“I’ll be fine.”
“If I remember correctly from my first aid class, you need to rest as much as possible when you’ve been hit on the head. And you’re not resting.”
“I’m okay,” he realized his tone was sharper than needed and he glanced at her with a smile he hoped as conciliatory. “I’m resting, just sitting up to do it.” He pulled a small chair to the window and sank onto it, unwilling to show how good it felt.
She tilted her head and took a couple more steps into the room. “What are you looking for?”
“Changes,” he said simply and she didn’t press him but turned and walked from the room.
The night pressed on and he thought he may have slept a few minutes. Snatches of dreams came to him and he wondered if they were in fact memories couched in sleep. A man in the shadow, talking about a deal and information. Was he a businessman? He didn’t feel like one, couldn’t imagine being in an office all day. Why could he remember his name but nothing else? His name and some images of holding a rifle, the memory of a heavy field pack on his back, the taste of dust and sweat in his mouth. He felt like a soldier but wore no uniform.
The storm abated near dawn and the view outside the window cleared, along with his vision, which only offered double of everything. He still needed a minute to steady himself when he stood, and that didn’t feel safe to him. A minute may be a minute too long. He went into the living area and saw Sophie atthe stove, cooking. The scents of eggs and cheese wafted through the house and his stomach growled loud enough for her to hear.
She glanced at him with a smile, “Guess I don’t have to ask if you’re hungry.” She slid the omelet onto plates with a larger portion on one of the dishes.
When she took them to the table he pointed out the discrepancy. “I’m smaller than you, I don’t eat as much,” she said blithely. He selfishly accepted it and sat down to eat. He needed to regain his strength if he was going to meet the unknown danger ahead. And was she at risk for helping him?
“What are the plans for today?” he asked as he dug in.
“See if the boat is okay. I moored it securely yesterday, but I didn’t have a chance to check it out after the storm came. I’m hoping it didn’t swamp with all the rain we had.” She sliced her egg into several small pieces before starting to eat.
“How big is it?”
“Just a small dingy. Big enough to take the bay but not any significant waves,” she said and he wondered if she thought he might force the boat away from her.
“So, it’s big enough for two?” He kept his voice level as he asked.
“Just.”
They finished their breakfast, drinking the last bottles of water and then she washed up while Ephraim went into the bathroom to try to clean some of the sand off of his clothes and body. He stripped his clothes off and shook sand onto the floor, then hung the pants, shirt and his underpants on a door hook before turning on the shower. He dumped sand and a couple of smalls stones from his shoes into the waste basket and set them aside, then tossed the socks, sodden and with a couple of holes from the stones, into the basket. Bottles of body wash and shampoo sat in a decorative basket and he grimaced at the flowery scent but used them liberally. As he showered, he tookinventory of his body. There were some small bruises on his legs and arms but they didn’t look like battle bruising. Maybe from being drug? Or rolled, even, from the pattern on his back when he glanced in the mirror above the sink. All in all, a gash on the head, which he’d unfortunately reopened when he washed his hair, wasn’t bad.
He redressed in the stiff, dirty clothes and then headed to the kitchen area. “Think you can douse me with alcohol again? I think it’s bleeding where I washed my hair.” He tilted his head down to show Sophie and she nodded then retrieved the whiskey and paper towel. After she’d treated the cut, he nodded at the soaked paper and then the trash can she deposited it in. “I can carry the trash out.”
“I’ll need to clean the bathroom and the living area before we leave,” she opened a utility closet door and removed a broom and mop bucket then headed toward the bathroom. Ephraim followed her. “Sorry about the mess.”
She shrugged, “I’m used to it. Most guests try to leave the rentals fairly clean, but some are just slobs. It won’t take too long to clean the bathroom, then I’ll go over the living and kitchen areas and we’ll go.”
He spent a minute watching her efficiently wipe down the shower and tub enclosure, then the sink and start sweeping up the sand he’d absently cast on the floor. He turned and walked into the living area and inspected the space. The sofa cushions were rumpled and there was evidence of sand there as well as on the floor. He’d left some on the upholstered chair he’d sat in too, and the kitchen floor was liberally sprinkled with the stuff. How did people keep up with this stuff always making its way into the cracks and crevices?
He tore off a length of paper towel and dampened it then started wiping the leather sofa cushions. He had to hold onto the rear of the couch to maintain his balance but he finished the jobbefore Sophie came back into the room, carrying the mop and bathroom trash and saw him. “You don’t have to do that,” she said and advanced on him, holding her hand out for the paper towel.
“Why not? I made the mess,” he went to the kitchen and tore off another piece of towel to continue the process. When she reached for the towel, he held it away. “I’m okay, I can do it.”
“Well, let me give you something else to use, then.” She went to the utility closet and returned with a bottle of leather conditioner. “I’ve already gone over it with this but use it, it’ll pick up any dirt or small particles you missed.” She took the paper towel and poured a small amount onto it before folding and opening the paper then handing it to him.
He accepted it from her and went to work. As he wiped the sofa, she took a small vacuum and went over the chair then started sweeping the tiled floor. He noticed her eyes shift to him occasionally and wondered if she were keeping an eye on him for health reasons or because she didn’t trust him.
They finished the chores in good time and when she hefted her backpack and the trash bag he reached and took the plastic bag from her. They left the house and she locked it again then they headed to the dock, dumping the trash along the way.
The small boat had taken on several inches of water, but the dock was still floating. Ephraim insisted on hefting the dingy onto its side to dump the water, though he almost passed out from the pain in his head.
“Sit down, you’re white as a ghost,” Sophie said and pointed to the small wooden piling that stuck out of the ground near the dock. Ephraim didn’t protest and sank onto the rough surface and watched as she quickly set the motor aright and checked it out. A pull on the cord set the small engine sputtering before it leveled out and she flipped a switch, silencing the engine with a sigh. “At least the motor didn’t get flooded.”
He swallowed against bile rising in his throat and wondered if he’d make it to the mainland without losing his small breakfast. He noticed her puttering around the dock, picking up debris and stacking it to the side, walking the dock and peering at the weathered boards making up the small fifteen foot space, and generally wasting time. Grateful he didn’t have to stand for that period, he focused on breathing.
When she came to stand in front of him, Ephraim looked up at her. With the eastern sun behind her, her blond hair appeared like a halo around her head and he wondered if she was in fact, his angel.
“You okay to go?” she asked and gestured toward the boat, bobbing gently along the side of the dock. He swallowed one more time and nodded slowly, then stood and got his bearings. Now, to do the same in a boat on the water.
