by Rachel Lee
She watched his back as he walked toward the kitchen and felt a quiver of interest in him as a man, the first sexual impulse she’d felt since Kevin had beaten her the first time.
No, she warned herself. Don’t let that happen. No men. Ever again. And certainly not one who preferred living alone. That was borrowing trouble, and she already had enough of that on her tail.
But apparently there was a part of her that hadn’t died in the assaults of the last three years, a part that still wanted to believe in happily-ever-after and a man who could make her feel good things again.
Stupid. All a bunch of myths, as well she ought to know. In the end, she could rely on no one but herself for her happiness and safety.
But sometimes logic was a cold companion, and the heart refused to be silenced. Her dreams might lie shattered around her, but they still had some life.
The question, really, was whether it was worth trying to put them back together again.
No, she decided. It would be too dangerous. Far too dangerous to ever risk herself again.
Clint returned with a couple of plates and napkins. He placed one plate on the coffee table in front of her, the other beside his chair. He disappeared for a minute into the kitchen again and returned with two glasses of ginger ale.
“Thank you,” Kay said.
“Eat up, and if you want more, there’s plenty.”
Tuna on rye. A lot of tuna. She doubted she would be able to eat all of one sandwich, let alone another. “Oh, this is good,” she said after she had savored a bite.
He gave her his almost-smile. “I eat a lot of tuna. If I didn’t make it well, I would be an unhappy, hungry man.”
A little laugh escaped her, a small one in deference to her bruised ribs. “What’s that about necessity?”
“The mother of all invention.”
“Yeah.”
His smile deepened a shade. “You’re going to be all right, you know.”
She paused, a mix of feelings flooding her. “How can you know that?”
“Because you’ve got spunk.”
That warmed her. She wasn’t sure he was right, but the compliment warmed her anyway. What had she done, after all, except what she’d had to do? She sipped her ginger ale and took another bite of her sandwich.
“So what do you do?” she asked him.
“I’m a writer.”
“What kind?”
He shrugged. “I do some action-adventure novels, mostly for fun. It’s a way to pay bills. Then I write other stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
He hesitated. “I write a lot about ethics.”
“Really?” That piqued her attention. “Do you mean papers or articles or what?”
“I’ve written a number of journal articles, and one book on what they call ‘Just War Theory.’ Basically, discussing what situations can justify fighting a war.”
She forgot her sandwich and looked at him with amazement. “I thought only professors did that kind of stuff.”
“Well, a few of us out here don’t teach, we just think too much.”
It sounded almost like he was joking, but she couldn’t be sure. “I wasn’t putting you down, I’m just kind of amazed.”
“Yeah, me and Thoreau. Backwoods philosophers.”
“But you must need a lot of education to get to the point where you can write journal articles the way you do.”
“Over the years, when I was in the military, I took a lot of classes. Somehow they eventually added up to a PhD.”
“Oh, wow.” She stared at him, impressed.
He waved a dismissive hand. “No biggie. The military pushes education. They make it easy to take classes.”
“But you went all the way.”
He shook his head. “It was an escape.”
She longed to ask how that could be. “Maybe I’ll get to college eventually.”
He nodded. “I believe you will.”
She wished she could be as certain.
“Any idea what you’d like to study?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I’ve thought about things like being a nurse, but I don’t know if I could pass all the classes.”
“Well, college is great, especially the first couple of years. They give you an opportunity to try on all kinds of things for size. You’ll find what you like.”
“I hope so. I don’t mind waiting tables at all, but I have so many questions about things. And as time passes, I seem to get more curious.”
“Curiosity is good.”
“So this book you wrote—Just War Theory? What is that?”
“It’s a lot of philosophical thinking about what can morally justify war. People have been asking and trying to answer that question for a long time. People with consciences, anyway.”
“And your book?”
“Well, I did the usual overview, then put my own spin on some of it.”
She sensed she wouldn’t be able to understand if she pressed him any further. “I hope someday I’ll know enough so I can read it.”
“It’s dry, unless that’s your thing.”
“Was it successful?”
“That depends on what you mean by success. It didn’t make me rich. But it’s being used in a number of colleges and universities.”
“That’s success.”
“Getting read is success.”
She smiled and reached for her sandwich again. “I guess so. Being ignored would be awful.”
“In this business, it would be a death knell. Much better to annoy people.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because it stimulates discussion. Nothing makes me happier than when my e-mail box gets full because a new semester has begun and a bunch of people want to argue with me.”
“I honestly can’t imagine that. I think it would intimidate me.”
“It makes me rub my hands with glee.”
She laughed, then winced. “I don’t think that’s me.”
“Maybe not. We’re all different.”
And he was definitely a puzzle. A hermit who liked to argue with people. By e-mail. So he hadn’t totally cut himself off, he’d just set up barriers. High ones, evidently, ones that guarded him from everything except intellectual interaction.
She could understand that. It would be nice if her world would resolve into that kind of neatness. But not exactly that kind of neatness. She didn’t think she was built to live alone and intellectualize things. Before Kevin, she’d always had a large circle of friends she liked spending time with. After Kevin, that first time, when she had thought she was safe again, she’d rebuilt her circle.
Then she had learned to avoid connections, because every time Kevin found her again, she had to give them up. It was painful to have to run again, but even more so if she had to leave behind people she cared about.
She invested nothing of herself in life anymore, nothing beyond trying to get by. So how was she different from Clint?
She lost her taste for the sandwich and slipped the plate back onto the table, wincing as she did so.
“Full?” he asked.
“Full enough.” Full enough of everything, including her own misery.
“You know,” he said slowly, “I can heat up that water and you could soak a bit. It might help with the aches and pains.”
“But I don’t want to waste your water. We don’t know how long this might go on.”
He shrugged. “If worse comes to worse, I can melt plenty of snow in front of the fire. It’s not like we’re in the middle of the desert.”
She had to smile at that. “I guess not.”
“So let me make you a bath. You need to soak out some of the soreness.”
She had to admit that sounded good. “If you wouldn’t mind?”
“Lady, I’d rather be busy any day than staring at the walls. I can’t even work right now with the power out.”
“Then I’d love a bath.”
“Consider it done as soon as I’m through
eating.”
“Thank you.”
He was as good as his word. Astonishment took her when she saw the number of huge pots he had. “Do you cook for an army or something?”
“You can never have too many pots for an emergency. I wouldn’t cook in these, they’re too thin, but they’re great for boiling water.”
Which he managed to do in surprisingly short order by using both the propane stove and the fireplace. When he at last called her to the bathroom, steam was rising from the tub. A couple of candles burned on the rim, safely out of the way, shedding extra light to compensate for the thin gray daylight that came through the single window.
“It’s too hot, obviously, but I’m going to add cold water now. You tell me when the temperature’s right.”
So she sat on the toilet beside the tub while he added cold water, then stuck her finger in to test. Finally she said, “It’s probably just about right now.”
“Okay. I’ll leave it there, then. I’ll keep another pot on the stove in case you want a reheat.” He paused. “By the way, if you want more hot water, don’t be too modest to ask. I can walk in here backward.”
He also brought her a fresh set of sweats, blue this time, and a couple of clean towels. Then he set a bottle on the edge of the tub. “Shampoo, if you want it. I don’t have any of those fancy bath salts, though. Sorry.”
She was touched that he would even think of such a thing. “I don’t use them anyway.”
“If you need anything at all, just call me.”
Her first thought as he closed the door behind him was that she hoped she didn’t have to call him for anything. Then she remembered that he had redressed her after finding her. It wasn’t like she had anything he hadn’t already seen, even if she didn’t remember the moment.
Moving gingerly, she shed the sweats she wore, steadied herself with a hand on the side of the tub and eased into the water. It was actually a bit too hot, but she didn’t care. She would get used to it quickly enough, and the hope of easing some of her aches overrode everything else, even the desire to be clean again.
She didn’t even try to move once she had settled into the water. It rose to her neck if she sank just a little, and she laid her head back against a towel, closed her eyes and let the heat do its work. God, it was heaven.
When was the last time she’d felt safe enough to indulge in such a luxury? She couldn’t remember. For a long time now she’d taken showers, hurrying through them. Five minutes max, because she couldn’t forget how vulnerable she was when bathing. That was another legacy of Kevin. When you never knew when you were going to need to run, you didn’t let yourself get into a situation where you couldn’t get away quickly.
Her eyes flew open as ice rattled against the frosted glass window over the tub. Nothing out there. Nothing. She was safe, she reminded herself. Clint was just outside that door, near enough to hear a single cry. Nasty as Kevin could be, she doubted he could stand up for long to Clint. Nor could he get her very far in this storm.
No, she was safe. She willed her body to recognize that and relax again. It would have been so nice to nod off right now, but an acute awareness of her nakedness, and thus her vulnerability, wouldn’t allow her.
She wondered if she would ever get past this constant insecurity and fear. Maybe, if Kevin went to prison for twenty years, then after a few years she could relax again.
But that kind of security was something she could only dream of now; it was nothing she could really believe in. Not yet.
There was a knock on the door, and she started, realizing the bath had begun to go cold. She must have nodded off right in the middle of thinking about her own fear.
“Kay? Are you all right?”
“I guess I fell asleep.”
“That’s good. Need more hot water?”
She considered it. “No, thanks. I’m just going to wash fast and get out of here.” Because the fears that lurked in the corners of her mind were trying to bite again, insisting that she remember she was never safe. Not even now.
“Okay. Holler if you need help.”
The heat had done its job, though, and she found it easy enough to wash herself with a bar of soap and a washcloth. Then she submerged her head to wet her hair and stifled groans as she shampooed. She was feeling better, yes, but not perfect.
Finally she submerged her head one more time and ran her fingers through her hair, working the shampoo out.
No, not perfect, but much better. With a toe, she pulled the plug and let the water start to drain.
She was feeling a whole lot better by the time she reached for the side of the tub and realized she couldn’t get out.
Getting in had been a lot easier than trying to lever herself up. Dammit! Her arms and sides screamed at the effort of trying to lift herself. Now what?
She tried again, but the pain only got worse. And now she was shaking and getting cold. Oh, this wasn’t fair!
But what the hell was fair in life? Not a damn thing.
She gave it one more try, and a cry escaped her as her muscles and ribs rebelled. “Kay? Kay?”
She pressed her forehead to the edge of the tub, mad at her own helplessness, embarrassed beyond belief, ashamed by her weakness and hating this situation. Hot tears stung her eyes. “Kay?”
The door opened, and she knew what he saw. A black-and-blue woman, naked, clinging to the side of a tub she couldn’t even climb out of. Why couldn’t she have just died out there in the snow? Then it would have been all over. No more pain, no more shame, no more embarrassment…
“Ah, lady,” he breathed, and she realized with horror that his mouth was right beside her ear. “Hold on,” he murmured. “I’ll get you out of there.”
To her infinite relief, she felt towels settle over her body, felt him tuck them around her from her shoulders to her knees.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Hold on just another second.”
Her heavy wet hair was lifted from her shoulders, and she felt him wrap another towel around her head.
“Now,” he said gently, “I’m going to lift you as carefully as I can. I can’t guarantee we won’t lose a towel, but I’ll try. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, hating herself, fighting down those awful, hot, helpless tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. No need. Every single person on this earth needs help sometimes.”
She kept her eyes tightly closed as his arms worked their way gently around her. As she had feared, the towels slipped a bit and his callused hand met the smooth skin of her hip. He stopped at once and struggled to pull the towel back over her.
“Don’t worry about it,” she whispered finally. “Nothing you haven’t seen anyway.” And maybe humiliation would kill her right now.
“Nicer than most I’ve seen by far.”
She realized he was trying to joke, probably to make her more comfortable. She bit her lip as he began to lift her. Inevitably his arms and hands found some of her bruises, and she caught her breath more than once.
But by and large the towels stayed in place, even if his skin did keep brushing hers. At least he was wearing long sleeves.
She expected him to set her on her feet, at which point her stupid modesty would fall with the towels to the floor, but he surprised her. Moving carefully, he carried her back into the living room and laid her on the couch. An instant later, the quilt settled over her.
“I’ll get the sweats,” he said. “Then I’ll leave you to dress.”
“Thank you.” Finally she opened her eyes and watched as he went back to the bathroom. He returned quickly with the clothing and placed it on the coffee table. When she dared to glance at his face, her heart sank.
The stone facade had returned, as impenetrable as when she had first seen him. Worse, he wouldn’t even look at her. She must repulse him. Damn, that hurt as much as anything.
She didn’t know what kind of approval she was seeking from this man, but it sure didn’t help to feel that she was j
ust an ugly burden he wanted to be rid of.
But was that fair? He’d been so kind. She couldn’t blame him if he found all her bruises repugnant, and found her repellant for not having been able to stand up to Kevin. Not when she felt that way herself.
“Let me know when you’re done.” And then he disappeared into the back of the cabin.
Stifling further groans for fear he would come riding to her rescue again, she managed to sit up and work the towels over the parts of her that were still wet. Like a brand, the remembered warmth of his hand seemed to remain on her hip. The touch, she realized with a kind of wonder, hadn’t repulsed her, or made her want to flee.
That alone marked a major change in her course. Since Kevin, she had hated to be touched in any way. Any way. Thoughtfully, she put her hand over the spot and pressed. That accidental touch had actually felt good.
Which left her with something to think about as she worked her way into the sweat suit and tried to roll up the legs so she wouldn’t trip on them.
“Clint? I’m decent.”
He returned at once to gather up the towels, except for the one wrapped haphazardly around her head. He paused, looking at her, and seemed almost hesitant.
“Do you,” he finally asked, “need help with your hair?”
She wanted to tell him no, to just let it be, because that would have been her instinctive response before. But something had changed. Something had shifted, and she couldn’t even tell what had happened.
“Would you mind?” she asked just as hesitantly.
“No.” Short and brief. “Hold on a second.”
He took the other towels away, and then a couple of seconds later he returned with a fresh towel and a comb.
“Sorry I don’t have a brush,” he said, indicating his short hair with a gesture. “I’ll be careful.”
He walked behind the sofa and spread the dry towel over her shoulders. Only then did he remove the damp one from her hair. She felt the heavy weight fall to her shoulders.
“Now lean back until you’re comfortable.”
She followed directions, feeling almost as if she was split in two, the old Kay watching in amazement as the new Kay let a man comb her hair.
He was almost unbelievably gentle. When he found a knot, he worked it carefully, never yanking.
