When Elizabeth walked back into the room with a bowl of soup, the man was already awake, pushing himself into a sitting position.
“Where am I?” He demanded in a hoarse voice.
“You’re in my house.”
“Why am I here?” He hissed.
“I saw you washed up on the beach almost dead. So I carried you back.”
He ignored her and attempted to push himself up, only to fall back down.
“Careful. You’re still weak.”
“Weak my ass.” He muttered, trying again and failing once again.
“Here, let me help you.” Elizabeth set the soup down on the drawer top and reach over to help him. He pushed her away feebly.
“Get your dirty hands off of me.”
Slightly taken aback, Elizabeth stood back and watched him struggle.
“Well, there’s always soup right there if you want it.” She turned and left. She dealt with stubborn old men before. You had to allow them to lose steam. Then if you could get on their good side, you were in luck.
Elizabeth settled down in the living room with a cup of tea and a book. As she read, a she heard a slam. Looking up, she noticed that the back door of the house was open. Did the old man really crawl out? She looked outside curiously and noticed the man lying on the beach again. She walked over and peeked over the shoulder of the man. He was out cold. Elizabeth sighed as she carried the man back into the house. It was going to be sometime before he would finally give in. And until them, she could only sit and watch.