Page 19 of Day Break

The wood fence on either side of the archway was newer and stained a warm honey color.

The archway itself appeared to be thirty or forty years old. Someone had built the new fence around the intricate iron gate.

I could see thick vines growing up each side of the arch and meeting overhead. Come spring and summer, there would likely be colorful flowers to appreciate as you walked through the opening.

Byron rushed through the open gate and across a well-manicured lawn. Most of the flower beds were just now starting to grow and bloom. The warmer weather in the past few days had signaled the yard to rebirth.

I stopped at the gate. I knew that I couldn’t afford to be caught. If I took another step, I would be trespassing, which meant that I’d be breaking the law. Technically, for the first time.

I turned to go back, but Byron rushed over and grabbed my pant leg again, pulling and tugging on it until I moved forward once more.

“Hello?” I called out as I went. I was hoping to have a chance to explain why I was on someone else’s property.

I moved slowly, only taking a step when Byron tugged hard enough. A few steps past the gate, the trees opened up, and a house came into view. I couldn’t help it, I gasped at the beauty of the home.

The trim was a stark white while the rest was painted a soft sky blue. Actually, more of a gray mixed with sky blue. Was that called robin’s egg blue?

Byron tugged again. and I took another step forward, my eyes focused on the back of the house. I was afraid that at any moment someone would step out and shout at me.

The home reminded me of a cottage, only much bigger. Two stories. I moved slowly past a cute circular firepit with six huge chairs set around it. There was a wide covered patio off the back of the house with a long table and chairs underneath.

Byron was growing more determined and stopped several times to bark at me.

Large glass doors filled most of the back of the home, allowing anyone inside to pretend they were outside without being in the elements.

I tried to push the memories of my own past comforts out of my mind as I stepped onto the stone patio.

Byron stopped pulling and rushed through the opening in the glass doors. Then I heard him bark, only this time he didn’t sound annoyed. This time he sounded… desperate.

“Hello?” I called out, stepping up to the glass doors.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but then I noticed the small, crumpled figure on the floor just a few feet inside the doorway.

Crying out, I rushed forward, no longer thinking.

Byron sat at the man’s side, watching me.

Carefully, I turned the older man over and noticed a small gash on his forehead. The man groaned and slowly opened his eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked, running my eyes over the rest of him to make sure he wasn’t injured anywhere else.

The man just blinked at me, and I could see that his eyes were adjusting and focusing on my face. I hadn’t bathed that day. Actually, I couldn’t remember the last time I had washed.

I probably had grass in my hair and dirt on my face and hands from lying in the field. My hair was so tangled that I’d given up braiding it.

If I’d had a pair of scissors, I probably would have chopped all my hair off.

“Who?” the old man asked, then groaned.

“Easy,” I said, looking around for something to clean the blood. “It looks like you had a fall.” I found a hand towel on the countertop. I used it to dab at the blood, but it was too dry. “Hang on,” I said, standing up to look around. There was a massive sink in the middle of a wood island, and I rushed over and wet the corner of the towel. When I returned, the man was sitting up and leaning against the cabinet. “Here,” I said, gently moving his hand aside so that I could clean the cut. “How are you feeling?” I asked, wanting to see if he was coherent.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “I tripped.” He motioned to a pair of shoes. “I should have put them away.”

I glanced around, worried that someone else might be home and come in to see the scene. My hands had blood on them, and an outsider might believe I’d hurt the old man.

“Is there someone here that can help you?” I asked, returning my gaze to him. “Someone I can call?”

“No.” He waved his hand and looked a little annoyed. “I can tend to myself,” he said with a stern voice.