She had chosen a red wool skirt and turtleneck to wear from among Augusta's donations. The strong color made her seem a bit pale but, at least, the high collar covered up the most telltale of her injuries. While Nicholas' coffeepot percolated, she sat down at the desk gathering the books and supplies she would need to take with her. She thought it might be a good idea to bring a couple of extra pencils and a spare pen so she shuffled through Nicholas' desk drawers looking for some. A brown accordion folder was wedged in one drawer and it refused to budge. She poked about with her fingers trying to unjam it and snagged the string loose from the folder. It fell open when the drawer finally pulled free and its contents spilled to the floor. She dropped to her hands and knees to gather them.
They were photographs, a large collection of black and white shots that sparkled with light and clarity. Kneeling on the floor next to the desk, she spread them in a circle around her. There were still lifes and landscapes, farm animals and pets. There was an amusing sequence of three old women, in floppy hats and sagging halter tops, searching for shells on a beach. At least a dozen pictured an indignant, spotted pony with an assortment of costumed children on its back. The children were cute, but Nicholas' camera seemed to make a character sketch of the pony, capturing a tilt of the head or a flip of the tail that signaled its displeasure with its role in life.
Trissa shuffled quickly through the portraits of young women, each of them prettier than the one before, and all of them prettier than she was, with large eyes that seemed to mock her. Or maybe it was the little inscriptions on the backs that dismayed her: "To Nicky with love," "Forever is too short a time," "Love and more than kisses." She didn't want to know that Nicholas had a life before now that included beautiful women. She preferred her little fantasy that he was sent for her alone.
"Oh, jeez, what time is it?" Nicholas groaned from the bed. "I can't believe I overslept like this."
"It's okay. It's still early. I was too nervous to sleep, that's all." Embarrassed to be caught snooping, Trissa gathered the photos with guilty haste. She saw the futility of covering up when several slipped out of her grasp to the floor again. "I'm sorry. I was looking for a pencil. The drawer got stuck and these fell out. I didn't mean to go prying through your things."
Nicholas rubbed his hands over his stubbly chin and pressed his fingertips to his eyelids to wipe them awake. "Don't worry about it. Just dump them on the desk. I'll sort them out later."
When she had them all off the floor, the pile of photos mounded over the desk blotter, and she realized she would never have gotten them back in order correctly. "There are so many of them. And wonderful. They're so full of life, Nicholas. I love the landscapes, especially the ones at the lake. And the pony pictures."
"Daisy. The pony's name is Daisy." Nicholas cinched the sash of his robe and came over to the desk. He pulled a spiral notebook from the open desk drawer and leafed through it. He jabbed his finger at a block printed entry. "See, 'Daisy, Grand Rapids, March.' It's my life they're full of, I suppose. Not so wonderful as it might seem. I'd better shave." He shrugged and limped off to the bathroom.
She was puzzled by his mood. He was probably angry with her for invading his privacy, but was too polite to show it. It seemed to her suddenly that he had treated her with cool politeness for the past two mornings. She had thought it was just the peculiarity of their situation, two strangers forced to live together and get to know each other at the same time.
But now with the evidence of his preferences in women revealed to her in the photographs, she thought she knew what his aloofness really meant. He was stuck with her, plain and battered, and he was not happy. She smoothed the bed and folded the rolled blanket, plumped up the pillows and put away her pajamas.
It would be best if she stayed out of his way as much as possible, she decided. She poured him a cup of coffee and