Chapter Eighteen
Whit wasn’t sure what exactly had happened while she was out collecting wood, but whatever had happened had definitely traumatized Abby.
She’d come back to find her as pale as a ghost and trembling like a leaf.
And the look on her face…it was as if she’d encountered the devil himself.
What seemed to upset her even more was when she’d suggested that maybe Abby had dreamt the whole thing.
She’d argued with Whit, refusing to even consider that it was possible, and then she’d grown unusually quiet and all but abandoned her fish, choosing instead to just lay her head on the table and stare into oblivion.
Whit feared that she might slowly be losing her.
“Want me to heat up your fish? It’s better that way.” She could put some in the stove on a piece of wood, no problem. In fact, she placed a few pieces on a long stick and gently set it inside the stove, nestled in the glowing ashes.
“That’ll take just a few minutes,” she said, resettling in her chair.
But Abby said nothing. Nor did she even blink.
“I believe you about the knocking,” Whit said, wanting her to know that she was still on her side and that she could trust her.
“I only suggested that you might’ve dreamt it because it sounded more plausible than someone harassing us.
But obviously I was wrong and I apologize.
” Again, she didn’t mention the tracks she’d seen that morning.
Now it seemed that someone, namely Boyd, was indeed still stalking them, trying to make their life hell. She wondered what else he would do.
Abby remained still.
“Abby?”
Slowly her gaze shifted to Whit.
“Will you talk to me, please?” Whit said.
She sat up. “What would you like for me to say?”
“I don’t know. Anything. But preferably that you heard me at least.”
“I heard you.”
“Great. So, what do you think? You forgive me?”
She shrugged.
“Come on, Abby. Give me a break here.”
“Why should I?” Anger knitted her brow. “I had the absolute shit scared out of me, I tried to tell you about it, and you wrote it off as a dream and then refused to talk about it. How do you think that made me feel?”
Whit felt her throat tighten. “I said I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Well, you did, Whit. You did.” She stood. “Damn it, I can’t even freaking walk!” She toppled her chair and groaned.
Whit went to her. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said softly.
“Don’t tell me everything’s okay, Whit. Everything is far from okay.”
“Things aren’t so bad.” She rested her hands on her shoulders and felt the hard tension in her muscles. “We’ve got a roof, and food, and a fire.”
“We’ve got a crazy person harassing us, shitty fish to eat, a smelly cabin with a bed that stinky Boyd had lain in, and a downpour of rain outside, keeping us in. How is that okay?”
“And let’s not forget my decrepit knee, or the fact that we’re nearly starving, and that I’m having trouble keeping my jeans pulled up, or the fact that we have next to no water left, and no creek that we’ve been able to find.”
Whit waited until she paused to breathe before she spoke. “Things are less than ideal, yes. But we have to find the positives in those things in order to make it through. That’s what I’m doing.”
“I know,” she said after a brief pause, obviously exasperated. “And you do a good job of it, too. I’m just tired, Whit. And scared. And Boyd, or whoever, just sent me over the edge.”
Whit led her toward the bed. “You want to lie down? Prop your knee up and rest?” Perhaps all she needed was some good sleep.
Abby stiffened. “Not on that mattress.”
It was an older mattress and not very thick, but other than that, it appeared fine.
“Boyd slept on it,” she said. “So it probably stinks and God knows what’s living in it.”
Whit laughed, unable to help herself. This was the first time Abby was voicing any complaints, and she might be right about Boyd and the mattress. She wanted to reassure her nonetheless, and Abby did desperately need to prop her leg up and rest.
Whit hoisted up the mattress. “Open the door, will you?”
Abby looked mortified. “But what about Boyd?”
“Boyd Schmoyd. If he wants to do something, let him. My guess is he’s too chicken shit, so he’ll stay hidden.”
Abby reluctantly unlocked the door, allowing Whit to carry the bundled bed outside.
Once there, she dropped it on the porch, then grabbed the end and shook it out as best she could, turning it over to do the same.
Then she stood it up and smelled it. “It’s musty, but it doesn’t stink like Boyd. ” She smelled the other side. “Same.”
“Are there any…bugs?”
Whit studied the mattress closely. “Nope. None that I can see.” She lifted the mattress and began to carry it back inside. “I’m going to put it back unless you want to let it air out awhile.”
Abby shook her head.
“Okay, then.” Whit returned the bed to the frame and Abby closed and latched the door. Then she limped over to the mattress and sat, a look of sorrowful compliance on her face.
Whit couldn’t hide her grin. “You look as excited about lying on that as you do about eating the smoked fish.”
“They’re about the same in my book. But I need to stop whining and suck it up.”
“You’ve only whined once.”
“Once is too many.” She groaned and relaxed onto the bed, wincing as she positioned her hurt leg. Whit came to her side with the undershirt she’d been using to provide cold therapy for Abby’s knee. She wadded it up and carefully tucked it beneath her knee.
“There. That’ll elevate it a little.”
“Thanks.” She scooted. “You want to join me?”
“Maybe later. I want to eat some more and tend to the stove.” While she did indeed need to do those things, she was really avoiding lying next to her because she could only think of spooning with her as she’d done the night before.
And she didn’t think she had the courage to try again at the moment.
“What’s that smell?” Abby asked, her brow crinkled.
Whit turned, searching for the source. “Oh, shit, the fish!” She rushed to the stove and removed the stick with the fish on it. The dried pieces were toasted beyond what she’d intended.
“Ugh, I don’t think I can eat those,” Abby said.
Whit deposited them onto the table and tossed the stick back inside the stove and closed the door.
With quick fingers, she popped a piece into her mouth and chewed. It was hot, overdone, and crunchy, but she ate it anyway. They couldn’t afford to waste food.
“Well?” Abby asked.
“It’s awful.”
Abby laughed. “Thanks for the honesty.” She held out her hand. “Bring me some.”
“You sure?”
“I need to suck it up, like I said. Especially if I want to keep my pants on.”
Whit stilled, thinking of Abby out of her pants, but then recovered. She brought Abby some of the toasted fish.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Abby was watching her curiously and Whit had to remind herself that there was no way she was aware that she’d been imagining her out of her pants.
“What was that look for?” Abby asked.
Whit sat. She focused on the fish, stirring it around with her fingers, afraid to make eye contact with Abby.
“You looked weird there for a second.”
“Hm? Nah, I’m fine. Just grossed out by the overcooked fish.”
“If you say so.”
Whit saw Abby eat the fish. She grimaced like she had with the pain in her knee, but she kept chewing, and eventually swallowed with great effort. “Ugh, my God, that’s horrible.” But she slid another piece in and ate it as well.
Whit smiled, amused. Abby was trying again. Being a real trouper. In the morning, if the rain stopped, she’d go out and try to find them other food sources. For now, they’d have to settle for the fish.
She took their water bottle and crossed to open the door. This time Abby didn’t protest, and Whit stood at the edge of the porch and held the open filter beneath a stream of rain running off the roof. When it was full, she brought it back inside and re-bolted the door.
“We have more water,” she said, hoping it would help to cheer Abby up, but as she looked over at her, she discovered her fast asleep.
“Sleep well, Abby,” she whispered, going back to the table.
She set the water bottle down, held the filter up so it could do its job, and studied the map on the wall.
She saw the X marking where they were and searched with her index finger nearby.
They were still south of any noticeable help, but she did spot a water source not too far away.
Tomorrow, she’d search for it. There was also another X, about a days’ hike away.
She wondered if it was another cabin or at least someplace to get help.
“Things aren’t so bad,” she said softly to herself.
She sat and lowered the filter as it finished with the rainwater.
They now had a full bottle of water once again.
Abby would be pleased. She watched as she slept, wishing she had a blanket to cover her with.
Instead, she slinked out of her own coat, feeling plenty warm with the fire from the stove, and spread it over her.
Abby stirred slightly and snuggled beneath the jacket, releasing a puff of air as she did so.
Whit smiled wistfully at her, tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear, and returned to her seat.
As she watched Abby dream, she thought about what it was that was causing her to be so concerned with her well-being, when she obviously hadn’t been that way with her ex, Myra, the one who’d complained.
No answer was forthcoming.