My Heart Can't Tell You No (30 page)

On her run to the building she came to a large puddle, and, as she tried to jump over it, her foot slid in the thick brown earth, sending her on a slide that spread mud up her legs and over her raincoat. She prayed the door wasn’t locked, knowing it always had been when they lived there. It was where her father kept his tools and fishing equipment. His hunting equipment was kept in the house, but she couldn’t remember where—so evidently he kept it out of the children’s realm of available inspection. The door swung open easily, sending a sigh of relief through her as her eyes searched the room. God, if Jack Baker could see his old workshop looking like this, he would set a match to it and burn it down. Everything was scattered all over, everywhere. She was half afraid to take a step inside. Nails and glass were on the floor in various areas, making her very conscious of where she would place her bare foot next. Halfway into the room, she grabbed what she was looking for and left immediately, not wanting to risk running into a rat or snake or any other vermin that might be escaping the high waters. She was glad her father wasn’t there to see it.

This time when she came to the mud puddle she stomped right through it, across the lawn then up to the porch. Her feet felt like blocks of ice. She picked up Joe’s clothes and awkwardly reached for the knob; a knob that wouldn’t turn. She tried again. No luck. Her face turned to stone. Yeah, she could easily believe this was happening to her. It was just her luck. And with Joe heavily asleep upstairs, she didn’t know if he would hear her knock. She could only hope that since the bedroom window was directly above the door, she could wake him.

She knocked, knocked again. A little louder this time, and this time. She knocked the metal of the camping stove against the window—did it again, harder. She made a fist and banged against the wooden frame of the door, twice more.

“JOE! GODDAMN YOU, GET THE HELL OUT OF BED!”

But still he didn’t come, making her turn around and plop down on the porch steps.
“Good!
Let
me
just
sit
out
here
and
either
drown
or
freeze!”
She rested her chin on the camp stove in her lap. She was tired, she wanted to go home and dry off, then warm up as she pulled Jackie up on the bed with her and took a long nap; then maybe all of this would go away.

“You take up exhibitionism recently?” Joe’s voice came from behind her, the steady downpour drowning out the sound of the door opening. “I don’t know if I want to let you in. You’re a huge mud-ball.”

His remark sent his sopping jeans to land with a splat against his chest. She stood up and went straight to the bathroom, pausing only to put the stove on the table. She stepped into the tub, using the water sparingly to wipe the mud off her legs before stepping out again and draping the coat over the tub. When she turned, Joe was leaning against the doorframe, watching her with amusement.

“Don’t say a word,” she warned then walked past him with a towel to dry herself.

Her socks felt good although they weren’t as soft as they usually were after she laundered them, they were warm and dry, and, at least at the moment, that was good enough. Next came her jeans; she would mend the tear later. Her shirt came on, pulling up the collar for warmth as she went back to the kitchen to try to light the stove. She tried to remember watching her father light his stove, and after a few moments she had a blue flame circling its center. She had never lit one before; she was proud of herself. As she moved to the sink, she poured two cups of water into a small pot then took it back to the stove, bringing two cups, a spoon and a jar of instant coffee with her. Joe came from the bathroom when she was spooning the coffee into cups, standing behind her as he put his arms around her and leaned his chin against the top of her head.

“You care if I go back to bed?”

“No. Go ahead. I don’t plan on locking myself out anymore. I know what kind of lock is on the door—now.”

“You care if I take you along with me?”

She didn’t answer. She had successfully avoided thinking about what had happened by keeping busy. She stiffened under his touch and never felt guiltier in her life than she did now.

“I just got dressed,” she said simply.

“That’s easy to solve.” He turned her in his arms. “That’s always easy to solve.”

“I’m sure it is. You’ve had plenty of experience at it.” She said coldly.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “If you’re trying to say something—don’t throw hints, Maddie. Just say it.”

“Never mind.” She turned back to the small stove.

He sat on the chair at the end of the table and looked up at her. She went about spooning coffee in the second cup, then moved back to the stove across the kitchen to replace the jar of coffee. It would have been more convenient to leave it on the table, but she had to keep busy, and she didn’t dare stay there for him to watch her so closely. She didn’t dare look at him for fear that she would practically run up those stairs with him.

She returned to the bathroom and began wringing out his clothes in the tub. When she had finished with his socks and underwear his hands covered hers as she worked on his jeans.

“I can do it myself,” he told her flatly.

He took them from her; so, without another word, she rose, went back to the kitchen, and looked through the cupboards and refrigerator. Her cousin must have bought groceries before he left. If the flood lasted too much longer his food would spoil. She opened a package of sliced ham and took it back to the camp stove, then poured the boiling water into the cups, setting one at the chair Joe had taken earlier and one at the other end of the table. She wouldn’t be sitting down to eat or drink coffee, taking her time about waking up and mellowing out as she usually did. She couldn’t afford such luxury today. Next she put a frying pan on the stove and poured water in it. She knew before the hour was up she would have to put out some pots to collect the rain water then boil it throughout the day so it would be safe to drink.

Joe collected his clothing before going upstairs for the heater and situating his clothes for them to dry. He returned and sat at the chair as she was turning back to the sink to go through its drawers for utensils.

“Did you see any razors in the bathroom?” Joe asked.

“No.”

She knew her withdrawal from him was making him angry. She could tell from the way he was shifting in his seat. Finding a long fork, she came back to the table, put the ham in the frying pan, and watched as it began to simmer in the hot water, but she could still see Joe from the corners of her eyes. His attempt to take a drink of coffee almost brought a warning from her that it was too hot; but it was too late. He cursed and went to the door.

“Joe. You throw that out, and it’ll be the last cup of coffee you’ll ever get from me. And you can forget about any food while we’re here too. I don’t make something to be thrown away.”

He looked at her a long moment, and she knew he was holding onto his temper with a firm grip. He set the cup on the table and climbed the stairs.

“I’m going back to bed,” he mumbled.

She ate two small pieces of ham. It wasn’t one of her favorite foods, but she was hungry. Then she went in to the living room to sit on the couch. It felt good against her back so she turned and pulled her legs up, staring out the window at the rain that pelted against the glass in torrents, its rhythm making her drowsy and almost putting her to sleep before she forced herself up and replaced her raincoat. She collected some pots and slipped on a pair of her cousin’s shoes—they were too big, but they would keep her feet dry. On the porch she scattered the pots, collecting water for washing, cooking and drinking. Since the power was off, the pump would provide no assistance.

She made more coffee and took the radio into the living room, keeping it low so she wouldn’t wake Joe. A deck of cards provided her with minimal entertainment as the afternoon slipped away and early evening brought darkness.

“Are you talking yet? Or are you still moping?” Joe stood in the wide entrance to the living room, bringing her startled eyes to him. This damn rain was drowning out normal noises. She hadn’t heard him approach.

“How long have you been up?” She noticed he was fresh shaven.

“About two hours.”

“You’ve been upstairs all this time?”

“No. I ate and cleaned up some.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“You didn’t look.”

Turning her attention back to her cards, she played a red seven on a black eight. She was sitting on the floor Indian-style, hunched over with her chin in her hand, hoping he’d return to the kitchen and eat again or go back to sleep. It didn’t matter what he did. So long as she could be alone until she could fall asleep herself. But he moved closer, kneeling to the floor and taking the cards from her hands.

“I see you took advantage of your dry clothes.” She leaned against the couch and watched as he lay on his side, leaning on his left elbow as he laid a red queen on a black king, then transferred another pile onto the queen.

“Would you rather I didn’t?” He turned over three new cards.

“I don’t care,” she sighed, about to get up, but he lowered himself until he was lying with his head on her thigh, still going about the game.

“You’ve got a hole in your pants. Do you know that?” he asked.

“I don’t see how I could miss it. It doesn’t show anything.”

“Not like the bib of your overalls though, huh?”

“Why don’t you go take a flying fucking leap . . . .”

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled, placing a two of spades on its mother ace, then tossing down the cards, turning onto his stomach, and rising on both elbows. “You’ve got some mouth for a young mother—anyone ever tell you that?”

She smiled bitterly at him. “Well what can I say? You bring out the best in me.”

“I know. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know it. Makes me pity Bob.”

“Leave Bob out of it!” she hissed.

“All right, I will. But will you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She moved to get to her feet, but Joe’s rise met hers. He pulled her back on the couch until they were sitting together. When she moved to get up he forced her back and held his arms around her.

“Sit down!” he ordered as if he were scolding a child.

“Let go of me,” she growled.

“No. Not until we have a talk.” He lifted her resisting body until he held her as if she were six years old again. “I don’t know what you’re planning on doing when we get out of here—and it’s eating me apart. I don’t expect you to discuss it with me. Probably because you don’t know yourself. But I’ll say this, we’re going to be here for at least a few more days, and, if you plan on putting me through what you did today, I’ll trudge over the hills and swim through the creeks just to get to town and some shelter, so I don’t have to be in the same building with you. I wanted you today. I couldn’t have made it any plainer. And you turned me away like I was some stranger. I’m no stranger, Maddie.” His fingers moved through her hair as she sat on him, not resisting anymore, but not looking at him either. “I don’t think I can take being stranded with you and not being able to touch you. Do you know how good it feels just to be able to hold you like this and have no one be shocked because you’re only a minor and I’m a married man—or like now—because you’re a married woman with a small child?”

“Joe, don’t.” Her statement was a soft request. She didn’t want to hear this. It was easier being mad at him and not being in the same room with him.

“Don’t what? Want you? Need you? Sorry, but I don’t seem to have any control over it.”

“Knock it off.” She got up and moved across the room.

“Knock what off? You tell me and I’ll be glad to! Then you damn well better tell me how because I can’t seem to find the way!”

“What do you want from me, Joe?!” Anguish shook her.

“I want everything!”

“I don’t know what that means!”

“Well, what do you want from me?! What do you want right now? Right this second?!”

“I want you to leave me alone!”

She turned to leave the room, but he had her arms in an instant, turning her to face him. “Are you sure?! Is that what you want me to do?! Leave?! Never see you again?! Never touch you again?! You want me to get out so you never have to lay eyes on me again?!”

She looked at him as he was near shaking an answer out of her, tears brimming her eyes.

Finally, she whispered, “No.”

He pulled her against him. “Then don’t play these games. Don’t pretend I’m not here. Don’t pretend what we have isn’t real. If you have to play pretending games—pretend I never married Lena. Pretend it’s four years ago and I’m coming to you with roses and candy and everything is all right.”

“I can’t. I have to think.” She tried to take a step back from him.

“No! Don’t think! I didn’t plan on being stranded alone with you. I only came back to check on Pop’s house. I only stopped in at Mom’s for a visit. I didn’t expect to see you there. So there was no way I had this planned. But it happened, and we can’t change what’s happened. Just like we can’t change what will happen tonight—and tomorrow night and the night after that.”