Taking Faith by Shelby Fallon Page B

out like someone who needed the sleep. She gently pried her fingers from his so as not to wake him and crept out of the closet. She started to just leave, but he was so asleep she figured she could move him to the bed and he'd fall right back asleep. He'd been sleeping on the floor every night since she'd been there.
    So, she shook his arm gently, and when his eyes opened, she took his arm and pulled him up. He fell in to the bed and groaned a little, grabbing his side. She lifted his shirt as he pressed his face into the pillow. He was pretty banged up, but it was just red and yellow bruises. With his eyes closed she pulled the blanket over him there in the bed. She heard his deep sigh as he sprawled out further and got comfortable .
    And now, she stood looking at the dinner he had been making, though he swore he'd never cook or clean a thing in this house. He also swore he'd never stand up to his father, but he'd done just that for her .
    She grabbed the dustpan and went into the living room to clean up the broken vase pieces. The vase had been empty so the floor was only scattered with shards. She swept them up, and then repeated the process to make sure she got all the pieces up.
    Then s he righted the table chairs, went back into the kitchen and dumped the pot's contents into the trash , ignor ing her growling stomach at n ot having any dinner last night or breakfast. She gathered the dishes together and started to stack them into the dish washer. It was then she heard the handle jiggle on the front door. She peered out and then started to bolt to Roger's room, but it was too late. Roger's father stood in the doorway, holding his head, still squinting at the sunlight.
    He looked down at the plate in her hand and back up. "Where's Roger?" he barked.
    She pointed to the bedroom without a word. He went swiftly down the hall, leaving the door wide open…almost as if testing her. Her mind flipped for one split second. Could she make it out? Had Roger been telling the truth about escaping? She knew it was true, she'd been in town and seen the eyes everywhere, but it still crossed her mind to bolt.
    But she didn't.
    Roger's father came back into the living room and glared at her. "I must've fallen asleep in my truck last night. Tell Roger to call me when he gets up."
    She nodded and he left , slamming the door and locking it from the outside. He had a key.
    She had literally just cleaned up the evidence of their struggle from last night…and Roger was in the bed. It painted a perfect picture for his father; her doing the dishes while the little husband slept in. She sagged against the wall and thanked whoever wa s above them for perfect timing.
    She was not interested in watching another rematch between Roger and his dear old dad. S he set out to make breakfast and coffee. She noticed Roger had grabbed some creamer when they had their little shopping spree.
    When the coffee was made, the biscuits in the oven and the ham in the pan, she drank the hot mug slowly and sighed at the warmth and goodness. It was amazing what a little bit of hot coffee could do for your soul. She smiled. It really was the little things that mattered most…
    She was just turning on the dish washer and wiping down the counters when Roger emerged. He was an exact copy of last night; hair a mess, shirt wrinkled from fighting and sleeping, his face lined with strain. She tried to smile slightly at him. "Good morning."
    His eyes bugged at that. He watched her and looked around the room. "You've been up for a while," he said. "And you put me in bed."
    "This morning when I got up," she confirmed and poured him a cup of coffee. She brought it to him and set it in his stunned hand. "I thought you could tak e a couple hours of sleep in a bed."
    "You thought right," he said and chuckled as he sipped his coffee. "I slept hard." He sighed and groaned in his throat as the coffee went down. "Thank you."
    "I made some ham biscuits," she said and turned to get them