by Lexi Post
He picked up the plate and sat in the chair. “It’s best that you don’t move your hands and feet. That will only cause you pain.”
“You think?” She immediately regretted her sarcasm. “I’m sorry. The pain makes me irritable.”
“Then maybe food will make you less so.”
She nodded. Anything to take her mind off her hands.
“Open your mouth.”
At his command, she did, and he placed a small piece of warm fish on her tongue. She closed her lips around the fork and enjoyed the flavor for a moment. It tasted sweet with a significant rosemary and lemon sauce. As she moved it with her tongue, it flaked apart, its texture pure heaven after only having tea and soup. “Hmmm.” She savored every last flake before opening her mouth.
No sooner had she done so then he deposited more fish into her mouth. She’d never had char, but right now it was her new favorite food.
“I’m pleased you like it.”
She remained silent, too focused on the fish and her belly to bother talking.
“Last piece.”
His pronouncement had her stifling a grown even as she pulled the fish from the fork. It didn’t seem like much. Maybe seven bites at most. She lost count, enjoying the flavor too much. “Do you have any more?”
He stroked a wet cloth over her face. “I do, but your body has just started to process food again. You don’t want to overwhelm it and become sick.”
He was probably right, but she still didn’t like it. “Are you sure you were never a doctor?”
“I would never be a doctor.” His voice dripped with disgust.
Had he lost someone he loved in surgery? That would definitely account for his barely disguised hatred. “I’m not particularly fond of them either. They make it seem as if they can fix you and then they don’t.” Like her mother, who was supposed to be “all right,” and she wasn’t supposed to “worry.” She never had time to worry or treasure her moments with her mother because they never told her that her mama was terminally ill.
“I don’t know if I can make you well again, but I promise you I will do everything I can to make it so.”
His earnestness pulled her thoughts back to the present. “I know I have no choice but to trust you, but I do. I wouldn’t even be talking right now if it wasn’t for you.”
Her caretaker stepped away and moved back to the sink. As the sound of running water broke the silence, her bladder woke up. Oh no! This would be completely embarrassing. She couldn’t use her hands at all, so how could she get to the bathroom?
Shoot, he didn’t say there was a bathroom in the cabin. He must have one somewhere. Was it an outhouse? She groaned aloud at the thought of walking outside.
He strode across the room so fast his voice surprised her. “What’s wrong?”
She turned her head toward his voice. “I need to use a bathroom.”
“I don’t have one, but I did create something for you.”
She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact he didn’t have a bathroom when she heard him set something heavy down next to the bed. “What is it?”
“It’s a chair with an opening in the seat and a bucket beneath it, so I don’t have to take you outside in the cold.” His voice had just a hint of triumph in it.
A chair with a bucket. This is what she’d come to. If she wasn’t so embarrassed, she could appreciate his ingenuity and thoughtfulness, but she couldn’t imagine how this would work. She was dependent on him for literally everything. “But I can’t put weight on my hands.” Now she was whining, which was very ungrateful, but the whole situation was upsetting and awkward.
“I will set you on the chair.”
There was no way he could pick her up like that. She’d just have to accept that her hands would be in excruciating pain, but what choice did she have?
The weight of the quilt went away as he removed it. Then something else she had on that was very warm. If only she could feel what it was with her hands, but from the way he moved her arms, she’d say it was a coat of some kind. Though he’d been careful not to touch her hands, the burning started simply from the movement.
She could feel she had clothes on, but she wasn’t sure what she wore. She couldn’t even remember what she wore the day she’d become lost besides the coat and boots.
“Can you bend your knees?”
Good question. She moved her legs slightly, but her feet reminded her they were also frostbitten and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out.
“I have you.” He burrowed his large arm under her knees and placed another one behind her back.
She started to lift her arms to grasp his neck when the burning stopped her. “I can’t help.” Tears of pain and inadequacy started.
“I don’t need you to help. Let me do everything.” He was as good as his word, lifting her as if she wasn’t five foot-eleven and over a hundred and fifty pounds of dead weight. The man was seriously strong. As he lifted her, she felt cool air on her butt. Had she had an accident?
He set her down on the chair which was surprisingly not as hard as she suspected. It had arms where she could brace herself with her forearms. The burning in her hands was intense and her feet where they rested on the floor vied for her attention, but luckily her bladder was far more persistent.
She could do this. She said she wanted to experience life and this was part of it. Time to stop acting like a baby. “Do you have toilet paper?”
“I do.” He brushed it across her forearm. “I’m setting it here on the bed.”
They both knew she probably wouldn’t be able to pick it up. Despite her mortification, she tackled her next problem. “It feels like I have leggings on. Do you have a knife?”
“I do.”
He walked away, and she tossed away one idea after another. It was either her pride or her hands. She should have asked him sooner if she could remove the scarf and whatever he’d put over her eyes.
He stopped in front of her. “What would you like me to cut?”
She thought she could do it, have him slit her crotch, but she couldn’t. She just wasn’t that brave. She took a deep breath. “Can you put it in my hand?”
She sensed him pull back, or was it the floor that told her he’d shifted his weight? “What are you going to do? I will not let you harm yourself.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Believe me, I have no death wish. I’ll be eternally grateful that you found me when you did and that you’re taking such wonderful care of me.”
He didn’t put the knife in her hand, though she wasn’t sure how she would grasp it with the bandages around it. “Can I have the knife?”
“I understand. Sometimes out here, we have to do things we never would in civilization, but the laws for survival here are different.”
She could debate that to a point, but her bladder was quickly taking over all—
“I cut your leggings when you were asleep, so you wouldn’t soil them, but left most of them on for warmth.”
“How could you?” As he stepped back, she squeezed her legs together.
“It needed to be done. I will go outside now. Call me when you need to return to my bed.”
Mortified, she felt her cheeks heat as she listened to the sound of the door to the cabin closing. Unless he just pretended to leave. She didn’t move, waiting to hear a creak as he shifted his weight, but there was none.
He was an older man who’d probably seen his fair share of women’s bodies. She just hoped he didn’t get any ideas. Still, she waited, but she couldn’t feel him in the room. No breathing or spruce scent wafted toward her.
Her bladder finally decided it didn’t care, and she gave in, much to her relief.
He watched Angel sleep after he’d finally convinced her to drink more tea. When she’d called him to help her return to his bed, she’d been crying. He had no doubt some of it was due to the pain in her hands as she’d used the toilet paper she’d requested, but he sensed a self-loathing, an emot
ion he was overly familiar with. However, in her case, he doubted it went deeper than her own feelings of helplessness.
He would have to remind her she was lucky to be alive and her healing would take time. The skin affected by the frostbite on her hands could take months to return to normal. He wouldn’t tell her that until she regained her strength. One hurdle at a time.
Tonight, he would suggest taking off the scarf. With only the lantern to light the cabin, it should allow her eyes to adjust easier. At the thought of how happy that might make her, his spirits rose.
He scanned the cabin. Everything was in its place and ready for her gaze. Even the blankets he used on the couch were folded and put away in his storage room. The only thing that needed to be set to rights was himself.
He quietly moved to the foot of the bed and opened his chest. Pulling out the linen shirt, he donned it. He would need to wear it or the wool one at all times while she remained with him, unless he went out for a midnight run. It was a sacrifice worth making.
In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help hoping that by saving Angel, he somehow made up for the death of Elizabeth, Victor’s wife. She too had been an angel, but he’d been too blinded by his own pain and thirst for revenge upon his creator to notice or care. Her horror at his appearance had sealed her fate in his infantile mind.
Before he’d completed his second year of life, before Victor’s death, he’d known so little, discovering what he could after first being abandoned by the man who’d created him, his “father,” then betrayed by that father when he destroyed his female.
It had been too much for him to understand at his age. He’d been so young, yet in the huge grown body given to him.
Reading through the notes on his own creation had shed a tainted light on Victor, but Elizabeth, Mrs. Frankenstein, though married to the doctor for just a few short hours, didn’t deserve to lose her life. If only he’d understood his own actions then. If only he’d had the control over his impulses that he had now, she might have lived to an old age.
His gaze fell upon the angel resting in his bed. She, he would never harm. He would do whatever he must in order to bring her to full health. He swore to fate and whatever gods still existed that no matter what she did to him, he would keep her safe…even from himself.
At peace with his oath, he prepared for Angel to wake. She would need more food, so he set to work preparing an evening meal. He pulled the venison he had soaking in a marinade from the cold storage box. Sniffing it, he set it down. A man in Greenland had taught him to make the marinade. All he had to do now is add a couple of shakes of thyme and return it to the cold until it was time to cook. He chose a winter squash to go with it that he would sweeten with his birch syrup.
He didn’t dare let her eat too much. If her insides were irreparably harmed from her hypothermia, he had no way to help her. His gut tightened. He had to believe she would make a full recovery. At least tonight they would discover if her sight was undamaged.
After checking again to make sure she slept and her breathing was even, he slipped outside. The sun shone and would for at least three more hours. The long days of sunlight were already shortening. By mid-November they would have just a few hours of daylight. He usually spent from then until mid-January reading and consuming the fruits of his labors. When the days grew longer he used the daylight to do repairs and make improvements before collecting birch sap and heading to Savik for seeds, plants and anything else he might need.
What would it be like if he had a companion during those dark months? The idea titillated him, but he brushed it aside. She’d be long gone by then—she’d have to be or she’d be forced to stay the winter because there was no way to leave once the darkness and weather made it too dangerous for planes to fly into Savik.
He walked to the marten skins hanging high between two trees. Could he get her to stay the winter? Her hands wouldn’t be healed. It was already the end of September. If he could keep her with him another four weeks, she’d have to stay.
The lonely part of him urged him to prolong her visit, but he knew too much now to give in to such a base need. His Inuit teacher’s image seemed to float in the steam of his breath as he untied a skin, and Akiakook looked sternly at him.
He had to help Angel regain her health enough to travel before the winter darkness took over. It was the right thing to do. He was no longer the monster he’d been. He lived every day with the torture of guilt after what he’d done. He refused to add more to his conscience.
Releasing the last hide, he gathered them up. A breeze swept over the ridge and the cold penetrated his skin. Though uncomfortable, it made him feel alive, much like he had when he’d first been created. He entered the cabin with a smile in his heart if not on his visage.
Bringing the marten skins into his pantry in the cave behind the cabin, he laid them in a crate. After placing the lid on it, he strode back into the kitchen and washed his hands. He stepped around the counter to inspect his face before the large shard of mirror. His beard could use a trim and his hair was long, making him look too wild.
He removed his shirt and dropped it on the couch before going to his equipment corner. Choosing a knife from his hunting pack, he returned to the mirror. Carefully, he cut off most of his hair’s length. A large slice took off the majority of his beard, which he shaped, leaving enough so it remained soft, but keeping it to the outline of his jaw.
He double checked the leather choker around his neck, thankful for the replica of Akiakook’s wife’s gift, the original long gone now, like his mentor. The talisman figures around the leather had made his life easier simply by hiding his worst scar.
He stared at his eyes as they looked back at him. He could wear the sunglasses he used when going to the outpost, but she would suspect he hid something if he wore them inside. He’d just have to avoid looking directly at her.
After sweeping up, he strode back to the couch. He perused his bookshelf, determined to find suitable entertainment until Angel awakened. Pulling out his copy of Sir Walter’s Scott’s Lady of the Lake, he sat down to read.
Just as the lady sang of her love, his Angel woke.
“Are you there?”
“I am.” Quickly, he donned his shirt, anxious to see the color of her eyes.
“Oh, good. It’s weird waking up to complete silence. I live in the city of San Francisco and night or day, there’s always noise.”
He strode to her and sat in his chair, the light outside now shadowed somewhat by the north mountain as the sun began its descent. “It’s not quite silent. There’s some movement still in the forest, but the temperature is below zero now, so many animals are settling in before the nocturnal ones take over.”
“That makes me even happier to be inside. I’m so glad you found me before a bear did.”
“I doubt a bear would have paid much attention, but the wolves would have.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “I’m thirsty. I would love some water.”
“Of course.” He rose and poured cold water into his tin cup then set it directly on the stove a few minutes before he brought it to her. “Would you like to sit up?”
“Not yet.”
Happy to oblige, he lifted her head and helped her drink. When she’d had enough, he couldn’t wait any longer to broach the subject. “I think it would be good to remove the scarf and jar lids from your eyes tonight. Would you like to do so before or after dinner?”
Her lips broke into a smile as far as her chapped lips would allow. To him, it was as if the sun had risen and light streamed over the pristine snow.
“I would love that. Are you sure it’s okay? Has it been enough time? Will it hurt? Can we do it right now? I can’t wait to see what you look like.” Her last words sent a shiver over his skin.
“I’m not a pleasant sight, so please keep your expectations low.”
The corner of her lip quirked up. “Considering my condition, I have a feeling I look a lot worse.”
To him, she was beautiful, but she would never understand why that was, so he didn’t bother to elaborate. “The cabin is in the shadows now, so the sunlight isn’t as bright. Or you could wait until darkness and I could light the cabin with one lantern if you prefer.”
Her tongue came out and licked her dry lips as she considered her options. “I can’t wait. If you think it will be okay, then I’d like to do it now.”
He snapped his mouth shut as he was about to respond. Did he want to say now was fine because he too was anxious or because the right time had passed based on what knowledge he had? He counted back the days since she’d arrived. It had been enough.
He scanned the cabin. The coverings he used over his windows in the winter were absent now, and it was easy to see the landscape outside. From the porch to the forest was in shadow. If he stood next to the window, he could see the bright snow to the south, but she wouldn’t be moving about.
He nodded, though she couldn’t see him. “I think it’s time for your eyes to adjust to being open again. If it’s too bright, simply close them and I can lay the scarf over them until it grows darker.”
“That sounds like a good plan. It would be so nice to be able to see. Without sight, it’s hard to keep my mind from focusing on my hands.”
She didn’t mention the pain, but he knew it was there. Her sight would give her other things to think about, which would be good for her, but what if she thought about him? Would that scare her more?
No matter his inclination, he had to help her and if that meant her staring at him in wariness, then it couldn’t be helped. Though he’d lived with it his entire life, he’d never become immune to being the object of fear. He was perhaps more human-like in that regard. Acceptance by others was still a strong, unmet need of his. Akiakook had tried to help him overcome that, but he’d failed.
“I’m ready. What should I do?” At her voice, he pulled himself away from his thoughts and leaned over her.
“Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them.”
“Okay.” She sounded nervous.
As he untied the knot at the side of her head, he hoped she hadn’t done permanent damage to her eyes. She needed to stay positive if she was to heal. Gently, he lifted her head with one hand and pulled the scarf out from beneath it.