Two Alone (11 page)

A...ba
t
h?" Dorothy couldn't have said "Oz?" with any more
awe
and wistfulness.

"A real one. The works. Hot water, soap." He went to the door, opened it, and came back in rolling a large washtub. "I ["mind this behind the cabin and cleaned it out."

She didn't remember feeling this grateful when she opened
tin
present from her father and found her full-length, red fox
coat
folded amid tissue paper. She clasped her hands beneath her thin. "Oh. Cooper, thank you."

Don't get gushy," he said querulously. "We'll get as disgusting as the Gawrylows if we don't bathe. Not every day, though."

R
usty didn't let him spoi
l her good mood. He didn't allow people
to get even close enough
to thank him. Well, that was hi
s problem. He'd
done
something very thoughtful for her. She
ha
d thanked him. Beyond that, what else could she
do?
He must know how much this meant to her, even if he chose to act like a heel about it now.

She filled several pots and kettles with water from the pump. He carried them to the stove to heat them up, refueling the fire to hurry them along. He then dragged the tub across the wooden floor and placed it directly in front of the fireplace. The metal was icy cold, but in a few minutes the fire would warm it up.

Rusty watched him making all these preparations with expectation, then a growing concern. "What do
I
do about, uh...."

Saying nothing, expressionless, Cooper unfurled one of the rough muslin bed-sheets he'd boiled and aired that day. The ceiling of the cabin had bare beams. Apparently
t
he Gawrylows had hung meat from it because there were several metal hooks screwed into the dark wood.

Cooper stood on a chair and pushed one of the sharp hooks through a corner of the sheet. Repositioning the chair several times, he soon had the sheet hanging like a curtain behind the tub,

"Thank you," Rusty said. She was glad to have the sheet their but couldn't help but notice that with the fireplace behind it, u was translucent. The tub was silhouetted against it. Anybody
in
the tub would be, too.

Cooper must have noticed that at the same time, because in shifted his eyes away from it and ran his hands nervously up a
nd
down his pants legs. "I think the water's just about ready."

Rusty assembled her precious cache of toiletries—a bar o
f
scented soap, a small plastic bottle of shampoo, her razor—
on
t
he sear of the chair near the tub.

Earlier in the day, she had separated the meager clothing dn. had left and neatly folded and stacked it on separate shelves,
one
f
or her, one for Cooper. She took a fresh pair of long
j
ohns and
a t
ank top from her stack now and draped them over the back o
f
the chair.

When everything was ready, she stood awkwardly by while
C
ooper carefully carried the heavy pots of boiling water across the room and poured them into the tub. Steam rose out of it, Inn as far as Rusty was concerned it couldn't be too hot. She had four days' accumulation of grime and fatigue to soak away, besides, she was accustomed to spending several minutes each day in her hot tub at home.

"What do I dry with?" she asked.

C
ooper tossed her a coarse, dingy towel from the pile of
beddi
ng he'd carried in earlier. "I found a couple of these hanging hum nails outside the cabin. I boiled them, too. They've never known fabric softener, but they're better than nothing."

T
he towel did feel more like sandpaper than terry cloth, bu
t Rusty
accepted it without comment.

"
There, that should do it," Cooper said brusquely, emptying
t
h
e
c
onten
t
s of the last kettle in
to the tub. "Ease into it carefully.
Don't scald yourself."

"
O
kay."

Stand
ing at opposite sides of the tub, they faced each o
t
her.
Their
eyes met through the rising steam. The humidity was
alread
y curling Rusty's hair and making her complexion look dewy and rosy.

Co
oper turned his back abru
ptly and impatiently swatted aside
the curtain. It fell back into
place. Rusty could hear his sta
mping,
b
ooted footsteps against
the uneven flooring. He went
outside and slammed the door closed behind him.

She sighed with resignation. He had a sour disposition and that's all there was to it. And while she was lolling in her first bath in four days, she certainly wasn't going to dwell on his personality flaws. She wouldn't let him spoil this for her, no matt
er
how disagreeable he became.

Because she still avoided putting any weight on her leg, it was a challenge to get out of her clothes. When she had managed tha
t
, it was an even greater challenge to ease herself into the bathtub. She was finally able to do so by supporting herself on her arm
s
and sitting down slowly, pulling her sore leg in behind her.

It felt more heavenly
t
han she had allowed herself to antic
i
pate. Cooper had been right to caution her; the water was hot, but deliciously so. The corrugated bottom of the tub felt odd against her bu
t
tocks and rook some getting used to, but before long the luxury of being submerged in hot, soothing water took her mind off that one minor discomfort.

She immersed as much of herself as possible and rested her head against the rim. Her eyes slid closed. She was so relaxed that she didn't even flinch when she heard Cooper come ba
ck
inside. She only frowned slightly when a breath of cold air reached her before he shut the door behind him.

Eventually she extended one dripping arm and took the bar of soap off the sear of the chair. She was tempted to lather he
rself
liberally, wantonly, wastefully. Bu
t she thought better of it. This
bar of soap might have to la
st a long time. Better not squan
d
er
it, she decided, as she worked up an adequate lather and soaped herself all over.

Propping her feet one at a time on the rim of the tub
, she
shaved her legs, carefully maneuvering the razor around Cooper
’s stit
ching. With anguish she realized what an unsightly scar she was going to have but was ashamed of her vanity. She was lucky m he alive. As soon as she got back to Beverly Hills, she would have a plastic surgeon repair Cooper's well-intentioned, but unattractive, handiwork.

It struck her then that he was being awfully noisy. "Cooper, what are you doing?"

"Making up the beds," he said
, grunting with the effort.
"
Th
ese frames are made of solid oak and weigh a ton." "I can't wai
t
t
o lie down on one." Don't expect it to be much better than the ground. There're
no
mattresses. Just canvas platforms like cots. But mattresses
woul
d have had lice, so it's just as well."

L
aying aside her razor, she picked up
t
he bottle of shampoo
an
d after dunking her head beneath the water, squeezed out a
doll
op. The shampoo would
have to be rationed even more spar
ingly than the soap, She worked it through her thick hair,
r
u
b
bing ruthlessly from her scalp
t
o the ends. She dunked her
head
t
o rinse it, then wrung out as much water as she could.

L
aying her head against the tub's rim again, she fanned her
hair
out behind her so it could begin to dry
.
It would drip on
t
he
f
loor, but water was probably the least offensive substance e
ve
r be dripped on it.
A
gain, her eyes closed as she luxuriated in the warmth of the
water
,
the floral fragrance of shampoo and soap, and the deli
cious
ness of feeling clean again.

Even
tually the water began to cool and she knew it was time
to get
out. Anyway, she doubted that Cooper would go to bed
before
she did. He must be exhausted after all he'd done sinc
e
getting up before daybreak that morning. She had no idea what time it was. The crash had stopped both their watches. Time was measured by the sun coming up and going down. The days
we
re
short, but today had been long—emotionally as well as physically taxing.

She braced her arms on the rim of the tub and tried to push herself up. To her dismay, her arms collapsed like wet noodles. She had s
tayed in the hot water too long
, her muscles were useless. Several times she tried, but to no avail. Her arms simply wouldn't support her. She devised other plans, but none of them worked because of her sore leg, which she couldn't put any weight on.

Finally, growing chilled and knowing that the inevitable couldn't be postponed indefinitely, she bashfully called his name.

"What?"

His irritable response wasn't too encouraging, bur she had no choice.
"I
can't get out."

After a silence long enough for a Telephone pole to stretch out in, he said, "Huh?"

Rusty squeezed her eyes shu
t
and repeated,
"I
can't get
o
ut of the tub."

"Get out the same way you got in."

"I'm too weak from the hot water. My arms won't hold
me
up long enough to step out."

His curses were so scorching, she didn't know why the bed-sheet curtain didn't combust. When she heard his approa
ching
footsteps, she crossed her arms over her breasts. Cool air fan
ned
across her wet, bare back as he moved the curtain aside. She stared straight ahead into the fir
eplace, feeling his eyes on her
as he moved toward the tub.

For a long time he just stood there, saying nothing. Rusty's lungs were almost ready to burst from internal tension by the
t
ime he said, "I'll slide my hands under your arms. Come up on
yo
ur left leg. Then while I'm holding you up, lift it out of the tub and set it on the floor. Okay?"

His voice was low and of the same texture as the towel he'd
given
her to use—as rough as sandpaper. "Okay." She eased her
a
r
ms
slightly away from her body. Even
t
hough she'd been expect
in
g
it, the firs
t
touch of his fingertips against her slippery, wet skin,
ca
me
as a shock. Not because it felt awful, but because it didn't.

And
it only got better from there. Confident and strong, his hands slid into the notches of
her armpits and cupped them suppor
tively. He braced his legs wide apart, almost straddling the tub
and
lifted her. She sucked in her breath sharply.

"What's the matter?"

"My...my underarms are sore," she told him breathlessly.
"
Bec
ause o
f
the crutches." He muttered a curse. It was so vile
sh
e
hoped she hadn't heard it correctly.

His
hands slipped over her wet skin and encased her ribs.
"
Let’s
try it this way. Ready?"

Rusty, according to his instructions, supported herself on her
left
leg, letting the injured one dangle uselessly as he raised her
out
o
f
the water.