by Kim Baldwin
Had someone given the bear-feet slippers to Bryson? For some reason, she hoped Bryson had picked them out herself.
“I think we’re ready.” Bryson swirled her hand through the water to test the temperature. “Lukewarm.”
“Okay. Want to do the honors? Let’s see what we’ve got.”
Bryson’s hands were sure, but tender. She eased off the booties, then, very slowly and carefully, cut away the socks.
Karla assessed her feet with a practiced clinical eye. They were a very pale white, with a bluish-purple tinge, but she’d seen much worse. “Easy,” she told herself as she lowered them into the tub, scooting forward just enough so they were completely immersed but did not touch the bottom.
Bryson sat crossed-legged on the floor on the other side of the tub and began to swirl one hand in the water.
“Something tells me you’ve done this before.”
“Unfortunately, a few times too often. But most of the time, things come out fine when someone’s been out only a few hours. You kept them wrapped up well.”
“We’ll know pretty soon.” Karla sipped her cocoa and told herself to be patient. Not being able to feel anything immediately told her nothing. She reached into her pocket for the tigereye necklace and, when she came up empty, only then remembered that she’d shoved it into her glove the night before. “Shit!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I put my Mom’s necklace into my right glove last night.” She glanced frantically around. “Do you know where it is?”
Bryson hurried to retrieve the gloves from the pile of hats and mittens by the door. She frowned as she returned them to Karla. “Nothing in there but a warming pack. My fault. I remember shaking the snow off them when I found you.”
Tears sprang to Karla’s eyes. “It’s gone, then.” She exhaled a long breath as the loss fully registered. Only a piece of jewelry, she tried to tell herself. But she felt almost like she’d lost her mother all over again.
“I’m sorry.” Bryson put a hand on Karla’s shoulder. “I know how much that meant to you.”
“Not your fault, Bryson. My own carelessness.”
“No. It was foolish of me to suggest you try to get here on your own in this weather.” Bryson sat back beside the tub to slowly agitate the warming water, adding a little from the teakettle now and then to keep the temperature consistent.
“Stop blaming yourself. I mean it. It was my decision.” Bryson’s expression, however, showed that she was determined to accept responsibility for what had happened. “You saved me. Yet again, I might add. You’re turning out to be my guardian angel.”
Bryson gave a reluctant but genuine smile. “Glad I seem to have developed a habit of being in the right place at the right time with you.”
That was certainly the truth. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“No. Shoot.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…what’s wrong with you?”
Bryson looked at her curiously. “I beg your pardon?”
“I mean…you’re gorgeous, and incredibly sweet. Brave. Selfless. Loyal to your friends. Why the hell hasn’t someone snapped you up long ago? Do you have an aversion to commitment or something?”
Scarlet rose in Bryson’s cheeks as she looked away, and a sudden shyness softened her features. “Thanks for the compliments, but I’m sure not perfect.” She poured more hot water into the tub. “It’s not a matter of fear of commitment. Just haven’t met the right person.”
“I thought you might have something going with the waitress at the Den. And it looked as though that pretty gate attendant in Fairbanks was interested, too.”
The blush deepened. “I’ve dated them,” she said, without meeting Karla’s eyes. “And they’re both great women. Just not long-term material, for me.”
“Why not? If you don’t mind my asking.”
Bryson shrugged. “Don’t know if I can really explain. Maybe it sounds naïve, but I just feel in my gut that I’ll know when it’s really right.”
“I used to think that way.” And look where it had gotten her.
“You don’t anymore?” Bryson’s voice had an edge to it that almost sounded like disappointment.
“Let’s just say I don’t think my gut is very reliable. I was sure I’d found the one, but now I think I was just too anxious to settle down.”
Bryson was watching her intently, waiting for her to continue.
“I dreamed all my life of falling in love, so when I experienced that real first flush of…oh, I don’t know. Physical chemistry, joy of companionship, feeling like I was needed and appreciated, I mistook it all for more than it was. I see now we didn’t have the foundation to make it work long-term—the same goals, the same dreams. The same level of mutual support and commitment to staying together and working through problems, no matter what. You want to talk naïve, I was the definition of the term.”
“Sounds like it didn’t end well,” Bryson said sympathetically. “Were you married?”
“Not technically, no. But I felt like I was.” A sigh escaped her. “Apparently I was the only one who felt that way.”
“I’m sorry. It sounds like you really got hurt.”
“Well, I didn’t see it coming. That’s what hurt the most. And it happened just two weeks before my mom died.”
“That recently?” Bryson said. “You’ve really had a hell of a lot to deal with, then. No wonder you seemed so…well, kind of preoccupied and troubled when you came here.”
“Basket case is more like it. The trifecta of startling surprises—divorce, death, and finding out I had a long-lost sister, all within the space of a month.”
Bryson’s voice got quiet. “Tonight aside, has it helped? Being here?”
“Yes, it has. Much more than I even dared hope for, as a matter of fact. The distance, all the hours of thinking time…” She waited for Bryson to look at her before she continued. “And especially the new friends and family who’ve helped me see things with a fresh outlook. I’m very glad I came.”
“I am, too.” Bryson smiled, but her eyes clouded with regret. “Won’t be easy to see you leave. I hope you’ll keep in touch once you get home.”
“For sure, I—” Her feet tingled slightly. She bent over at the waist to get a better look at them, and as she did, Bryson stopped agitating the water.
“What is it?”
“Getting some feeling back.” Her feet were pinking up again, a good sign.
“That’s great!”
“Yeah.” But even as she acknowledged the positive development, the slight tingling escalated into excruciating pain as circulation returned. It felt like someone was carving her feet up like a Thanksgiving turkey. She slumped back against the couch, wincing. “Christ, that hurts.”
“The ibuprofen isn’t helping?”
“Not much,” she said through tightly clenched teeth. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a morphine drip right now.”
She spent the next hour in agony, her body so rigidly tensed against the pain that the muscles in her shoulders and back began to spasm. Bryson continued her warming duties, keeping the water agitated and boiling more as needed so the temperature would be consistent. For a while, she tried to make small talk to keep Karla’s mind off her feet, but no amount of distraction helped.
Finally the suffering ebbed to a dull throb. Her feet were red and swollen, but she could feel them again, all too well, and detected no immediate sign of tissue damage. She’d have to keep her weight off them and monitor the skin closely during the next few days for signs of blistering and other complications, but she’d evidently escaped permanent damage. “I think that’s done the trick. Need to bandage them though,” she told Bryson as she lifted her feet from the water. “How are you set for gauze and tape?”
“Plenty. Let me.” Bryson got her first-aid supplies out and did a more-than-credible job of carefully drying and bandaging her feet. “You’ve got to be exhausted,” she said when she’d finished. “Think yo
u can get some shut-eye?”
Karla stretched, trying to work out the huge knot of tension that had taken up residence between her shoulder blades. “Feel like I’ve been run over by a convoy of tanks. But, yeah, worth a shot.”
“Wish I could give you my bed, it’s more comfortable than the futon,” Bryson said as she got to her feet. “But I don’t think it’s wise to try to haul you up that ladder.”
“Hey, this will be fine. Just toss me a pillow and blanket and I’m golden.”
“I can do a little better than that.” Bryson came over and stood before her. “But I’m gonna have to move you a minute,” she said as she reached down to hoist Karla into her arms. She started to set her down on the futon chair, but changed her mind halfway there and straightened again.
Their faces were close together, and Karla was acutely aware of every place where their bodies touched. Her arm was draped across the top of Bryson’s back, palm resting on the exquisitely rounded deltoid muscle of her right shoulder. Bryson’s arms securely cradled her lower thighs and back. Most disquieting of all, her breast was only a few inches from Bryson’s full, moist lips.
“You obviously won’t be able to walk for at least a few days. I just wanted to say don’t hesitate to ask me to help you.” Bryson appeared to be not at all as affected as she was by their rather intimate position. “I just realized, you probably need a pit stop before I get you settled in for the night.”
“A good idea. That cocoa’s beginning to catch up with me.”
Bryson carried her over to the corner and set her down on the portable honeypot toilet set up behind a small screen. “I’ll bring more wood in and shut off the generator,” she said, withdrawing to give her some privacy.
Karla wrestled off her jeans, careful not to put weight on her feet. Pulling the snug denim up again was so tough she vowed to live in sweatpants until she could walk again. Her exertions amplified the throbbing in her feet. The healing process wouldn’t be fun, though having to be reliant on Bryson for a while certainly wasn’t all bad.
The lights in the cabin went out as the loud hum of the outside generator halted abruptly. Bryson came back in, stomped the snow from her boots, and called, “Be just a minute.”
A welcoming sight awaited her when she emerged from behind the screen, once again nestled in Bryson’s arms. Bryson had converted the couch into a bed and covered it with flannel bedding, a thick down comforter, and three fluffy pillows. On the table beside it, a pair of thick round candles cast a soft amber light.
“Nice.” Though she didn’t know which was nicer, the fuss Bryson had made or how it felt to be wrapped in her secure embrace. Karla had an urge to run her hand through Bryson’s hair to see what it felt like. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
Bryson’s arms tightened around her, ever so slightly. “No trouble.” As she eased Karla onto the futon, she added, “Anything else I can do for you tonight?”
Her mind leapt to all sorts of answers, none of which she could volunteer and all of which surprised her. You can stay with me until I fall asleep. You can lie here with me and hold me in your arms. You can kiss me senseless and make me feel alive again. “I’m fine. Thanks for everything.”
“Good night, then. Sleep tight.”
“You too, Bryson.”
As Karla wrestled out of her clothes, Bryson lit a small kerosene lamp and took it with her up the ladder to the loft. Not long after, the light was extinguished.
Karla blew out her candles but lay awake for a long time, staring at the flames dancing in the woodstove. Her life was chaotic enough already. She shouldn’t even be thinking about getting involved with anyone right now, let alone someone who lived on the other side of the world.
She had become involved with Abby because she let her hormones and heart blind her to reality, and she was determined not to make the same mistake twice. There didn’t seem any way to make this work.
But every moment she spent with Bryson made it harder for her to keep her distance. No amount of rationalization or will power could stop her heart from pounding when Bryson got near, or calm the raging butterflies that invaded her stomach every time she caught Bryson watching her. It already seemed unthinkable to return to Atlanta without ever knowing what Bryson’s soft lips tasted like. How would she feel after a lot more time alone together?
Chapter Eighteen
Bryson’s body was screaming for rest because of her grueling ordeal, but her mind would not allow it.
You sure had to be careful what you wished for. She was about to have exactly what she’d been fantasizing about—time alone with Karla so she could get to know her better. In fact, because of her temporary disability, they wouldn’t have much to do but get better acquainted.
But she hadn’t imagined this at all. They would be spending several days alone together, for one thing, not just a few hours. And though she’d be holding Karla in her arms frequently, she didn’t really want it to be like this.
Touching her this way, being close enough to kiss her without being able to, would definitely drive her crazy. Every time she picked her up, she became hyperaware of their proximity. Every nerve ending bolted to alert, her heart raced, and her sense of smell became acutely attuned to the subtle fragrance of Karla’s shampoo. She ached to study, close up, the soft skin of Karla’s cheek, the extraordinary length of her gold-blond eyelashes, and the full, lush lips that invited her own. But if she did, Karla would be able to see how much she wanted her, so she forced herself to look away.
Sooner or later, however, no matter how hard she worked to appear nonchalant, Karla would realize the effect she was having on her. And then what? If that happened she hoped Karla would feel flattered and laugh it off. It’d make for an uncomfortable arrangement if she reacted poorly to the news.
She held her breath when a sound from below broke the quiet. Karla was shifting in bed, trying to get comfortable; a soft groan of discomfort followed the creak of the futon. What would you say if you knew how much I want to crawl in next to you right now? Wrap my body around yours and hold you until you fall asleep? The cabin went silent again, and she relaxed back against her pillow.
It was ludicrous to even consider getting involved with Karla. They didn’t have a future, even if Karla was interested in being more than just a friend. And she wouldn’t be able to detach from a brief affair with her as readily as she disengaged from all the other women she’d been with. Why was that? What made her so different?
She lay awake for another hour trying to find the answer and finally concluded that something about Karla spoke to her, connected with a part of her that had been dormant all her life. Chemistry, that’s what it was. It just felt right to be around her.
*
The cabin was still dark and quiet when Karla roused, though she sensed it wasn’t too early because she felt well rested. Her feet throbbed dully, but mostly her bladder was extremely full. As much as she hated to disturb Bryson, she didn’t have an alternative. “Bryson? Hey, you awake? Bryson?”
“Yeah,” came the sleepy reply from the loft. “Yeah, I’m here. You okay?”
“Sorry to get you up, but I need your help. I have to pee like there’s no tomorrow.”
“Oh, sure. Be right down.”
Bryson’s feet hit the floorboards of the loft, followed by a muffled groan. Karla craned her neck and saw a soft light flickering from above. Bryson appeared with the kerosene lamp and slowly descended the ladder.
“I bet you’re sore as hell, aren’t you?” she asked as Bryson came over to her with the light.
“I’ll live.” She smiled down at her. “Can you wait long enough for me to turn on some lights and throw a couple of logs on the fire?”
“If you’re Speedy Gonzalez about it, yes.”
Bryson hurried outside to crank on the generator, then bustled about turning on lights and stoking up the woodstove. She was wearing a pair of old navy sweatpants and a thick fleece turtleneck the same color, and he
r dark hair was so full of static from the dry crisp air it was sticking up in all directions.
“Do you have another pair of sweats I could borrow?” Karla asked. “I didn’t pack any, and they’d be a lot easier to get on and off than my jeans.”
“Sure.” Bryson headed back up the ladder and returned with a thick pair of emerald-green sweatpants. While Karla pulled them gingerly over her swollen feet, Bryson put water on to boil.
“Ready.” She turned to dangle her feet over the side of the bed. The sweatpants were a pretty good fit at the waist, but the excess length pooled around her ankles and over the bandages.
Bryson came over and smiled at the fit before picking her up. Karla put her arms around Bryson’s neck, and as she did, Bryson stiffened.
“You all right? Your back okay to do this?” She tried to see if Bryson was in pain, but she averted her gaze.
“No, I’m fine.” Bryson strode off in the direction of the screen, carrying her as though nothing was wrong. But her voice was strained and she responded almost too quickly. Something was going on. She set Karla down on the honeypot and withdrew. The pottery mugs clinked as she set about making coffee.
“Ready for a ride back,” she called, and Bryson materialized almost at once.
“What would you like for breakfast?” Bryson asked as she set her back on the futon bed. “I’ve got cereal, pancakes, or eggs with some reindeer sausage and toast.”
“A full-service establishment, I see.” Bryson smiled. “Cereal is fine, don’t go to any bother. And I’m good to wait a while until my stomach wakes up, but coffee sounds heavenly.”
“Coming right up.” Bryson poured two mugs and handed one to Karla, then took hers to the futon chair beside the bed so they could chat.
“Tell me the truth,” Karla insisted.
Bryson nearly choked on her coffee, and a look of surprised panic crossed her features. “Say what?” she asked, wiping at her chin.
“Tell me the truth. You’re so sore you can barely move, though you’re doing your best to hide it. Am I right?”
