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started to fall.  She felt Bastian’s hands quickly encircle her waist. 
    “Kaylee? ”
    “I need to lie down.” 
    Once Bastian had reluctantly released her, Kaylee walked to the couch . Bastian followed closely behind with his hands awkwardly dangling at his sides as though he w ere unsure what else to do with them.
    “Would you like me to leave?” he repeated as Kaylee’s knee bumped the couch and she finally lay down.
    “No, I’d like some company right now.”
    “Okay.”  He slowly removed his coat, walked to the coat rack in the hall, and hung up his coat.  On the wall, he spotted two Spanish swords crossed mid-blade —authentic weapons just like his father collected.  He gritted his teeth and turned away.  As he re-entered the room, Bastian eyed the rumpled navy afghan he’d covered Kaylee with the night before .  Then his gaze moved to her pale face.
    “I’d like to say you look better this morning, but I’ve never been a good liar.”
    “Gee, thanks.  Such a thoughtful way of saying ‘you look like shit.’”  Kaylee opened her eyes and found the murkiness in her vision had cleared.  She smiled weakly .
    Bastian raised his hands.  “Now wait a minute —I didn’t say that.”   
    “No, you didn’t.  You might as well have, though.  It’s true.   Perhaps at some point you’ll see me on a good day.”   Kaylee patted her hair and ran her fingers through the length, trying to untangle it . 
    Bastian sat on the love seat.  “How do you feel?” .
    “About as good as I look.  Enough said?”  Kaylee retorted.  “And you?”
    “Cold, actually.   That’s quite a storm out there. “  Bastian peered out the window at the huge white flakes silently tumbling from the heavens.
    Kaylee drew the afghan over her body.  “Isn’t it, though?”  She twisted a section of the blanket in her hand.  “I’d offer to make you some tea, but my head still ach es and I’m freezing.”  As if in response, the heater kicked on , blast ing hot air from the ducts above.
    “Would you like me to make some?”  Bastian stood and started toward the kitchen.
    “You’re an angel,” she said, smiling.
    “What did you say?”  Bastian stopped mid-stride. 
    “You’re an angel.”
    “So there’s no longer any question about it, eh?” he asked, peering at a copy of “Innocence” painted by Bouguereau.  In the painting, a woman stood with her hands to her ears as two cherubic angels hovered behind her head.  One of them offered her a flower.
    “What do you mean?”  Kaylee looked at him with a puzzled expression and wound a strand of hair around her forefinger.
      “Don’t you remember what you asked me when I fished you out of the pond?”  Bastian stared at her as though studying her features.
    Kaylee shook her head. 
    “You asked me if I were an angel.”  He rubbed his chin with his index finger and thumb.  “ Must have been because of a street lamp behind me.”
    “I don’t remember that .  Mostly I remember the cold.  Every part of my body felt like ice ,” Kaylee said, shivering slightly.  Her fingers gripped the blanket and drew it higher over her body.
    “Yeah, I know that feeling.  You probably picked the coldest night of the year to take a dip.”  He slipped into the kitchen.  Grabbing the teapot, he filled it with water and set it on the burner.
    “Where do you keep the tea bags?” he yelled, opening a few cabinet doors, scouring the contents.
    “In the pantry.”
    Bastian peered around the kitchen and crossed to the pantry.   “Why don’t you pick a more logical place to keep stuff?” he muttered.  The  tea bags (orange flavored?) stood at eye level, and Bastian snatched two bags from the box.   He vaguely remembered which shelves held the mugs and quickly grabbed two.  While waiting for the water to boil, he set a tea bag inside each mug and glanced around the pristine kitchen , its stark cleanliness overpowering.  Formica