Gerrard stood quietly staring at the closed door, in the 3 years since he literally fell into Nell’s life she had never acted this way towards him. Carefully setting the tray on the small parlor stand, he knocked. “Nell, I made your favorite stew for dinner, may I come in?”
“I … I … pleassse Gerrard, pleassse I don’t want you to sssee me,” came her muffled reply. Her voice hadn’t had that sharp an edge of anguish to it since he’d frightened her climbing a tree.
“Alright, I’ll go, but you have to eat. I left the tray on the parlor stand; I’ll be in the kitchen, ring if you need anything.” Turning to go, he heard the floorboards creak as she climbed down off the bed. The bed he’d shared with her until a few days ago when she inexplicably locked the door on him.
“Gerrard?” her voice a bit louder closer to the door.
“Yes, I’m right here.