Page 40 of Mistletoe

Hal peeked into the bathroom, again ducking his head through the door, which made her feel embarrassed. She and her brother were tall. The bunkhouse had been built with taller people in mind and yet Hal made the cabin feel like it had been designed for children.

His large figure disappeared into the room. Emma heard the squeak of a faucet that did not want to turn and then the flush of the toilet.

“You have indoor plumbing,” he said, sounding amazed.

“Cost a pretty penny, too, out here on the fringes of civilization, but we’re not getting dysentery or cholera. Now, I’d like to clean up.” While they worked, the hour had grown late. The lights from the main house glowed in the dark. “Come on up to the house and have a meal.”

She sensed his hesitation. He glanced down at his hands; dirt caked his fingernails. Frankly, it looked as if he hadn’t made his acquaintance with soap in ages, nor had he used a brush. Before she got too judgmental, she reminded herself that the man had been living in a shack and who knows where before. He had escaped from the vampire’s mountain fortress, if Sheriff Navarre were to be believed. Whatever the case, Emma doubted she’d fare half as well.

He then glanced toward the bathroom. She understood. She didn’t particularly want to take a freezing cold shower.

“You can wash up in the house if you want hot water,” she offered.

“I don’t mind the cold. I’ll be there soon.” He took a towel from the trunk, tossing the fabric over his shoulder.

“Come to the kitchen door on the side of the house.”

As promised, plenty of leftover rabbit and roast potatoes awaited him in the kitchen. Emma washed up with cold water at the sink, then hurried to her room to change into a clean house dress. Once presentable, she hurried back to the kitchen, fixed two plates, and put them on the warmer on top of the stove. With that done, she started heating water for a bath. The stove had a water compartment for a constant supply of hot water, but it wasn’t enough for anything more than a sponge bath. A proper soak took some coordination.

If Hal didn’t want to bathe, she wouldn’t let all the hot water go to waste. As quick and easy as the work had been with Hal’s assistance, she was dusty and sweaty. A bath would be much appreciated.

Her parents had retired to the parlor. She could hear their conversation. Often in the evenings, her mother sat by the hearth and read aloud the newspaper by firelight. Most evenings, Emma read, giving her mother a chance to sew, knit, or do whatever she pleased. Oscar demanded so much of Agatha’s time during the day that Emma was happy to help.

Her mother’s nightly routine ended with a mug of herbal tea. Tonight, though, Emma needed to keep them out of the kitchen and deliver her tea to the parlor.

“Waiting on me hand and foot,” Agatha said with delight. “What’s the occasion?”

“I’m fixing a bath in the kitchen,” Emma answered truthfully, neatly avoiding mentioning Hal.

“Then I won’t disturb you. Good night, sweetheart.” Agatha took a sip of the tea and nodded in approval.

One task done.

Now, how to get a very large orc into a distressingly small tub.

A blast of cold air signaled Hal’s arrival. Emma currently struggled to position the hip tub in front of the hearth, which was typically a two-person job. Her father insisted that copper kept the heat better, but it was far heavier than a tub made of tin.

With a hand massaging her back, she turned to face the door.

Hal stood in the doorway, the red scarf clutched in his hands.

Clover dashed in through the open door and headed straight for her favorite spot, the hearth.

Hal stared at Clover. “Is that a cat?”

“Yes.”

“A cat cat? Not a hybrid or an alien animal that looks like a cat?”

“Clover is a regular cat. Now, don’t stand there letting the heat out. Come in,” Emma said, waving him inside.

He stooped down to avoid hitting his head in the doorway. “Let me,” he said, picking up the tub.

“Thank you. It’s heavier than it looks.”

In the light, it was hard to avoid how lean he looked. His face was gaunt. The scars seemed pale and more prominent against his green complexion. She wondered if the scars hurt from the cold. His clothes were stained with mud and comically too short. The deputy’s coat was the only garment that fit him correctly, and it was also too short, ending abruptly at the knees.

His gaze bounced from the tub to Emma and back. “I will go if I’m disturbing you.”

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