Just a Kiss Away (38 page)

Sam swore.

The other water buffalo moved out of the field, too, and stood next to cart, looking for all the world like it was ready to leave again.

Sam looked heavenward and asked, “Why me?”

Lightning cracked across the sky and thunder bellowed after.

It started to rain, torrents and torrents of rain.

“Sam?”

“What now?”

“I can’t breathe.”

“There is a God.”

“I mean it.”

“Now what are you doing?”

“I’m lifting up this heavy thing that’s suffocating me.”

“Dammit to hell! Drop the tarp! You’re letting all the water in!”

“I need some air!”

“I need some sleep.”

“Snnnnort. Snno-ork-nork.”

Sam groaned. “I never knew a bird could snore.” Lollie sniffled.

“Are you crying?”

“Yes.” She sniffed again.

“Why?”

“I can’t breathe in here.”

Sam swore under his breath.

She sniffed again, then felt him rummage around under the canvas.

A deep banging sound hit the side of the cart. “Ouch! Dammit!”

“What happened?”

“Nothing!” he barked at her again.

“You sure are grouchy at night.”

“Snnnnort! Snnno-ork-nork.”

“Can’t that bird at least be quiet at night?”

“Shh. She’s asleep. Don’t wake her.”

“Why not? I didn’t think it was possible, but she’s less obnoxious when she’s awake.”

“She knows you don’t like her,” Lollie said, just as the heavy tarp suddenly lifted upward. “Oh! That’s better. What did you do?”

“I used your crutches as tent stakes.” He lay back down. “Now will you please go to sleep?”

“Okay,” she whispered and lay there, listening to the loud splattering of the rain on the canvas cover. It had been raining for hours. The minute it started it came down in buckets. The fire had sizzled out, and Sam hauled her into the cart and started throwing the supplies in it. She’d had to dodge two canteens and one heavy pack. Then he’d jumped inside and pulled the tarp over them. They’d sat there, eating the beans cold, right out of the cans, with the heavy, musty canvas over them to keep out the rain.

Now Sam’s breathing was quiet, even.

She hesitated a minute, then said, “Sam?”

“What!”

“I . . . uh . . . I . . .”

“Would you spit it out?”

“I need something.”

“What?”

“Some privacy.”

“Well, so do I, but you’re stuck with both that bird and me, so you’ll have to live with it.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Silence.

“I need to . . . you know. Nature is calling.”

Sam’s muttereing broke another long pause of silence. “I told you not to drink all that water.”

“I was thirsty. Those beans were salty.”

“Then go ahead. If nature is calling you, go visit it. Just stay nearby.” Then he turned over as if he meant to go back to sleep.

“Sam?”

“Now what?”

“I need some paper.”

He mumbled some more, but she heard him burrowing through the supplies. Then she heard the sound of paper crinkling.

“Oh, good, you found some!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. I heard it.”

“That was my map.”

“Oh. Well, maybe--”

“No!”

“I just thought—”

“I know what you thought. N-o, no!”

“Could you hurry, please?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Lah-Roo, but there aren’t any Sears Roebuck and Company catalogs in the Philippine Islands.” He clattered around some more, and then she heard the sound of paper tearing.

“Here.” He shoved some thin paper into her hands. She rubbed it between her fingers. It was awfully thin. “That’s not enough.”

She could have sworn she heard his teeth grind. Then he rammed some more into her hands. “Thank you.” She crawled over to the edge of the cart, then thought of something. “Sam?”

“Yes.”

“What if my ankle gives out?”

He sat up, not saying one word. With a vicious rip he pulled back the canvas, jumped to the muddy ground, and held his arms out to her.

She scrambled over and he lifted her out.

“Can you stand?”

She tested her foot. “A little bit.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Either you can or not.”

“Not really. You see I can put a little weight on it—”

“Lollie!” he shouted, scaring her, his voice was so loud.

“What?”

“Can you stand well enough to do what you need to do?”

“I suppose.”

“Do it!”

She started to shuffle slowly away from him. “The paper’s getting wet.”

“Then you’d better hurry.”

She moved a little farther away, into the nearby bushes, and started to do her business. She turned toward the cart, trying to see him through the black rain. “Sam?”

“What?”

“Can you see me?”

“One! Two!”

She hurried and finished, then limped back to Sam. He turned and lifted the tarp, hauled her inside with little gentleness, and jumped in, slapping the tarp back into place. He scowled at her. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No.”

“Good. Then good night!” He lay down and turned away from her.

A few minutes later there was a loud noise.
Crack! Chomp, chomp, chomp!

Slowly Sam turned toward her. “What the hell is that?”

“Medusa’s awake. She’s eating.”

“What, the cart?”

“Her peanuts.”

Sam swore.

Crack! Chomp, chomp, chomp!

“I think her snoring was quieter,” he mumbled. “An artillery barrage is quieter than that bird.”

After a few minutes Medusa settled down and was snoring again, only more softly. The rain still beat on the tarp and Sam lay next to Lollie, barely a foot away. His breathing was quiet and even. Hers wasn’t. She was wet, soaking wet from her trek in the pouring rain, and now she was cold. She huddled down deeper in the supplies, trying to get warm. There were blankets somewhere, but she was too cold to sit up and look for them. Her teeth began to chatter.

“What is that?” Sam barked, making her jump.

“My teeth. I’m wet and cold.”

He turned over and gave her his one-eyed stare. “Use a blanket. That’s what they’re there for.”

“I don’t know where they are.”

He sat up and searched through the cart. A minute later two blankets sailed past her head. She pulled one around her. With a sharp snap she shook out the other one, lay back down, and drew it over her. She looked over at Sam, but all she saw was his broad back. “Thank you.”

He grunted.

She stared up at the dark tarp and listened to the patter of the rain. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. A shiver ran through her. She was still so cold. Turning toward Sam, she watched his back move with each breath. She pulled her hand out from beneath the blanket and waved it around his back. His big body radiated nice warm heat.

Very slowly she inched closer, hoping to feel some of the warmth from his body. The closer she got, the warmer it was. Finally, she managed to get close enough so her shoulder just barely grazed his. She stopped, holding her breath and expecting him to whip around and yell at her. He didn’t move. She smiled, feeling so nice, all warm and toasty, so she drew the blanket tighter around her, closed her eyes, and finally drifted off to sleep.

Something tickled Sam’s nose.
He twitched and willed himself back to sleep. His arm held something warm and soft. The distinct feel of a soft female butt wiggled against him. He awoke instantly—every part of him. He peeled open his eye and stared at the top of a blond head. He blew her hair out of his nose, and she stirred, plastering her butt harder against him. She wiggled some more, then muttered something about “so warm.”

He sat up, resting his jaw on one hand, and watched her sigh and draw the blanket up around her small chin.

“Good morning,” he said, wondering how she’d feel when she realized she was pressed like a canned fish against his body.

“Mornin’ “ she whispered, eyes closed, still appearing to be half asleep. Soon her face changed from blissful peace to a frown. She squirmed again, trying to get comfortable.

“You have the boniest knee,” she complained, wiggling her butt yet never opening her eyes.

“That’s not my knee.”

Her eyes shot open. She froze, then scooted away from him so fast it almost made him dizzy. She sat in a corner and eyed him as a cornered mouse eyes a cat.

He gave her his biggest Cheshire cat smile.

She turned away, then a few seconds later looked up at the tarp. “It’s still raining.”

“Yeah.”

“What are we gonna do?”

Crack! Chomp, chomp, chomp!

Sam groaned.
It
was awake.

“Awk! Way down South in the land of cotton . . .”

“I’m going to get up, and then I’m going to kill that bird.” Sam wrenched back the tarp. It was raining so hard he could barely see five feet up the road. He let the tarp fall back down and turned to Lollie.

She’d just handed the bird another nut.

Crack! Chomp, chomp, chomp!

Sam winced. He couldn’t take much more of this, and didn’t know how long he could stand listening to that bird eat.

In less than an hour they’d eaten a breakfast of bread and canned peaches, Lollie had had her nature call and he had untied the carabao from the rock he’d used to secure them. Now, with the animals tied and harnessed to the cart, they were ready to leave. Also, the mynah was still alive, something that said a lot about his self-control. But best of all, it had stopped raining.