The Last Killiney
Page 80
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That night she floated in and out of dreams, visions of Paul living and breathing. Voices from the corridor awakened her only once, the housekeeper’s voice as she scolded Christian for roaming about on the eve of his son’s birth, Christian’s voice as he threatened to have the housekeeper fired.
She thought of Paul, always Paul, as Christian came in and without a lamp, got undressed. He lay rigid as a mummy next to her in bed, and without the whine to his voice or the sight of his blondness, Ravenna was free to imagine the warmth of his elbow in her back was Paul’s.
Curled around her baby, listening to the peculiar sound of his tiny breaths, she pictured Paul’s stocky frame pressed against her, his arm swung comfortably over her side. He has to be with us, she thought desperately. She couldn’t feel his presence, but where else could he be?