Page 61 of Restoration
“Edmund!”
After a minute or two, he manages to sever the branch and tosses it down like the others.
“This is enough! Edmund, the wind is terrible! Come down!” I’m trembling helplessly now, terrified the top of the tree will simply snap in the wind, sending Edmund falling down to the ground.
Yet again, he ignores me. He’s cutting one more branch.
“Edmund!” It’s starting to rain. Not hard yet. Just the occasional drop that slaps against my skin from the wind.
I’m sure he’s hearing me. He’s just being stubborn.
“Edmund!” I’m screaming at the top of my lungs now, nearly sobbing from the intensity of my fear. “Edmund! Come down right now! Right now! Get your obstinate ass down to the ground right now! Edmund, please!”
I see his head turn to peer down at me. The wind is whipping his hair and his beard against his face, and his shirt is flapping around like a flag.
“Edmund, please!” I scream again.
Maybe he hears something in my voice. Or maybe he’s decided he’s had enough. Either way, he finally—finally—starts to climb down the tree.
He moves slowly at first until he reaches the sturdier branches. Then he descends more quickly until he swings himself down to the ground.
I burst into tears.
“What the hell?” he mumbles, shaking himself off and then striding over to where I’m standing. “Autumn, baby, what the fuck is going on?”
I can’t stop crying. I can’t form any clear words. When he pulls me into his arms, I weep with utter abandon against his shirt.
“I was fine,” he murmurs, tightening one arm around me and stroking my hair and back with the other. “Baby, I was fine. I’m fine.”
“I told you to come down,” I manage to gurgle before I’m hit with another wave of sobbing. “I was scared.”
“I thought you were just being bossy.” His voice is hoarse and breathless, but maybe that’s just from the climb. “I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t want to have to climb up again, so I wanted to make sure I got what we needed right now.”
It makes sense.Hemakes sense. But it doesn’t quiet the panic that overwhelmed me. I cry for a long time while Edmund holds and pets me until finally the emotional storm is over.
I sniff as I straighten up and lift my head. “I’m okay.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.” I wipe my face with my hands. “I just fell apart.”
“Do you want to tell me why?”
“Not really.”
He frowns but doesn’t push it. He leans down to pick up the pile of branches I collected and carries them as we walk back to our shelter.
I splash water from our rainwater tub on my face, dry it off, and then sit down on our patio under the awning since the rain has gotten worse.
Edmund washes his hands and face too and then sits beside me. He’s looking at me, and I don’t like it.
“I just fell apart,” I burst out after a minute since I know he’s still waiting for an explanation of my behavior.
“I know you did. But it’s not like you at all. You’ve never done that before.”
“Well, this was different.”
“Why was it different?”