Twenty-Four Shadows. Tanya J. Peterson

noticed that his voice was back to normal, but she would not allow herself to be fooled. She had had enough of his games and horrible behavior. “Don’t play dumb with me, you jerk. Get out of this bed. Go sleep on the couch or, better yet, back in the garage with your precious cigarettes. Leave me alone.”

      Isaac gasped. “With my cigarettes? But I don’t smoke. You know I don’t smoke, Reese. What do you mean? And why did you call me a jerk? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice had risen in pitch as he expressed apparent confusion and alarm.

      Reese sighed. She didn’t roll over. “Really, Isaac? You expect me to buy that load of bull?” Her voice wavered. She swallowed hard. As much as Isaac’s behavior, and his confused reaction now, hurt her, she would not cry in front of him and give him any sort of advantage over her. She flinched when he touched her shoulder. She pushed his hand away.

      “Reese,” it was barely a whisper. “I’m confused. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t. I don’t know. I’m so sorry if I was a jerk. Please tell me what I did so I can make it right. And I don’t smoke. I never have. Why would you think I did?”

      “Because you were sitting in the garage smoking, Isaac,” Reese snapped. “You kept blowing smoke at me, you called me a nag, you told me I was too sensitive, you sneered at me, and all this was after you attacked Gretchen in the yard, screamed at her, and grabbed her wrist, wouldn’t let go, and twisted it.”

      Reese expected a comeback, but instead, Isaac was completely silent. She could hear his breathing and feel his presence beside her, so she knew he was still there. Why wasn’t he saying anything? They needed to hash this out, so with a huff she rolled over to face him. He was just lying there, and when she rolled over, he looked into her eyes. After a few moments, he slowly shook his head. Again in a whisper, he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t remember any of that, Reese, and I would never act like that.” Her heart usually went out to him when he was baffled like this and seemed so lost. Part of her now wanted to hold him and reassure him, but she couldn’t. Not just yet. Not after everything he had done. Did he really not remember, or was this some lame attempt to get himself off the hook? How could he not remember? Although this certainly wasn’t the first time he claimed not to remember having done or said things, it was the most extreme.

      “Smell your hands, Isaac.”

      “What?”

      “Smell your hands. You were smoking, so they smell like cigarettes.”

      Slowly, he did as she requested. His eyes widened in apparent terror, and he quickly lowered his hands. He shook his head. “No. No. Why do they smell like cigarettes, Reese? Why?” His voice was rising in pitch again, and his breathing was becoming more rapid. “I don’t remember, honey. I don’t remember any of what you said, and as I rack my brain, I don’t know what I’ve been doing. I guess the last thing I remember is being on the patio. How much time has passed? I don’t even know when or how I got in bed, and it scares me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I do these things, I’m sorry I was a jerk, and I feel really bad for Max. He didn’t deserve to have Gretchen leave. He’s a good person. But I’m not. I’m a horrible person, but I don’t mean to be. I don’t deserve you. Max didn’t deserve this to happen to him. Oh, Reese…” He stopped.

      As confused and hurt as Reese had been, she was too tired and hurting for Max to continue to fight with Isaac. She took him in her arms, and the moment she did, Isaac pressed against her. Reese let herself succumb to the moment, and she cried while Isaac rubbed her back and stroked her hair. Briefly, she wondered how Isaac could possibly transform from nice guy to asshole and back to nice guy, and not only do it but claim to not remember doing it. But she was tired and overwhelmed, and it felt good to be in her husband’s arms. She let the thought drift away and gave in to the moment.

      As her tears subsided, Reese ran her hands down Isaac’s arms. He cried out in pain.

      “Isaac! What’s the matter?”

      He winced. “My arms hurt. I don’t know why. They’ve been hurting since I got in bed, but I didn’t want to say anything. I’m sorry for yelping just now. I didn’t mean to.”

      “Lemme see.” She began to scoot up his sleeves, but she stopped when he winced again and inhaled sharply. “Okay. Can you slip your arms out of your shirt?” As he slowly complied, she saw his forearms and what was causing him pain. “Oh my God, Isaac! What did you do to yourself?”

      Together, they studied his arms. Neither spoke until Reese asked, “You really don’t remember anything, honey? I saw you smoke. You have cigarette burns from wrist to elbow on each arm. You don’t remember burning yourself like this?”

      Isaac shook his head. When Reese looked into his eyes, she saw pain and confusion and fright. She ran her hand along his face, felt the ever present stubble that drove her wild. She leaned forward and kissed him gently. When she pulled back, she kept her hands on his face. “Okay. I believe you. Let’s not worry about how these got there right now, okay? Let’s just take care of it. I suppose an advantage of having an over-active, rather clumsy five-year-old is that we always have a stocked first aid kit. I’ll be right back with it.”

      Isaac called to her, and she stopped in the doorway of their room. When she turned to look at him, he said, “I want you to know that despite the way I am, despite being such an awful person, I love you with all my heart and soul.”

      She returned to his side and kissed him. “You are so not awful, Isaac. Confusing as hell, yes. Awful, no. I really love you, too.”

      As she left the room to fetch the supplies to bandage her husband’s mysterious burns, she pondered her feelings. It was true. She loved Isaac deeply. His various episodes, as she privately referred to them, were bothersome and bewildering, but until now hadn’t been all that harmful or disruptive. When she thought of his behavior at Dominic’s party yesterday and tonight with Gretchen and in the garage, she frowned. Was this bizarre aspect of his personality going to become more pronounced? If it did, it would certainly become more difficult to ignore.

      Chapter 3

      Isaac listened to Reese shift in her sleep. Because he had been staring at the ceiling all night, he noticed that the color was lightening slightly, but not enough yet to illuminate the thin layer of dust on the blades of their ceiling fan. He hadn’t slept a wink. His burned arms were part of the reason. They felt like they were on fire, and they stung like hell. But even worse than the physical pain, which was extreme, was the anguish of not knowing how they got there. In searching his brain to try to figure it out, he continued to come up empty. Just as with some of the old scars bedecking his body, he didn’t know how they got there, but he knew one thing: they were there as a punishment, and he deserved it. That he was resigned to it didn’t mean that he was happy about it, though. What must Reese think? What if she decided, rightfully so, that she could no longer stand him and she did what Gretchen did to Max? The difference would be that Reese would take Dominic. The mere thought of this was crushing. If he were a man capable of crying, he probably would be doing so now. Tears never flowed, though, and they didn’t tonight, either. Nonetheless, he was in agony because of the pain and the fear of what could happen.

      What Gretchen did to Max was the other, related, source of his agony. How could someone abandon her family like that? He and Reese had been friends with Gretchen and Max for nearly a decade. Max and Gretchen were already living in the house next door when Isaac and Reese bought this house. They all had hit it off immediately. Isaac had always thought Gretchen was rather cool and aloof, but that didn’t explain why she left her family. Max and Elise didn’t deserve this. Max was a good guy. Better than Isaac. Far better. If either of them deserved his wife taking off, it was Isaac.

      He bolted upright. He had had that thought over and over again throughout the night, a recurring, waking nightmare. Rather than becoming desensitized to the thought, he had grown increasingly agitated by it and by now wanted to wake up Reese, grab onto her, beg her to stay, and never let go. That probably wouldn’t go over well, given that she was sleeping peacefully after an exhausting weekend. He sighed and