Ice (11 page)

“Sure.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

Seeing the slightest hint of amusement cross Maggie’s face, Alex softly chuckled. “I mean about the fevers. Why do they get so high?”

“I don’t know.”

“Surely the doctors have some sort of explanation.”

“Not really,” Maggie said, taking another sip of water. “I’ve been to dozens of them, but they never could find anything conclusive. Most believe that it’s just a genetic glitch…something to do with my hypothalamus.”

“Your hypo…what?”

“It’s in the brain. It controls body temperature. Most times, if I get a low-grade fever, over-the-counter medication will take care of it, but if I get a fairly nasty virus, that’s when my body goes into overdrive trying to fight it, and it just doesn’t know when to quit.”

“So the fever just keeps going up?”

“Yeah,” Maggie said, quickly flinching when Alex touched a sensitive spot.

 “Christ, sorry...did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s just a bit tender, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m almost done. Just a few more minutes and you can rest.”

“Where’d you find the first-aid kid?”

“In the basement.”

“The basement?”

“Well, it’s more like a small root cellar. There’s a trap door under the rug in the hallway. I found it earlier when I went to get more snow, but when I tried to tell you about it, you had already passed out.”

“Oh.”

“And we don’t have to worry about food or water anymore either. There’s plenty,” Alex said, reaching for the bandages.

When Maggie didn’t respond, Alex looked up and saw that she had fallen asleep. Placing her hand on Maggie’s forehead, when she found it warm, but not hot, Alex finished bandaging the wound, and then crept from the room.

***

After leaving the bedroom, Alex divided her time between bringing in more firewood, filling the bathtub with snow, and checking on Maggie. With the blizzard showing no signs of letting up, and not wanting to waste a minute of daylight, she traveled back and forth from the wood pile to replenish their supply. Stopping when the stacks of firewood by both hearths had reached her hip, she grabbed the bucket and began carrying snow into the bathroom. Praying that once melted, it would provide enough cold water to keep Maggie’s temperature in check, Alex refused to give into her exhaustion, hunger or pain until the snow was piled high above the rim of the claw-footed tub.

Once satisfied that she had prepared herself for anything that the next twenty-four hours had in store for her, she climbed down into the cellar to bring up supplies. Concentrating on only the totes that held the towels, linens and toiletries, after four trips, she rewarded herself with an entire jar of canned peaches. Finally, after nearly three hours, she followed through on her promise to Maggie. Stripping out of her wet clothes, Alex washed herself with icy water, tended to her injuries, put on some dry clothes and then wearily shuffled to the bedroom. After making sure that Maggie’s temperature had yet to rise to the point of being deadly, she hobbled back to the front room, and after tossing a log on the fire, Alex slumped near the sofa and stared into the flames.

Watching as they flickered and danced over the logs, Alex replayed the events of the past two days in her mind. Glancing at her wrist, she removed the watch that the pilot had given her, and flipping it over, her eyes filled with tears. By the heartfelt words inscribed on back, she knew that somewhere he had a loving wife whose heart would no doubt be broken when she heard the news. The tears rolled down her cheeks as she remembered his anger when the coffee had spilled in his lap, and the self-assured smile that he had flashed her just before taking off. He seemed so strong then. So invincible with his barrel chest and leather bomber jacket, the confidence he exuded had been infectious, but now he was gone. And the dead eyes that had stared back at her from the cockpit would haunt her forever. Resting her head on the couch, she cried herself to sleep.

***

Alex woke to the sound of screaming. With her muscles aching from sitting on the cold, hard floor, it took a few second before she managed to get to her feet. Wincing as she put weight on her injured leg, she pushed past the pain and shuffled to the bedroom. Seeing Maggie thrashing about on the bed, Alex knew in an instant what was happening. While the words that Maggie was speaking were garbled, the message they were sending was loud and clear. Maggie’s fever had returned.

Wasting no time, Alex threw back the quilt, gathered Maggie in her arms and rushed her to the bathroom. Disheartened to see that the snow which had taken over an hour to pile high had turned into only a few inches of water, she nevertheless, lowered Maggie into the cold puddle. Draping a wet towel over Maggie’s head, Alex hurried from the room for the bucket. Returning a few minutes later, she emptied more snow into the tub and then limped back outside for more.

It wasn’t until Alex’s fourth trip that Maggie began to shiver, and as her eyes opened, she weakly stuttered, “Pl…please...no…no…more.”

Hearing her voice, Alex grinned. “Hey there. How you feeling?”

“I’m cold,” Maggie whimpered, trying to get away from the icy water that surrounded her.

Touching Maggie’s arm to still her movements, Alex said, “Okay. Let me get some towels, and I’ll get you out of there.”

Retrieving three towels from one of the totes, Alex tossed two on the bed and hurried to the bathroom with the last in her hand. Up until that moment, the fact that the woman who Alex found incredibly attractive was wearing nothing but underwear hadn’t been an issue, but the white fabric of Maggie’s bra and knickers had become almost translucent because of the water. Swallowing hard, it was all she could do to keep her eyes off of Maggie’s finer features as she helped her from the tub. Wrapping her in the towel, Alex guided her slowly to the bedroom, and lowering her to the carpet in front of the fireplace, covered her with the remaining towels.

Taking a bottle of water from the nightstand, Alex placed it in Maggie’s hand. “Here, you should drink some of this.”

Seeing that the liquid in the bottle was cloudy, Maggie shook her head and pushed it away. “No, it’s dirty.”

Smiling, Alex put the bottle back into Maggie’s hand. “No, it’s not. I put some aspirin in it a while ago. I thought it would be easier than you trying to swallow pills. Now drink up, but remember to take it slow.”

“I will,” Maggie replied. Clear-headed for the first time in several hours, as she sipped the water, she looked around the room. Except for the wall which held the fireplace, all the others were covered in smooth, rounded logs stacked from floor to ceiling. High above her head, she could see large timbers running to and fro. Although she had no idea the amount of snow on the roof, by the girth of the lumber, it was obvious that the cabin was built to withstand the fiercest of winters.

Taking another drink, Maggie ran her tongue over her cracked lips, trying to replace the moisture that her fever had sucked away. Noticing what she was doing, Alex opened the first-aid kit and handed Maggie a small container.

“Here, try this. It should help.”

“What is it?”

“Balm for your lips.”

“Oh,” Maggie replied weakly.

When Maggie didn’t make a move to open the small jar, Alex asked, “Would you rather I do it?”

“Please,” Maggie said, placing the container back into Alex’s hand. “Can you?”

“Not a problem.”

Unscrewing the cap, Alex put some on her finger and then gently rubbed it across Maggie’s parted lips. Although Alex was trying to keep her eyes focused on the task at hand, when she glanced up and her eyes met Maggie’s, she felt her body react. Silently chastising herself for the thoughts which flashed through her mind, Alex put the jar aside and reached for the bandages. Lifting the corner of the towel, she removed the waterlogged dressing, and in silence, tended to the wound.

“You’re not who I thought you were,” Maggie said in a whisper as Alex pressed the adhesive tape in place.

“How so?”

“You seem so different. Not as…hard…coarse, as I remember.”

Alex couldn’t help but smile. It was rare that she had ever allowed any of her work colleagues to see her softer side, especially the colleague lying in front of her, but keeping up her stern and serious act twenty-four-seven was impossible.

Tossing the old bandage into the flames, Alex looked into Maggie’s eyes and when she spoke, her tone was soft. “I’m a passionate woman, Campbell. I’m passionate about putting men behind bars that kidnap little boys for reasons that make me lose my lunch. I’m passionate about catching the men who rape women, and do more damage to their souls than they ever could do to their bodies. And I’m passionate about wanting to hunt down every man and woman who bring drugs into our country, turning our youth into addicts before they’re old enough to vote. So yeah, I suppose I appear hard, but it’s the woman I need to be in order to do my job.”

“And what about when you’re not working?” Maggie asked. “What kind of woman are you then?”

Maggie watched in amazement as Alex’s entire persona seemed to change. In an instant, the intensity that had been etched into her forehead disappeared, and her eyes twinkled with amusement.

“I’m a woman who adores a five-pound Yorkshire terrier named Sandy, who, by now, has given birth to her puppies and is most likely driving my best friend crazy,” Alex said with a wide smile. “I’m a woman who loves her family and all that entails, and I’m a woman who’s content to sit in a darkened room at night and listen to the sounds of the street, thinking about the day that’s passed so I can clear away the cobwebs and focus on tomorrow.” A loud pop from the fireplace startled Alex, and blushing slightly, she said, “Sorry…got a little deep there.”

“No, not at all,” Maggie said. Shocked at how wrong she was about the woman sitting by her side, she asked, “So, you mentioned a dog and family, what about a boyfriend or a husband?”

“Not my flavor,” Alex said as she stood and walked to the trunk.

“What do you mean?”

Returning with a blue flannel shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, Alex sat on the floor and said, “I’m gay.”

“You’re gay?” Maggie repeated in shock.

The stunned look on Maggie’s face instantly ignited Alex’s temper, and setting her jaw, she growled back, “Is that a problem?”

Shaking her head, Maggie said, “No…no. I just didn’t think…I mean…you don’t look like—”

“A dyke?”

“That’s not…that’s not what I meant,” Maggie stammered, rubbing her forehead, “I guess I just assumed…I mean, you’re a beautiful woman, and I thought that you’d be…um…straight.”

Having had the same hesitant, fumbling response from so many other straight people in her life, Alex was about to unleash a torrent of angry words, but when she saw that Maggie was shivering, she reined in her anger.

“You need to get out of those wet things,” Alex stated, placing the clothes on the floor. “And now that you know I’m a lesbian, I’m sure you’d be more comfortable putting these on
without
my help.”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” Maggie argued weakly.

“Sure I do,” Alex said sadly as she stood and walked to the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to help you get into bed.”

Mumbling expletives under her breath until she reached the kitchen, Alex poured some scotch into a coffee cup, lit a cigarette and tried her best to calm down. She hated being judged because of her sexuality, and seeing the shocked look on Maggie’s face had cut her to the core. Waiting for the length of time it took to smoke two cigarettes, Alex returned to the bedroom with a scowl on her face.

“You ready?” she asked, walking to the bed to pull back the quilt. When Maggie didn’t answer, Alex looked in her direction and noticed she was still lying under the towels. “Why haven’t you changed?”

“I tried, but…but I couldn’t do it. I…I don’t have the strength,” Maggie said in a hoarse whisper.

Alex’s shoulders fell. In her anger, she had forgotten that Maggie was seriously ill, and she had left her on the floor covered in wet towels for over fifteen minutes. 

“Christ, I’m sorry,” Alex said, rushing to her side. “I can be quite the stupid shit at times.”

“That’s okay, so can I.”

“Would you like me to help you?”

“Please,” Maggie said as another shiver ran through her body.

Trying her best to keep Maggie’s privacy intact, Alex reached under the towel, pulled the wet knickers down her legs and replaced them with a pair of boxers in a matter of seconds. Crawling to Maggie’s side, Alex leaned over her and said, “Put your arms around my neck, and I’ll pull you up.”

Doing as instructed, seconds later Maggie was sitting up with her face buried in Alex’s shoulder, waiting for the pain in her side to subside. Without saying a word, Alex unclasped the damp bra, and tossing it aside, she quickly pulled the flannel shirt over Maggie’s cold skin. After fastening every button, Alex gently helped Maggie into bed.

Before she was able to cover her with the quilt, Maggie had already passed out. Alex quietly left the bedroom, and foregoing food or water, headed to the sofa and stretched out across the cushions. Taking a deep breath, before her lungs emptied, she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. She had no way of knowing that in less than four hours, she would once again wake to the sounds of unintelligible words muttered by a woman on the verge of death.

Standing in the library lost in his thoughts, John Harper looked up as the man came back into the room. Although they had only just met, it seemed to Harper that Alexandra Blake’s father had aged a decade in a matter of minutes.

“Is your wife all right?”

“Seeing that you just told her that her daughter is dead, do you really need to ask that question?” Gregory Blake said as he strode to the liquor cabinet. “I need a drink. Would you like one?”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Gregory said sternly, forcing a glass in Harper’s hand. “I don’t like to drink alone. It’s much too easy to get drunk. Since I have to call my sons to tell them that their sister is…is gone, and then start making arrangements for…for Alexandra’s funeral, I prefer to remain sober. I’m sure you understand.”