House of Fallen Trees by Gina Ranalli Page B

Saul chuckled and Karen gave him a confused look. “It’s something Sean used to say,” he explained. “He said his dad...I mean, YOUR dad…would always tell him to be a brave little soldier when he was a kid.”
   “Ah.” Karen smiled a little at the memory. “He did used to say that. Every time we fell down or got in a fight with a neighborhood kid or had a nightmare.”
   “That’s what he told us,” Rory said. “No offense, but from what I’ve heard your dad was kind of a dick.”
   “There’s really no ‘kind of’ about it,” she replied. “He was a major dick when we were growing up. He’s mellowed out over the years, though.” Both men laughed at this and Karen was relieved Rory had stopped crying. The last thing she wanted was for her presence to be difficult for him.
   “I’m hungry,” Saul announced, jumping to his feet. “Let’s see what we can forage up, shall we?”
   “Yes!” Karen also rose. “I’m starving.”
   “We don’t have too much fresh food,” Rory said. “But we have plenty of canned and dried goods. Soups, cereal, oatmeal, stuff like that.”
   “Canned soup sounds like the perfect thing right about now,” she said. “Anything to get rid of this chill in my bones.”
   “Amen,” Saul said and led the way through the house towards the kitchen and a hot meal.

 
    CHAPTER TWELVE

     
    The night came on like something alive and hungry, scratching at the windows, swirling through the eaves, scrabbling up the outer walls of the house, searching for a way inside. In the kitchen, the three of them sat at a cheap folding table blowing on large bowls of soup, chicken noodle for Rory and vegetable for Karen and Saul.
   After the first spoonful, Karen said, “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Hot soup for a cold night.”
   Saul cocked an eyebrow at her. “You do realize it’s only November, don’t you?”
   “Yeah, but it’s so chilly,” Karen replied with a shiver.
   “I thought you New Englanders were supposed to be a hearty bunch.”
   “I suppose. I guess I’m just used to it snowing when it’s this cold.”
   “It’s only forty-five degrees, Karen,” Rory told her, joining the conversation. “Maybe you’re coming down with a bug?”
   She considered it. “I feel okay.” But that wasn’t entirely true. Physically, she felt fine, except for the chill, but emotionally she was on edge. She didn’t like the way the house was getting darker and no amount of lights seemed to help brighten it. Saul, who sat directly across from her, no more than two or three feet away, remained in shadow, his face obscured when he bent to his bowl. Several times, she’d glanced up at the overhead light, only to get a sharp pain behind her eyes, making her look away with a grimace. And each time she did so, the room seemed that much darker around them. She could feel a headache coming on, which at first she’d assumed was due to hunger, but now that she was eating, she thought it had more to do with the lighting in the house. It was hurting her eyes. She ate hurriedly, not because she was starving but because she was so tired. She figured she still hadn’t adjusted to the time difference and was looking forward to just going up to the room Rory had assigned her and perhaps getting some alone time with either her laptop or a paperback before settling in for a good hard crash.
   There wasn’t much conversation at the table and part of her was grateful for that. She’d already been more social than she had been in months, and though she didn’t think she was coming across as particularly inept in that department, she knew she wasn’t being a chatterbox either. But maybe these guys didn’t mind. She was pretty sure Rory didn’t anyway. He struck her as being more of a loner, like herself.
   When the meal was finished, Karen offered to help with cleaning up, but the guys would have