Hand Me Downs

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

John splashed his face with hot water, then cold, trying to wake himself up. He scratched his infant beard thoroughly, groaning with relief and pleasure.

Just one more thing to set him on edge today.

It seemed like a good idea a couple of weeks ago. While he had this break from the lab, why not grow a beard to see how it looked now that he was in his thirties? Give himself a break from the drudgery of shaving?

All it did so far was look disreputable and itch.

The jet lag did its usual number on his wits, and the stress of the past few weeks wasn’t helping. Trying to sleep now would only make it worse for him, and everyone around him, for the next few days. He just had to get through the one awful day.

He sat on the edge of the tub with his face buried in a warm towel, yawning so hard his jaws creaked.

Coming to Wales was supposed to bring them back together. The very land welcomed him, every bit as much as his own parents’ house, and he and Branwen had always gotten along beautifully. Today all they’d done was argue.

He was annoyed with himself for rising to Branwen’s bait when he knew very well what she was doing.

“We could have stayed home for that,” he said into the thick towel.

Even muffled, he was struck by the rough edge to his own voice.

It was still early enough in the day for coffee, but only just. If he drank it too late, even as tired as he was he wouldn’t sleep well. After two days with no sleep, or sleep broken by his nightmares, he’d be better off staying in this bathroom all day tomorrow too.

He did his best to deal with situations before his temper got involved, but jet lag and lack of sleep were sure to weaken all of his carefully built walls.

One more nearly debilitating yawn, and John walked into the empty bedroom.

She’d gone downstairs without him. That didn’t make much sense since they were in her family home and he’d only know a few of the people here, but one of the things he loved most about her was the way her mind worked.

He was often surprised by her, delighted by her mental leaps. It provided a lovely contrast to his more orderly way of thinking. Her unexpected changes of mood and action could also drive him crazy.

He checked himself over one last time, making sure he didn’t look as rough around the edges as he felt, before he headed downstairs.

John walked down the broad main staircase in the middle of the house, the noise level rising with each step. He paused before going around the third and last turn, gripping the heavy wooden banister. He’d be in full sight of the crowd with his next step.

It would be a bit too silly to retreat to the narrow stone steps that led to the kitchen, safe at the back of the house. He’d be sure to keep his secret escape route in mind for the rest of this overly crowded visit though.

The first thing he saw was an alarming variety of multi-colored coats hanging or piled on the low tables in the entry. His and Branwen’s were no longer visible.

The party was clearly underway, earlier than expected. The shifting and chattering crowd in the main room was bigger than he’d expected as well. Extra chairs had been brought in to accommodate everyone, and the sitting rooms beyond were crowded. Each seat was filled, with several people milling around between them.

John doubted the house had been this full since his own wedding over ten years ago.

When he didn’t see Branwen, he wondered for a second if he could dig though the pile to his coat and duck out the door before he was spotted. Just then one of Branwen’s kin, vaguely familiar from their wedding day, caught John’s eye.

Ready or not, he was drawn into the greeting frenzy.

The questions never varied as he slowly made his way toward the dining room and the coffee. Yes, they’d just arrived. No, he wasn’t sure where Branwen was. Work was great, they’d both know more in the fall. Atlanta was good, the house coming along well.

No, he wasn’t sure where Branwen was.

That last question put him more on edge with each repetition.

Outwardly he made light of the situation, as usual. Everyone who knew them expected Branwen to do something unpredictable and John to have a clever explanation.

Inwardly he was losing patience.

By the time he made it out of the crowded room, John’s head pounded as his sluggish mind struggled to translate. He’d worked hard to gain a fluent understanding of Welsh over the years, and he usually did quite well.

Being tired and not getting to practice much in the long while between visits put him at a huge disadvantage for the first day. After years of insisting on Welsh so he could learn, he refused to insist on English today just to keep up.

The truth was he didn’t feel like conversing in any language.

Big gatherings did make him tired, but he normally got through and enjoyed himself. The timing could not have been worse today. His eyes ached nearly as much as his head with bright sunlight streaming through the tall windows.

Thankfully the huge dark paneled dining room was empty for the moment, the small family table and chairs replaced by long tables for the party. Only the overly large sideboard kept him company.

The top of the dark wood sideboard carved with intricate leaves and flowers came nearly chest high on John, and his long arms reached nowhere near the length of it. He’d always wondered if they’d had to build the room around this thing. Tomorrow it and everything else in the house would be diminished by the crowds for Elizabeth’s 100th.

And he’d be out of places to hide, at least for one day.

He hadn’t seen Branwen’s grandmother on his scurried dash through hoards of gathering well-wishers. And where on earth was Branwen? If she’d really gotten sick this time, he was sure someone would have told him, but the worry didn’t completely leave him.

Part of that worry had been there for a few weeks now, since whatever was wrong between them started.

Looking for her was a fool’s errand in this huge house that she knew far better than he did. He refilled his coffee cup with Fiona’s heavenly brew and headed back out to one of the smaller sitting rooms along the side of the house. Out of the sun, and where he could keep out of the way.

Being asked about Branwen’s whereabouts wasn’t the only thing he’d grown tired of. It was time to work out whatever was pushing them apart. He’d learned many years ago not to ignore these feelings, much stronger and more insistent than a mere hunch.

Tonight might not be the best time, but he had a growing certainty he’d waited long enough.