Page 40 of Hidden Raphael
Chapter 11
Kimberly woke up, twisted her body so she was on her side, and stared out the window. Was it morning or still night? Fog blocked everything. The foul weather meant she was housebound until it cleared. Every day seemed to be gloomy here. She sat up in bed, rubbed her eyes, and yawned.
The only things not gloomy were Raphael's kisses. She licked her lips, but the taste of him was gone. The man had a wall around him, but his kiss let her taste his pent-up passion. He'd be amazing, if he opened up to what he desired. What she desired, too.
At least he thought her pretty.
She stepped out of bed and stumbled toward the window. There was so much mystery here still. She couldn't see the moon or the stars or the sun in the thick mist. She hoped the sun would burn some of the fog. Today, she was going to the crash site, rain, sleet, or Raphael.
She bit her lip then decided to get ready. She couldn't sleep. Her body was too warm. She’d head to the beach.
In the closet, she stopped for a second and saw the clothes she'd worn yesterday already washed and hung up.
Meg might be rude, but she was like a fairy godmother who did all her laundry. Kimberly then spotted her green dress made of satin that clung to the curves of her body. She’d intended to wear it to her sister's wedding.
Kimberly rubbed her arms. Erica had no idea of Kimberly's intentions and probably would be pregnant before Kimberly ever had the opportunity to say congratulations. Her face crumbled. Could she use her computer to somehow find her family? She rubbed her eyes. She'd do that next. First, she had to make sense of how she came here.
Meditation on the beach always settled her mind, and she needed peace now.
Kimberly swallowed, moved past the dress, and found her plain t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, and borrowed a sweater from the tiny woman's wardrobe. Who was this Tiffany? Was she in jail for murder? The thought left Kimberly's body cold.
Finished, she pushed a few garments to the side to look for a heavier jacket than the sweater. Her fingers brushed the soft fur of a wrap. She'd never buy it because of the animals, but it would be perfect for outside. She bit her lip, clamped down her disdain for how this coat ever existed in the first place, and wrapped herself in it. She almost forgot her necklace, but on her way out remembered it was under her pillow.
Kimberly ran down the stairs to the front door. Breakfast could wait. Perhaps she didn't need Raphael to open the door for her. The locks took a minute to free, but she handled it.
This was something she wanted to do alone. Every day inside was getting to her. She shook off the doubt. The final lock clicked, and she stepped outside.
The mist made outside dark above her head, and the fog sent a shiver right through her. She found a lever or some sort on the castle wall. She lowered the switch, and the drawbridge cranked open. She bounced up and down in her shoes. Did she need a hat? It was cold outside. The drawbridge lowered over the moat. She twirled and shook her hips. She’d figured out how to escape.
Freedom tasted sweet.
Icy wind slapped her in the face. The frigid air was unrelenting. In the next few seconds, her face must have become numb, because she wasn't quite sure her nose was still on her face. She sucked in her breath, but it caught in her throat.
The forest brought on images. She saw herself in her mind's eye being carried inside in Raphael's arms. Her eyelashes fluttered open, and she shivered to fight him off. He carried her anyhow. Had that happened? She scratched her head. It must have. Then she squared her shoulders, rubbed her arms, and continued across the bridge.
The bleakness of the island held her attention. Jagged rocks seemed to rip themselves out of the ground. The trees of the forest grew taller as she walked closer. The pine trees seemed cold and too bristly to touch. Kimberly held the fur wrap up to her neck and walked, hunched against the wind.
Memories of that night assaulted her mind.
Perhaps she shouldn't have come alone.
A twig broke under her foot and she jumped back. A sigh escaped her lips then she took another step forward. The beach. The beach. The beach.
The wind at her back seemed to call out, "Kimberly."
She shook it off as her imagination and continued into the forest. She slipped in between two trees that were close together, making out a tent in the distance. She tried to swallow. Had that been Roger's makeshift tent? He’d tried to kill her. He was dead. What would she find there?
"Kimberly."
She stopped. The wind sounded like Raphael? She dug in her heels then called out, "Raphael?"
Her voice shrank in the misty air. She burrowed into the fur wrap. Perhaps she'd imagined him. She shook her hands and tucked them under her armpits to stay warm. She turned toward the tent, but halfway there, she froze. The violent crash of the waves against the jagged rocks caught her attention. The beach was straight ahead. She had seen it from her window more than once, but this close it was different.
She inched closer to the tent, then stopped in front of it, knowing she couldn’t pass by without peeking inside.
She stared at the ground and swallowed her fear. She should see what Roger had in his tent.
The trees in the forested area had lost all their leaves, and appeared like thick, dead sticks that sprang out in the mist around where he'd set up camp. She rubbed her arms. No wonder horror stories took place in the woods. She clenched her fists and pushed aside the heavy plastic coverings to peek inside. The loneliness and bitterness of this place sank into her skin. She let out a small sigh, then took in the sight of a simple sleeping bag.
