All of these aches and hurts, she decided, are badges of courage, not marks of dishonor. They are battle wounds, tokens of her survival. She determined she would not allow her captors another victory over her by succumbing to an undeserved shame. Even as she grappled with the concept on a purely cognitive level, her pep talk unfortunately did not reach into her subconscious. There, her spirit still dwelt in darkness, and she knew it. But, it was a start. It was a step forward on the road to healing her emotional wounds. She was smart enough to know it wouldn’t be easy, that the way would be obscured by unreasonable and unpredictable obstacles. She couldn’t begin to foresee them all; she was traveling without a map. But, she consoled herself the best she could and hugged her arms around her shoulders there in the water.
One thing she knew for certain, she would never be the same again. However she came out on the other side of this, she would be a new person. Maybe a better one, but maybe not.
Clark came to mind and the thought of her husband made her apprehensive for some reason. Some men couldn't handle it when their lovers, wives, or girlfriends were abused. They turned away, lost their feelings, or even blamed the woman. But Clark wasn’t like those men. Clark wouldn’t turn away from her over an act she had no power to prevent. At least she hoped he wouldn’t.
The water was now dirty and becoming quite cool. Even though she hadn’t washed to her satisfaction, Brook stood and sat on the edge of the tub. Swinging her legs out, she gradually put pressure on her feet and dried, careful of her many wounds. The towels weren’t soft like the ones at home as they had been line dried; no clothes dryer in this neck of the woods.
Pouring warm water from a pitcher into a basin, Brook dipped her washcloth, and began cleaning her private areas more completely. Pain raged through her and she cried out involuntarily.
Lance called from the other room, “Is everything okay? Do you need help?”
“I’m fine,” Brook lied, around the pain. “I just hit a tender spot.” Boy did I ever. And, I’m not done yet.
She finished washing, rinsing the cloth in the tub and then in clean water several times before she felt at least halfway decent, but not really clean. She didn’t know if she’d ever feel clean again. What she wanted at this point was a douche, but it wasn't likely Lance would happen to have one of those lying around. This was the best she could do in that regard.
She rinsed and towel dried her hair, breathing heavily from the exertion of the bath. After pulling a comb through the tangled mop several times, she saw a slight improvement in her appearance.
Brook sat on the lid of the commode and put on a soft blue flannel shirt. Next, she suppressed a smile at the huge pair of boxer shorts and the safety pin attached to the waistband. She slipped into a pair of gray sweats and tightened the drawstring, pulling the legs up over her knees so she could tend to her wounds. She found it difficult to care for the big cut on the back of her leg and the damage to the bottoms of her feet. After treating her accessible wounds she stopped, and rested.
She could hear Lance’s movements in the other room, pans being stirred, dishes clinking, and the tiny metal sounds of silverware being pulled from a drawer. These were homey familiar sounds in an unfamiliar environment, and she wondered about the man. He seemed so self-sufficient. Needing no one else, living out here in his rustic home, raising his animals, and hunting his own food. What would make a man live this way? Finally, she called out in a tiny voice, “Can you help me with the bandages?”
The noise in the kitchen stopped and a moment later Lance’s voice came from outside the door. “Did you call?”
“Yes,” Brook said, wishing she didn’t need to ask for help but having no choice. “Can you help me with my leg and feet?”
“Of course. Are you ready for me to come in now?” Lance asked. After receiving an affirmative, he opened the door and entered.
He moved past Brook and reached into the tub, pulling the plug, and releasing the water to flow into gray-water storage. Turning, he saw a look of humiliation on her face. “What?”
“I didn’t know if I could just pull the plug. Everything is so different here. I’m not a slob, really.”
“I never thought you were. I figured it was just as you said.” He smiled gently. “Now, let me at those wounds.” The room was filled with his presence, which made Brook uneasy, but she fought to overcome the feeling.
Lance treated and bandaged her leg and then turned his attention to her feet. “I’m going to have to spend some time on these pretty soon. There’s still debris in some of the cuts and we need to get it out so you don’t get infected. But, for right now I’ll just apply some drawing salve and bandage them.” He followed his words with the deed, pulled down her pant legs and rolled them up so she wouldn’t trip on them, then he slipped a clean pair of socks over the bandages. “There, all set. Are you ready to go out?”
“Not quite yet.” She smiled a soft smile and he gave her knee a friendly pat, washed his hands, and left the room.
Brook sat on the edge of the tub, wondering how long the bath had taken. Her ability to track time was severely compromised. As far as she could determine, it had been about an hour. Her thoughts tumbled; how long had she been a captive? She thought it had been less than a week. It amazed her that it could take less than a week to forever alter the person she was. But then, she supposed, sometimes it took only a moment. Sadness pressed down on her spirit and she sighed as she stood.
Looking into the mirror, she worked the strands of hair into some semblance of a style with her fingers. She leaned over the basin, brushed her teeth, rinsed and spit. Some lip balm would feel good, she thought, and remembered she’d had some in her purse at one time. She realized with a shock that she hadn’t brought her purse into the bathroom with her and became anxious.
She opened the door and limped a few steps. Lance dropped what he was doing, and came to her side. Wordlessly, he supported her with an arm as he led her to the table where a feast awaited her. She clung to his sleeve as she lowered herself onto the bench seat, glancing over to the bed to make sure her bag was still there. It was.
Chapter 32
Lance and Brook talked as they ate. He was surprised at how the words kept rolling out of him. Lance hadn’t enjoyed a good conversation with anyone for longer than he could remember. He told Brook about fixing up the cabin, about his adventures in homesteading and raising animals, the general location of the cabin, and how long he had been there. He found she was easy to talk to. For her part, she welcomed the distraction from her inner thoughts.
“With your skills, you could easily find a job,” she said encouragingly. “I’m sure there are lots of employers who would be happy to hire you. You don’t have to live like this.”
He stared at her for a moment, realizing she had misunderstood his life entirely.
“I’m not out here because I have no other choice.” He smiled at her. “I know I might look like some crazy hermit down on his luck, but I actually chose this life. I love it here.”
“I’m sorry.” Her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean any offense.”
“It’s okay; none taken.” He was quick to ease her embarrassment. “It’s not the kind of life everyone would want. But it works for me. It’s better for me out here. I wasn’t very happy before I came here.”