Chapter 6: Chapter Six

Through the long night, she sat by the man's bedside. A lantern glowed, flickering off the walls and his sleeping face. Nestled in a rocking chair, she pushed herself while gazing upon him. A smile pulled at her mouth. He looked so peaceful; a thing of beauty and a pleasure to look upon.

His brow was smooth and without pain for the first time. His skin was the delicious color of honeyed cream. Sinewed muscle adorned his injured body, running from a broad chest and tapering down into narrow hips. Solid buttocks sat atop powerful legs, leading to vulnerable bare feet. When she had bathed him, her eyes had beheld his manly pride and this too was most pleasing.

He was perfection, without disease or blemish but infinitely beyond her reach.

Throughout ten years, she had lain with countless men. Most clients were revolting and selfish while a few lovers had held brief pleasure for her. There had been one or two of those few that promised love but never offered marriage. She had long wondered about what true love could feel like. A husband's fingers playing his tune upon her body.

A foolish dream...no man would take on her soiled past.

Since age fifteen, she hadn't been a virgin; no part of her body left untouched or undefiled. Her only wish, should a man cleave onto her as his bride, would be that he treat her as a virgin. Worshiping her body as if her father hadn't sold her to be torn asunder. A husband's kisses could caress away every rough grope and his touch...each bruise inflicted by cruel hands.

Hours along, morning sunshine poured through the barn, traveling over her face. She blinked awake, frowning as sleep tempted her back into its grasp. For an instant, she had forgotten the events of the day before. Then her eyes opened and found a surprise.

A pair of green emeralds stared back, their owner watching her intently.

Thrilled, Elaine didn't move, unwilling to frighten her patient. How long has he been observing me? They regarded one another for some time, much as had been done in the cave. She didn't dare stir. These precious moments of quiet observation gave her the time to form a proper opinion of this beautiful stranger.

Leaning on an elbow, he looked around in confusion and then back at her. His ordeal had taken its toll but she could imagine what he must be like in good, full health. Though pale, his face was rugged and sharply defined. Vibrant green jewels stared at her, accented by a mane of golden hair.

“Hello there.” She smiled and leaned towards him. “You've been very ill. How do you feel?”

His mouth twitched and opened but only hoarse gurgling could be heard. His throat bobbed but didn't produce any sound. Within those eyes, his feelings were a unique language all together. Curiosity, wary distrust, confusion, fatigue, fear and pain; each emotion flashed across his bruised face. A grimace knitted his brow. He laid down again but did so upon the worst of his wounds. A hoarse groan echoed his mistake.

Moving quickly, Elaine caught his shoulders to help him. Distrustful, he pulled away and resisted her touch. His eyes lifted. Confusion flickered therein. She smiled, encouraging him. At last, he accepted her help. With her gentle support, he sat up and swung his legs over the bedside.

Gingerly leaning on the wall, he held his left side with a shaking right hand. His body slumped down, exhausted but alert. He panted, catching his breath. Despite this, his eyes never left her and remained wary. A deep distrust ran within him and wouldn't be easy to cure.

Taken aback herself, she stood before him as time ticked on without them. Never before had she been at a loss in a man's presence. This one was definitely special. Lust couldn't be detected in either his manner nor those wide green pools. Broken and damaged, he would need gentle care for a long while.

In this moment, the greatest thing she wanted was to gain his trust. Such a revelation wasn't like her nor did it coincide with her cynical views. In general, people were biased stuffshirts who polluted the beautiful landscapes which God had made. She wasn't convinced that humanity was essential at all.

Cricket jumped up on the bed, breaking the moment. Wagging his tail, he shimmied his soft body under the man's good arm and licked his face. Elaine watched in fascination as a smile bloomed on his face for the first time. He scratched the little dog behind the ears. With that smile, his face lit up in a way that made her...jealous.

Shrugging off such girlish thoughts, she stepped out of the room and closed the door. She peeked through a knothole. With utmost care, the man laid down on his side. He patted the space by his stomach. Cricket snuggled in close, his fur stroked by the man's fingertips. The two drifted off, slumbering peacefully.

Emotion welling in her throat, Elaine tiptoed away out of the barn.

The sunrise was exploding above the mountain peaks, calling her to them. Bright pastels and golden light flooded the valley, accompanying a choir of singing birds. This morning above all others was more cheerful and promising.

Then a horrible thought tainted the view.

This stranger can't find out about my past. Lust will certainly fill his mind then. Oh why? Why do I torture myself with hopeful whimsy? He isn't special. Men only want my body and then they hit the road, never looking back. I'm sure he is no different...A niggling doubt hung on...but what if he is?

Turning her back on the sunrise, she strode to the cabin. She put together a breakfast for three. Biscuits, scrambled eggs and cornbread baked in an iron skillet. Adding a jar of molasses to the tray, she carried the food across the yard. Knocking on the man's door, she heard Cricket yip inside and run across the floor, surely waking up their guest.

Forcing a smile, she entered and found that the man was indeed awake. He pushed up on an elbow and sniffed the air. She fought back a chuckle. Taking a seat, she spooned the scrambled eggs into three wooden bowls and handed one to him. Tentatively, he took the bowl but then set it down on the floor. Snapping his fingers, he urged Cricket to eat the contents.

Annoyed at first, Elaine opened her mouth to chide him. Before she could do so, he turned back and held out his hand for another bowl. She hid a smile, not expecting the care he had shown her dog. While eating her own meal, she watched him devour two bowlfuls of eggs, half the cornbread drenched in molasses and several biscuits.

Chuckling, Elaine shook her head in disbelief. “My, my, you must be feeling better. Did you get enough at last?”

He stared blankly at her, tilting his head.

Maybe he can't understand English. She tried a greeting in French and German but no success. When she tried Italian, his face lit up. This relieved her because she was nearly fluent in that language. Studying Italian culture had been something of a hobby.

"Mi capisci?” she asked, “Do you understand me?”

He nodded, his eyes twinkling.

"What is your name?”

A frown pulled his mouth down.

“Do you know your name?”

A shrug was his only response.

On a hunch, she asked, “Can you speak?”

He touched his blotched throat and shook his head. Another shrug lifted his shoulders. Dejected, he pet Cricket who wiggled under his touch.

She rose and set about gathering up the breakfast dishes. “I'll make a cup of spearmint tea to soothe your sore throat. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Unmoving and silent, he stared through her. Emotion flickered within his eyes. Looking overwhelmed, he lay down on his left side, his back toward the doorway. The brief, one-sided conversation was at an end.

Left with her thoughts, Elaine stared at the bandaged wounds set into his shoulder blades. A thousand questions and endless curiosity consumed her though she had no outlet. He couldn't speak, thus unable to answer. His useless throat was spread with angry, purple bruises.

Despite this evidence, she wasn't convinced that this was the only reason for his silence.

She had read a newspaper article once about wartime shock. Maybe the trauma from his wounds had been so great that he couldn't cope. That would have made him shut down completely. Or he could have been born with a child's mind. Her littlest brother, Teddy, had been born that way. She had always envied such people; envied them their eternal innocence. If this man ended up being childlike in spirit, she would be glad to care for him.

The world was not kind to those special few who could truly appreciate Life's bounty.

* * * * *

The hours passed pleasantly that next two weeks while Elaine observed the man's recovery. Her patient was resting comfortably now and sleeping at last. She took this as a good sign. His wounds remained free from infection and color had seeped back into his flesh.

Every couple hours, he would accept a sip of the spearmint tea kept fresh by his bedside.

The following third week drug on for an eternity, providing little stimulation. Though his throat was healing, he still couldn't speak yet and only shrugged when asked a question. Bored beyond relief, Elaine worked around the barn, attempting to make repairs. The work kept her busy but she was never far away in case he required assistance.

Also, she worked at sewing new clothes for him. He wasn't used to pants and didn't like wearing them. Since he had been wearing a knee-length tunic when found, she made two more from a dark-blue, cotton evening gown. In time, she would purchase sturdier material but for now, this would have to do. As well, she fashioned a pair of crude sandals from the old tack set aside for burning.

As for Cricket, the sweet dog had formed quite the bond. Sleeping against the man's side, he guarded faithfully, only leaving for food or to relieve himself. At times, Elaine was jealous of Cricket's obvious affection for the wounded stranger. When push came to shove though, she didn't begrudge the budding friendship between them.

Each hour spilled into the next and her patient grew in strength. He was finally able to walk about and explore his surroundings though the barn remained his sole domain. His wounds were healing nicely and the fear had faded from his eyes. He chuckled frequently at Cricket's antics but remained subdued in Elaine's presence.

Mealtimes were shared in his room but for the most part, she left him in peace.

Despite his distrust, he was fascinated by her work and liked watching her bustle about the farm. One day while she was chopping firewood, he pulled his armchair from his quarters to a shade tree outside the barn. Using one good hand, he positioned it so she could be his entertainment. There he would sit each day, soaking up fresh air and sunlight with Cricket dozing by his side.

Self-conscious at first, Elaine grew accustomed to his prying, green eyes.

The farm required much attention and her time was better spent looking after the decaying property. The barn's roof sported holes, the cabin required grout to be packed between its logs, the fields were overgrown and fences were rotting into nothing.

Besides these neglected tasks, she struggled daily to gather enough food for both herself and her recovering companion. He had a huge appetite, polishing off two or more helpings at each meal. She didn't dare go to town again, instead choosing to ration what was left of her sugar, flour and other food staples. But those reserves were going to be depleted in another few weeks.

Elaine found herself so exhausted each night that it was all she could do to bed down the animals and make dinner for her guest.

Weakened easily, he slept fourteen or more hours a day though nightmares often interrupted. When awake, his eyes spoke volumes though his bruised throat still couldn't produce a sound. He would grow frustrated when unable to muster even one hoarse word. A dark mask would fall across his face and great sadness settle upon his shoulders.

During these black, hopeless moods, not even Cricket could soften him.

Between worrying about her patient and working from dawn until dusk, Elaine had reached near exhaustion. She wasn't used to this lifestyle anyway and struggled without town conveniences. Nightmares plagued her sleep more often, lowering sleep quality. Maybe giving up on her dream of independence and returning to a big city was the best course of action.

But if she left, what would happen to this special man? Bodie was hostile and filled with petty, biased inhabitants. They would shred his gentle soul between them, devouring his innocence. No, she wouldn't leave him to those wolves. Not after so much tender care and hard work had gone into his recovery.

Yet another month passed in slow fashion. With each passing day, hopeless discouragement settled in her soul. A dreary Tuesday found her feeling quite sick. A scratchy throat and pounding headache woke her up that morning. Chills rippled across her skin. A weight tugged at her bones, begging another hour in bed.

She laid on her side, wishing that someone would appear to help her for a change. Well...no one was coming and the day's duties wouldn't do themselves. Dragging herself out of bed, she got dressed and made oatmeal for the man. Bundled up in her gray wool coat, she carried the tray out to the barn and knocked on his door.

Shuffling footsteps drew closer. The knob turned and then he was standing in the doorway, tunic unlaced to his navel. His golden locks had been tousled by sleep and a smile tugged at that fine mouth. She caught her breath as their eyes locked. Within his green irises, her reflection gazed back at her. Not a prostitute but a wide-eyed young woman, trapped within his emerald gaze.

Snapping from her trance, she smiled weakly and held out the tray.

He took his breakfast and smiled but a little. His head inclined towards the interior. An inviting question radiated off him. Wasn't she going to join him for breakfast?

“Grazie—thank you,but I don't feel like eating this morning. There's far too much work to be done. Go ahead though, alright? You are still healing and need your strength. I'll be by later with lunch.”

Disappointment wrinkled his brow. His eyes narrowed and he stepped toward her. She tensed, inhaling sharply. Earnest worry crossed his face as he touched the back of his hand to her forehead. His gaze was knowing as his cool touch soothed her hot skin.

Uncomfortable, she took a step back and his hand dropped away from her cheek.

She ducked her head and left, relieved to be free from his scrutiny. He had such a wise stare, as though he could read her life's darkest chapters. Just when she had grown comfortable in his brooding presence, he would reveal a new depth that knocked her off balance. What was this strange power that emanated from him which drew her so? Perhaps one day, the answer would be made clear.

Once Doe had been milked, Mercury brushed down and the chickens fed, she let the horse and cow out into their small, muddy paddock. Then she grabbed an old shovel, a pair of old leather gloves and filled a canteen with well water. Her body protesting, she marched out to the north meadow to fix broken fence.

Five new posts would have to be sunk before new boards could be nailed across the gaping hole. Despite her discomfort, Doe and Mercury needed the fresh grazing. With one accord, she began digging, one backbreaking shovelful at a time.

Enthusiasm dissolved quickly under the hot sun which had burnt the clouds away.

Cold sweat soaked her clothes as she struggled through digging each posthole. The day was quite warm but she wore her wool coat. The heavy garment did little to relieve her chilled trembling. The work was slow, dirty and exhausting. She hoped this was the proper way to build a fence since her experience was minimal at best.

Hours onward, she was feeling so unwell and working far slower. Stubbornness drove her onward. When she looked back to check her progress, despair drove its icicle through her heart.

All that effort and only three holes had been dug. Her throat dry and sore, she squinted up at the sun. 1 o'clock already. She sighed, weary down in her very bones. There was so much left to be done. The man needed lunch, laundry required her attention and this damn fence wasn't even a quarter finished.

Dizziness weakened her equilibrium. Her legs buckled, unable to bear her weight. With an alarmed cry, she fell backwards, hitting her head on something hard. Cricket bounded over, yipping and barking. His warm tongue dampened her face as he tried to rouse her.

In a daze, she raised her head and saw blood running down a nearby rock.

Beaten into the ground, she didn't want to rise again. Miserable and ill, she couldn't get her bearings. Her head swam and empty stomach heaved. Hunger reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything that day. Vision blurred and ears ringing, she felt cut off from the physical world.

Out in dizzying oblivion, she heard a thudding sound. Then strong arms were around her. She blinked and squinted desperately, trying to gain a foothold on reality.

Weightlessness enveloped her as someone lifted her into the air. She was being carried across the meadow, held against a muscular chest. Golden curls fluttered before her eyes. Then consciousness drifted from her grasp and she floated into peaceful darkness.