A Cold Draft Between Them

Sam could hardly contain his excitement over driving his wife home. For once her mother didn't have much to say. He believed she secretly wanted Sarah to leave him for good. It's been an unhealthy tug of war. He heaved a sigh when pulling into the driveway of their country home, far from the nosy neighbors of cookie cutter homes.

He looked over at his wife. Her brown hair pinned back, but a lost look in her eyes, a hopeless place. Sam sought to bring her into the present with his words. "I'll get all your things out. I just want you to go inside and relax. I can even order us something; or we can heat up leftovers for dinner."

"I'm not hungry. I think, I just want to go to bed early."

The days were getting shorter, but it wasn't dark yet. The sun was hugging the milky horizon across rolling farm hills. "If you like, I can put some logs in the fireplace, and we can snuggle?"

Tears formed in her eyes. She leaned into him. "You're a good man Sam. I always wanted a house full of children, the innocence and trust they have in us to protect them, give them a future. Contagious laughter filling the house. Kid's running to the door because daddy is home from making a living." Sarah's voice cracked. Tears pressed against his eyes until it burned. "God knows you would be the best father a wife could want."

He was surprised, shocked really that she broached the subject. He feared the mere mention of children after the last miscarriage. "I believe in God's providence, babe. I know you do too. God has a plan for us."

Sam wanted to pull the trigger and tell her about Taylor, the pregnant drug addict. He wanted to tell her his finding her was no accident. But something inside him put the brakes on his next words. It was too much too soon! He just needed to get her in the house, go easy on her. Let her rest; let her vent until the time was right.

Sam went around the back of the car and gathered her suitcases while Sarah went through the front door, unlocking it with her key. He fumbled his way to the door and shimmied the luggage inside. It was then a cold draft sliced him to the bone.

Sarah turned to Sam unwilling to take her coat off. "There must be an open window."

Sam volunteered to press toward the cold draft. It rattled his bones. He heard the furnace running.

Sarah offered. "I'd like to make us some hot tea with lemon and honey. Would you like that?"

"Sounds good."

Sarah went to the left by the stairs toward the kitchen. Sam split to the right of the stairs into the living room where the draft came from. The slider to the back deck was open!

Sam stumbled over, leaned his head outside. There was nothing there but the wind. He shut the slider, recalled how Dr. Reed said he should have it fixed.

He had the urge to check the house. The what ifs crawled up the backside of his brain. He didn't want Sarah to get upset, if it was nothing. It was only open a few feet. He must have done it himself when he checked the hanging bird feeder in the morning.

Sarah walked from the kitchen and met Sam halfway near the stairs. "Did you find the draft?"

"Yes, I left the slider open to the back deck, just enough to create a wind tunnel."

"Okay. Tea is almost ready. Um, ah remember when a mouse got in the house?"

"I'm going to check upstairs, just to be sure."

"More drafts? A mouse?"

Sam threw off his coat on the bench near the door. I'll be back in a jiff. Then I will get our fireplace going. Okay?"

"Sure." Her arms were folded when the kettle pot whistled through the house.

Sam turned to see Sarah head back into the kitchen. As he clawed his way up, he was reminded of his one bad leg and how moving quickly is not what he's known for. On his way, he convinced himself that there would be nothing more than a squirrel or a mouse, no human, certainly not a thief.

He took steps down the hall, recalling how he left the door to the baby room open when Taylor spent the night. He stiffened at the door when he saw the solar system that hung and spun when you wind it up for a baby. It swayed, as if some unknown draft made it move.

He talked himself out of it. It was gnawing on the back of his brain. He quickly thought of Taylor, but then realized she couldn't possibly have been here. He reached for his cellphone in his pants pocket. He scrolled for her number. Thought about dialing while sitting on the edge of the bed next to the crib.

Sarah shouted for Sam. "Sam its ready! Please get the fireplace going. I'm not taking my coat off until you do."

"I'll be right down." Sam put the phone back in his hip pocket before tapping the send button. He made sure to close the baby room, then checked the bathroom, putting the used towel and wash cloth in the hamper. He clung to the rail going down, shifting his weight gingerly. "I didn't hear any animal noises."

Sam sloped over to the fireplace and put a starter log in the fire. He lit a match and absorbed the warm flame to his face. He crouched and turned to Sarah who sat there, the love of his life. He saw the glow reach her soft and supple face until there was a bronze look to it. She had a blanket to share with Sam. Steam lifted from the cup of hot tea on the end table.

Sam crawled on the couch next to her. They clasped each other with the blanket wrapped around their shoulders. He started nodding off to sleep, until he heard a female voice from his pocket say, hello. Who is this? You must have butt dialed me. Hello!"

Sam reached in his coat pocket. It was Taylor's voice. "Hello."

Sarah pressed Sam. "Who could be calling you on Thanksgiving eve? It's not the shelter, is it?"

"It's someone who stayed there." He pressed his ear to the phone and leaned over from the couch.

"Is this you, Sam? My boyfriend took off. I have his phone, so cops can't track him."

"Where are you?"

I'm still at the Hampton Inn. But they are going to throw me out! I've got no money. Can you pay for a night?"

"I'll set you up at the shelter."

"I don't like the shelter. I'm around strangers."

"I will call Lisa. She works the night shift. You know her, right?"

"You didn't tip the police off, did you? If you did, I can't know what Chris might do. He's got a hair trigger."

Sam swallowed a lump in his throat. "I will make a call to the shelter."

"What about your place? What about the baby room with the bed beside the crib? No one there needs it."

"No, no I can't. I can't do that." He leaned further away from Sarah. He couldn't tell if his wife looked confused or annoyed-maybe both.

Taylor added. "Oh, I get it you're back with your wife. Good for you. But I bet you haven't told her about me- or about us, I mean."

"No."

Taylor hung up. But she'd almost made it sound like they were some kind of item for the tabloids.