MY FOOLISH HEART
MY FOOLISH HEART
The first thing I was conscious of were hands. Hands that stroked my face with calm and ease, their warmth and softness trying to sooth, instead stinging my raw flesh. My eyes flew open, meeting another pair of eyes, soft brown, heavy with fear.
"Rafferty? Can you hear me?"
I opened my mouth, moved my lips. Nothing would come out. Lou's hand rested on my cheek. It burned.
"Rafferty?"
"Please..." I finally managed to croak. "Don't...touch me."
She snatched her hand away, wounded.
"Sorry...it hurts," I mumbled by way of explanation. She nodded, understanding. "Can I get you anything?"
The next word startled her with its firmness. "Water." My throat was parched.
Lou dashed to the kitchen, quickly filling a cup with water,
bringing it back to me with the same urgency. She handed the cup to me, but
my hands
shook, spilling the water onto the blanket that was wrapped around me. With
calm assurance, Lou covered my hand with her own, wrapping my fingers around
the cup, holding it steady while I lifted my head to drink. My head felt heavy
and unbalanced on my shoulders. I felt her free hand
steal around to steady me and I took a long gulp of the water. It was the best
water I had ever tasted. I pulled my lips away and whispered, "Enough."
Gently Lou lowered my head back onto the couch and set the water down on the floor. I squinted, looking up. It was bright outside. "When did you...find me?" I had to swallow between words. Every time I opened my mouth my throat dried up.
"Later that same night," she answered.
"What?" I asked in surprise. What did she mean 'later that same night'?
"You said to give you an hour, so I gave you two. After
that I started gettin' worried. So I went lookin' for you. I found you sprawled
out in the
snow halfway between the house and the barn, bleedin' six ways to Sunday. That
was the day before yesterday."
"God..." I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. It felt strange knowing a day of my life had passed by without my being aware of it. Then another thought occurred to me. I opened my eyes again. "How...how the hell did you get me in here?"
Lou grinned triumphantly. "It wasn't easy, I can tell you that much. You were dead weight! But I pushed and I pulled and I got you here. I'm stronger than I look, you know."
"I believe you."
We regarded each other quietly.
"I'm glad you're all right, Rafferty."
"I don't know how to thank you, Lou. You saved my life." My voice had gained strength once more. Her eyes were soft and forgiving. "Don't mention it. You'd have done the same for me."
I smiled. She had no idea how much I would do for her. I would
save her life or give my own, whatever the need required. I closed my eyes,
tired
again. "Thank you, Louise."
I heard the laughter in her voice as I drifted off once more. "I told you not to call me Louise."
I slept most of the day and woke again at dusk. I could smell biscuits nearly ready, and another, unidentifiable odor. "Lou?" I called out.
Within seconds she was at my side. "What do you need? Can I get you somethin'?"
"No, I'm fine." I was relieved. Just knowing she was there made me feel better. "I'm fine," I said again.
She relaxed into a smile. "Good. I'll bring you your supper."
My stomach rebelled at the thought. I groaned. "Oh, God, no food. No thank you, Lou."
Lou frowned, hands on her hips. "I didn't ask if you were hungry."
She whirled around, heading to the kitchen, and when she came back she had a
steaming bowl and a plate of biscuits in her hands. "Scoot over."
She nudged me with her hip as she sat by my side.
Pushing at the cushions with both hands, I managed to sit up straight and
lean against the arm of the couch. I looked down at the bowl she held out,
eyeing the mass of what looked like congealed gravy, with uncertainty. "I'm
not hungry."
"Eat." Her voice was steely. "Don't make me feed you like a baby, Rafferty Nolan."
I grinned. "That doesn't sound so bad," I teased. She rolled her eyes and shoved the bowl and spoon at me. I took a tentative bite. My mouth filled with the most awful taste I had ever encountered: something that was somewhere between oatmeal and grits, with a godawful amount of salt. I coughed and spluttered, trying to swallow and failing miserably. "Water," I croaked.
Lou quickly handed me the water and I drank it in three big gulps. She stared at me in surprise. "Don't you like it?"
"I hope you don't cook for your 'boys' the way you cook for me!" I replied, running my tongue along my teeth, hoping to scrape off the flavor that still lingered. "Good God, Lou, if you were trying to kill me, you should have just left me out in the snow! I'd much rather die of frostbite, I can assure you!"
For a second she looked as if she wanted to strangle me, but then she threw her head back and laughed. "You're so dramatic!" she said.
"I'm not being dramatic. If anything, I'm understating! This is really awful, Lou. Who taught you to cook?"
"I taught myself," she said indignantly.
"Well, I don't know whether you're a poor teacher or a poor student, but either way, you shouldn't be allowed near a kitchen." I tossed the spoon in the bowl and wolfed down a biscuit.
She laughed again, shaking her head in amusement. "You sound like Jimmy."
I paused as I tore another shred of biscuit. "Who's Jimmy?"
"One of the boys I lived with." She stopped, a strange look crossing
her face as she realized she had spoken in the past tense. "Live with,"
she
said. "One of the boys I live with."
I continued on, pretending not to notice. "What are they like, these boys of yours?"
"They're a mess," she said, breaking into a radiant smile. For
the next two hours Lou described her friends to me as I ate biscuit after biscuit.
I heard about them all: Jimmy, Noah, Ike, Teaspoon, Rachel, Emma, Sam, Buck,
Cody, and the Kid. Especially the Kid. She went on at great length about him,
how handsome he was, how kind, how sweet, how loyal and upstanding and gentle
and just generally perfect in every way. It was clear
the sun rose and set on the man's shoulders. I tried to hate him, but I just
couldn't. Her praise was extravagant but sincere. She didn't idealize this
man, she saw him as he was, and he was wonderful to her. When she had finished
describing everything from Cody's snoring to Ike's teasing to Emma and Sam's
marriage, I sat back and looked at the bright, happy smile on her pretty face.
She had a distant look, as if her mind was far away.
"They sound terrific," I said.
She replied simply, "They are. They're my family."
I moved against the couch, wincing as my side hit the cushion.
"Let's take a look at those wounds of yours." She became business-like, throwing the covers aside and peering over my bare foot. I looked, too. She had bandaged it very well. She poked it gently with her finger. "That hurt?"
I gritted my teeth. "It's tolerable."
"Well, you should stay off it for the next several days."
"Certainly, Doctor Lou."
She moved to examine the back of my head, touching the tender bruise. I hissed with pain and she clucked sympathetically. "Now the shirt," she said. I stared in alarm. "I beg your pardon?"
"Come on, don't be shy. I've dressed it twice already, I can dress it again."
"No, I don't think so, Lou."
"What a baby! Lord, Rafferty, it ain't like I've never seen a man's bare chest before!"
I blushed.
"Oh, now don't tell me a ladies man like yourself don't like the thought of a lady seein' him without his shirt on."
"Those circumstances were...different," I finished lamely.
"How were they different?"
Because I didn't give a toss about impressing those women, I thought, and because I didn't love them. But in response, I only shrugged.
"Off with the shirt, Rafferty."
Reluctantly I began to unbutton my shirt. I was being ridiculous, of course; as Lou herself had pointed out, she had been the one dressing my wounds to begin with. What was the difference now? There bloody well was a difference, and there was no way I could tell her. My hands and fingers were very weak, the life only just returning to them, so the process was slow. Once finished, I spread my shirt out and waited as Lou performed her inspection.
The blood had soaked clean through the bandage. Lou made another clucking noise and reached for the bandages that rested by the couch, her free hand resting on my bare chest. I squirmed under her touch. "Uncomfortable?"
Not quite in the way she meant. "I'm fine," I assured her.
She made quick work of removing the soiled bandage and daubing it with the ointment she had found in my bags. She covered the wound once more and secured it to my skin with a final pat. "There," she said, pleased with her work.
I looked down at the finished product. "I must say, you make a much better doctor than you do a chef."
"Very funny," she shot back. She began to roll up the cotton roll once more.
"Lou?"
"Hmm?" She looked back at me. I took her hand in mine. I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I did. I sat up again, our face inches apart. I looked into her eyes. "Thank you, Lou," I whispered.
She blinked. "You're welcome."
She was so close and she smelled fresh and sweet. She was the most amazing woman I'd ever known, and I'd only known her a few days...during one of which I was completely unconscious. She had teased me and taunted me, beaten me at Checkers, made me horrible porridge and saved my life. If that wasn't enough reason to love her, there would never be enough reason.
"Lou..." I whispered, moving my head to hers in the age old style of a man who wants to kiss a woman. She closed her lids over her dark brown eyes, and then I closed mine, intent, impatient, waiting for the moment when our lips would meet. But what I felt instead was the cool firmness of her fingertips.
I opened my eyes and stared right into hers. We were so close that when she blinked, her eyelashes brushed my cheek. Her hand was at my mouth, stopping me from moving further.
"Rafferty, don't..."
I moved back, offended and angry as only a man can be when he has been rejected. "Fine," I said.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," I said coolly. "What have you got to be sorry for? Any woman in your situation would do the same." I sank back down among the cushions, buttoning my shirt again.
"No," she said helplessly. "Rafferty, it's so much more than that."
I cut her off with a wave of my hand. "Forget it. You don't owe me an explanation."
"I think you feel somethin' for me that I don't feel for you. Rafferty, even if you weren't the man who'd kidnapped me, I still couldn't...be with you. I love someone else. I don't mean to hurt you. You've been so nice, considering the circumstances --"
Oh, God, she was pitying me. This was not to be tolerated. "Look," I broke in with a short laugh. "I think you're reading much more into this than is actually there, Lou. You're overreacting. It was just an attempt at a kiss. A kiss doesn't always have to mean something."
The look in her eyes...as if I had slapped her. "Oh," she said softly, coloring with embarrassment. "I thought..."
"Never mind," I said softly. "It doesn't matter, Lou."
She rose and ran her hands over her hips, coughing nervously. "Can I get you anything?" she asked again.
I closed my eyes. "No," I whispered. Nothing you'd be willing to give.