Chapter 2 #3
“Just a small dingy. Big enough to take the bay but not any significant waves,” she said and he wondered if she thought he might force the boat away from her.
“So, it’s big enough for two?” He kept his voice level as he asked.
“Just.”
They finished their breakfast, drinking the last bottles of water and then she washed up while Ephraim went into the bathroom to try to clean some of the sand off of his clothes and body.
He stripped his clothes off and shook sand onto the floor, then hung the pants, shirt and his underpants on a door hook before turning on the shower.
He dumped sand and a couple of smalls stones from his shoes into the waste basket and set them aside, then tossed the socks, sodden and with a couple of holes from the stones, into the basket.
Bottles of body wash and shampoo sat in a decorative basket and he grimaced at the flowery scent but used them liberally.
As he showered, he took inventory of his body.
There were some small bruises on his legs and arms but they didn’t look like battle bruising.
Maybe from being drug? Or rolled, even, from the pattern on his back when he glanced in the mirror above the sink.
All in all, a gash on the head, which he’d unfortunately reopened when he washed his hair, wasn’t bad.
He redressed in the stiff, dirty clothes and then headed to the kitchen area.
“Think you can douse me with alcohol again? I think it’s bleeding where I washed my hair.
” He tilted his head down to show Sophie and she nodded then retrieved the whiskey and paper towel.
After she’d treated the cut, he nodded at the soaked paper and then the trash can she deposited it in. “I can carry the trash out.”
“I’ll need to clean the bathroom and the living area before we leave,” she opened a utility closet door and removed a broom and mop bucket then headed toward the bathroom. Ephraim followed her. “Sorry about the mess.”
She shrugged, “I’m used to it. Most guests try to leave the rentals fairly clean, but some are just slobs. It won’t take too long to clean the bathroom, then I’ll go over the living and kitchen areas and we’ll go.”
He spent a minute watching her efficiently wipe down the shower and tub enclosure, then the sink and start sweeping up the sand he’d absently cast on the floor.
He turned and walked into the living area and inspected the space.
The sofa cushions were rumpled and there was evidence of sand there as well as on the floor.
He’d left some on the upholstered chair he’d sat in too, and the kitchen floor was liberally sprinkled with the stuff.
How did people keep up with this stuff always making its way into the cracks and crevices?
He tore off a length of paper towel and dampened it then started wiping the leather sofa cushions.
He had to hold onto the rear of the couch to maintain his balance but he finished the job before Sophie came back into the room, carrying the mop and bathroom trash and saw him.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said and advanced on him, holding her hand out for the paper towel.
“Why not? I made the mess,” he went to the kitchen and tore off another piece of towel to continue the process. When she reached for the towel, he held it away. “I’m okay, I can do it.”
“Well, let me give you something else to use, then.” She went to the utility closet and returned with a bottle of leather conditioner.
“I’ve already gone over it with this but use it, it’ll pick up any dirt or small particles you missed.
” She took the paper towel and poured a small amount onto it before folding and opening the paper then handing it to him.
He accepted it from her and went to work. As he wiped the sofa, she took a small vacuum and went over the chair then started sweeping the tiled floor. He noticed her eyes shift to him occasionally and wondered if she were keeping an eye on him for health reasons or because she didn’t trust him.
They finished the chores in good time and when she hefted her backpack and the trash bag he reached and took the plastic bag from her. They left the house and she locked it again then they headed to the dock, dumping the trash along the way.
The small boat had taken on several inches of water, but the dock was still floating. Ephraim insisted on hefting the dingy onto its side to dump the water, though he almost passed out from the pain in his head.
“Sit down, you’re white as a ghost,” Sophie said and pointed to the small wooden piling that stuck out of the ground near the dock.
Ephraim didn’t protest and sank onto the rough surface and watched as she quickly set the motor aright and checked it out.
A pull on the cord set the small engine sputtering before it leveled out and she flipped a switch, silencing the engine with a sigh.
“At least the motor didn’t get flooded.”
He swallowed against bile rising in his throat and wondered if he’d make it to the mainland without losing his small breakfast. He noticed her puttering around the dock, picking up debris and stacking it to the side, walking the dock and peering at the weathered boards making up the small fifteen foot space, and generally wasting time.
Grateful he didn’t have to stand for that period, he focused on breathing.
When she came to stand in front of him, Ephraim looked up at her. With the eastern sun behind her, her blond hair appeared like a halo around her head and he wondered if she was in fact, his angel.
“You okay to go?” she asked and gestured toward the boat, bobbing gently along the side of the dock. He swallowed one more time and nodded slowly, then stood and got his bearings. Now, to do the same in a boat on the water.
Sophie stepped in the boat first then held up a hand. At Ephraim’s disgusted look she arched her brow. “You can let me help or you can end up in the water. Your choice.”
He grunted then put his large hand in her smaller one then stepped into the boat. Or stomped, rather. Once in the craft, he fell onto the bench facing the motor and groaned. “That’s gonna leave a mark,” he said and rubbed his hip.
“At least you’re not all wet,” she couldn’t help reminding him then turned to start the motor. She untied the boat and pushed on the dock then took her seat and steered the control homeward. She couldn’t help but ask, “Did you have any bruising?”
“Now, yeah, probably. I think I hit the edge of the seat,” he said in a tight voice and she noticed his color was pale.
“If you have to lean over the side, be sure to hold on. I don’t think I could heft you back in the boat.”
“Thanks for the sympathy,” he half barked half laughed and she grinned at him.
“Just stating the obvious. And I was asking about bruising from when I found you on the beach.”
“Not bad. I think I was drug or rolled, though, which may explain how I ended up there instead closer to the shore.” He sat up straighter, “I didn’t check out the shoreline, look for any boats or evidence.”
She looked down at her hand on the controls then back up at him. “I went out while you were in the shower. No boat, no debris of any kind. And no evidence of dragging.”
He stared at her, “You couldn’t know what to look for.”
Her mouth thinned. “I know what a boat broken apart on a reef looks like. What a boat blasted by a propane leak leaves on the beach. Living near the beach all my life has taught me to look for destruction, Ephraim and there wasn’t anything there.”