Читать книгу The Family She Needs - Sue MacKay, Sue MacKay - Страница 12

KARINA ROLLED OVER in bed and held her breath. Something had woken her. But what? The house creaked as usual, but otherwise everything seemed quiet. She must have been imagining things. Punching her pillow into shape, she curled up on her side and closed her eyes.

There it was again. A low moan—followed by a cry.

Slipping out from under the warm bedcovers, she shoved her feet into slippers and pushed her arms into her thick robe. Out in the hallway she listened for a minute but heard nothing. Had Mickey called out? Carefully opening his door, she checked him over but he was sound asleep.

Karina returned to her room as a cry cut through the quiet, lifting the hairs on her neck. It came from further down the hall. Logan? Had he fallen and hurt himself?

Outside his door, she hesitated. If the noise hadn’t come from in there, she’d look a right idiot, bursting in and waking him. Leaning her ear to the door, she heard mutterings from the other side. It sounded as though the man talked in his sleep. She smiled. Who knew what she might learn if she felt inclined to listen in? Straightening up, she began to turn away. There was still that noise to check out.

‘Don’t touch me, you pig!’ Logan shouted.

At least she presumed it was Logan, even though his voice was pitched higher than usual and filled with hate. Was that fear in those words? It sounded as if he needed help. What if someone else was in the room, attacking him?

Flinging the door wide, she flicked the light on and stared around the room. Nobody but Logan. He lay sprawled across the bed, the sheets wound around his legs, his arms thrashing against the mattress at either side of his hips. His skin glistened with sweat, and yet he was shivering. His eyes were wide, staring at the ceiling, then at her, then cruising the walls. Back to her. Not seeing her or seeing anything. As though he didn’t know where he was.

‘Who are you? Get out of my hut.’

Oh, my God, he’s having a nightmare.

Wary of those flailing arms, she reached to touch his shoulder. ‘Logan. Wake up. Logan. You’re having a bad dream.’

She shook him gently. His arm swung up and out. Karina stepped back, felt his fist graze her thigh. This time she snatched at his arm, held it tight against her body, shook him as gently as possible.

‘Logan. Wake up. It’s Karina. You’re in Motueka. You are safe.’

Was this the right thing to do? Should she be trying to bring him round more slowly? But how?

‘Did you say Karina?’ Logan blinked at her. Then looked around the room, tried to peer past her. ‘Where did you say I am?’

‘You’re at James’s home. Remember? Where Mickey lives.’

In her tight grip his arm began relaxing, the tension slowly ebbing away as reality dawned in those gunmetal-grey eyes.

He said nothing, continued to stare at her, not quite believing her.

‘Motueka. Mickey, Karina.’ She enunciated slowly, clearly, hoping the significance of those words would reach him.

Did this have anything to do with his sudden mood change that afternoon? David had told her Logan had become agitated and taken off for a fast walk. When she’d asked him about it later he’d fobbed her off with some nonsense about needing fresh air. As if the air in the back yard where he’d been playing with Mickey had been stale and old?

Lowering his arm to his side, she spoke quietly, so as not to disturb him unduly. ‘Logan, I’m going to cover you with the quilt. It’s freezing in here and you’ve got goose-bumps on your arms.’

He also had scars on his chest and his ribs were too close to the surface. Not enough muscle or fat covered him. As if he’d been ill. What had the nightmare been about? Was it linked to the state of his body? What would he do if she gave in to the need to hug him to her? To kiss away that pain darkening his eyes to the colour of cold slate? If she ran her fingertips over those purple lines on his skin, would he yell at her?