Page 37 of Sanctuary

“Is everything okay?” I ask him.

He jerks visibly in surprise but turns around with a casual smile. “Yes. Everything’s fine. Just getting some fresh air. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I’m frowning at him. I’m not sure why, but I could have sworn he was brooding just now. Like something was bothering him.

And I want to know what it is.

Demanding it won’t get me anywhere, however. He might be the most guarded man I’ve ever met. So I bite back further questions and return inside. He follows me, stomping the snow off his shoes and then taking them off before he walks into the sanctuary where we’ve set up our stuff.

He leans over and picks up my hairbrush, which I left on the floor, and sets it neatly next to my pack.

The small gesture makes me realize that he does that kind of thing all the time. He’s tidy by nature, straightening things up and collecting stray items instinctively, without making a big deal about it or even calling attention to it.

Del has always been like that. She likes everything to be in its place, and she always straightens up her surroundings. She keeps the cottage in perfect order and occasionally gets frustrated if I get distracted and forget to pick up.

I don’t care nearly as much about everything being in pristine order, but I do appreciate having a nice, clean place to live so I try not to be too messy.

Aidan evidently likes things in their place too. Thinking back, I realize how nicely he’s organized even our minimal surroundings and how he’s kept everything picked up the whole time.

A silly urge compels me to pick up my hairbrush, pull it through my loose hair a few times, and then set it back down on the floor where I left it earlier.

I don’t say anything or call any attention to it. I get up to stoke the fire in the stove. Since it’s not as cold now, we haven’t been keeping it going quite so vigorously.

A few minutes later, Aidan picks up the hairbrush and returns it to its place.

I giggle to myself. Then return to my bed and braid my hair into the two french braids I normally wear. Then put the brush back on the floor.

Thinking quickly for an excuse to leave, I mention I’m going to check in the back for something to read to pass the time.

“Bible. Hymns. Or liturgy. Those are your choices.”

“Hmph. Well, I’ll look anyway.”

“Go right ahead.”

The book situation is exactly as Aidan warned. I take a Bible off the shelf since it’s the most interesting of the available options.

When I return, the brush is once again next to my pack.

I try very hard to keep my mouth still so Aidan won’t know I’m secretly laughing. I sit down and flip through the pages of the Bible. I remember a lot of the Bible stories from church as a child, but I don’t know how to find any of them in the sea of words.

Very discreetly, I reach over to pick up the brush and place it back on the floor.

Then I glance over at Aidan and realize he’s been watching me.

His eyes narrow.

I spill over into giggles.

“I was wondering if you were doing that on purpose,” he says.

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why would you think such a thing about me?”

He’s been lounging on his cushions but now he gets up. Leans down to pick up the brush. “This doesn’t belong here.”

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