“She was drifting off to sleep when there was a sharp knock at the door…”
Eliza restlessly moved her arm out from under the covers and shivered. The air was too cold. She should have turned the temperature up. The knock came again. It imperiously rang against the wood. Her eyelids rose slowly as heavy as weights. Her mind was fuzzy as she threw back the covers. The air hit her like a vise, squeezing her breath out of her lungs. Her feet danced across the cold floorboards. Her robe hung on the doorknob and she shrugged it on over her nightgown and lightly stepped to the door. The knock came again urgently beating the wood.
“Alright, alright,” she muttered. Her fingers swept through her hair, once, twice, until it felt a bit more settled. Her hand rose to cover her mouth as she yawned. Hot air steamed into her hand.
Her fingers lightly rested upon the door handle and she stood on tiptoe to peer through the peep hole. She couldn’t see anything. The doorstep was empty. The distorted image bubbled and she frowned. Keeping the security chain on the door, she unlocked it and opened it a crack. The night air whistled past her into the house and still she saw nothing. Her welcome mat was slightly shifted, but she may have done that herself when she came in earlier. An owl hooted nearby, startling her. She shut the door, closing it with barely a sound. The lock clicked back into place and she turned around to go back to her room.
“Hello, Eliza.”
She froze. Her eyes darted around from the living room to the sitting area, to the hallway. Her eyes were finally drawn toward the stairs and she gasped.
“Brendan.” She stared hard at the dark figure sitting on her stairs. His legs were thrown carelessly on the floor, he rested his elbow on a stair behind with careful ease. His hair was still in a buzzcut. His army jacket was bulky over his arms. The silver dog tags at his neck gleamed. He shifted and there was a jangle as the tags hit each other. “Brendan?” she backed up against the door. Her arms crossed around herself.
“Yes, Eliza. It’s me.”
“You’re dead,” she choked out.
“Actually I believe what they sent you was MIA, not a death certificate.”
“They said you were as good as dead.” Eliza slid to the floor, hugging herself tighter. “They said…”
“It’s okay, Eliza.” He sat forward. He didn’t move toward her, but his eyes never left her face. “I’m here now.”
“How? Where did you come from?” She looked away. Had she forgotten to lock the back door?
“You let me in.”
He moved forward so that he was crouched in front of her. His hands rested on her knees. She was shaking. The cold of the floor soaked into her skin like water. Her teeth chattered and he slid himself beside her. Their shoulders touched and her head ached to rest on his shoulder like old times. Her head felt foggy as if she was almost asleep again.
“Are you really here, Brendan.”
“Of course, I’m really here,” he said as she drifted off to sleep.
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