As he drifted off to sleep the night before, a peace had come over Combeferre, the likes of which he had never known. So many strange and inexplicable happenings had brought him to this moment, this bed, this woman, and he would have thanked God for each and every one if he had not been so thoroughly exhausted. God and the thanks He deserved could wait until Combeferre had slept his fill, and woken up beside his wife, and they had made love, and breakfasted, and inevitably had fallen into bed all over again…
God would have to do a lot of waiting.
The cries don’t wake Combeferre, and neither does Sybil’s gentle entreaty. But when her warmth leaves his side he stirs, and frowns in his sleep, and slowly, slowly returns to waking. He is quite disappointed to discover that his half-unconscious realization had been correct: his wife is nowhere to be seen.
“Sybil?” he calls, and now he hears the baby crying, and now Sybil has returned with the infant in her arms. Combeferre puts on his spectacles, and the tears streaming down her face come into focus. Still, he does not understand. “Ma cherie,” his voice still croaks with the edges of sleep, “whatever do you mean?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-08-22 03:06 am (UTC)God would have to do a lot of waiting.
The cries don’t wake Combeferre, and neither does Sybil’s gentle entreaty. But when her warmth leaves his side he stirs, and frowns in his sleep, and slowly, slowly returns to waking. He is quite disappointed to discover that his half-unconscious realization had been correct: his wife is nowhere to be seen.
“Sybil?” he calls, and now he hears the baby crying, and now Sybil has returned with the infant in her arms. Combeferre puts on his spectacles, and the tears streaming down her face come into focus. Still, he does not understand. “Ma cherie,” his voice still croaks with the edges of sleep, “whatever do you mean?"