With one arm beneath neck and the other curled around her waist, Brantley was looking deep in her eyes. "How are you Bia?" he asked in a hoarse voice. His eyes were red and had purple below them.
There was so much concern etched on his face that she felt a pang in her heart. She cupped her cheek with her weak hand and grazed his stubble. "I am fine…" she felt as if a freight train had passed over her.
He leaned in her hand and heaved, "Thank the Gods." He closed his eyes and held her head closer to his chest as if to reassure himself that she was there, she was back. He rocked her gently in his lap and stroked her hair and her arms. There was silence between them. Moments later she went off to sleep in his arms like a baby in her mother's arms.
