The Hermit Read Online Free

down, no more than thirty seconds had elapsed.
     
    Her
breathing leveled out and she set down the bag.  Daphne was still for a long
time before clearing her throat and saying quietly, “Thank…thank you.”  
     
    Ryan
nodded at her.  She got up slowly and moved to the kitchen sink, her eyes never
leaving his face, the brass weapon in her hand.  Turning on the tap, she used
her hand and scooped water to her mouth. 
     
    “Daphne,
there are glasses above the sink on the left.”  She froze, seeming to consider
this before slowly opening the cabinet and staring at the items inside.  With a
shaking hand, she reached for a glass and held it, staring at it in wonder. 
Absently, she put her weapon on the counter and held the glass with both
hands.  Putting it under the running water, she filled it and shut off the
tap.  For a long time, she stood staring at the water in the glass, the sunlight
streaming through the window causing it to sparkle. 
     
    “It’s
so…clean.  I’ve missed that,” her voice was trembling and Ryan felt a
tightening in his chest.  This woman had been through so much that clean
drinking water moved her.  She looked at him and sipped it with an expression
of pure relief and gratitude on her face. 
     
    “Daphne,
where are you from?  I won’t ask for anything more than you’re willing to tell
me, but should we call someone for you?”  He kept his hands on the arms of the
chair, remaining as still as possible.  He was shocked at the strength of his
need simply to care for Daphne, to help her.
     
    “I…I’m
going to sit down, is that alright?” she asked him quietly.  He nodded,
remaining still and giving her a kind smile.  She made her way slowly to a
chair and sat as if in pain, running her hand across the top of the table.  Realizing
she’d left the candlestick several steps away, she looked at it and darted her
eyes to Ryan’s.
     
    “I
won’t hurt you, Daphne, but I’ll understand if you need it with you.”  She went
and got it, placing it on the table within reach. 
     
    It
took her a long time to tell him her story.  She was unused to speaking and
stopped often to gather her thoughts or take a tiny sip of water.  Ryan watched
her with a lump in his throat.  “I had a life once, a husband.  He was a
wildlife photographer for National Geographic and Outdoor World, among others. 
His name was Steven Pierce.”  She stopped to clear her throat and wipe her face
of the silent tears that coursed down her cheeks. 
     
    “He
was a nice man.  I met him in college when we both attended Ohio State.  We’d
been married for a year when he received an assignment to photograph the
Alaskan glaciers.”  She glanced out the kitchen window, taking in the mountains
beyond.  “I’d never seen anyplace more beautiful.” 
     
    Dropping
her forehead in her hand, she took a moment to compose herself.  “We were camping
near Kennecott when three men attacked us.  I thought they’d take what they
seemed to want from me and go.  I knew…I could endure what I thought would be
one traumatic event, that it would be alright in the end.  I was very…naïve.  I
hadn’t been educated on the depths evil men will sink to.”
     
    She
sipped her water, going silent for several minutes, gathering her courage to
speak about the horror out loud.  Tears tracked down her face but she didn’t
make a sound.  “For two days, they stayed in our camp.  My husband
was…abused…just as I was.  He’d been hit hard with the butt of a rifle when
they ambushed us, he was in a coma through all of that, and I’m grateful…so
grateful.  If there is anything I could be glad for, it is that Steven didn’t
know what was happening to him.”
     
    Her
hand clenched hard against her chest and she gasped for air.  Picking up the
paper bag, Daphne pulled herself back together but her voice was trembling as
she resumed her story.  
     
    “He
died on the morning of the third day,