Carol Ritten Smith (22 page)

She rose from the table. “I’m going to lie down, Davy. I have a headache. Wake me when Bill gets home from work.”

Davy was sprawled out on the floor, playing with sticks he’d recently whittled into what he thought resembled farm animals. “Okay.” He barely looked up from his play.

It wasn’t long after Beth’s head sank into her pillow, she drifted off to sleep. Sadly, it was anything but peaceful. A gruesome shadow surfaced from her fugitive past and it reached out a long fleshless finger to point at her.
You
, it wailed.
You did this to me.
The shadow moved closer, congealing into darkness, moving forward, suffocating Beth with its nearness. Death’s face loomed before her now, skin hanging in decay. She knew this death by name. Uncle Mead. His lips peeled back, revealing stained teeth imbedded in a gray jaw. It opened and a long black vapor escaped. Choking, Beth struck out at the ghost of her uncle.
Leave us alone. You’re dead. Leave us alone.
Beth’s arms flailed.

A crashing sound brought her bolt upright in bed and rescued her from her nightmare. Yet when she took a breath, she still couldn’t get air. Suddenly the fogginess of her mind cleared completely.
Fire!
She flew from her bed and into the kitchen.

There was no fire, but soot and smoke rolled across the floor, and more billowed up from the open end of the stovepipe. A wooden orange crate leaned against a chair that had tipped on its side. Beyond the chair and crate lay another smoke-spewing length of pipe. Davy stood there, shaking his head. Then he started coughing.

Before they were overcome by smoke, Beth grabbed his arm and hauled him outside.

“What happened?” she demanded.

Two white eyeballs stared out forlornly from Davy’s black sooty face. “Nothing.”

“You call this nothing? I try to rest for ten minutes and look what happens. What did you do?”

“I didn’t think the stove was drawing right so I tried to adjust the damper.”

“The stove was drawing fine.”

“But I was cold so I added more wood.”

Beth felt herself getting angrier by the minute. “How much wood?”

Davy stared at his feet. “Till it was full.”

Beth gave her brother a well-deserved shake. “You could have caused a chimney fire!”

“But I was watching it, Beth, and when the fire got too big I threw in a bucket of water. That’s when I needed to adjust the damper.”

Beth was exasperated. “You were supposed to be playing with your animals, not fiddling with the stove. Now there’s an awful mess to clean up.” Shivering, she crossed her arms in front of her and watched the soot settle, turning the snow outside the door black. “How did you think you could turn the damper? I can barely reach it.”

“I stood on a chair … with an orange crate on top,” he added sheepishly. “I guess it was too tippy.”

“Obviously! You’re lucky you weren’t burnt.”
Lucky the whole place didn’t burn.

Bill arrived and, after assessing the situation, cupped his hand over his nose and mouth, raced inside and quickly reconnected the stovepipe. On his way back outside, he grabbed Beth and Davy’s coats.

“What a mess.”

“It’s my fault,” Davy confessed, near tears.

Beth shrugged into her coat. “Never mind that now. We’d better get it cleaned up.”

“There’s no point doin’ it tonight,” Bill said. “It’s still too smoky to breathe in there. We’ll clean it tomorrow.”

“And just where do you suggest we stay then?” Beth snapped.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me.”

For once Bill was right. Getting angry was futile. Better to transform her rage into something productive. “Let’s all think. If Mary and Earl were home, I’m sure we could go there, but she told me at the dance they were going to Tannerville this weekend and wouldn’t be home till Tuesday.”

“We could go to Tom’s,” Davy submitted.

“No!” Bill and Beth answered in unison.

“What about staying at Annaleese’s home?” Beth asked.

Bill shook his head. “I don’t think so. I just left there and Mrs. Hewn isn’t feeling well.”

“You’re right. If she’s ill, she certainly doesn’t need company.”

Davy brightened. “I know, we could sleep at the school again, like we did when it stormed.”

Beth tried to envision another night at the school. “Surely there has to be some place more comfortable.” The possibilities were slim.

Davy started to whine. “I’m cold. I wanna go to Tom’s.”

“We are not going to Tom’s!”

Half an hour later, for lack of a better solution, the three headed to the Carver place. Bill lagged far behind grumbling the entire way he wouldn’t accept charity from that man while Beth reminded herself again and again to guard her emotions. And if he were to press her about his proposal she would have to be direct and make sure he understood in no uncertain terms that she would not marry him. She prayed he would drop the subject. Oh, why couldn’t they just remain friends and leave it at that? Falling in love complicated everything.

Tom answered the knock at his door, took one look at Davy’s sooty face, and gave a wry grin. “Stove trouble?”

“It was my fault,” Davy confessed again, biting his bottom lip to stop it from quivering. “I was fiddling with the stove.”

Tom wisely refrained from comment.

“We didn’t know where else to go,” Beth explained, wishing she could pull her attention away from Tom’s lips. “I know it’s an imposition, but could we stay the night? The floor and walls of our place are covered with soot.”

“Come in. I’ve got plenty of room.” He stepped aside.

Beth and Davy entered and Tom stuck his head out the door, glancing both ways. “Where’s Bill?”

“He wouldn’t come in. He’s in your barn.”

“That figures.” He hung up their coats. “Make yourself at home. I was just about to make some coffee. Want some?”

Beth pulled out a chair on the far side of the table. “No thanks. But don’t let us stop you.”

Tom shrugged. “I’ll have one later.” He turned to Davy. “Looks like you could use a bath, Bud.”

“I just had one yesterday.”

“You should have thought of that before you fiddled with stove. Here, use this to get off the worst.” He handed Davy an old rag before dragging the galvanized washtub, standing on end in the corner, to the center of the kitchen.

When he started pailing water across from the copper boiler on the stove, Beth jumped up. “I can do that.”

“It’s all right. Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

Feeling useless and uneasy, she sat again. She guardedly looked around the kitchen, taking in the cook stove and its shiny black top, noting the dry sink with a towel neatly folded on the bar in front. She longed to touch the dishes kept in the glass-windowed cupboard. Everything was in its place. Tom kept a tidy kitchen and this could have been her kitchen if the situation were different. She imagined them having supper around the table. Doing the dishes together. Extinguishing all the lanterns, except the one that would light their way to their bedroom.

The clatter of the pail against the stove brought Beth from her thoughts. “There you go,” Tom said, straightening up. “Peel and hop in, Bud, before the water gets too cool.” He lifted his coat from a hook. “I’ll just go to the barn, see if I can convince Bill to come inside.”

Her face felt flushed. “Fine. Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

As soon as the door closed, Davy started shucking his dirty clothes. His naked body was lily-white except for his still somewhat sooty hands and face. He eased himself into the water.

Wearily, Beth bent over the tub. “Lean back and wet your hair so I can wash it,” she instructed, grabbing the lye soap.

Davy did as he was told, stretching out in the tub. As she rubbed the bar over his hair, she idly ran her eyes up and down his skinny length. They paused momentarily to watch his little penis bob like a cork in the water.

Davy opened one eye a crack and stated, “Tom has a big one.”

“I beg your pardon!” The bar of soap shot out of her hand and landed, plop, in the water.

“Tom has a big bathtub. I can lay right out.”

“Oh … yes … yes, it’s big.” Flustered, she hastily finished scrubbing his head, desperately trying to erase the unsettling image that Davy’s comment evoked.

“Now sit up and I’ll rinse you.” She used the dipper sitting on the table and poured water over Davy’s head. That done, she washed his back and then handed him the bar of soap. “You can do the rest. Hurry now, but do a good job.”

• • •

Tom found Bill settled back into a stack of loose straw, his hands folded behind his head. “Hi,” he said, not at all surprised by Bill’s lack of response. “I just thought I’d tell you there’s an extra bed upstairs you and Davy can share. ’Course if you’d rather stay out here, well, that’s fine by me.”

Bill gave no indication of preference so Tom pointed to a wooden box, saying. “I keep a couple of horse blankets in the trunk over there if you get cold,” and then he departed. He wasn’t going to coddle Bill.

Tom entered the kitchen. “Oh, right,” he said when he saw Davy still in the tub. “Sorry. I’ll just wait in the parlor until you’re finished.”

• • •

A minute later Beth sent Davy, dressed in his long johns, to join him. She gave the rest of dirty clothing a thorough shaking outside, folded them and then set them on the chair in the kitchen. She stared at the long oval tub. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed a bath where she could recline without having her knees tucked up under her chin? She fingered the water again. It was tepid, and surprisingly not too dirty.

She shook her head.
Don’t even think it.
She couldn’t bathe in the middle of Tom’s kitchen. Reason and temptation played a mental tug of war.

It would be totally improper.

Only if someone found out.

Tom could barge through the door any minute.

He couldn’t come in if I barred the door first.

It would take too long to bathe.

Not if I hurried.

But the water is getting cold.

All the more reason to hurry.

Temptation won. Beth put her ear to the door leading into the parlor, listening to the muffled voices of Tom and Davy. Quickly, and as quietly as she could, she propped a chair under the doorknob. Then she crossed to the outside door, locked it and pulled the curtain on the window. Feeling secure, she added another bucketful of warm water to the tub, pinned her hair up and stripped.

Oh, the water felt wonderful! And oh, the tub was large! Suddenly a strange gentle tingle ran through her limbs. Here she was in Tom’s tub, naked, sitting where Tom had sat many times, naked. She cautioned herself not to think about that. But she couldn’t
not
think about that. The conjured image of Tom, naked in the tub, was branded in her mind. Suddenly that gentle tingle was no longer gentle. Her body pulsed deliciously, and in private places that had never pulsed before. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the tub’s back, savoring the wonder and pleasure of this peculiar new sensation.

When the chair crashed to the floor, Beth’s eyes popped open.

Seeing Beth reclining naked in his bathtub, Tom’s eyes opened even wider. “Ooh, la la,” he said, rubbing his hands together in delight.

Beth gasped and instinctively pulled her knees to her chin, hugging them close in an attempt to hide from his sight.

“You get out this minute!” she ordered in a harsh whisper.

Tom shook his head slowly. He put his finger to his lips. “Can’t go yet,” he whispered, pulling the door shut behind him. “Davy wants to play Fish. If I go out there without a deck of cards, he’s going to be very, very disappointed. Call me an old softie, but I just don’t want to let the boy down.” Staring appreciatively at her, he circled around to the sideboard where the cards were kept.

“Don’t you have the manners to knock?” she hissed, keeping a wary eye one him while willing her heart to cease its pounding.

He paused. “Knock? This may come as a shock to you, but most people don’t knock to enter a kitchen. If they do, then I’m afraid I was remiss in learning that detail.”

“Apparently you were also remiss in learning how to behave as a gentleman. If you had any morals you’d leave immediately.”

His eyebrows lifted and a smile touched his lips. “Beth, honey, it’s my morals keeping me from crawling right in there with you, that and the fact your brother is in the next room. It wouldn’t do his innocence any good to find us thrashing about in the water like a pair of otters.”

Pulse! Pulse! Pulse!
A rhythm throbbed deep within her and in shockingly rapid succession. Desire tap-danced inside her. “How dare you!” she raged, looking to throw something at him.

Tom ducked as the bar of soap skimmed past his ear. Grinning, he raised his hands in submission. “Relax. I’ll just get the cards and then the kitchen is all yours. You can stay in there until you look as wrinkled as a peach pit.”

Watching her, he backed toward the cupboard and opened the drawer to get a deck of cards. “When I got up this morning I asked myself, Tom, what kind of day do think you’ll have? Never in a million years would I have guessed it would be this good.”

“You breathe a word of this to anyone and I’ll never speak to you again!”

Ignoring her threat, he retrieved the bar of soap from under the wood stove, picked out the imbedded bits of wood and tossed it into the tub, splashing her in the face. At the door he studied the chair, just then realizing its intent.

Chuckling, he turned to face her. “The next time you use a chair to bar a door, make sure you know which way the door swings first.” He slid through the door into the parlor.

Make sure you know which way the door swings first,
Beth mimicked as she slapped the soap up one arm, across her breasts and down the other arm.
My morals are keeping me from crawling right in there with you.
Morals. Hmph! That man wouldn’t know a moral if it came up and formally introduced itself. Fuming, Beth attacked her legs with the bar of soap.