matters.”

“I called him ‘Dear’ on accident,” I murmured. “Twice.”

Her brows raised. “Pardon me?”

“Dear,” I said. “I called him dear when I was reading to him. Twice. I have no idea why.”

She scowled playfully. “I do.”

“You do what?”

“I know why.”

“Why?”

She grinned. “Because he holds a special place in your heart.”

“Before all this started, we were nothing but—” I swallowed heavily. “—nothing but neighbors.”

“Sweetheart, when all of this is over, you’ll be much more than neighbors. Wait and see.” She raised her glass and held it between us. “Here’s to his recovery.”

I hoped that she was right. Clinging to that wish, I clanked my glass against hers.

Braxton

Day unknown