Christmas in Transylvania by Sandra Hill Page A

why did he suddenly care so much?

 
    Chapter Five
    It’s beginning to look a lot like . . . vampires? . . .
    A FTER TWO DAYS confined to Karl’s third-­floor bedroom, Faith was bored. Still sore, of course. What else was new? And so weak that when she got up to use the bathroom, which was just across the hall, it felt like a marathon to her wobbly legs.
    All she did was eat and sleep and watch TV, mostly reality shows that were downright depressing. She had enough reality in her own life . . . and depression.
    More than anything, she was itching to explore the castle while it was still her temporary abode. God only knew how much longer she would be permitted to stay. Karl was searching desperately for some women’s resource place that would find her a safe home. And while Alex and Vikar were not rude to her, they were clearly worried about her meeting the other ­people who lived in the castle. Why, she wasn’t sure. It was almost as if they were some weird cult that lived here secretly. As if Faith cared!
    No one had actually said the words, that her welcome was a short-­lived one, but Faith sensed it in the way they pushed for her speedy recovery. In fact, Karl had told her that he would get her car and have it ready to go whenever she was ready
    Faith appreciated Karl’s efforts to find her a safe haven, but she had no intention of leaving her future in anyone else’s hands. She’d done that for too long. Now that she had escaped Leroy, for good, she planned to “disappear.” Once she was a little bit stronger. Maybe next week.
    There was one thing that held her back, and it wasn’t the growing affection she felt for the sweet young man who’d saved her. No, it was another “person” all together. She put her hand to her belly. If she was pregnant . . . well, that would create a whole new obstacle for her plans. Not that she considered a baby an obstacle. A complication, that was all.
    â€œAre you talkin’ to yourself?” a small voice asked. “I talk to myself when I hafta do quiet time.”
    Faith jerked around from where she was standing by the window, looking out over the snowy terrain. Dizziness swept over her at the quick movement, and she had to hold on to the back of a chair to keep from toppling over.
    A child was peeking through the partially open doorway. No, it was two children. Blond-­haired twins, by the similar looks and size of them. A boy and a girl. About three years old and adorable. Wearing matching denim coveralls over long-­sleeved white T-­shirts with blinking-­light, neon-­colored athletic shoes on their little feet.
    â€œMaybe she’s talkin’ to us, Nora,” the boy said to the girl.
    â€œMaybe. That means we hafta go in, Gun. To be polite,” the girl replied. “We wouldn’t be botherin’ her then.”
    â€œNope. We gotta go in.” The boy looked at Faith, hopefully. “Do you want us to come in?”
    â€œSure,” she said, glad for the company.
    The two little scamps rushed in, causing the door to swing inward and slam against the wall.
    â€œHullo! My name is Gunnora, but you can call me Nora,” the little girl said. “I brought these for your owies.” She handed Faith a half dozen Winnie the Pooh Band-­Aids. “Momma said you’re sick in bed from all your owies, and we shouldn’t bother you.”
    â€œI’m Gunnar, but everyone calls me Gun. Like a weapon. Bang, bang! I brought you these.” The boy shoved some lollipops at her. “When I’m sick, lollipops taste good.”
    â€œThank you so much,” Faith said, placing her “gifts” on the dresser. “Would you like to sit down?”
    Before the words were out of her mouth, the boy was on the bed, bouncing up and down, and the girl was crawling up onto the edge of the chair, her little legs hanging only halfway to the