#second bit

He picked up a broom, walked into the kitchen, and began sweeping up the glass.  The storms lasted nearly two hours and it was already half-seven. He wanted the windows secure before dark- less than an hour from now.   The kitchen window remained mostly intact, save for a hole in the bottom where it had been broken by the hailstone.  After sweeping up the rest of the mess he found a sturdy piece of cardboard to tape into the bottom square of the pane.  Within a few minutes, the task was completed.  

He could hear Rose talking quietly in the bathroom as he stepped past and went outside.  The branch that had broken off and lodged itself in the den was large.  It took a few good heaves before he was able to extricate it from the window frame. More bits of broken glass showered down, both inside and outside the cabin, before the tree limb finally lay on the grass.

He went back indoors, poking his head in the bath.  “Okay?” he mouthed.

She nodded, covering the speaker. “My mum,” she mouthed, exaggeratingly rolling her eyes.  

John grinned and pointed towards the den and she smiled again.  There was lots of tidying up he’d need to do and while she was having a chat with her mother, he’d be able to get a good start on it.  He assumed she’d already spoken with the ex-boyfriend that had caused all this misery, and found himself working vigorously at the thought of what he’d done to her.  Nearly twenty minutes later he was in the middle of picking up sticks, leaves, and other pieces of debris when he heard her voice.  

“John?  Could- could you come here for a minute?”

He appeared at the door. “Yes, Rose?”

“I’m sorry for botherin’ you again…but d’you have any more paracetamol?”

It had been hours since she’d limped into the house and had taken anything.  “Of course I do.  I’m sorry I forgot to offer it.  How’s the pain right now?  Dull? Throbbing?”

“Yeah, throbbing,” she said quietly.

“Right, let’s get you out of this room and somewhere more comfortable- then I’ll give you the tablets.” He paused.  

The living room was still covered with glass and debris.  She couldn’t sit on the couch, not now, anyway.  “I’ll help you to the bedroom.”

She frowned.  “Can’t I just sit on the couch?”

“Broken window in there,” he said, turning back towards the den, “remember?  There’s glass everywhere- including the couch.  If I take you back to the bedroom, you’ll be able to stretch out…bit more comfortable than a kitchen chair.”  

Realizing he was right, she gave him a brief nod, agreeing to the plan.  Her bum already felt flattened from sitting in the hard wooden chair.  It had been hours since the power was cut and she was definitely ready to get out of the bathroom.

He helped her up and together they walked the short distance to the lone bedroom.  After getting her situated on the bed, John propped her ankle up under a pillow.  He left the room, holding up a finger and returned a moment later.  

He handed her the tablets and a bottle of water.  “I need to finish cleaning up the window before all the light is gone.  You’ll be alright for a bit?”

“Course,” she said quietly.

“Shouldn’t take me long,” he smiled, as he left the room.

 She sighed and looked around the tiny room.  It was close to twilight and the room was growing darker by the minute.  The bed creaked as she shifted and Rose swallowed thickly.  His bed was only three feet from her own.  He seemed like a decent bloke, but a little part of her was tiniest bit nervous. What if…  Stop it, Rose, she chided herself.  He was kind and he’d helped her- taken her in when he hadn’t known anything about her.  It was a lot more than most would have done.  

She scooted down, resting her head on the pillow.  The bed was comfortable but the pain in her ankle wouldn’t let sleep overtake her. She put her hands on her stomach and waited patiently, listening to him cleaning in the living room.  

 John got a broom and swept up as much of the mess as he could- the carpet wouldn’t be safe to walk on for some time.  Perhaps it should just be replaced.  He sighed, looking up at the window.  The pane of glass was a total loss.  Scratching his head, John wondered what he could use as a replacement.  

A few minutes later, he was outside in the fading sunlight, rummaging through the scrap wood pile.  A piece of plywood might work, he decided, and brought it back to the cabin.  Holding it up, he discovered it was nearly the right size.  A small gap was filled in with a board, and after securing it to the house, he went back inside.  

“Sorry for the racket,” he smiled, walking back into the room.

“’S okay.  Did you get it closed up, then?”

He grinned. “Course I did. Impressive, me.”  

She chuckled, then sobered. “I really am sorry for all the damage to the place.  And ‘m sorry that you’ve got to bother with me, too.  You’ve been really nice and just…thanks.”

“Rose, it’s no bother. Honestly, I’m glad I was here to help. God knows what would have happened to you otherwise.”  He paused, reflecting on the truth of that statement.  His gaze fell to her ankle and her dirty, rumpled clothes.  

“So, tea?  Then maybe I’ll be able to find something for you change into.”  

Rose shrugged.  “’M really not all that hungry.  Between the storms and this,” she said, indicating her ankle, “I’m not really feelin’ like eating.”  

“So- you’re not hungry.  I’ll fix something light, then.  Another water?” he asked, noting the plastic bottle was nearly empty.  

“I don’t want to be drinking all the water you have…” she trailed off.

He held up a hand. “There’s plenty- went to the store this morning.  Lots of everything- drink all you want.”

“Okay.”

He smiled.  “Be right back.”  

The cabin was dark and John lit a kerosene lantern at the kitchen table, setting about preparing something for tea.  He fixed himself a roast beef sandwich, a handful of carrots, and a packaged granola bar.

He looked around, trying to find something that might interest his patient.  Dubiously, he looked briefly through the refrigerator, deciding to transfer some of the food to the cooler.  Finally, he selected a few strawberries, some sliced banana, a cup of peach yogurt, and two digestive biscuits.  

The lantern was carefully carried into the bedroom and sat on the nightstand between the two beds. He exited the room and returned with both plates.  “You’re welcome to eat more, and if anything I have looks good, there’s plenty.  Just ask.”

She looked at the plate and smiled at his choices.  “Thanks,” she said, gratefully.  Carefully spearing a piece of banana with her fork, she dipped it experimentally in the yogurt and took a bite.  It was good.

They ate in silence for a time, the only sound in the room of clinking cutlery.  The lantern made shadows on the wall, the flame flickering brightly in the glass globe.  

Rose found that upon eating, she was ravenous.  In a few minutes the plate was clean and she looked up sheepishly at John.  “Um…”

“Want some more?” he asked hopefully.

“I was wonderin’, I mean… Could I maybe have half a sandwich?”

“Of course!  It’s good that you’re feeling hungry.  I’m pleased.  What’ll it be, roast beef or ham?”

“The beef, please…”

He shook his head. “No trouble at all.  More fruit, too?”

Rose hesitated.  “Just the sandwich, I think.”  

 Finished with his own meal, he picked up the plate and held out his hand for hers.  She whispered “thanks” as he walked by.  

Rose looked around the dimly lit room again.  The dark paneling was broken up with a framed picture of a stag in the snow.  One the other side of the room hung a calendar turned to September 1994.  It had a photograph of a man fly-fishing in a steam.  

A floorboard creaked, announcing John’s return.  

“Your calendar is a little out of date,” she smiled.  

His attention turned to the wall as he handed her the plate back.  He grinned.  “Would you believe that it’s been there so long that I don’t really notice it anymore?”

Rose eyed the large sandwich that filled most of her plate.  “’M never going to be able to eat all of this.”

“Eat what you can.  I wanted to be sure you had enough.”

“Enough?” She grinned. “There’s enough here for a footballer.”

He chuckled.  

She picked up the sandwich and took a bite.  “So,” she asked conversationally, “how long have you been a doctor?”

He leaned back against the wall.  “Going on eleven years now.  Have had my own practice for seven.  What about you, Rose?”

She shrugged.  “’M nothing special.  Worked in a shop for a bit.  You know why I’m here with Jimmy.  S’pose it’s naïve of me, but I thought we’d get married.  Maybe have a family…” she trailed off and took another bite of her sandwich.

“Domestics.” John said quietly.  “Never been my thing. “

“Don’t want to be tied down?

He shook his head. “Don’t know…it just…hasn’t felt right.”

“Ahh- so it’s not domestics; you just haven’t found the right person yet.”

John smiled.  “I think that ship has sailed.  Gettin’ older now.  Physicians have little free time.  This is the first holiday I’ve taken in years.”

“You’re not so old,” she said softly, taking another bite of sandwich.  

“Probably nearly old enough to be your father,” he pointed out.  

There was a pause in the conversation as she chewed.  Setting down her sandwich, she swallowed and shifted awkwardly.  “I-I have a bit of a problem.”  

“Something wrong?”

“No…it’s just…” she trailed off and then whispered, “I need to use the loo.”

He smiled.  “It’s no problem.  I’ll help you.” She bit her lip.  “There’s no water.”   “There is, actually.  I’ve got pails of it in there.  Remember?  They’re sitting in the tub.  I’ll fill up the tank for you and everything will work just like normal.”  

She smiled ruefully. “Wish I’d known that.  I’ve been waiting for ages, hoping the power would come back on.  You keep giving me water, but…” she trailed off and blushed.  

He shook his head. “You should have said somethin’.” He knelt down and helped her stand. “Come on, then, right this way.”     While she was in the bath with one of the lanterns, he took the liberty of heating a kettle of water.  Once she’d finished up and hobbled back into the kitchen, John sat a basin of warm water, a flannel, and a cake of soap in front of her. “It’s not the same as a real bath or shower, but you can use this to clean up a little bit.  I’ll be out in the other room to give you some privacy.” He brought the lantern in from the bathroom to give her a little light.  

She looked up at him, surprised.  “Hot water?”

He pointed at the small object sitting on the counter.  “It’s a one burner propane stove.  This isn’t the first time I’ve been up here without power.  Wash up and I’ll find you somethin’ clean that you can sleep in tonight.”

Rose started by washing her face, sighing softly at the wonderful feeling of hot water.  She licked her lips and looked over her should to be sure he wasn’t watching.  The scratching sound of a drawer being opened confirmed that John was in the other room. Quickly, she wiped under her shirt, then her arms and legs.  Even by the lantern light, she could see the water was dark and dirty and she cringed. Her hair needed a wash, too, but at the very least, the worst of the mud and grit was gone and her skin felt smooth again.   John rummaged through the small wardrobe, trying to find something Rose could sleep in.  He settled on a soft gray tee shirt and a new pair of boxer shorts, still in the packaging.  Folding the tee shirt, he set the bundle on her bed.  The cabin was quiet save for the sound of Rose washing up in the next room. He waited a few moments until the light splashing subsided, wanting to be sure she had privacy.   He hesitated before poking his head out of the door.  “All done?”

He heard her shift in the chair.  “Finished, yes, thanks.” He ambled out into the kitchen, squinting to see in the dim light of the lantern.  Shadows played on the walls and Rose looked young, innocent, and a little nervous.  John walked to the bath, bringing out a bottle of shampoo.  “D’you want to wash your hair?” he asked.  “I’ve got more water heating.” The chair creaked as she shifted in it. “I…John…”

“It won’t take long. I’ll help you.”    He went to the sink and cleared out the knife, fork, and plate he’d used earlier to fix the sandwiches with and sat them on the table.  “C’mon.  I think you’ll feel better.” She bit her lip but then finally smiled. “Yeah.  That…that sounds wonderful, actually.  My hair’s a mess.”   The tea kettle was close to whistling so he turned down the gas burner on the tiny propane stove.  John grabbed the empty kettle, still perched on the propane camp stove, and filled it half way with cold water, then poured in half of the hot water from the other kettle, mixing it until it was a comfortable temperature.  

Rose pushed off the table top, balancing carefully, and walked towards the sink.  He took her hand and held it over the basin, pouring a little water over it.  “That feel okay?  I don’t want to burn you.”

She worried her lip and nodded briefly, “it’s good, yeah.  Thank you.”   It took a bit of trial and error- he tried to keep a gap between them to keep her at ease, but it only made things more cumbersome and awkward.  In the end, he stood snugly against her, his hip pressed up against hers.  The lantern cast just enough light and he poured a bit of water over her head, his free hand gently working it into her hair.  

Rose grasped the sink for support as she tried to keep most of her weight on her good ankle.  Her hand tentatively let go as she tried to help, but she lost her balance and started to topple over, leaning heavily into John.   “Careful,” he said softly, helping to right her.  “Hold onto the sink and keep yourself steady, sweetheart.  I’ll take care of this- it’s no problem.”   “Kay…thanks,” she murmured, blushing.  

Once her hair was wet, John set the kettle of water to the side and picked up the bottle of cheap shampoo he’d purchased in town.  “Hope you like uhm…” he squinted at the label in the dim light, “’waterfall escape’.” He chuckled and poured a bit of the liquid into his palm.  Hesitating slightly, he smoothed the shampoo over her head and carefully went about turning it into suds.  A warmth built in his stomach as his fingers slid through her hair and when he brushed a little dollop of suds away from her eyes, he felt his chest tighten.  He bit his lip, scolding himself for his foolishness. He picked up the kettle and rinsed his hands, focusing on the task.  A few minutes later, Rose was toweling her hair dry, sighing with relief.  She ran her fingers through it lightly, trying to comb it out.   “That,” she said happily, “feels so much better.”  

John returned from the bedroom where he’d changed into pajamas and smiled.  “Glad to hear it,” he said, holding out his hand.  “It’s gettin’ late and I know you’re tired. C’mon.  Get yourself ready for bed.”

Slowly, she stood up and balanced herself, then made her way to the dark bedroom.  He followed her with the lantern, sitting it down on the dresser, providing a bit of light.   A small bundle of clothing was waiting for her, folded neatly on the end of the mattress. “I’m goin’ to be washing up in the kitchen. I’ll close the door to give you privacy, but if you need something don’t be afraid to ask.” She nodded and gave him a quick smile, which faded soon after he closed the door.  The pain reliever hadn’t started to work and her ankle was throbbing.  She rubbed it through the bandage and looked over at the makeshift pajamas.  The shorts were brand new, still in plastic.  She opened the packaging and held them up, frowning a little.  If she was lucky, they might sit on the widest part of her hips without falling down.  

Setting them aside, Rose turned her attention to the gray tee.  It was soft and well-worn and smelled faintly of laundry soap and John.  The thought of wearing it made her stomach flutter a little.  She’d truly been lucky to find this place…to find him.  She remembered the feel of his fingers in her hair and she shivered, then bit her lip.  Stop being ridiculous, she told herself.   Sighing softly, Rose peeled off the grungy vest top and slipped on the gray tee shirt. After removing her bottoms and sliding on the shorts, she awkwardly climbed under the sheets and pulled up the thin blanket.  Her ankle throbbed dully and she shifted, trying to make herself comfortable.  The mattress was firm, but not uncomfortable, and it creaked gently as she moved.  

After a bit of maneuvering, she found lying on her side was the most comfortable position.  Settling in, Rose closed her eyes, hoping she’d be able to sleep. John took his time washing up, filling the basin with the leftover water, wanting her to have plenty of time to change and make herself comfortable.  He removed a splinter in his palm, cleaned a cut on his forearm then used the cake of soap and a new wash cloth, scrubbing himself as best he could, his body tired from the exertion of hurriedly repairing the cabin.  Finally finished, he sighed softly and wrung out the washcloth, hanging it over the faucet.  After looking with the lantern to be certain the place was as secure as it could be, he turned back to the basin and poured the water down the sink, the drain gurgling as it swirled down and finally disappeared from sight.  

The door creaked gently as he entered the room.  Rose was on her side, tucked under the blankets.  “I’ll blow out the lantern in just a minute,” he whispered, unsure if she was sleeping.  An almost inaudible hum confirmed that she was still awake.  “If you need anything in the night, don’t be afraid to wake me. I mean it, Rose, yeah?”   In the dim light, he saw her nod and he climbed into bed, blowing out the lantern, darkening the room.  The moon was hidden by the clouds and the cabin was silent without the electric hum of the refrigerator and the well pump.   “’S so quiet out here.”  

The voice sounded small and slightly frightened.  He pressed his lips together- he supposed to someone used to the noises of the city, it was unsettling.  Without a word, he sat up and retrieved a long-disused alarm clock that his grandfather relied on for decades.  It had lay in the nightstand for years, unused, but he was certain it would work again, if only wound up.

He heard Rose sit up.  “What are you doin’?”

“It’s okay,” he assured her.  John took the clock and wound it up, pleased that it functioned just as he’d hoped.  A quiet, steady ticking filled the room.  “How’s that?” he asked her.  “Any better?”

After a brief pause and more rustling of the covers he heard her hum again, a bit louder this time.  

 “It’s better, yeah.  Thank you.”

He smiled into the darkness.  “Goodnight, Rose.”