Words of Love by Hazel Hunter

okay?”
    She nodded ‘yes’ but that couldn’t be true. As she opened her eyes, he crouched down to look directly into them. Though they seemed a bit glassy, she focused on him.
    “I’m okay,” she said quietly and smiled. He frowned but didn’t reply. “Really,” she said, sitting up straight. “I’ll just get dressed.”  
    He helped her down from the platform and stood back.
    Slowly and very carefully, she bent to her clothes, picked up her panties and put them on, then her shorts. She was moving in slow motion and Brett couldn’t help but stand a little closer. As she stepped into her shoes, Brett realized she always kept one hand on the altar. Now she put on her bra and tank top but she leaned against the altar with her hip.
    “Jessica, you’re not okay,” he said, putting his arm around her waist for support. “Please just tell me what’s wrong.”
    She shook her head but the movement was apparently the last straw–her knees began to buckle.  
    “Jessica!” he said, as he immediately scooped her up from behind. Her head lolled back and her eyes quickly closed. “Jessica!” he tried again.
    He watched her chest rise and fall and saw the pulsing of her jugular. She was unconscious.

CHAPTER NINE

    Jessica woke to see Brett looking down at her.
    “Welcome back,” he said quietly.
    Welcome back? From where?
    She glanced around at the white netting and the green canvas. She could distinctly hear the rain at the cave entrance.  
    Weren’t we in the temple?
    Confused, she looked back to his face, which was upset.
    “You passed out,” he said. She tried to sit up. “Just hold on,” he said, with a hand on her arm. “Just take it easy for a minute.” Reluctantly, she lay back down. “Do you remember what happened?”
    She tried.
    They’d been in the temple. She’d read the love poem. And–she searched his face–they’d made love on the altar. Then the room had started to spin.
    “I got dizzy,” she finally said, as though she were admitting defeat.
    “Dizzy?” he said, his eyebrows knitting together. He took one of her hands in his. “What do you mean dizzy?”
    “The room started to spin,” she said. He looked at her, waited for her to continue. “That’s all I remember,” she said. “Then I was here.”
    He frowned.
    “Is that something that’s happened to you before?” She looked away. “Jessica,” he said, a warning tone in his voice. “This could be serious. I need to know what’s going on.” He put a hand to her face and made her look at him. “What else?” he said, looking her directly in the eyes.
    “This morning,” she said. “When I first got up, everything started to spin but it stopped right away.”
    “Why didn’t you say something?” She was silent. “I see,” he said, his jaw muscles working. “You’re going to carry your own suitcase. You’re going to keep the fact that you’re not feeling well a secret.” He paused and took a deep breath. “You know, it’s okay if you don’t do well in the field. Not everyone is cut out for–”
    “But I am cut out for the field,” she blurted out. He stopped and stared at her, a bit set back by the tone in her voice. “I just have to get used to it is all.”
    “Jessica,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not a big deal.”
    “It is a big deal,” she said, sitting up. “This is something I’ve always dreamed of. I’ve never felt so…” She didn’t know how to put it. “So needed,” she concluded. “Like I fit. Finally, somewhere, I feel like I fit.”
    Unbidden, the name the other children called her sounded in her ears: Jittery Jessica. The fits of reading new languages, the way her hands floated over the text–it had begun when she was young. She’d learned long ago to stop reading and translating in front of people. She felt her face flush hot.
    Brett smiled at her.
    “You do fit,” he said. “And you are needed.” He took her hand in both of his. “I need you,” he