“Before we talk, I want to get some clothes on,” she said when she was finished with her oatmeal. She cradled the warm cup of coffee in her hands, relishing the comfort of hot food in her stomach and coffee to drink even if she did have other things on her mind. One thing she did know: Even though she knew it was completely psychological, she’d feel better if she was fully dressed when they had this serious discussion. Sitting around wearing his thermal underwear bottoms and one of his flannel shirts was comfortable, but she didn’t feel capable of handling a lot. She also wanted to brush her teeth again. For some reason, good grooming felt essential.
He shrugged; maybe he was glad of more time to marshal his argument, whatever it was. After collecting their trash and drinking his third cup of coffee, he stepped outside the sleep area and drew the privacy curtain closed. “While you’re changing, I’ll rinse the mud out of your other clothes and hang them up to dry. You might need them when we start walking out of here.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She listened to him go down the ladder, heard the sounds from below as he donned his slicker, then the sound of the door opening and closing. Hurriedly she stripped, she used a couple of wet wipes to freshen up, and brushed her teeth. She’d love to brush her hair, but a hairbrush was one thing she hadn’t stuffed into her saddlebags, so she settled for briskly massaging her scalp with her fingertips, then raking her fingers through her hair.
Dare came back in, presumably with the bucket he’d set out again to catch more rainwater. With the sound of rain on the roof, she could barely hear the sloshing of water as he rinsed out her sweats.
Putting on underwear and her own shirt felt fantastic. Her bra was nowhere in sight, but what the heck, she didn’t really need one anyway. She didn’t have enough to jiggle; mostly her bra was to keep the imprint of her nipples from showing through. Working her jeans on was a chore. She couldn’t flex her right foot enough to point her toes and work her foot through the opening of the pant leg, so she carefully bunched the fabric and worked it up and over her swollen ankle.
When she fastened her jeans, she realized they felt loose in the waist. She’d lost some weight, probably when her body was burning calories like crazy trying to stave off hypothermia, not to mention the effort she’d been putting out. Dare would have lost weight, too, from carrying her for miles, and from his own body fighting to stay warm.
That horrible night seemed unreal now, as if she were thinking about a movie she’d seen instead of something that had actually happened to her. The contrast between then and now, when she was tucked inside this snug little cabin, her world narrowed down to this mattress on the floor in a partitioned area maybe two feet wider than the mattress itself, to just herself and Dare, was so great her mind seemed to have let go of “then” so it could completely hold on to “now.” Her subconscious had dealt with it by dreaming about it, and now that she was awake the reality seemed even further removed.
When she had nothing else to do, she unwrapped the elastic bandage around her ankle. Some of the swelling was definitely gone. Another day of sitting on her butt should make a big difference in the ankle’s condition. If she could get her boot on, and if the weather cooperated, with the aid of a walking stick she might be able to walk out of here. The weather was the big thing. Even after the rain stopped, it would take a while for the flash floods to stop. Until then, they weren’t going anywhere.
She pulled a clean sock on her left foot, and tried working one onto her right foot, but her ankle was still too swollen for the sock to be comfortable, so she put the sock aside and rewrapped her ankle. Her toes got cold unless she kept her foot covered by the sleeping bag; she’d either have to sit on the mattress all day or deal with cold toes.
Down below, the door opened and closed again. Dare would be setting the bucket out again, to catch more water.
Even though he wasn’t spending a lot of time out in the rain, the air was chilly and the water was cold, so he might appreciate another cup of coffee when he came up again. Angie checked the coffeepot: enough in there for another two cups, at least, but it might be tasting bitter by now. She freshened it up by adding a little water, then put the pot on the camp stove and turned on the flame.
When she heard him reenter below, she pulled back the privacy curtain and called down, “I reheated the coffee, if you want a cup.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be up in a minute, after I get these clothes wrung out and hung up to dry.”
She gave him a minute, then dumped enough sugar into the cup to choke a horse, estimating that was how much he’d used before, and poured the hot coffee on top of it to dissolve it. She’d just poured herself a cup when his dark head appeared at the top of the ladder. Her heartbeat gave its normal jump and the butterflies fluttered in her stomach. “I’ve already sugared it,” she said as she handed his cup to him, ignoring both her heart and the butterflies.
“Thanks.” He took a long swallow. “Damn, that’s good. You can make the coffee from now on.”
“I’d planned on it,” she said drily. “How’s it looking out there?” The only view she’d had was a brief look at some trees while Dare carried her to the portable toilet, as the cabin was built in a protected spot with limited straight-line visibility.
“The only way I’d try to go anywhere in that mess would be if it were a matter of life and death. It’s bad. On the good side, it isn’t raining as hard now. If the weather service was anywhere close to accurate, it should start tapering off late this afternoon.”