Theresa’s tumors, Charmaine’s flawed baby, Gwen and Eddie, Nathaniel and his licentious offer—her mind spun round and round, refusing to give her rest. She could hear Theresa’s snores from her bed below, and for a brief moment Valerian considered waking her to talk out her thoughts. But her aunt needed her rest, and Valerian did not want to burden her when she already had so much to worry about. It was Valerian’s turn to be strong, to be the supportive one. Only, when it was all over, who would be there to support her? She sighed and let her limbs lie loosely. She stared into the dark above her. She tossed back the covers, kicking her feet free of the blankets in disgust. She could not lie here another moment. Valerian crawled to the ladder and started down, then heard Oscar rustle his feathers. “Biscuit!” he croaked out, his voice loud in the quiet cottage. “Hush!” Valerian hissed. “No biscuits. Go back to sleep.” “Go for walk, walk.” “Oscar, quiet, you will wake Aunt Theresa.”
