he burned himself once , sought me out , and held out a hand on which glowed a strip ." what do i do ?"
i held his hand under cold water , made him a cup of tea , and asked every hour or so if he was feeling better . for days afterward . i caught him examing it and eavesdropped on his phone conversation to poppy . " it could have been very nasty ."
. indue course , the scab fell away leaving a scimitar scar ." poppy tells me ." nathan was pleased with the information ." that this kind of burn is listened in medical textbooks a as housewife's syndrome ."
i scrutinized my own unscarred wrists ." what does that make you , nathan ?"
"experienced at ironing ," he replied evenly .
i returned downstairs . nathan was not in the study , and i tooked into the sitting room . he had drawn a chair up by the french window . he was staring out through the dark in the direction of the lilac tree and was quite , quite still .
the hairs on the back of neck prickled . in the kichen , the timer shrilled . i took a step into the room ." nathan ?"
he sighed , stirred ." yes .... he looked at me ." what do you want ?"
ahter supper , nathan rooled up his shirsleeves and tackled the glass too delicate for diswasher . it was late , the heating had gone off , and gooseflesh colomized my arms .
he worked in his usual methodical way , running frash hot water into each glass and setting it on the draining board . i tipped the hot water back into the sink , rubbed them with a cloth , and pyut them away .
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