The Sky We Seek (Love and Other Dreams #2)

Chapter 8

Noah

Rain pounds down from the sky at a deafening volume. The drops are everywhere, yet I am not wet.

I look up. There is nothing there.

Where am I?

I reach for the ground beneath my feet, feeling damp blades of grass and soft mounds of moss. And a hand.

It is cold.

Although I immediately look down, I can't see anything.

No one is here.

But I still feel this arm, so heavy that I can barely lift it.

A metallic scent creeps into my nose. It finds its way into my mouth. Disgusted, I wipe my lips, and my fingers become slick with moisture.

It’s blood.

And suddenly, it’s everywhere. Above me, below me, beside me, and on me.

The dark red dominates my field of vision.

Muffled as if wrapped in cotton wool, I perceive a pulse.

A heartbeat. Once again, I look down.

Once again, no one is there. I have to help!

The dim throb grows fainter .

Beside me, someone sobs. "N-no pulse."

Relentlessly, I hear the rain falling.

"I think she’s dead," a woman’s voice whispers.

Dead, dead, dead echoes within me, and suddenly, everything is silent.

No. She can’t die!

I must finally see what’s happening here. How else can I save her life?

With a piercing scream, I open my eyes.

My surroundings are pitch black. Sweat trickles down my temples and soaks into my hair. Just a moment ago, my mouth was filled with blood, and now my tongue sticks dryly to my palate. Quickly, I reach for the cold hand, but all I feel is warm fabric. What is this?

Don’t think. It’s over. That’s all that matters. Groaning, I turn to the side and sink into the darkness.

***

A shrill ring pierces my eardrums.

It’s an alarm clock.

For a moment, I force my eyelids open, only to close them again immediately. They are too heavy. Just like my arms. And my legs too. Everything about me feels like it weighs at least a ton.

"Oh God, please no," I struggle to utter, yet I know it’s true. My early shift starts in just under an hour.

I sit up in bed and pat my cheeks. "Come on." My attempt to motivate myself fails miserably. Even the sun, rising above the horizon through the French window of my bedroom, cannot inspire me.

I have zero energy, and I don’t know why. Since I returned to my job a week ago, days like this have become more frequent despite the fact that I sleep like a rock at night. I don’t remember waking up or tossing and turning. Nothing. I should be perfectly rested, yet I often feel like a zombie.

"Coffee. I need coffee," I mutter, yawning before reluctantly peeling myself out of bed.

I go through my morning routine as if on autopilot. With a dull head, I arrive at the office sixty minutes later. The feeling doesn’t fade during my shift, and the fact that the bright, sunny weather ensures an uneventful day at work doesn’t help. My eyes close more than once, and my muscles feel heavy.

At the end of my shift, I don’t know how I survived the eight hours. And I have even less of an idea how I will survive the afternoon at my sister’s place.

"You promised her," I remind myself, pushing open the door as I leave. I take a deep breath of the crisp mountain air. It’s still quite cool for late April, but it doesn’t manage to wake me up at all.

With my hands in my pockets, I drag myself to my mountain bike and start pedaling at a snail’s pace. It takes me about twenty minutes to reach Hanna and Florian’s house.

Shaking my head, I lean my bike against the garden fence next to the raspberry bushes. Then I take the gravel path that leads around the house. In the midst of their wild, overgrown natural garden, I find my sister. Surrounded by buzzing bees, she crouches among the primroses, collecting flowers. Florian, as usual, is nowhere to be seen. He’s probably hiding behind his computer, leaving the strenuous work to Hanna.

The crunching of the gravel under my feet likely gives away my arrival, as my sister looks up before I even reach her. Just a moment ago, she had a dreamy expression on her face, but now, a deep furrow forms between her eyebrows.

"Hey, dear brother." She brushes aside her bangs.

"Where do I start?" I clap my hands together in an attempt to look enthusiastic.

She studies me for a moment. "You look like a panda."

What does that mean?

She pushes herself up, crossing the half-high wildflower meadow to reach me, and touches my chin. The scent of flowers on her fingers fills my nose. "Pale cheeks, dark circles under your eyes, bloodshot eyes," she murmurs to herself.

She’d better stop analyzing. "I just need to get used to getting up again. That’s all," I say. Without waiting for her reaction, I head to the shed where my tool belt and various pieces of wood are stored. "I’ll continue working on the sun terrace, alright?" I shout to her as I slide the hammer into the designated loop on my belt next to the bag of nails.

There’s a commotion behind me. "The stove in cabin five isn’t working, and the guest in cabin one claims the bed squeaks. Could you take a look at that later?" I hear my sister ask. "Florian doesn’t have time, unfortunately," she adds apologetically.

How surprising. I bite my tongue. Everyone has to make their own choices, and Hanna is no exception. Besides, I’m just glad she’s no longer interrogating me.

Just as I breathe an internal sigh of relief, she suddenly appears beside me and places her hand on my shoulder. "Are you really okay? "

I can’t escape her penetrating gaze. "I’m fine," I manage to say, but as soon as I try to smile, a persistent yawn rises within me. Hurriedly, I withdraw from Hanna’s scrutinizing gaze and march out through the low doorframe.

At least this time she doesn’t follow me. Nevertheless, I feel her eyes on my back as I nail the first board onto the substructure of the new terrace in Hanna’s garden. The hammer feels heavy in my hand, and after just two planks, my arm becomes fatigued. Yet I continue until the sun disappears behind the mountain peaks so that my sister won’t worry unnecessarily.

***

Hours later, I survey my work. Tomorrow, I’ll stain the wood, and then I just need to sand the posts for the boundary rope and finish assembling the lounge chairs.

"Over here, I’ll plant yarrow, chervil, and cornflowers." Hanna enthusiastically walks toward me. She points at the empty spot to the right of the terrace. "Maybe we can build a waist-high stone wall or incorporate an insect hotel. What do you think?"

I nod. Although it hasn't reached its full potential just yet, she has turned this garden into a paradise. Not only for people but also for plants and animals.

"That sounds lovely," I say, already considering in my mind which types of wood I could use for the insect hotel.

Hanna rests her head on my shoulder, and silence falls between us. "Have you tried ginseng yet?" she eventually asks, her voice carrying that affectionate tone that immediately causes my stomach to knot.

Of course, I have. Peppermint oil, ginkgo, and contrast showers too. I press my lips together and pull her closer to me. "What if there’s something serious causing it?" Her voice breaks, and she swallows hard. "It started the same way with Dad’s cancer back then."

Of course, it’s the first thing she thinks of. "I’m just a little exhausted. No need to worry," I quickly say although I hardly know what to think myself. Wherever this heaviness is coming from, it just won’t lift.

"You should see Helene—"

"No." I interrupt her a bit too harshly, immediately regretting my tone. "A doctor’s visit is unnecessary. It’s nothing, trust me," I continue much gentler. I even smile a little for her sake.

"But she could at least rule out..."

Her sad gaze doesn’t fit the vibrant shades of green in the meadow and the forest behind her. She swallows hard. "You can't outrun your shadow, you know?"

"Let it go, Hanna." It would be better if she dropped the subject. This won't lead anywhere. "Which was the cabin with the broken stove again?"

"I’m here for you. You can trust me." She nibbles on her lower lip, reaching out her hand toward me but then lowers it again.

Even though she has never betrayed my trust, I can’t give it to her. In the past few months, it has been broken so many times that only shards remain.

"Cabin five," she says with a saddened expression.

I nod briefly and make my way toward the forest, carrying the toolbox as twilight descends upon us .

The darkness weighs on me even more than the earlier exertions of the day. Yawning, I knock on the door of cabin five. It's silent inside. The guest must be out. However, since they requested the repair, I’m allowed to enter.

"Hello?" I call cautiously into the dark hallway, but there is no response.

I step inside and stumble over something on the floor. Almost losing my balance, my tired legs barely under control. Swearing, I reach for the light switch to reveal the culprit.

It’s a shoe. But not just any shoe—it’s a stiletto made of shiny black leather that looks so dangerous you ought to need a permit to own one.

Wait a minute. Cabin five? This is where the city girl is staying. Feeling a little proud that my mind, despite the dense fog within it, is still functioning somewhat, I pick up the shoe and examine it closely.

What the hell does she need these high heels for in the mountains?

"Do you want to try it on?" a cheerful voice asks, and I suddenly realize she is standing behind me.

As if her words set the shoe on fire, I hastily drop it. "It was in the way," I reply without turning around and rush toward the kitchen. "I’m here for the stove."

I've barely reached my destination, and the blond beauty is already by my side. Just like before, she’s dressed as if she’s going to a fancy party. One hand casually leaning on the countertop, she looks at me with her radiant blue eyes.

"The front one is the culprit." Her fingers keep playing with the honey-blond strands that have escaped her bun .

With a curt nod, I open the toolbox. There’s probably an issue with the connectors. With all the concentration I can muster, I lift the cooktop off the counter and disconnect the wires.

"Are you an electrician?" the city mouse asks while I unpack the multimeter to measure the current flow. Although I don’t directly look at her, I notice her leaning beside me at the stove. "My father is an electrician, but he never let me watch him work. He thought it was too dangerous, but it can’t be that complicated, right?" The words seem to bubble out of her in an unnaturally fast manner.

I grumble in agreement and place one of the measurement probes on the heating element. The other one needs to be grounded.

"It was probably for the best. Otherwise, I might not have found my passion." She sounds so dreamy that I even glance over at her for a moment. Indeed, there’s a radiance on her face that could rival any summer day.

Confused, I blink. What was I about to do?

It would be really helpful if my brain would function properly. I quickly glance down at myself.

Right. The stove element.

With a hasty movement, I manage to touch the yellow grounding wire with the second probe. The multimeter shows a current flow. "The burner needs to be replaced. Florian will order a new one, but it will take a few days."

"No problem, I’ll just have something delivered." She cheerfully pushes away from the kitchen counter and crosses the room.

Home delivery? She obviously hasn’t understood that we’re in Semmtal. And this amusing remark isn’t the only clue. Even the fancy earrings dangling from her slender neck seem out of place. Not to mention the unnecessary makeup. "I suggest you use the other burner instead."

She stops halfway through the room, turns around, and furrows her brow. "No delivery service?" she asks, disappointed.

The city mouse is obviously not slow. I shrug apologetically and pack away the multimeter. It’s high time I go home and finally rest. Weary, I trudge toward the door.

She follows closely behind me. "Thank you for your help." With her head slightly lowered, she looks up at me from below. A smile graces her lips.

She looks like one of those adorable puppies.

A rather attractive puppy.

Suddenly, she approaches me with a probing expression. "Is everything okay?"

"Sure," I say as I search in vain for a clear thought in my head. But there’s nothing there except fog.

I need to sleep. Desperately.

Distracted, I turn around and open the door.

"Bye, Noah. It was really nice to see you again." Do I hear a hint of disappointment in her voice?

A glance at her face confirms my suspicion. Her big eyes look so sad as if I’ve offended her somehow. She bites her lower lip.

"Likewise," I blurt out.

Her face brightens as if I've done her a favor.

This city girl is strange. Definitely strange. And even though I don’t have any energy left, I can’t stop wondering what might be lurking behind her polished exterior as I make my way back home.