Chapter 6
A blast of music ripped Sunny out of a dead sleep and had her rearing up. When lights blinded her, she groaned and tossed a hand over her eyes in self-defense.
“Who ordered the party?” she asked as Tina Turner roared out rock at top volume.
Jacob, who had dozed off in front of the fire, simply pulled the blanket over his head. Whenever he slept, he preferred to do it like the dead.
Swearing, she pushed herself up off the couch.
She had stumbled halfway to the stereo before it dawned on her.
“Power!” she shouted, then immediately raced over to sit on Jacob.
She heard a muffled grunt from under the blanket and bounced gleefully up and down.
“We’ve got power, J.T. Lights, music, hot food!
” When he only grunted again, she poked him.
“Wake up, you slug. Don’t you know you can be shot for sleeping on sentry duty? ”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was bored into catatonia.”
“Well, snap out of it, pal. We’re back on the circuit.” She yanked the cover off his face and grinned when he scowled at her. “You need a shave,” she observed. Then, in her delight, she gave him a loud, smacking kiss between the eyes. “How about a hamburger?”
He got a bleary look at her face, all smiles and mussed hair. To his disgust, he felt his body responding. “It can’t be more than six in the morning.”
“So what? I’m starving.”
“Make mine rare.” He pulled the blanket over his face again.
“Uh-uh. You have to help.” Ruthlessly she ripped the blanket off him again. “Up and at ’em, soldier.”
This time he opened only one eye. “Up and at what?”
“It’s an expression, Hornblower.” She shook her head. “Just how long were you in that lab?”
“Not long enough.” Or entirely too long, if all it took to arouse him was a skinny woman sitting on his chest. “I can’t get up when you’re sitting on me. Besides, I think you broke my ribs.”
“Nonsense. I’m ten pounds underweight.”
“You wouldn’t think so from here.”
Too cheerful to be annoyed, she scrambled up, took a firm grip on his forearm and, after some pulling and tugging, dragged him to his feet. “You can make the french fries.”
“I can?”
“Sure.” To demonstrate her confidence in him, she kept her hand in his and pulled him into the kitchen.
“Everything’s in the freezer. God, it’s cold in here.
” She rubbed the bottom of one stockinged foot on the top of the other.
“Here.” She tossed him a bag of frozen fries over her shoulder.
“You just dump some on a cookie sheet and stick them in the oven.”
“Right.” He thought he could figure out the workings of the oven, but he hadn’t a clue as to what a cookie sheet might look like.
“Pans are . . . down there.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of a cabinet while she contemplated the package of hamburger.
“The meat’s frozen,” he pointed out.
“Yeah. Well, we’ll have sloppy joes.”
“Which are?”
“Delicious,” she assured him. Whistling along with the music, she began to rattle pots. Cooking was far down on her list of favorite pastimes, but when push came to shove she was willing to give it her best shot. “Here, use this.” She handed him a long, thin piece of metal blackened by heat.
The cookie sheet, Jacob surmised. He went to work. “I don’t suppose there’s a possibility of coffee.”
“Sure. I keep a stash.” Still whistling, she dumped the chunk of frozen meat in a pot and set it on low.
In moments she had water on to boil and cups waiting.
“Heat, hot water, real food.” She did a quick little tap dance before digging into a bag of potato chips.
“You don’t appreciate the little things until you can’t have them,” she said with her mouth full.
“I don’t know how people managed before electricity.
Imagine having to heat water over an open fire. It must have taken forever.”
Jacob was watching the electric ring slowly turn red under the kettle. “Amazing,” he agreed, and contemplated just eating the coffee grounds dry.
“Those fries won’t cook unless you put them in the oven.”
“Yeah.” He wished she wouldn’t watch him as he studied the dials. The Bake setting seemed safe enough—unless they were supposed to be broiled. He would have given a year of his life for the nutritional center in his lab.
“Spend much time in the kitchen?” Sunny asked from behind him.
“No.”
“Who would have guessed?” With a cluck of her tongue, she turned the oven on, then popped the tray inside. “Takes about ten, maybe fifteen.”
“Seconds?”
“I love an optimist. Minutes.” Because she understood what it was like to wake up ready to chew glass, she patted his cheek. “Why don’t you go have a shower? You’ll feel better. Most of this should come together by the time you’re finished.”
“Thanks.” As he made his way upstairs he figured it was the nicest thing she’d done for him so far.
He spent a great deal of time cursing the ridiculously archaic workings of her shower.
But she was right. He did feel better when he’d accomplished it.
Using his ultrasound, he rid himself of his beard.
Then he took his daily dose of fluoratyne for his teeth and, curious, poked inside the mirrored cabinet over the sink.
It was a scientific treasure trove. Lotions, potions, creams, powders. A glance at the safety razor made him shudder. The toothbrush made him grin. He saw little puffs of white that appeared to be cotton, thin brushes, tiny pots filled with vividly colored powder.
There was a cream with an exotic name. When he opened the top and sniffed, it was as if Sunny had joined him in the small, steamy room. He made quick work of putting it back on the shelf.
There were pills. A cursory glance showed him that she had them for headaches, body aches, head colds, chest colds.
He would make a note to take back a few samples.
There was a small plastic case that held a circle of tiny pills that weren’t marked at all.
Since they were half gone, he assumed they were something she took regularly.
That concerned him. He didn’t like to think that she was ill.
Replacing them, he wondered how he might ask her about her medication.
He started downstairs, then simply followed the scents. He didn’t know what she could have done with the hunk of frozen meat, but it smelled like heaven. And there was coffee. No perfume could have been sweeter. She handed him a cup as he walked in the door.
“Thanks.”
“It’s okay. I know how it feels.”
He sipped, giving her a clinical study over the rim. Her eyes were clear, and her color was good. She looked perfectly healthy. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever having seen anyone healthier. Or more alluring.
“When you look at me like that I feel like a germ under a microscope.”
“Sorry. I was just going to ask how you felt.”
“A little stiff, a lot hungry, but basically okay.” She tilted her head. “How about you?”
“Fine. I had a headache,” he said, suddenly inspired. “I took some of your pills.”
“Okay.”
“The ones in the little blue case weren’t marked.”
Her eyes widened, rolled, then filled with laughter. “I don’t think they’d do you much good.”
“But you need them?”
This time she closed her eyes and shook her head. “And he calls himself a scientist. Yeah, you could say I need them. Better safe than sorry, right?”
Baffled, but losing ground, he nodded. “Right.”
“Then let’s eat.”
She had plates by the range with buns open on them. Using a generous hand, she scooped the saucy meat into them, tossed a heap of fries beside it and was done. She didn’t speak again until she’d worked her way through half the meal.
He watched her dump a stream of white crystal from a pottery tube on her potatoes.
He shook some on his own experimentally.
Salt, he discovered. The real thing. Though the taste was wonderful, he resisted the temptation to use more and wondered about her blood pressure.
If he could have figured a way, he would have popped her into the medilab on the ship for a checkup.
“I guess we’re going to live.”
He wasn’t sure what he was eating, but she was right again. It was delicious. “It stopped snowing.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Listen, I hate to say it, but I’m glad you were here. I’d have hated to be here alone the last couple of days.”
“You’re pretty self-sufficient.”
“But it’s better when you have somebody to fight with. I never asked . . . do you plan to hang around until Cal and Libby get back? It could be weeks.”
“I came to see him. I’ll wait.”
She nodded, wishing his answer hadn’t relieved her. She was getting entirely too used to his company. “I guess you must be in a position to take as much time off as you like.”
“You could say that time is exactly what I do have. How long are you staying?”
“I’m not sure. It’s too late to get into school this semester. I thought I might write to some colleges. Maybe I’ll try the East Coast. It would be a change.” She sent him a quick, hesitant smile. “How would I like Philadelphia?”
“I think you would.” He wondered how to describe it to her so that she would understand. “It’s beautiful. The historic district is very well preserved.”
“The Liberty Bell, Ben Franklin, all that.”
“Yes. Some things last, no matter what else changes.” Though it had never mattered much to him before.
“The parks are very green and shady. In the summer they’re full of children and students.
The traffic’s miserable, but that’s all part of it.
From the top of some of the buildings you can see the entire city, the movement, the old and the new. ”
“You miss it.”
“Yes. More than I’d imagined.” But he was looking at her, seeing only her. “I’d like to show it to you.”
“I’d like that, too. Maybe we can talk Cal and Libby into flying out. You could have a real family reunion.” She saw his expression change and instinctively laid a hand over his. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No.”
“You’re angry with him,” Sunny murmured.
“It’s personal.”