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“We’ll see,” he mumbled, clearly going back into his own head again as he trod down the hallway, headed for the back door.
She hurried to catch up, following him outside onto a covered back porch—screened in—that ran the length of the house. It was a peaceful spot, and would be well-used once Doug had some furniture.
Without giving her a chance to ogle, Doug pushed out the screen door and marched down toward the lake.
Pixie quickly attempted to follow, but realized—after a few paces—that her heels weren’t going to cut it on the soft ground-cover, so she toed them off, turning just far enough to leave them inside the door. She then attempted to catch up with Doug, as fast as her hip would allow.
“You know,” she finally said, when she’d nearly reached his side, “if you’re still not comfortable, and want to put off—”
“No, Pixie. I need to get my shit out in the open. And…” he groaned, “I need to do it before we eat because my stomach is in knots thinking about it.”
“Whatever is good for you, Doug. I’m not pushing anything. This is all dependent on your comfort level. Take your time.”
He nodded, tight-jawed, leading the way to their picnic spot.
By the time they reached the singular, wooden table that sat ten feet from the water’s edge, Pixie knew it should be a solemn moment, but she couldn’t help when a chuckle escaped as she glanced down at her feet. The pine-needles that had been so soft and forgiving beneath her toes, making the walking easy,had allowed sap to adhere to her soles like a rough, porcupine blanket.
“I look like Sasquatch,” she snorted, lifting one to show him.
Doug actually snickered, losing his edginess for the moment. “You want to wash off in the lake before we sit down?”
Pixie chewed her lip. “I do, but how will I get from there back to the table without picking up a new layer?”
“I’ll…” Doug took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I’ll carry you.Ifyou don’t think it will hurt your hip,” he added quickly, like if he didn’t get it all out, he might change his mind.
“That’s a sweet offer, Doug, but I can just put up with—”
“No. I can carry you, Pixie.” He firmed his jaw. “It shouldn’t be a big deal.”
Shouldn’t, but probably is,Pixie thought. Still, if it brought Doug one step closer to dealing with his demons, she’d accept his gesture.
“Okay.” She didn’t look back at him as she headed toward the water’s edge where tiny ripples lapped gently toward a small strip of sand. Someone, at one time, had enjoyed a beach. Maybe Doug would someday renew it.
While she waded in, she heard Doug arrange their food on the table, but instead of looking back to assess his state of mind, she gave him time with his thoughts, concentrating instead on scrubbing the soles of her feet across the gritty lake-bottom. The water was brisk but refreshing, and before she knew it, she’d waded in to her knees.
One foot was clean within minutes, but the other was proving to be a bit more stubborn. She finally raised it, intent on picking off some of the harder crust. She was almost done when the single foot on which she stood, rocked. She gave a hop and landed on something sharp.
“Eeep!”
She lost her balance, and without two functional arms to windmill her back to center, gravity took hold, her bad hip buckle, and down she went. Pixie was just able to twist so that her ass hit the water first with her upper torso following, but by the time she came to a stop, even her head had submerged.
The water was cold, and the shock had her gasping as she came to the surface, sputtering away the mouthful of water she’d swallowed.
“Pixie!” Doug’s frantic voice reached her ears, and she should have felt chagrined, but the hilarity of the situation suddenly struck her, and she burst into laughter instead.
“I’m fine, Doug,” Pixie assured him, but without the use of one arm, and with her hip not responding, she was unable to get to her feet. More laughter bubbling up in her gut wasn’t helping.
“Stay put,” Doug’s voice was suddenly right next to her ear. “I’ve got you.”
More gently than she would have thought possible, Doug leaned down, shirtsleeves rolled up, and lifted her free of the chilling water, careful to make sure that her good hip rested up against him as he brought her aloft. “Damn, Pixie. Are you sure you didn’t damage anything?” he asked, his voice fraught with worry.
“Just my pride,” she assured him, but the air which had seemed warm earlier, suddenly sent a chill through her body, and she shivered despite the heat rolling off of Doug’s chest where she was cradled.
“Dammit.” Doug’s growl brought her chin up and had her examining his handsome, unhappy face. “You need to get into something dry.”
He carried her to the picnic table, and eased her down so that she was sitting on the wide top facing him, then he turned his back to her and begun unbuttoning his shirt.
“Take that wet dress off, and I’ll give you my shirt,” he ordered.
