The White Rose
Chapter Eight: Apologies
Isabel awoke the next morning to bags under her eyes and a sad heart. She didn’t even glance at the mirror on the vanity as she walked by. Why should she care what she looked like? This whole situation, for a lack of a better word, sucked. First it was the snowstorm and now it’s Adam. She could never catch a break. If she wasn’t doing everything at home then she was in the mansion at the beck and call of this horrible man. A long sigh escaped her as she grasped the doorknob and opened the door.
The fire poker was back in its place, as Isabel didn’t see the need to carry it around with her all the time. And if I do need to defend myself… well I’ll find something to use, she thought as she closed her door. Her head went from side to side as she looked around for Adam. Not seeing him she headed straight for the kitchen. A nice, hot cup of coffee was what she needed right now. She frowned when she realized that the coffee machine wouldn’t work due to the power outage. How could she forget about that? The candles spread out everywhere were a constant reminder. There has to be something that would help her wake up.
Isabel walked into the kitchen with her head down. She honestly had no idea what she was going to do when she came face-to-face with Adam. She hoped that it would be awhile before she saw him again.
She stopped suddenly has her hazel eyes landed on two socked feet. Her gaze traveled up to the sleeping Adam on the kitchen floor. She hoped that he was just sleeping.
“Mr. Richardson?” There was no response. Her heart raced. “Mr. Richardson!” Isabel yelled as she knelt down by his head. She lightly tapped his left cheek. “Wake up.” Still no response. “Wake up,” she repeated as she grabbed his shoulder and began shaking it roughly. “Please!”
Adam’s eyes opened as he suddenly said, “Quiet down.” She gasped as she released his shoulder. “What is wrong with you?” A hand went to his head as he shut his eyes. He propped himself on to his elbows. “Damn pounding in my head won’t stop.” He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped when his blue eyes landed on her. Isabel was still in the same position and she looked… worried. Why would she be worried about him? “Are you okay?”
“I… you…” she stuttered. “I thought that I had… that I had…”
“What? You thought that you actually hurt me?” He shook his head with a smirk, and regretted it. “Ow,” he muttered. “You can’t hurt me.” But as he looked at her again he saw that she was still scared.
“I guess not,” Isabel muttered said as she stood. She didn’t even look at him as she walked to the table, which was still cluttered with liquor bottles and the glass cup, and sat on a chair. With her head in her hands she sat still not saying anything.
Adam watched this and tried to remember what exactly happened last night. I apologized, got a door slammed in my face, went to the bar, grabbed some alcohol then… that’s it. He looked at the table with the bottles. He didn’t remember ever coming into the kitchen or grabbing the other bottles. And how did he end up on the floor? Isabel seemed to think that she had done something to him. What happened last night? The pounding headache caused him to stop thinking. Now was not a good time to be doing that.
He slowly stood, reaching out for the counter to keep his balance. His hand was brought back to his head. Aspirin. He really needed an aspirin right now. Maybe two.
With his back to Isabel he started out of the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” Isabel said.
He stopped and slowly turned. Did she just apologize to him? “What?”
She turned in her chair and faced him. He finally noticed her baggy eyes and messy hair. She really did look like a wreck. And it’s partially my fault.
Isabel took a deep breath, with her eyes locked on his. “I’m apologizing for last night. I shouldn’t have slammed the door in your face and push you to the ground.”
His hand lowered at the sincerity of her voice. “I’m sorry, too. For slapping you.”
“I forgive you,” she said softly.
The fire poker was back in its place, as Isabel didn’t see the need to carry it around with her all the time. And if I do need to defend myself… well I’ll find something to use, she thought as she closed her door. Her head went from side to side as she looked around for Adam. Not seeing him she headed straight for the kitchen. A nice, hot cup of coffee was what she needed right now. She frowned when she realized that the coffee machine wouldn’t work due to the power outage. How could she forget about that? The candles spread out everywhere were a constant reminder. There has to be something that would help her wake up.
Isabel walked into the kitchen with her head down. She honestly had no idea what she was going to do when she came face-to-face with Adam. She hoped that it would be awhile before she saw him again.
She stopped suddenly has her hazel eyes landed on two socked feet. Her gaze traveled up to the sleeping Adam on the kitchen floor. She hoped that he was just sleeping.
“Mr. Richardson?” There was no response. Her heart raced. “Mr. Richardson!” Isabel yelled as she knelt down by his head. She lightly tapped his left cheek. “Wake up.” Still no response. “Wake up,” she repeated as she grabbed his shoulder and began shaking it roughly. “Please!”
Adam’s eyes opened as he suddenly said, “Quiet down.” She gasped as she released his shoulder. “What is wrong with you?” A hand went to his head as he shut his eyes. He propped himself on to his elbows. “Damn pounding in my head won’t stop.” He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped when his blue eyes landed on her. Isabel was still in the same position and she looked… worried. Why would she be worried about him? “Are you okay?”
“I… you…” she stuttered. “I thought that I had… that I had…”
“What? You thought that you actually hurt me?” He shook his head with a smirk, and regretted it. “Ow,” he muttered. “You can’t hurt me.” But as he looked at her again he saw that she was still scared.
“I guess not,” Isabel muttered said as she stood. She didn’t even look at him as she walked to the table, which was still cluttered with liquor bottles and the glass cup, and sat on a chair. With her head in her hands she sat still not saying anything.
Adam watched this and tried to remember what exactly happened last night. I apologized, got a door slammed in my face, went to the bar, grabbed some alcohol then… that’s it. He looked at the table with the bottles. He didn’t remember ever coming into the kitchen or grabbing the other bottles. And how did he end up on the floor? Isabel seemed to think that she had done something to him. What happened last night? The pounding headache caused him to stop thinking. Now was not a good time to be doing that.
He slowly stood, reaching out for the counter to keep his balance. His hand was brought back to his head. Aspirin. He really needed an aspirin right now. Maybe two.
With his back to Isabel he started out of the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” Isabel said.
He stopped and slowly turned. Did she just apologize to him? “What?”
She turned in her chair and faced him. He finally noticed her baggy eyes and messy hair. She really did look like a wreck. And it’s partially my fault.
Isabel took a deep breath, with her eyes locked on his. “I’m apologizing for last night. I shouldn’t have slammed the door in your face and push you to the ground.”
His hand lowered at the sincerity of her voice. “I’m sorry, too. For slapping you.”
“I forgive you,” she said softly.