by Will Decker
Feeling sleepy, I was almost dozing off, when the aroma of her work at the stove wafted over me. Almost immediately, my mouth started watering, and I realized for the first time since waking up just how hungry I was. I struggled to raise the mug of coffee to my lips and was pleasantly surprised to find that it had cooled enough to be palatable. Though I couldn’t take very large swallows without causing pain to my throat, I hurriedly drank it down in anticipation of a meal. Just from the warmth of the coffee, my throat was starting to feel better, and the caffeine was having a real pick-me-up effect. Of course, the caffeine effect would be counteracted by putting something nourishing into my stomach. Then, my body would really start feeling better.
“Here we go,” she said, speaking as if to a baby, as she came around the table with a steaming bowl of thick beef soup.
Sitting on the edge of the table, she slowly and methodically started feeding me, one careful spoonful at a time. I could feel the warming of my core almost immediately. By the time the bowl was empty, I was ready for some serious sleep. Even before Sandy reached the washbasin with the dirty dishes, I was sound asleep.
With a dull aching throb in the back of my neck, and a burning sensation emanating from both feet, I awoke thinking that someone had pulled the stove over and set them on it. Glancing down to be sure that wasn’t the case, I saw Sandy, hard at work on them. With hands that moved steadily and gently, she carefully squeezed and massaged the darker places, forcing out the foul smelling puss, and then gently absorbing it with a sterilized rag. She was so involved in what she was doing that she didn’t realize I’d awakened.
With a great amount of will, I lay unmoving, quietly feigning sleep. Not making a sound, I forced the pain aside, as I surreptitiously watched her work. It lifted my spirits to see that the deeply etched lines were growing softer as they gradually receded from around her eyes. Except for looking like she didn’t get a very good night’s sleep, I would have said she was absolutely radiant.
Feeling my gaze upon her, she suddenly glanced up, noticing me watching her for the first time. Immediately, a smile lit up her face, it felt as though the sun had just broken out from behind a dark and threatening cloud cover. The whole cabin seemed to radiate with her warmth and love.
“How did you sleep?” she asked softly, hurriedly finishing the task at hand. “I hope I didn’t wake you, but I didn’t want to leave these bandages on for too long.”
“Good. I slept good,” I answered, my voice little more than a hoarse whisper. Though it still felt as dry as sandpaper, it was steadily improving. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Almost two days. I’ll get you some water”, she said as she went to the pot on the stove that she used for thawing snow. Filling the same mug that I’d used for coffee, she returned, continuing in the same cheerful tone, “You’re looking much better than you have in a long time. You’re getting your color back. And not only in your feet, but also in your cheeks.”
“I hope you mean the cheeks on my face,” I interrupted, holding back a smile.
“Yes, I mean the cheeks on your face. Here, drink this,” she ordered, holding the mug to my mouth and feigning indignation at my remark.
Without giving it any thought, I reached a hand out for the mug, and was mildly surprised to feel the strength returning to my limb. Although I was still as weak as a kitten, I was definitely feeling stronger. I was on the mend!
“You wouldn’t have anymore of that wonderful broth round here, would you?” I asked of her, after swallowing a soothing mouthful of water. Along with my rediscovered strength, came an even stronger appetite.
“It’ll only take a minute to heat it,” she said cheerily, as she let me hold my own cup and headed back toward the stove. “A strong appetite is the best sign we could possibly hope for. It means you are definitely getting better.”
“I’m on the mend,” I quickly agreed, feeling better than I had in a long time. With almost all the hoarseness gone from my voice, I asked her in a serious tone, “How long do you think it’ll be before I’m able to get up and walk?”
I couldn’t help but notice the light slipping from her eyes, and a serious cast creeping into them. Aware that I was watching her closely, she quickly turned her head away to prevent me from seeing the turmoil on her face. It said more than words, and I knew what she was going to say before she said it. But I wasn’t about to let it rain on my parade.
“I’m not sure,” she hesitantly stuttered. “They’re healing, and I think I’ve removed all the infected tissue….” Staring down at the stovetop without seeing it, she grew visibly nervous, struggling for the right words. Suddenly, she took a deep breath and threw her head back, turning to meet my gaze. Having come to the conclusion that I deserved nothing less than the truth, she said with steely determination, “There isn’t much muscle tissue left connecting the tendons. What’s there, is healthy, but I don’t think you’ll ever be able to walk normally again, if at all.”
I should have been shocked, but I wasn’t. I was still reveling in the fact that I was alive and that Sandy was here with me. The rest, I’d get over. Somehow, I’d find a way. There was worse in life than not being able to walk.
Seeing her on the verge of tears again, I suddenly grew determined that I didn’t want to see her cry. Her smile had a glorious way of uplifting me; her tears achieved just the opposite. At the moment, anything less than her smile will devastate me.
“It’s okay, Sandy,” I said sternly. “We’ll find a way to cope with my feet. Right now I am just grateful to you for saving my life.” Before she could respond, I quickly added, “And for loving me. You came into my life when I needed you most.”
She stepped away from the stove and, leaning over me, squeezed my shoulders while gently brushing her lips over mine. Tasting the salt on her face from previous tears, I asked of her, “Please don’t cry. I can’t stand it when you’re sad. Just smile for our good fortune.” It was all I could say as I fought back my own tears. But mine weren’t tears of sadness or depression, I was crying because I was happy. And she smiled. Once again, the cabin seemed to glow in a bright yellow light from her radiance.
“Now, how is that delicious soup you make coming along?” I asked huskily while patting her on the back.
She stood, wiping tears from her cheeks, and turned back to the stove where a kettle was just beginning to boil over, hissing loudly as the liquid contents met the heated steel.
“I think it’s ready,” she said equally huskily, her voice choked up with emotion. “Let me pour you a bowl.”
She returned with a steaming bowl of beef soup and, after taking a seat on the edge of the table, started spoon-feeding me like a small child. She was obviously enjoying this part of taking care of me. After what she’d been through to get me to this point, I couldn’t object to her mothering, and allowed her to continue.
The soup was even better than I remembered it. I had to attribute this to the fact that along with my strength, I was also getting my six senses back, one of which was my sense of taste.
After finishing the first bowl, she brought the second bowl with my own spoon. Then she returned to the stove and poured a bowl for herself. While she was preparing her own bowl, I hungrily lapped up the soup, forgetting my manners completely. When she returned, however, and sat down next to me on the table again, I slowed down my pace so that I could talk to her between mouthfuls. Something was nagging at me, and it wasn’t until I’d started on my second bowl of soup that it dawned on me just what it was.
Using the tip of my spoon, I pushed it slowly through the contents of my bowl, trying to determine the origin of everything contained within. As I studied it, I chastised myself for having overlooked the obvious. Sandy had referred to the watery concoction as ‘beef soup’. But if I wasn’t mistaken, we didn’t have any beef. In fact, we didn’t have any kind of meat! I distinctly remembered her telling me that the wolves had ravaged her meat locker, and the bacon we ate when I’d first arrived had
been the last of it.
As I swirled the spoon, I breathed a sigh of gratitude; there wasn’t any evidence of meat in the bowl, aside from the flavor.
I glanced up and saw Sandy staring at me. Without having to say a word, she knew what I’d been thinking. The wolves hadn’t bothered us for a while, she’d found my gun, and we were eating ‘beef’ soup. Smiling sheepishly back at her, I said, “This soup is delicious. You have outdone yourself. But how do you achieve the beefy flavor without any actual meat?”
Smiling knowingly back at me, she simply stated, “Bouillon cubes.”
When I looked puzzled, she explained, “It’s a trick I learned from my mother. When I was a kid growing up, we called it poor-man’s porridge, because we couldn’t afford real meat. For whatever reason, the cubes have stuck with me. I never got out of the habit of keeping them on hand. I’m not really sure if it’s because they’re a link to my past, and they make me feel close to my mother, or if they’re just convenient when I need a light meal. Either way, I keep a case of the little buggers on hand at all times. Since I wasn’t sure whether I could trust Fred to deliver them up or not, I brought more than a year’s supply with me. Fortunately, they’re small, and they don’t take up hardly any space, so I don’t have to worry about them going bad as long as I keep them reasonably dry.”
She hesitated for a long moment, her eyes taking on a distant look. Talking about her mother and childhood conjured up some old memories, and she drifted off. Leaving the floor open for her to continue, I refrained from saying anything, preferring to sit in silence. There were a few thoughts of my own that I wanted to study. Foremost, how the rest of her supplies were holding up, and if they would be sufficient to sustain us until I was well enough to hike out. It wasn’t any secret that she didn’t have many supplies left.
When she realized that I was still waiting for her to continue, she thoughtfully added, “Unfortunately, they don’t offer any nutrients of their own. The only sustenance one gets from preparing them is from the other ingredients you add to the kettle.”
“Speaking of the other ingredients,” I said slowly, hoping she would take the lead and I wouldn’t have to press the matter of our dwindling supplies.
“Well, if we could live on bouillon cubes, we’d be set. But, unfortunately, we can’t.”
“Are the supplies really that low?” I asked solemnly, confident that the tone of her voice suggested that except for the flavored bouillon cubes, we didn’t have much left.
“Once you get your appetite for solids back, and I hope you do pretty soon, we’ll have about two weeks before we’re reduced to a bouillon cube diet. That is, of course, if we start a rationing program now.” She paused, taking a minute to study her slender build, before saying, “That won’t be a problem, though, as I need to go on a diet anyway. But you, on the other hand, need all the food you can eat to get your strength back up. Plenty of food and rest will hurry along the healing process,” she said sternly. “So don’t feign a loss of appetite to make the food go farther! We’ll be a lot better off if you eat everything within a week, and are strong enough to start hiking the day after.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll eat everything I need to get my strength up. You just be sure that you’re not the one that’s too weak from lack of food when we head out of here. Besides, up until our dear landlord Fred is past due, there’s always the possibility that he’ll show up with your supplies.” Throwing her a surreptitious wink, I knowingly add, “Maybe he’s attracted to you, too.”
Blushing, she asks, “What will we do if he does show up?”
“Simple, we use the gun and force him to take us back to civilization. Why do you ask?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.
Although I’d assumed that we were both in agreement about our future intentions, all of a sudden, I wasn’t so sure. It suddenly seemed possible that she was just agreeing with me in order to keep me from becoming upset. Maybe she even thought my ideas regarding the wolves and their training to kill was a figment of my imagination. After all, she only had them here the night that I showed up, and they haven’t returned since. Why, except for my word, would she think the wolves were anything other than what they appeared to be, a roving pack that just happened to pick up my scent. For all she knew, I’d hiked back to her cabin just to do her harm. She didn’t know me from Adam. I may not even be telling her the truth about my cabin having been buried in an avalanche. Her completely peaceful existence here hadn’t been upset until I arrived. Moreover, I was in dire physical condition, full of wild stories, crazier ideas, and last but not least, in need of supplies. Yet, somehow I’d managed to hang onto the handgun. Just thinking of it started making me suspicious of me. How could I expect anything more from her?
“I’m not sure,” she said slowly, speaking from deep within in her thoughts. “But if he does show up on schedule, he might just be more innocent than you give him credit for.”
“You doubt me. Don’t you?” I stated, feeling a growing resentment toward her for being skeptical. “Well, that’s all right, you’ll see. When he doesn’t show up, and he just leaves you up here to starve to death, you’ll believe me,” I argued, trying hard to control my rising anger. “Or when the wolf pack comes back, and they will, you’ll see that what I’ve been saying is true.”
She didn’t say anything as she stood up, her eyes focused on the floor. I didn’t want to be angry with her. I had no right. If our roles were reversed, I would have demanded proof before I’d have taken someone’s word for such a wild-haired idea.
“If it makes you feel any better, why don’t you go ahead and hang onto the gun. I’ll feel much better knowing you have it on you when they return. And they will return,” I stated emphatically. “They’ll either be back before your supplies are due, or shortly thereafter. Fred won’t come back to this cabin before he’s one-hundred-percent certain that the wolves have been here, and done exactly what he’s trained them to do!”
“I’m sorry, John,” she whispered softly, not taking her eyes from the floor. “I don’t mean to doubt you. I know you truly believe everything you’ve told me. But please, don’t be upset with me if I need a little more proof.” She stood nervously, slowly raising her eyes to mine, before adding, “You said a lot of strange things while you were unconscious. Are they all true too?”
“I’m sorry, Sandy,” I said as calmly as I could. She couldn’t have done more harm to my esteem if she’d hit me alongside the head with a chunk of wood. All this time, I thought we were growing closer. How could I have been such a fool? Whatever made me think she was different, the one that I needed? Speaking softly, barely able to get the words out, I continued, “I thought we were meant for each other. I never suspected that you didn’t trust me, that you didn’t believe in me the way I believe in you.” There didn’t seem to be anymore to say. She’d driven a stake into my heart, and I was suddenly tired; I’d lost the desire to go on. “I need to take a nap now, if you don’t mind. Thank you for the soup, it really was good.”
Laying my head down on the pillows, I closed my eyes, and feigned sleeping. But I was too wound up. Sleep wouldn’t come, even if I’d wanted it to. What I really wanted was time alone to think, to sort things out. I’d fallen hard for Sandy, and I thought she’d fallen in love with me. That altruistic world had been rocked, and now, I just didn’t know anymore.
Still laying with my eyes shut, deep in my troubled thoughts, I suddenly felt her hand rubbing softly against my cheek. Opening my eyes, I looked up to see her standing over me, looking down on me. She’d been crying again, and I gently reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of my index finger. Then I took my finger and touched it with the tip of my tongue, tasting her sweet saltiness. Her beauty would always astound and captivate me.
“I believe you,” she said softly, her voice hitching as she fought back more tears. “Forgive me for doubting you. You put yourself through hell, all because you thought I needed help, and I repay you with
doubts and skepticism. Until you came along, I’d forgotten what love was. Please, I’m begging you; don’t let me drive you away!”
Reaching up, I pulled her head down against my chest, and she started crying uncontrollably.
“You’re lucky it isn’t water that’s in short supply around here, or you’re liable to suffer from dehydration,” I said jokingly, too overcome with relief to think of anything more appropriate.
Pushing away, she playfully hit me in the chest, pretending offense at my comment. Grabbing her wrists in my hands, I used my regained strength to hold her close to me, and then kissed her long and hard. I was barely aware of her cleaning the dishes, when my eyes closed with weariness, and I fell fast asleep.
**12**
Nervous and agitated, I came awake, slowly comprehending the whining buzz-sound of a chainsaw working through a log, somewhere off in the distance. Immediately, I realized the cause of my anxiety; Sandy had gone out to the woods alone, working to replenish our fuel supply.
It hadn’t dawned on me earlier, but for her to live here for almost two months, she’d had to have gone into the woods with the saw and cut firewood before. Although she hadn’t had a serious mishap yet, now that I was awake and aware of what she was doing, I began to worry about her. But I didn’t doubt for a minute that she knew what she was doing, it was on account of the wolf pack that I was worried. While she ran the saw, she would be distracted by the action and noise, leaving herself very vulnerable. They could sneak up on her, attacking her before she had a chance to use the gun that she carried whenever she left the cabin now; this was a policy that I insisted upon her adhering to. In my gut, I held no doubts that I was right about our landlord and his wife. I was equally certain that the wolves would visit us before Fred returned on the snow tractor. It was just a matter of time.
