“Of course, ye’re welcome to call me Yeti-man, if ye’d rather.”
I smirked. “Matty lass and the Yeti-man. Sounds like the title of a bad romance novel.” When the words registered, I grimaced.
“Ye never ken,” he said. “Perhaps a good one.”
He’d said it so softly, it sent more chills racing through me. This time, they bounced back and forth like a pinball before they disappeared. But I kept my back to him and pressed his shirt down into the largest pan he had. Then I emptied the pot of fresh water on top and set it on the ledge so the water wouldn’t heat and cook the blood into the fibers.
I went to the shelf and grabbed a book, set it on the chair, and carried the chair back to the side of the bed, hoping the color of my face had returned to normal. “Are you warm enough?”
“Aye.”
I came around the chair to sit beside him. It was then I realized I’d grabbed the bible. He noticed and laughed again. “A fine choice, under the circumstances, aye?”
I rolled my eyes and set the book on the blanket beside his leg, then leaned forward and pushed the hair away from his brow. “You’re going back to sleep, remember?”
He closed his eyes like a good little boy and inhaled deeply. With only his battered face visible, my body settled down and I relaxed.
“I’m sorry you’re in pain,” I said softly. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“Aye, but ye should.” He kept his eyes shut. “Truth be told, I was proud of ye.”
“Proud?”
“Auch, pleased then, that ye defended yerself sae well. I apologize for frightening ye.”
“I already forgave you, remember?”
He smiled. “So ye did.”
“I’m still sorry you’re in pain.”
“Auch, the worst of it is over. By mornin’, I reckon we’ll ken how close to that bubble ye got m’ nose.”
“I’ll say an extra prayer.”
The rich sound of his laughter had the same effect on me that the sight of his bare chest had. And my mind searched frantically for something else that might make him laugh again. But he needed to sleep. And I’d have time to try later.
I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been able to make Nick laugh. At the moment, I couldn’t even remember what that sounded like…
Kee-un’s hair hadn’t moved, but I brushed it to the side again anyway. The way his forehead smoothed in reaction made me do it again. In the stillness, interrupted only by his quiet breathing, the crackle of the fire, and the dying whispers of the wind, there was no one around to stop me, or judge me when I ran my fingers up into his hair and gently massaged his head. And the longer I did it, the deeper he breathed.
I remembered a woman whose baby started fussing loudly. By the time I’d taken a little basket to their table, full of toys we kept for just such occasions, the baby had quieted. His mother soothed him by slowly rubbing his chubby hands. I still remember the look on the little guy’s face, mesmerized and totally relaxed.
I also remembered thinking it was a magic trick, and I swore I wouldn’t forget, so I could try it on my own child one day. But since it didn’t look like that was ever going to happen, I figured I could try it on my Yeti-man. If it could work on him, it could work on anyone.
I slipped my hand beneath his. Palm to palm, I wrapped my fingers around his thumb and wrist, then used my other hand to massage the back and sides of his hand, then his fingers, one at a time. I painted his skin with the tips of my fingers, and by the time I’d finished with his palm, he was snoring away, louder than before. It could have been the pain pills kicking in, but I chose to believe I had worked my own bit of magic.
I wanted to wake him up and try it again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The wind was finally dying down. The snow waned and strengthened, like it didn’t want to give up the fight just yet. But I knew it was getting warmer outside, if only a little, because the icicles hanging a few feet out from the windows had turned clear and began to drip.
One thing about having a shaggy roof was getting hundreds of long, thin icicles that sparkled, no matter what time of day, and made it feel like it was Christmas again.
I would have gone out to grab some and eat them, but that would wake the patient. So to take my mind off food, I went back to the trunk of Yeti-man treasures and started snooping again.
Beneath the delicate folds of plaid cloth, I found two tall stacks of books and wondered why he didn’t keep them on the shelf with the others. There was a thick math book from simple equations up to trigonometry, but the instructions must have been Gaelic because I couldn’t read a word. A Scottish history book, same language. And a world history book. Larger books at the bottom of the stack included fine art, science, agriculture, and social studies. It looked like he’d kept everything from high school. Maybe college.
