The Hermit (3 page)

He
patted her gently and stood, replacing the quilt over her chest and going into
the kitchen.  As he had since finding her, he cleaned and locked up and
collapsed in his chair across from the couch in front of the fire.  Stretching
his legs out in front of him, Ryan fell asleep in the same place, with the same
view, he’d held for eight nights. 

Over
the next few days, she opened her eyes more and more but didn’t speak again.  When
she was awake, she shook constantly.  He carried on as he had been, sleeping in
the living room and nursing her back to health. 

His
questions would have to wait.

She
opened her eyes and kept completely still, totally silent…it was important to
establish where she was and who was the greatest threat before she let anyone
know she was awake.  Moving only her eyes, she took in her surroundings. 

The
first thing she noticed was the lack of foul smell.  It smelled clean
here…wherever
here
was…like pine and wood smoke.  It wasn’t the place
she’d become unfortunately familiar with over the last months.  Barely moving
her head, she glanced at the quilt over her body and suddenly realized she was
warm
for the first time in so long.  She was also fully…covered, even under her
clothes. 

Then
she saw him sitting in a chair not far from her.  Her breath hitched and her
heart began to race.  Wait.  He was…
sleeping
, and she wasn’t tied up or
shackled. 

Sitting
up carefully, feeling every ache in her body, she curled into the corner of the
couch, presenting a smaller, less vulnerable target.  The quilt came with her;
she couldn’t bear to let it go yet.  The softness and warmth so novel to her
now, when once, such things had been common in her life.  She looked around
more fully, taking in the small fire, burning down in the hearth and the
neatness of the space. 

Bringing
her gaze back to the man, she examined him more carefully.  He didn’t appear to
be armed.  He was clean, though not clean-shaven.  He wore what looked like
several months of beard growth.  His hair was dark blonde, his beard slightly
darker.  He wore a flannel shirt and jeans with heavy hiking boots.  From what
she could see, he was in very good physical shape. 

How
had she come to be here?  Where was she and who was this man?  A log popped in
the fire and she felt her entire body spasm in abject terror. 

“It’s
just a log.  Please don’t be afraid.”  Her eyes came back to his, wide with her
fear of the unknown.  He didn’t so much as blink the bright blue eyes peering
at her intently.  His voice was soft when he told her, “I’m not going to move. 
I won’t hurt you.  I don’t know exactly what you’ve been through but
you are
safe here
.  If you need the bathroom, it’s behind the couch.  There is
water and food in the kitchen.  I won’t touch you, I won’t hurt you.  I’m going
to stay right here until you feel comfortable then I’ll go bring in more
wood.” 

She’d
tightened her whole body into the most amazingly small ball and had the quilt
clutched to her chin, only her frightened eyes visible above it.  “There’s a
brass candlestick on the fireplace hearth.  It’s very heavy.  It would be a dangerous
weapon if you swung it at someone’s head.  You can keep it with you and brain
me if you think I’m going to hurt you.” 

She
looked at the fireplace, finding the candlestick with her eyes, moving nothing
else.  “I have one question, you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want
to.”  Her gaze swung back and she stared at him, scared out of her mind.  “What
is your name?”

Confusion
washed over her.  “My…name?” her voice was rough but he could hear the
bell-like quality beneath.  “You…you want to know my name?”  He nodded once,
being careful to remain very still.  “I haven’t heard my name in…
so
long.”  She closed her eyes for just a moment and when she opened them, she
said, “Daphne…Pierce.  My name is Daphne Pierce.” 

He
nodded with a very small smile, attempting to reassure her, she knew.  “Daphne,
my name is Ryan Wallace.  I’m a doctor.  There is nothing that would cause me
to hurt you.  I found you in the woods, brought you here to try and help you. 
I want nothing from you; I will take nothing from you.  I have a computer and a
satellite phone if you need me to contact someone for you.  The nearest town is
called McArthur; you’re at the base of the Wrangell Mountains in Alaska.  McArthur
is about twenty miles away due south.  I will take you there if you want me to. 
You’re welcome to stay as long as you like but you are
not
a captive. 
You
are
in control, Daphne, and you
are
safe.”

She
stared at him for a long time, “I…I have to use the bathroom.”  He nodded.  She
stood carefully, keeping her legs against the couch and backing slowly around
it.  She was weak, unable to stand fully upright.  She held the furniture then
the wall for support.

“Daphne,
take the candlestick.”  She froze, looking from him to the brass, reaching out
with a shaking hand and curling her fingers around the heavy base.  Clutching
it to her chest, she backed the rest of the way to the bathroom door and closed
it without a sound. 

He
stayed where he was and waited.  Fifteen minutes later, she opened the door and
seemed surprised he was still in the chair on the other side of the room.

“Are
you…is there anyone else here?” she asked him from the doorway.

“No
one lives within twenty miles of this cabin but me.  Just me, Daphne, and I
won’t hurt you,” he gestured to the kitchen, “If you’re hungry or thirsty, the
kitchen is over there.  Please be careful how much you take in at first. 
You’ve been nearly starved to death.  Your stomach can’t handle much yet.  You
were dangerously dehydrated so I’ve been giving you water, ginger tea, and beef
broth over the last eight days.”

Daphne
came out of the bathroom and plastered herself against the wall beside it.  “Eight
days
…I’ve been here
eight days
?  You…fed me?”  He nodded. 
“Did…did you…un
dress
me?”

“The
day I brought you here I cleaned you, treated your wounds, and dressed you in
the smallest clothes I could find,” he paused, “I touched you as a patient,
Daphne, treated you as a doctor.  I did not abuse you then and I won’t now.  I
swear to you on my life.”

Reaching
up to touch her hair, she whispered, “You…you washed my hair…”  He nodded. 
“I…haven’t been able to wash my hair in...”  She cleared her throat, “What’s
the month?  The year?”

Of all
the things she could have asked him, this shocked Ryan most.  He told her and
watched her eyes widen in shock.  She slid to the floor, landing on her butt
with a soft thump.  “Almost two years.  Oh my God,
two years
.”  She was
breathing too rapidly and Ryan knew she was going to hyperventilate. 

“Daphne,
you need to calm your breathing.”  She was beyond the ability to do so and he
stood, approaching her carefully and her terror ratcheted up several degrees. 
“I will not hurt you, let me help you.”  He crouched in front of her and her
fingers tightened so hard on the candlestick her knuckles were white. 

He
reached under her back and her knees, lifting her easily and carrying her
toward the kitchen.  He set her gently in a chair and moved to a drawer,
opening it and pulling out a paper sack.  He showed her what to do, “You’ll
have to put the candlestick down to seal the bag.  I’ll go back to the chair,
Daphne.” 

Walking
around the far side of the room, he returned to the chair and she pulled the
bag to her face, keeping her eyes on him.  From the moment Ryan had stood up to
help until he sat back down, no more than thirty seconds had elapsed.

Her
breathing leveled out and she set down the bag.  Daphne was still for a long
time before clearing her throat and saying quietly, “Thank…thank you.”  

Ryan
nodded at her.  She got up slowly and moved to the kitchen sink, her eyes never
leaving his face, the brass weapon in her hand.  Turning on the tap, she used
her hand and scooped water to her mouth. 

“Daphne,
there are glasses above the sink on the left.”  She froze, seeming to consider
this before slowly opening the cabinet and staring at the items inside.  With a
shaking hand, she reached for a glass and held it, staring at it in wonder. 
Absently, she put her weapon on the counter and held the glass with both
hands.  Putting it under the running water, she filled it and shut off the
tap.  For a long time, she stood staring at the water in the glass, the sunlight
streaming through the window causing it to sparkle. 

“It’s
so…clean.  I’ve missed that,” her voice was trembling and Ryan felt a
tightening in his chest.  This woman had been through so much that clean
drinking water moved her.  She looked at him and sipped it with an expression
of pure relief and gratitude on her face. 

“Daphne,
where are you from?  I won’t ask for anything more than you’re willing to tell
me, but should we call someone for you?”  He kept his hands on the arms of the
chair, remaining as still as possible.  He was shocked at the strength of his
need simply to care for Daphne, to help her.

“I…I’m
going to sit down, is that alright?” she asked him quietly.  He nodded,
remaining still and giving her a kind smile.  She made her way slowly to a
chair and sat as if in pain, running her hand across the top of the table.  Realizing
she’d left the candlestick several steps away, she looked at it and darted her
eyes to Ryan’s.

“I
won’t hurt you, Daphne, but I’ll understand if you need it with you.”  She went
and got it, placing it on the table within reach. 

It
took her a long time to tell him her story.  She was unused to speaking and
stopped often to gather her thoughts or take a tiny sip of water.  Ryan watched
her with a lump in his throat.  “I had a life once, a husband.  He was a
wildlife photographer for National Geographic and Outdoor World, among others. 
His name was Steven Pierce.”  She stopped to clear her throat and wipe her face
of the silent tears that coursed down her cheeks. 

“He
was a nice man.  I met him in college when we both attended Ohio State.  We’d
been married for a year when he received an assignment to photograph the
Alaskan glaciers.”  She glanced out the kitchen window, taking in the mountains
beyond.  “I’d never seen anyplace more beautiful.” 

Dropping
her forehead in her hand, she took a moment to compose herself.  “We were camping
near Kennecott when three men attacked us.  I thought they’d take what they
seemed to want from me and go.  I knew…I could endure what I thought would be
one traumatic event, that it would be alright in the end.  I was very…naïve.  I
hadn’t been educated on the depths evil men will sink to.”

She
sipped her water, going silent for several minutes, gathering her courage to
speak about the horror out loud.  Tears tracked down her face but she didn’t
make a sound.  “For two days, they stayed in our camp.  My husband
was…abused…just as I was.  He’d been hit hard with the butt of a rifle when
they ambushed us, he was in a coma through all of that, and I’m grateful…so
grateful.  If there is anything I could be glad for, it is that Steven didn’t
know what was happening to him.”

Her
hand clenched hard against her chest and she gasped for air.  Picking up the
paper bag, Daphne pulled herself back together but her voice was trembling as
she resumed her story.  

“He
died on the morning of the third day, he just stopped breathing.  I thought,
they’ll
go now
.  I figured they’d kill me…I was prepared for that.  I…I hoped for
it honestly.”  She wrapped her hand around her throat, rubbing gently.  “I
never
considered
they’d take me with them.  I never thought it would go
on and on.  They packed up our camp and threw Steven’s body in a deep ravine
with our camping gear.  They kept his camera equipment but Steven they just…just
tossed him away.” 

She
put her fingers to her temples, “We hiked deeper into the forest for three more
days.  They took me to a cave; there was a cage built inside.  They didn’t feed
me at first.  I think they figured I’d die anyway.  I had a bucket and the
bedroll from my tent.  Sometimes they’d be gone for days.”  Daphne’s voice
trailed away, as if she’d been transported back in time.