Blind Date(17)

Maybe I didn't pack it, but that doesn't explain how it got onto the kitchen table.

Maybe I was sleepwalking? I've been known to do that in my time, but never to the extreme of picking up items of clothing and putting them on a table. Though it was what was meant to be our wedding anniversary two days ago, and my emotions were a little all over the place, so maybe subconsciously I did somehow manage to get to the shirt and put it on the table.

It's the only explanation I can conjure up right now.

Nothing else has been touched.

I'm overthinking this.

I clutch the shirt and take it into my room, placing it on my desk folded neatly, then I go out and get ready for my shift. The shirt lingers in the back of my mind, consuming my thoughts so much I don't hear the knocking until it becomes a little louder and I snap out of my trance. Rushing over to the door, I swing it open to find Jacob standing there, two coffees in his hand.

"Sorry, I hope I didn't wake you." He smiles. "Good morning."

I glance down at the coffee, then at him, and say in a soft tone, "Morning. Come in."

He studies me, his eyes narrowing. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

He's taken to calling me sweetheart in the last few days, and I will admit, it is kind of nice. It's been a long time since anyone has spoken to me with such affection. Raymond was an affectionate man, one of the very few I've met who wasn't afraid to show a woman how he felt. It was a quality I loved about him. Something that made living with him a peaceful, fun, happy experience.

"Ah, yeah, I guess."

I'm still distracted. Why would I find a shirt when sleeping and put it on the table? I just don't understand where I would've even found it. I just can't seem to wrap my mind around it, even though I'm sure the explanation is a simple one.

"You don't look okay," Jacob says, and I focus on him again. "Tell me what's happened?"

Should I tell him? Will he think I'm crazy? Gosh. What if he does? No. He wouldn't. He's a nice guy, one of the best. He'll probably be able to set me straight, help me see it a little more clearly.

"It's just, well this might sound a little nuts … " 

He hands me my coffee and I take it gratefully, moving out of the way as he steps inside. "I don't think it'll sound nuts. Talk to me."

I close the door and exhale. "I found one of my husband's shirts on the kitchen table this morning, but the thing is, I'm sure I packed it away in a box. I mean, I couldn't be completely certain about that, but I thought I did. Even so, somehow it got onto the table, and I can't figure out how."

Jacob frowns, deep in thought. "Perhaps you put it there without remembering?"

I shake my head. "I don't see why I would. I went to bed last night, and it wasn't there. And when I woke this morning, it was."

He ponders this. "You don't sleepwalk, do you?"

I nod, sheepishly. "Well, yeah, I do have a habit of doing that but I don't know where I would have found that shirt, or why I would have put it on the table. It's not as if it was just lying around somewhere. I couldn't even tell you where it was, it's been packed away for so long."

He shrugs, and sips his coffee before answering. "I've read numerous times how people do the oddest things when sleepwalking, things that don't make any sense at all when they're awake. Perhaps you were just thinking of him, and your mind subconsciously led you to the shirt?"

That does make some sense, I guess.

But, it still doesn't feel quite right. I just can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something. Maybe I'm being paranoid and need to just let it go. Jacob is right-people do strange things when sleepwalking all the time. I've read about it before, too.

"You're probably right."

He steps forward, catching me around the waist and bringing me closer, grazing his lips over mine. "Try not to panic. I'm sure it's nothing at all. Don't get yourself flustered."

"Yeah, I know, but it just seems odd … "

"You're probably overreacting," he says carefully. "Honestly, it was likely something simple."

Am I overreacting? My brain twists even more. Maybe I am, it would make sense. I used to have strange dreams after Raymond died, and I'd find myself in odd places some mornings, like sleeping on the floor or sitting on the couch. It would make sense that I could do the same in this situation, too. After all, our anniversary was close, and I was thinking of him more than usual, especially considering I've kind of started dating again. Maybe that has stirred up a mix of feelings and brought it all to the surface.

"Yeah," I say softly. "No, you're right. I'm sure it's nothing. Thanks for bringing the coffee over. I really needed one."

"Oh I know," he chuckles. "I'm basically a mind reader."