The Reluctant Heiress

The storm had rolled in late, a low grumble of thunder that faded into a steady, sleepy drumming on the roof. Alex was already deep, breathing slow and even beside her, one arm flung across the cool sheet. Beth lay awake for a moment longer, tracing the pattern of raindrops on the windowpane with her eyes, before drowsiness pulled her under.

There was a noise outside that woke her. Dogs barking? A car? She wasn't sure.

She felt that it wasn't the thunder that woke her. Her eyes snapped open in the near-darkness. The digital clock glowed 12:17 AM. Alex beside her hadn't stirred, his breathing unchanged.

Don’t wake him. He needs his sleep. He’d been exhausted all week.

She slid out of bed as quietly as possible, the floorboards cool beneath her bare feet. She padded down the stairs, the house creaking softly around her, the rain a constant hush against the windows. The kitchen swallowed the weak light from the moon struggling through the clouds. She moved to the large window above the sink, peering into the backyard.

Nothing. Everything seemed satisfactory. Nothing seemed out of place. Relief washed over her, warm and heavy. Maybe just the storm playing tricks.

She opened the fridge, the sudden light making her squint. The cool air felt good. She poured a glass of milk, the sound loud in the quiet. Then, the familiar crinkle of the cookie package – chocolate chip, Alex’s favorite. She grabbed two, the scent of vanilla and chocolate instantly comforting. She settled at the small kitchen table with a worn paperback she’d been reading, the only sounds the turning of pages and the rain’s steady rhythm. The milk was cold, the cookies sweet, the story absorbing. For a few minutes, the midnight noise was forgotten.

She was halfway through a chapter when the floorboard near the kitchen door creaked – a different one, one that never creaked when she stepped on it. She looked up.

Alex stood in the doorway, tousled and blinking, wearing only his sleep pants. He looked at her, then at the milk and cookies on the table.

"Beth?" His voice was thick with sleep. "What are you doing down here? You okay?"

She smiled, a little sheepish. "Sorry, honey. I woke up. I thought that I heard something outside. Didn't want to wake you, so I came down to check."

He walked over, leaning against the counter, running a hand through his hair. He picked up a cookie, dunked it briefly in her milk, and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Did you see anything?"

"Nothing," she said, taking the glass back. "Just the rain. It’s silly, I know. Couldn’t get back to sleep, so I thought… milk and cookies. Reading." She held up the book.

Alex finished his cookie, then his eyes, still adjusting to the dim light, swept the room – the window, the back door, the shadowed corners. He moved to the sink, peered out into the dark, rainy yard, just as she had. He stood there for a long moment, silent.

Alex didn't respond immediately. He filled a glass with milk, and had some cookies. "I think that we'd both better get back to bed."