Until Death

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Six days agoLeo followed the innkeeper, struggling to pay attention to what Costel was saying through a haze of grief and jet lag. A tour of the inn hardly seemed necessary when he'd been coming here for nearly twenty years with his wife, even if he was here to bury her now. All he wanted was somewhere to go to sleep and try again to pretend none of this was happening, if only for a couple of hours.

"You said you may be staying with us for a couple of weeks?" Costel said for at least the second time. The lanky, bearded man towered over Leo, his blond crew cut and dark blue eyes a sharp contrast to Leo's light brown eyes and wavy brown locks brushing his shoulders. Maria would have been after him to cut a few inches off that mop on his head long before it got to this point, if she hadn't been so busy dying.

Leo blinked and forced himself to pay attention. They were in the small kitchen in the indoor dining room, mostly a place to warm food brought from the main kitchen or from the bakery in town. He and Maria had reheated leftovers and made coffee here many times, but otherwise he'd only walked by on the way to their room.

His room now.

"At least a week," Leo said. "Probably two. Maybe a little longer. Assuming you have space for me, I mean."

"Leo, of course I do. We want you here for as long as you need to be, and we'll take very good care of you." He put his hand on Leo's shoulder as he turned to a small door across from the kitchen. "I know jet lag can make for strange meal schedules, so please make yourself at home and eat as you need to. You know about the refrigerator, and we'll leave small things out for you. And please use anything in the pantry that you need."

He opened the door, barely two feet wide, onto a small space lined with shelves and jammed full of spices, dry goods, and jars of pickles. Leo flinched at the top shelves, hoping his friend didn't notice. Hot acid flooded his throat and his heart pounded. Those shelves were lined with bottles of wine, various types of whiskey and brandy, and every kind of glassware he could imagine. He'd never even noticed that door before, much less imagined something so insignificant could slam him back into a past nearly as painful as his present.

"If you need anything that's not here, please let me know and we'll get it for you," Costel said, either not noticing or ignoring Leo's upset. "Such things are never easy, but we want to do anything we can to help you."

Leo nodded as he stepped forward and closed the door with a shaking hand. He knew he'd fail miserably if he tried to explain why a damned pantry and an offer of comfort made him react as if the man had held a gun to his head.

"Thank you, Costel," he said. "I appreciate it. I'll let you know. I promise."

Costel held a hand over his heart and lowered his head for a second.

"Then if you don't need anything this evening, I'll show you to your room. You get all the rest you can. Breakfast will be ready when you are, my friend."

Leo's heart sank when he headed toward the stairs, made from varnished half-logs with a rail to match. There were only a few rooms up there, including the only room he'd ever stayed in on their many trips to Transylvania. He wasn't sure if it would be more heartbreaking to stay somewhere else or more lonely to stay here without his wife for the first time. He was about to find out.

"I've made up your same room," the innkeeper said, and he was indeed walking toward the front of the building. "If you'd rather stay somewhere else, we have a few other rooms available. I thought..."

Leo glanced up, focusing on Costel's face for the first time. The first time he'd focused on anyone's face since he'd walked out of the hospice ward for the last time just over twenty-four hours ago. Costel could be counted on for a hearty laugh and smile, tireless energy, and a warm embrace for any arrival or departure. Leo had never seen him sad or even moody.

Right now his face was twisting and tears stood against his pale eyelashes.

"It's fine, really," Leo said. "I want to stay here, in our room. She'd want that, too. Thank you."

Costel tried to smile, but his features crumpled instead. Leo stepped forward and hugged him, relieved to comfort someone else after countless hours of not being able to do that for himself. Costel took a deep breath, patted Leo's back, and stepped away. He wasn't quite smiling, but the crisis had passed.

"I will leave you then. Sleep as well as you can."

Leo took his own deep breath before he opened the wood plank door with an actual metal key, attached to a tiny log with the room number burned into it. The same miniature bathroom in the corner, the same huge wardrobe built of more of the rough-hewn logs, the same white walls and sheer white curtains over the balcony door.

He'd spent more time than he could stand to remember in this room, talking, sleeping, making love in the middle of the night, or even the middle of the day. All he could see was empty space without Maria. Without her clothes, her scent, her voice.

He crossed in a few strides, feet shuffling on the flat gray carpet, and sat down hard on the bed. His back and thighs protested at how firm that European mattress was, and he knew his hips and shoulders would take up the chorus by the time he woke. Leo held his head in his hands, exhausted and afraid he wouldn't be able to sleep. The only thing worse might be sleeping deeply enough to dream.

That pantry. Of all the things he thought he'd been prepared for, now and one year ago. What an absurd, pathetic thing to knock a man reeling, to push him out of his own shaky grasp on reality.