Page 37 of Brian and Cora
The woman beamed. “I’d love to visit.”
Brian leaned forward and held out a hand for Seth to take. “Can’t thank you enough for everything.” The statement felt soinadequate to convey his feelings. I’m a writer. I should have more words to express the depth of my appreciation.
Instead of quickly letting go, Seth held on for just a few extra seconds before releasing Brian’s hand and glancing from him to Hank. “What we went through that day at the McCurdy hideout forged…”
“Friendships like no other,” Hank finished the thought for him.
For a moment, Brian forced himself to put aside his bad humor. He was still irked with his friend but had come to realize that Andre Bellaire was a force of nature even his friend couldn’t completely stand against.
Hank strode to the coatrack, took his hat, and placed it on his head. “I’ll be back in the morning and bringing Sassy Girl.” He shot the nurse a charming grin. I hope you won’t mind looking after Brian’s puppy. Probably be far easier than looking after Brian.”
The woman suppressed a smile. But her eyes danced. “I had a dog as a child. Adored him. A puppy will bring positive energy into this house.”
Positive energy. Bah! What kind of nonsensical metaphysical talk was that? With the door shut behind them, Brian scowled at the woman—the expression he used in the past to send any other delicate young lady fleeing his presence. Just for annoyance’s sake, he added a growl. That should do it.
Her concerned expression didn’t change. “I know the pain is making you cranky.”
“Cranky!” Brian fired back. “I’m no child in need of a nap.”
She smiled and patted his shoulder in a there, there movement. “A nap is exactly what you need,” she soothed. “Rest will help you heal.”
“Being left alone without any officious nursemaids is what will let me heal.”
Seeming undeterred, she touched his arm. “I know it’s early. But let’s tuck you into bed for the night. Let’s get you clean and comfortable first.”
‘Let’s,’ he harrumphed. How is she staying so calm?
“Soon, you’ll feel better and not be so crotchety.”
“Crotchety!” he ground out. “First you make me into a petulant child. Now, you make me sound like an old woman.”
She flashed him a sunny smile. “Well, if the shoe fits.”
He bared his teeth and growled, louder and longer, which should have done the trick of frightening her all the way down the mountain. But before she turned away and bustled toward the stove, he glimpsed a smirk, which only aggravated him more.
He narrowed his eyes at a small hutch and the brown transferware dishes on the rack. He imagined picking them up one by one and hurling them at her. That would break her complacency. She’s lucky I can’t get to them. The thought gave him some satisfaction, before a niggle of shame made his imagination back off. He wouldn’t really hurt a woman or throw things at her. He just wanted this one to be fed up with his piss-poor attitude and march the heck off.
She poured the dirty water from the basin into the bucket under the dry sink and added some warm water. Carrying the basin, a bar of white soap, a small towel, and a washcloth, she returned, setting the bowl on the table and dipping the cloth into the water.
Oh, no! She’s not going to bathe me like a babe. If she tries, I’ll toss the whole thing at her, and she’ll be soaking wet.
Don’t be childish, Brian. His mother’s voice in his head chided. He hadn’t sensed Mama’s presence in a very long time, and he swiftly banished the thought of her. He had enough problems with the real woman in front of him without having to also deal with a dead one.
Wisely, his nursemaid seemed to read his mind, handing him the washcloth and soap before moving the bowl closer. “Just your face and hands tonight. We’ll do a more complete sponge bath and I can shave you tomorrow after you’ve rested.”
“I can shave myself,” he snapped. “Bathe myself.”
“Suit yourself.” Although she stressed the last syllable, she did so in a calm tone, giving no hint of irritation.
Relieved she wasn’t going to wash his face, Brian fingered the cloth, thicker than he expected, and composed of tiny loops.
“It’s called terry cloth. I’d never seen that material before living here. Only the best for Mr. Bellaire, though. I think you’ll like the feel.” She turned and gathered up the dishes, taking them to the dry sink.
He ran the cloth over his face. The moist heat felt good on his dusty skin. Although he’d slit his throat before admitting it to the woman, he did like the soft feel—at least the part of his face that wasn’t covered with the stubble of his beard, which interfered with a smooth glide over his chin, cheeks, and neck.
He didn’t look at her, deliberately putting his full attention into soaping the cloth, cleaning his face, and then rinsing both. Next, he thoroughly soaped his hands, before dipping them into the water for a rinse and drying them on the towel.
Brian knew he should thank her. Under normal circumstances, he would thank her. But since these weren’t normal circumstances and he didn’t want to thank her, he clenched his jaw on the words. The worse he behaved, the sooner he could drive her away.
