Whisper Falls (38 page)

“That's my sister, Marissa.”

“She's quite pretty.”

He snorted. “Yeah? Wait ‘til you meet her.”

We continued down a hallway and entered a long, wide room full of mirrors and slabs of stone.

“This is the bathroom. We take showers or baths in here. We also use it for…” He paused. “It's like an outhouse, too.”

I clung to the threshold. It was the whitest room I had ever seen. It had white sinks and a white floor. The white tub was large and deep, with short, clawed legs holding it up. The tub had been pushed under a window made of odd glass that had no other covering.

I could hardly take in this room dedicated to bathing. Indeed, the tub was larger than the space I had once used for sleep.

My muscles began to quiver, yet I stayed where I was, afraid to move or touch anything. I had already soiled the rug. What if I ruined anything else?

“Where are your parents?”

“On a trip. They're at a wedding in another state. You've never heard of it, though.”

I shouldn't have asked. I closed my eyes against this world and breathed deeply. I was here now. I had to accept this place. I had known it would be different and hard to understand. But couldn't I go a bit longer without participating? Wouldn't it be easier to bear in small bits—and when I didn't hurt so badly?

Yes, that was the answer. I would be ready to learn later when I felt more myself.

“Let's get some warm water going.”

A
warm
bath? I focused again. Truly? I would be warm?

He knelt beside the tub and twisted something that looked like a doorknocker. Water gushed in.

“You'll need to take off your clothes.”

The request embarrassed me. I was uncertain precisely what he meant.

“Explain, please.”

“Don't worry, I didn't mean while I was here. You'll bathe by yourself. I'll head to my sister's room to see if she has anything you can change into.” He reached into a cabinet, pulled out a stack of white cloths, and set them near the end of the tub. “Those are your towels.”

“Thank you.”

He squeezed past me in the doorway. “If you need anything, call.”

I gave him a tentative smile, relieved that he didn't expect me to undress before him. “What type of clothing does your sister have?”

“I'll pick the most modest thing I can find.” He gestured at me. “Susanna, go on.”

I shuffled into the room and gasped at the coldness of the floor. A droplet of blood stained a spot near my foot. Had I left such drops on the lovely carpet? I sagged against the counter, fighting an urge to check. And what good would it do? I did not know how to clean silver rugs.

It would be best to do as Mark asked and ponder the other questions later. I unpinned my bodice and untied my stays and petticoat. My cap was gone, a victim of the flight to safety. When I had removed all but my shift, I perched on the wide edge of the tub and ran my fingers through the water. It caressed my hand, deliciously warm. In one corner waited a basket of bottles in various hues. I lifted a bottle and sniffed. Roses. A nice scent. In my old life, perfume was a luxury only the rich could afford.

Mark's family was rich.

I should add that to my list of questions for later. Did poor people get to smell sweet?

There was a light tap at the door. “Are you in the tub?”

I grabbed a towel and held it before me. “Not yet.”

“May I come in?”

“Yes.”

The door opened slowly. His head poked in. He had changed into fresh clothes.

“Hey,” he said. His hands held a pair of shoes, a long, colorful skirt, and a blue shirt like a man's, with wide, full sleeves and many buttons. “Will this stuff work?”

I nodded.

“Great.” He piled them between the sinks. “If you want, I'll wash your old clothes.”

A young man washing clothes? I nodded again, subdued by both the request and the thought of him caring for me. Yet I would need my clothes laundered, would I not? I would have to give his sister's clothing back.

He scooped my old things into his arms. “Anything else you need?”

“Where is the soap?”

“In those bottles, like the one you're holding. All different kinds.”

“This is soap?” Not perfume. How lovely. Perhaps this bath would be enjoyable. But first, I must address another need. “Where is the privy?”

He blushed. “It's over there. We call it a toilet.” He pointed at a big, white bowl. “You sit on it and pee into the water. When you're done, push the silver button and it'll take the pee away.”

After he left, I tried the toilet. It was noisy but worked as he said. A privy in the house that looked and smelled clean? It was another thing I liked here. How lovely that, with so many new things to learn, there were inventions that I would like.

With burgeoning anticipation, I returned to the tub and picked up the bottle of soap. I should like to smell of roses. Mark would like that also, no doubt. I poured some into the water. The soap slid out, curling and swaying like little pink ribbons.

All was ready. I swung my legs over the side and sank into the tub.

I'd offered to wash Susanna's clothes, but I really wanted to burn them. Even in a world where people could get away with just about anything, Susanna's stuff was going to look bad.

Damn, there was a lot for her to learn—things as big as technology and as small as how anal we were about being clean. It was as if she had moved from a primitive culture in a third world country, arriving with no clue about her new life. Once Susanna had recovered from the pain, she was going to be slammed by new stuff everywhere.

And what about us? What would I tell my folks? Mom had said Susanna was welcome, but for how long? Susanna had no one else to turn to. She didn't exist legally. What were we going to do about that?

Okay, I had to stop. The deed was done. She was here. We would deal with it. There was enough stuff to handle today without worrying about more.

Time to focus on problems I could solve, like washing clothes.

I'd thumped my way to the bottom of the stairs when I was stopped in my tracks by a scream, like a wild animal in pain. It broke off in mid-shriek, followed by great, gulping sobs. I dropped the load of clothes on the foyer floor and raced back up to the bathroom.

Susanna huddled in the tub, the shift puffed about her chest like a dirty, gauzy balloon. She stared blindly, tears rolling down her cheeks. Reddened water swirled about her legs.

“Shit. I forgot about your ankles.”

She looked at me through half-glazed eyes. Her mouth opened to speak, but all that came out was another choked sob.

It killed me to see her like this. “I'm sorry.” I knelt by the tub, feeling stupid and inadequate. What should I do?

I didn't want to take her out of the water. It was keeping her warm. And there was no point in putting bandages on until her bath was over.

Okay, think. What had to be done, and in what order?

“I hate to do this to you, but I'd better take care of your ankles.”

She nodded vaguely, not meeting my gaze. Her teeth chattered in between sobs.

I wasn't sure what should come first. Those wounds were awful. They probably needed medical care, which I couldn't seek for her yet. There were too many questions they'd ask, and we hadn't dreamed up answers.

If only my mom was here to help. What had she told me once about taking care of patients?
Talk in soothing tones. Let them know what you're about to do. Never surprise a patient
.

“Susanna, I'm going to drain the water, put on temporary bandages, and then fill the tub again.” I released the stopper, grabbed a big towel, and dropped it around her shoulders like a blanket.

She laid her head against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes. As gently as I could, I lifted her leg and propped it on a rolled-up towel.

“I know this will hurt. I'm sorry.”

“You are only trying to help me,” she said in a whisper. “Please do so quickly.”

I touched a washcloth to her ankle. She hissed wetly.

It had to be done. I dabbed away the dirt and the dead skin. Fresh blood welled up wherever I touched. In my untrained opinion, she had an infection. Better to think about that later.

The left ankle was finally clean. Reaching into the nearest cabinet, I grabbed a first aid kit. Thank God for Mom's paranoid nurse act, since it meant we had kits in every bathroom.

I applied antibiotic ointment, added a gauze bandage, then tape. At last, I was done. Time to dress the second wound. I glanced at my patient's face to check how she was doing.

Susanna had one hand clamped over her mouth, as if to dam the cries threatening to spill out.

“I'm sorry. Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head.

“Okay. Right leg.” I repeated everything for the other ankle. At last, it was over. I released her second leg, looked up to smile with encouragement, and froze.

Damn.

The shift had turned into a second skin. A totally hot second skin. And she had seriously nice breasts. Which I really shouldn't have been thinking about at the moment, but I just couldn't help myself.

Focus on the girl in pain
. I became busy with cleaning up the mess I'd made.

“Do you need my help with your bath?”

“I shall manage.”

“Okay. I'll get you some fresh water.” I turned on the faucets, keeping the water to a gentle flow. “Use as many towels as you need to dry off, and then just leave all of the wet stuff on the floor.”

“Thank you.”

I nodded, not looking at her anymore, feeling a little helpless. “Maybe I should—”

“Truly, Mark, I am fine. I shall see you when I'm done.”

“Right. I'll be in the kitchen.”

Once I had her clothes washing, I set another first aid kit on the kitchen table and then prepared a snack. Cheese, crackers, and apple slices. I wished I could make something better, but there wasn't much food here. Mom had left the cupboard pretty bare since she was expecting me to eat with my grandparents.

A sense of panic—of being overwhelmed by the total responsibility for another person—paralyzed me. I slumped into a chair, my brain trying to slog through the actions I'd taken. Had they been enough? Had I left out any important steps? I wanted my parents. I wanted to know if I'd done all the right things to take care of Susanna. And since my folks weren't here, my grandparents were a good second choice.

I found my cell and called the lake house.

“What?” my grandfather barked into the phone.

“Is Gran home?”

“Yeah.”

There was a long pause.

Okay, I could play the game, although for once it wasn't funny.

“May I speak with her?”

“What about?”

“Granddad, please.”

The phone clattered as he set it down.

A brief moment later, she picked up. “Hi, Mark, you left early this morning. Did you eat breakfast? When are you coming back over?” She sounded grandmotherly and in charge, two qualities I needed right now.

I felt oddly nervous. I was about to introduce Susanna to the twenty-first century world and twenty-first century people. How would I explain? How would I keep them from thinking she and I were crazy? In planning for this day, I'd been so caught up in rescuing Susanna that I'd never thought much about the afterwards.

For now, I would explain as little as possible and do some serious thinking tonight. “Gran, did Mom ever tell you about my friend, Susanna?”

“The girl in the cult?”

Cult? Perfect. I could work with that. “Yeah, Mom treated a burn on her once.”

Gran's voice was grave. “I've heard about your young lady. Why?”

“Susanna escaped today.”

Just saying the words brought waves of emotion washing over me. I dropped my head, sucking in a breath. The events of the morning flashed by in still images. So much had happened. Too many things could've gone wrong, and there was a lot left to be done. But she was alive, and free.

Gran gasped. “Is she okay?”

“She's weak and exhausted, but she'll be fine. Eventually.”

“Were you with her when she escaped?”

“Yes, and I'm fine, too.”

“Did those people try to stop you?”

“They did.” My body ached in delayed reaction. “Gran, I need your help. I'd like to bring Susanna to the lake house for the rest of the weekend. Can she stay in the other guest room?”

“Of course. You don't even have to ask.” Her voice grew brisk and businesslike. “Pack her up and bring her over now. I'll get the room ready. Have you eaten?”

I smiled. Food—the southern grandmother's cure for all problems.

“We're about to eat something light. I'm sure we'll have room for dinner.”

“Okay, sweetie. And Mark?”

“Yes, ma'am?”

“Well done.” Click.

Smiling, I set the phone down on the table and glanced up. Susanna stood in the doorway, looking small and adorable in Marissa's clothes and slippers. She gave me a tentative smile.

“Hey.” I pushed out of my chair and crossed to her. “How did it go?”

“Well.”

When I opened my arms, she walked into them and leaned against me. She smelled like roses. I ran my hand through her hair, down its entire length from head to waist. It was soft, damp, and wonderful.

She sighed. “I have noticed that ladies on the greenway often have their hair cut short. I think I should miss the weight of it on my head.”

“Yeah, people in this century can wear their hair any length they want. I think most of them cut it short because it's easier to take care of.” I combed my fingers through the dark strands. “You are the only person I know with hair this long. It's awesome.”