by K. M. Fawkes
Anna put some cups of water into a pot and placed it on the back of the stove. “What—” she began again, but Brad held his hand up.
“Not now,” he mouthed.
She crossed her arms, jerking her chin up in a way that almost heralded an argument. “Then when do you want to talk about it?” she hissed. “You just show up with a random—”
“When she’s fed and warm and in bed,” he said as low as he could. “I will answer your questions.”
“Where’s she going to sleep?” Anna asked. “We only have two bedrooms!”
“She can have my room,” Brad said. “I’ll take the couch until we figure out something different.”
Anna looked mildly ashamed of herself as Brad turned to heat up some of the rabbit stew she had canned earlier.
“Why don’t you go get Sammy?” he asked. “Even if he’s already had dinner, I’ve never known him to turn down another meal.”
“I’m not worried about him overeating,” Anna said, rolling her eyes as though Brad was impossibly stupid.
“I know,” he said with a sigh. So much for levity. “But I really don’t think she’s dangerous, Anna. And it makes more sense for him to meet her now than wake up to a stranger in his house in the morning.”
He pulled down two bowls, one for the soup and one for the hot water. Then, he filled a mug with chamomile leaves and some Echinacea to relax the kid and help her immune system. After the stress she’d been under and the trek she’d just made, she’d need all the help she could get. Once the water was hot, he poured a bit of it over the tea and the rest into the bigger bowl. He added a handful of Epsom salts and some lavender to the steaming water.
Anna had remained where she was, watching him. He ignored her. There wasn’t anything more to say at the moment. The kid had been through enough; she didn’t need to feel like a criminal for wanting to survive. The stew had started to bubble and she pulled it forward, dishing up a bowlful.
Brad carried the water and the tea to the living room door and called, “Is it okay if I come back?”
“Yes,” the girl’s soft voice answered.
He stepped into the room to find that she’d changed into a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeve flannel shirt. She was sitting as close to the fire as she could get and still shivering. Brad handed her the mug and then knelt to put the bowl down. She looked at both in confusion.
“The tea is Echinacea and chamomile,” he said. “And the water is for your feet; when your feet are warm, your whole body feels better.”
The girl slid her feet into the bowl and her eyes closed for a moment as she winced. “It’s hot,” she said.
“You’re cold,” Brad corrected. “It’ll start to feel good in a second or two, it’s just the shock that makes it seem painful. Drink your tea, okay?”
She lifted the mug to her lips and took a drink. Then, she took a longer one.
“Is it good?” Brad asked.
She nodded, wiggling her toes in the water as she drank again. Anna stepped over and put the bowl of stew and a spoon down on the ledge beside the girl. Martha looked up at her a little nervously.
“It’s rabbit stew,” Anna said, her tone a bit brusque, but not too much. “Eat, before it gets cold.”
The girl put her mug down and picked up the bowl.
“I didn’t introduce myself,” Anna said once Martha had taken a few bites. “I’m Anna. You can meet my son Sammy in a little while.”
The girl looked briefly interested at the mention of Sammy. She took another spoonful of stew and chewed thoroughly before she said, “I’m Martha.”
Anna sat down in the chair farthest away from the girl and looked at her. “Where are you from, Martha?”
Martha shook her head, putting the bowl down.
“It’s okay,” Brad said quickly. “You can eat. Don’t worry about talking right now.”
Anna shot him an annoyed look. He had to look away to avoid shooting her one right back. He understood caution, but interrogating a kid while she ate was a little much.
“Anna,” he said. “Would you mind heating some more water?”
Anna turned to look at him in surprise. “For what?”
“Martha might like a chance to take a bath before she goes to bed,” Brad said.
Martha’s head jerked up and she couldn’t hide the light that had come to her eyes. Brad smiled at her.
“Looks like a yes to me,” he said.
Anna got up without speaking and went into the kitchen. They were going to have to bring up more water from the lake tomorrow with all of the water they were using tonight. Ice, he corrected himself. They would have to bring up ice, let it melt, and then boil the water. The extra step would be annoying, but Martha’s look of excited gratitude made his suggestion and the work it would cause tomorrow worth it. He wondered how long it had been since she was enthusiastic about anything.
Martha ate in silence, so Brad pulled out the book he’d been reading and settled into the chair he always sat in. When her bowl was empty, she set it aside and reached for her mug again, drinking her tea more slowly this time. Her eyes were beginning to look heavy, so he walked into the kitchen and grabbed the water Anna had heated, pouring it into the buckets they used for carrying their bathwater.
He carried the two buckets of boiling water up the stairs and dumped them into the tub. It would be a shallow bath, but the kid would be clean.
He could hear Anna speaking with Sammy in their room, but he didn’t stay to listen. She’d either take his suggestion and let the kids meet tonight or she wouldn’t. In the long run, it didn’t matter either way.
Brad stepped into his room and looked around for any weaponry that he might have left lying around. He felt bad for the girl, but he wasn’t planning on arming her. She didn’t strike him as the homicidal type, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t. He wasn’t a psychologist. And she’d been through a lot.
He took two knives he’d been planning to sharpen from the top of his dresser and put them into his pocket. Then, he pulled the extra handgun from the bedside table and tucked it into his waistband. He’d leave the weapons in the hidden section of the pantry when he got his own bowl of soup. Which, according to an emphatic growl from his stomach, needed to happen pretty soon.
Once he’d stashed the weapons and dished up his soup, he went back into the living room to find Martha exactly where he’d left her. She’d crossed her legs yogi-style, and she was still holding the tea mug in both hands. She’d turned to face the fire.
When Brad leaned over to pick up the bowl he noticed that there was more than just dirt in the water. There was the distinct reddish overtone of blood. He glanced at the child’s feet and saw several broken blisters there. The Epsom salts must have stung viciously, but she hadn’t made a sound. He was glad that he hadn’t added any to her bath water upstairs.
“Are you still hungry?” he asked, realizing that she wouldn’t say anything if she was.
After a moment, she nodded. Brad poured half of his bowl of soup into hers and she began eating again. Fear flashed into her eyes when she caught a glimpse of movement in the doorway and Brad glanced over his shoulder. Anna was back.
“This is my son, Sammy,” Anna said, her voice slightly stiff as she stepped aside.
Sammy wasn’t shy. He came in and plopped down on the bricks beside Martha, a smile on his face already.
“Hi!” he said. “My mom said your name is Martha. I’m Sammy.”
“Hi,” the girl whispered.
“The soup’s good, right?” Sammy asked. “Brad made it and my mom canned it. I think rabbit is one of my favorites.”
Martha glanced into her bowl and then nodded. “I like it,” she said.
“Me too,” Sammy agreed and Brad sighed, handing over his bowl to the boy. “Thanks!” Sammy said with a grin.
“No problem, kiddo,” Brad said, getting up to get himself another bowl as both kids began to eat. “I’ll be right back.”
�
�Those are your shoes?” Sammy was asking when Brad came back and finally managed the first bite of his meal.
Martha nodded.
“How did your feet not freeze?” Sammy asked in amazement. “Brad always makes me wear two pairs of socks when we go out.”
Martha shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I bet you were really cold,” he went on.
She gave another nod. “I was,” she finally admitted.
“Brad fixed a bath for you,” Sammy said. “I heard him pouring the water. It’s still really hot right now, but I bet by the time we’re done talking it will be okay.” He turned to Brad. “Did you put anything in it? Don’t girls like stuff that smells good?”
“Some of them do,” Brad agreed. “But I just left it plain this time. She can take a fancy bath later.”
Sammy laughed as he turned back to Martha again. “My mom loves fancy baths,” he said. “She puts all kinds of stuff in there. Lavender and…” His brow furrowed. “What’s that other thing you like, Mom?”
“You’ll probably have to be more specific,” Brad said with a slight smile, and Anna shrugged helplessly. She really did put a lot of different things in her bathwater.
“The one that grows in the herb garden,” Sammy said. “It smells weird.”
“Rosemary,” Anna said, shaking her head. The argument was old ground between the two of them. “And it doesn’t smell weird.”
“It smells like food,” Sammy said firmly. “It’s weird for a bath to smell like food.”
A hint of a smile crossed Martha’s face and Brad was glad that Anna had brought Sammy down. When all of the stew bowls were once again empty, Brad said, “Okay, Sammy. Do you want to show Martha where the bathroom is?”
“Sure!” Sammy jumped up. “I’ll show you all stuff you can put in the water, if you want me to.”
“Okay,” Martha said, taking his bowl and stacking it with hers neatly before she followed him.
Anna followed as well. Brad dropped the soup bowls off in the kitchen before he joined them. He could hear Sammy’s monologue as he climbed the stairs.
“This one is good if you have a headache,” Sammy said. “And this one if your muscles are sore. And this one is for when you have a cold.”
“Echinacea,” Martha said quietly.
Sammy stopped. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
“It was in my tea,” she said. “I could tell by the smell.”
Brad hung back in the hallway. She’d finally spoken a full sentence. He didn’t want to step into the room and ruin that.
“Which one do you want?” Sammy asked, apparently determined to make the bath a treat.
“I like that one,” Martha said after a moment of thought.
“Lavender,” Sammy said with satisfaction. “I knew girls liked stuff that smells good.”
Brad head the small splashes as Sammy sprinkled some sprigs in the water.
“Thanks,” Martha said softly.
“If you need anything, just yell for me or Brad,” Sammy said. “We’ll help you.”
When the boy stepped out and closed the door behind him, Brad couldn’t resist ruffling his hair. “You’re one hell of a host, you know that?” he said.
Sammy grinned. “She wanted lavender.”
Brad nodded solemnly. “I’ll remember that next time.”
Martha didn’t take very long in the bath. She came out dressed in the clothes she’d changed into once they’d gotten to the cabin, with her towel wrapped around her hair. Scrubbed clean, she looked a little less wraith-like, although the dark circles under her eyes were still prominent.
“Okay,” Brad said. “I’m going to let you take my room until we get something else figured out for you.”
He pushed the door open and allowed her to look around. She wasn’t exactly demonstrative, but she seemed to like what she saw. She ran her hand over the quilts and poked the thick pillow with one finger and wriggled her toes into the rug by the bed. She hadn't put any socks on, so he gave her a pair of his. They would be way too big, but they would keep her feet warm until the morning.
After she’d pulled the socks on, he handed her a comb and she pulled the towel off of her hair, rubbing it vigorously before combing it out. Normally, he would have offered to let her sit by the fire until her hair was completely dry, but she was beginning to sway on her feet and he could tell just how hard she was working to stay awake. He pulled back the covers and she crawled into the bed, snuggling down against the pillow and closing her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said in a voice so low that he would have been convinced that he’d imagined it if he hadn’t seen her lips move.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
She nodded and seconds later, she was asleep. Brad wondered again how long it had been since she’d gone to bed clean and with a full stomach.
He could hear Anna and Sammy talking across the hall as he went downstairs and poured himself a splash of Scotch. He sighed heavily as he did; the upcoming conversation wasn’t going to be fun and he wanted all of the courage he could get. He braced himself as Anna came into the living room.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she hissed the minute she entered. Her eyes were practically shooting sparks, but her words were as cold as ice.
“I was thinking that I couldn’t leave her there to starve,” he said, striving for calm.
“We’ve barely got enough food for ourselves!” she spat out. “We were just talking about that a few weeks ago!”
And Brad had soundly proved her wrong, but he didn’t see the point in bringing that up. “Anna, I—”
“For God’s sake, Bradley!” she said vehemently. “What did you think I would do? How did you think I would feel?” She flung her arms out in a helpless gesture. “What are we even supposed to do with her?”
“If it comes to that, why don’t you tell me what was I supposed to do with her?” he demanded. “Give her my jacket and say, best of luck, kid, hope they come back for you soon?”
“Obviously not. I—”
“Oh, do you think I should have kept the jacket?” he asked, shoving his hand through his hair before tossing back the last of his drink.
Anna looked off balance, confused. Brad pressed on, desperate to get through to her.
“She was starving, Anna. And she was freezing. Every single window in that house was broken. She’s got no clue where her parents are, and you know what that probably means.” He paused to let her take the information in. “So, you tell me what you would have done. Would you have left her to die there so that you didn't have to share your food? Or would you have been a decent human being even though no one is around to hold you accountable anymore?”
“I…” She trailed off. “I don’t—”
“No,” he said. “You don’t know. You don’t have a clue, because it’s never you out there, Anna. It’s me. It’s always fucking me that has to make these decisions.”
Anna sank down onto the couch and put her face in her hands. After a few moments, her shoulders began to shake. As much as he wanted to, Brad didn’t sit down next to her. He simply stood where he was and waited.
He knew that he’d been harsh. It was the first time he’d ever been so blunt with her when their lives weren’t in immediate danger. But for several weeks now, Anna had been driving him to do more and more, to prepare and stock up and hunt, and fish and dry and smoke. He’d done every damn thing she’d wanted. And now she was yelling at him, and he hadn’t done anything to deserve it.
“I could have worded that better,” Brad said when she finally looked up at him again. “I’m sorry about the way I said it.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine,” she said, her voice slightly stiff. “I’m just…this is a huge difference. Having another person here. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
“I know,” he said. “I never expected this to happen. I had never even thought about it. But I didn’t know what els
e to do.” Brad shrugged helplessly. “I couldn’t just leave her there like that. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I would have been signing her death warrant.”
The wind howled outside, rattling the windowpane and underscoring Brad’s point. Snow swirled against the glass. The temperature had dropped at least five more degrees since he’d come in. This might be the night they were actually snowed in.
He thought back to the windowless cabin, and imagined Martha trying desperately to get warm as the snow blew in around her. No. He didn’t care if it made his own meals a little skimpy. There was just no way that he would have left her to fate.
“I know,” Anna replied, looking at her hands. “I’m just overwhelmed, I guess.”
He nodded. “Me too. We’ll figure it out, though.”
She made a scoffing sound and Brad sighed. “Anna, do you want to talk to me?”
“About what?” she asked, her voice going tight.
“About what happened last week,” he said. “When I kissed you.”
“No,” she said, standing up. “I told you that I didn’t want to talk about that.”
“Fair enough,” he replied. “But you haven’t talked to me at all since then.”
“Of course I have,” she said, stepping around him and heading for the door. “We talked about Sammy’s schoolwork today.”
“That wasn’t a real conversation,” Brad countered.
Anna rolled her eyes. “What does that even mean? Real?”
“It was completely different than the way we used to talk and you know it,” he said. “Look, Anna, if I could take back what happened, I would—”
“But you can’t,” she said flatly.
“No,” Brad agreed. “So why can’t we just move past it?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do,” she said tensely. “You’re the one bringing it up all over again.”
He supposed that she had him there, but what was he supposed to do? Letting a situation fester was never the answer.
“Anna, I just want to go back to the way things were,” he said, finally catching up to her on the stairs and catching her arm. She shrugged away as though he’d burned her and he looked down at her. “Is it really that bad?” he asked. “Having me touch you?”