I grin in the back seat of the car as I hug his overnight bag. Jakob’s getting better.
We stop by Balzac House and I shower and change and collect one of the archive boxes that Matilda gave me. I don’t want to be anywhere but at the hospital, but now that Jakob’s doing better and my leg isn’t hurting so much, I want to get started on the job that Matilda gave me.
By the time I get back to the hospital, Jakob’s asleep for the night. I start sorting through the papers to get a feel for what I have, which is a lot of memos that make no sense at first glance. I start to put them into some sort of order, sorting them by date and grouping them by repeating words like Charbonneau Bank and Bellay murders.
I chew my lip as I begin to get a picture of the story the memos tell. Jakob isn’t going to like what I’m doing, and he might become cold and ruthless again when I tell him. My feelings for the man asleep in the bed a few feet away are strong and true, but are we going to be able to have a loving relationship, let alone a marriage?
At ten, I wrap myself in a blanket and sit in the chair by Jakob’s bed to sleep. It’s not so bad. The chair reclines fully, and I’ve always been a good sleeper.
As the first rays of wintry sunshine peek through the window the next morning, I head down to the hospital cafeteria and buy a takeaway coffee and a cup of granola and yoghurt, and head back to Jakob’s room. He’s still sleeping the sleep of the exhausted and doesn’t wake until the nurses come in with his breakfast.
He smiles blurrily at me as they help him to sit up in bed. The nurses start to guide his hand to the bowl, his spoon, his cup, telling him what each one is, until he shows them he can do it himself. His right hand is still bandaged up and he eats cereal and drinks coffee with his left, slowly, but he manages.
When he finishes eating, he looks over at me sitting on the floor with papers spread out all around me. He has to look carefully to figure out what I’m doing.
“Are you reading something?”
“Yes, something for Matilda. Old papers. We can switch the television on if you want something to watch?”
But Jakob isn’t interested in the television. My deflection only sharpens his interest. “What old papers?”
I take a deep breath. “You may not like it. In fact, I’m pretty sure you won’t.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Probably not.”
He leans back on his pillow. “Good. Get up here and give me a kiss.”
I smile and get to my feet. That I can do, and I press my lips against his with enthusiasm. When I look into his eyes, they’re slightly bloodshot and red-rimmed, but I know that he can see me.
“Do you really not mind what I’m up to?”
“Not right now.”
“It might make you mad.”
“How can I be angry about anything when we’re both alive?” He smiles and leans back against his pillow, his eyes closing. Then he cracks one eye open. “Why? What are you doing? Matilda better not have asked you to do anything that will upset you.”
I laugh and kiss him again. “There’s the Jakob I know.”
“Well? Tell me.”
“It’s to do with the past.”
He sighs and looks up at the ceiling. Heavily, he says, “The past.”
“Yes. Your least favorite thing.”
“Mm. So, while I’m bedridden and can’t storm around to Matilda and tell her off, she dumps a load of pain in your lap?”
I shake my head. “It’s not like that. I think some people might find the information in these papers painful, but to me, it’s just interesting. And important. I…think you might not like it though, because it concerns King Anson’s parents. I know how much you love him and want to protect him.”
“What have you found out?”
“They’re palace memos from the final weeks of King Gregor and Queen Penelope’s reign. They don’t paint a very flattering picture, I’m afraid.”
“No,” he says grimly. “I can imagine they don’t.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You can? You’re not going to deny it and you’re not angry with me?”
“Why would I be angry with you about things that happened before you were even born? If you’re not finding these papers distressing, and you’re interested in what they have to say, then I’m happy. You’re always poking your pretty nose into things and trying to discover how they tick.” A smile spreads over his face. “And this is keeping you away from homicidal lunatics.”
“Ha-ha. No, the papers don’t upset me. They’re fascinating, actually, but…”
Jakob gazes at me, one eyebrow raised.
“I worry that what I discover will hurt King Anson,” I tell him. “It will make some people at Court angry, no doubt about that, but it’s the King I’m worried about. He watched his parents die so horribly.”