Page 34 of Fighting Spirit

I was straightening them and the rail came down.

ROWAN

Sure.

What actually happened?

Ruth

I’m serious! I must have just been too enthusiastic about getting them even because I tugged too hard and the whole rail fell on me!

ROWAN

Are you hurt?

Did the rail hit you?

Do you need to go to the hospital?

The three messages come in quick succession. I’m just reading the last one, getting ready to respond, when my phone starts vibrating in my hand. Rowan’s caller ID flashes up on the screen. I panic and decline the call.

Ruth

Why are you calling me?

If he’s calling just to give me a hard time about something that was an accident, I don’t need to hear it. I get enough of that from my parents. It’s why I’ll do just about anything these days to avoid asking them for help.

The ringing starts up again. I stare at it, not ready to get chewed out when I’d planned on essentially using Rowan as a living, breathing, Ask Jeeves. I hit accept, holding it to my ear like a bomb about to go off.

“Hello?” I ask, my voice laced with suspicion.

“Did you get hurt?” His tone is gruff, and a little curt, like he’d rather be doing anything else than checking on me. It has my hackles up instantly.

“Hi, Rowan.” I match his tone, my words clipped.

“Ruth,” he softens a little. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

He lets out a sigh before he speaks again. Of relief or exasperation, I’m not sure. “So, did the rail just come away from the brackets, or did the whole thing come down?”

“The whole thing,” I mumble, looking up to see the extent of the damage. The entire rail has come off on one end and is now hanging at an angle, leaving behind several large holes in the plaster and a huge strip of wallpaper that’s ripped off. It’s goodthat Georgie’s out, or she’d have thought we were getting home invaded.

“What were you doing to pull your entire curtain rail down?”

“I told you! They were crooked, and I was getting them sorted!”

Rowan groans and the sounds send a bolt of something through me.

“Are you gonna keep lying to me when I get there?”

My gut plummets at his assumption. “I’m not lying!” I’m almost yelling at the phone. I know I sound like a kid, but the fact that he doesn’t believe me makes me want to dive headfirst through the now curtain-less window.

It takes a second for the rest of what he said to break through. “Wait, what you mean ‘get here?’ where are you?”

“I’m on my way over.”

Shit.

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