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Cooper must have noticed that at the same time, because he shifted his eyes away from it and ran his hands nervously up and down his pants legs. “I think the water’s just about ready.”
Rusty assembled her precious cache of toiletries—a bar of scented soap, a small plastic bottle of shampoo, her razor—on the seat of the chair near the tub.
Earlier in the day, she had separated the meager clothing they had left and neatly folded and stacked it on separate shelves, one for her, one for Cooper. She took a fresh pair of long johns and a tank top from her stack now and draped them over the back of the chair.
When everything was ready, she stood awkwardly by while Cooper carefully carried the heavy pots of boiling water across the room and poured them into the tub. Steam rose out of it, but as far as Rusty was concerned it couldn’t be too hot. She had four days’ accumulation of grime and fatigue to soak away. Besides, she was accustomed to spending several minutes each day in her hot tub at home.
“What do I dry with?” she asked.
Cooper tossed her a coarse, dingy towel from the pile of bedding he’d carried in earlier. “I found a couple of these hanging from nails outside the cabin. I boiled them, too. They’ve never known fabric softener, but they’re better than nothing.”
The towel did feel more like sandpaper than terry cloth, but Rusty accepted it without comment.
“There, that should do it,” Cooper said brusquely, emptying the contents of the last kettle into the tub. “Ease into it carefully. Don’t scald yourself.”
“Okay.”
Standing at opposite sides of the tub, they faced each other. Their eyes met through the rising steam. The humidity was already curling Rusty’s hair and making her complexion look dewy and rosy.
Cooper turned his back abruptly and impatiently swatted aside the curtain. It fell back into place. Rusty could hear his stamping, booted footsteps against the uneven flooring. He went outside and slammed the door closed behind him.
She sighed with resignation. He had a sour disposition and that’s all there was to it. And while she was lolling in her first bath in four days, she certainly wasn’t going to dwell on his personality flaws. She wouldn’t let him spoil this for her, no matter how disagreeable he became.
Because she still avoided putting any weight on her leg, it was a challenge to get out of her clothes. When she had managed that, it was an even greater challenge to ease herself into the bathtub. She was finally able to do so by supporting herself on her arms and sitting down slowly, pulling her sore leg in behind her.
It felt more heavenly than she had allowed herself to anticipate. Cooper had been right to caution her; the water was hot, but deliciously so. The corrugated bottom of the tub felt odd against her buttocks and took some getting used to, but before long the luxury of being submerged in hot, soothing water took her mind off that one minor discomfort.
She immersed as much of herself as possible and rested her head against the rim. Her eyes slid closed. She was so relaxed that she didn’t even flinch when she heard Cooper come back inside. She only frowned slightly when a breath of cold air reached her before he shut the door behind him.
Eventually she extended one dripping arm and took the bar of soap off the seat of the chair. She was tempted to lather herself liberally, wantonly, wastefully. But she thought better of it. This bar of soap might have to last a long time. Better not squander it, she decided, as she worked up an adequate lather and soaped herself all over.
Propping her feet one at a time on the rim of the tub, she shaved her legs, carefully maneuvering the razor around Cooper’s stitching. With anguish she realized what an unsightly scar she was going to have but was ashamed of her vanity. She was lucky to be alive. As soon as she got back to Beverly Hills, she would have a plastic surgeon repair Cooper’s well-intentioned, but unattractive, handiwork.
It struck her then that he was being awfully noisy. “Cooper, what are you doing?”
“Making up the beds,” he said, grunting with the effort. “These frames are made of solid oak and weigh a ton.”
“I can’t wait to lie down on one.”
“Don’t expect it to be much better than the ground. There’re no mattresses. Just canvas platforms like cots. But mattresses would have had lice, so it’s just as well.”
Laying aside her razor, she picked up the bottle of shampoo and after dunking her head beneath the water, squeezed out a dollop. The shampoo would have to be rationed even more sparingly than the soap. She worked it through her thick hair, scrubbing ruthlessly from her scalp to the ends. She dunked her head to rinse it, then wrung out as much water as she could.
Laying her head against the tub’s rim again, she fanned her hair out behind her so it could begin to dry. It would drip on the floor, but water was probably the least offensive substance to ever be dripped on it.
Again, her eyes closed as she luxuriated in the warmth of the water, the floral fragrance of shampoo and soap, and the deliciousness of feeling clean again.
Eventually the water began to cool and she knew it was time to get out. Anyway, she doubted that Cooper would go to bed before she did. He must be exhausted after all he’d done since getting up before daybreak that morning. She had no idea what time it was. The crash had stopped
both their watches. Time was measured by the sun coming up and going down. The days were short, but today had been long—emotionally as well as physically taxing.
She braced her arms on the rim of the tub and tried to push herself up. To her dismay, her arms collapsed like wet noodles. She had stayed in the hot water too long; her muscles were useless. Several times she tried, but to no avail. Her arms simply wouldn’t support her. She devised other plans, but none of them worked because of her sore leg, which she couldn’t put any weight on.
Finally, growing chilled and knowing that the inevitable couldn’t be postponed indefinitely, she bashfully called his name.
“What?”
His irritable response wasn’t too encouraging, but she had no choice. “I can’t get out.”
