Chapter 9
The soup was just as delicious the second time as it was the first. “Thank you,” Issa murmured as she handed the empty bowl back to him. “You’re a very good cook.”
“No, I’m not,” he said cheerfully. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”
She gave him a ghost of a smile, hating that just the act of eating a bowl of soup could exhaust her to the point she wanted to rest.
And she knew those sharp eyes of his missed nothing. He’d seen the weakness on her face yet again. But there was one thing she really hoped she could do, and that was wash up. “I don’t suppose there is any chance of a bath?”
He stopped, frowned, glanced at her, toward the bathroom, and back again.
She shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure how extensive my injuries are, but it seems like a warm bath couldn’t hurt,” she said hopefully.
“I’d love to see you actually get to the bathtub on your own first,” he said as he stood, tapping his foot on the floor, his hands on his hips as he contemplated it.
She winced at the reminder of how much she still depended on him to get to the bathroom. The bathtub was just another trip. And she’d need help to get in and out. “Never mind,” she said hurriedly. “I don’t want to cause any more extra work.”
He snorted. “Running a bath is hardly extra work.” He walked into the bathroom. “The only way to get in is if I carry you, lower you into the water and then scoop you back up again.”
The last thing she wanted was to have this man carry her and treat her like a two-year-old, but her hair was dirty. And even worse, she knew her feet would be also, for, although they had been soaked with antiseptic, the bottoms, the tops, and her toes were grimy. He’d given her a sponge bath, so she certainly shouldn’t be worried about her modesty at this point. But being unconscious and bathed by a stranger was a whole different story than being carried nude into a bathtub and tucked into bed afterward.
“If you’re willing to give me a hand, I should be able to get into the bathtub on my own,” she suggested.
He shook his head. “No, I can carry you to the toilet, but you’re still not able to walk to the bathtub.”
She nodded, resigned. “Maybe in a few days then.”
He gave a muffled exclamation. “If it’ll make you feel better, why the hell not?”
He walked into the bathroom, and she could hear the water starting. And she smiled. She’d do a lot to just get into that tub and soak. Whenever her troubles overcame her, she used to crawl into the hot water and soak. If she could have a natural hot spring on her land, she’d be in heaven. On the other hand, she’d probably stay there every waking moment.
She remembered reading about a certain species of baboon in China that lived at the hot springs. She thought that would be a great animal to reincarnate into.
“I’ll get you another change of clothes. Be right back.” He returned soon enough and left something for her to wear in the bathroom.
When her nose twitched, she realized he’d put something into the bathtub. She wasn’t sure that was the best idea, given all her scratches, and she knew getting in would hurt like crap. Something she hadn’t thought about when she’d asked. Not to mention the stitches on her head and shoulder.
He walked back toward her. “I put a bit of tea tree oil in the water. It’s strong, not terribly nice smelling, but it has antiseptic properties, and all the scratches would benefit from a very good soak.” He paused. “But I’ve got to warn you, it’ll hurt like shit when you get in.”
Her gaze went to the bathtub and back to him. “I was just thinking that.”
He shrugged. “We can give you a bed bath?”
“No, that would hurt also. A real bath would be lovely. The stinging will go away soon enough.” She pulled the blankets back and slowly sat up. She’d been making some headway with moving a little more each time. She rested her feet on the floor and studied them. “Do you think I can put weight on them?”
She was plucked off the bed, held in midair as Eagle said, “Drop your feet to the floor now.”
She slowly stretched her legs out and realized he held her just above the floor. He lowered her until her feet touched the floor.
“Now, with just one foot, try to stand.”
Her feet was swollen, puffy, and felt like there were great big cushions underneath, yet the minute she put her weight on one, she cried out.
“That answers that,” he said, lifting her back up again.
“No wait.” She closed her eyes. “I have to get used to it at some point.”
“Hell no, you don’t. Another few days and we’ll try again. A week, ten days at the most. You don’t have to walk on them when they’re bad.” He walked over to the bathtub, sat her down on the edge, and said, “You might be able to manage this from here.”
Sitting on the edge of the tub, she realized there was a bar on the far side. She glanced at him. “Actually I think I can.”
He frowned, hesitating.
She waved him away with her hands. “Let me try. I promise I’ll call if I get stuck.”
“You have to call anyway when you want out,” he warned. “We can’t risk you falling.”
She nodded. “Let me try first, please.”
As if hearing the sincerity and the need for privacy in her voice, he nodded and walked away.
She slipped the big heavy socks off, hating to leave the warm cocoon. She didn’t realize just how cold she was until she stripped off her clothes. Clothing which was obviously his because the shirt went down to her knees and the pants went up to her armpits.
When her bare bottom touched the edge of bathtub, she gasped. She kept her voice low, but, Lord, it was cold. She pulled her arms inside the T-shirt and carefully pulled it over her head. With all the clothing on the floor, she pivoted gently and slowly dipping her feet into the hot water. Tears filled her eyes. It felt wonderful and terrible at the same time. Every slice, every scratch, every bruise screamed as soon as it met the water. But a few moments later, after the initial pain, everything started to cry with relief.
“It’s a start,” she murmured.
It took another twenty minutes to fully seat herself in the hot water.
When she was stretched full out, she lowered her head to just below the stitches. She lay that way letting the heat soak into her bones. Even though she’d been warmly dressed and under covers, there was such a chill inside.
“Are you okay?” Eagle called out from the hallway.
“I’m better than okay,” she answered. “I’m warm and feel great.”
“Good, watch out for that head injury.”
“It’s the only part of me that’s out of the water.”
She heard him chuckle.
“The tea tree oil … I don’t know how good it is for my hair. It’s probably not the best, but most of the scent is gone anyway. I don’t know if you have any shampoo, but my hair is in rough shape.”
“Soap and shampoo are on the side.”
Twisting slightly she could see both. “Okay. I’m good. I don’t plan on moving until the water turns cold.”
“Good enough. I need to check on the raptors. If you think you’ll be okay, I’ll probably be outside for a good hour.”
“Go,” she called out. “Go look after those that need you more than I do.”
“Will do.”
She heard his boots walking across the floor. And then he was gone. She sank into the water and let her eyes drift closed.
Once again images of wastelands, clefts, oceans, and lakes flew across her mind. She could see the sides of the cliffs, snow dappling across the crags—akin to memories of a flight a long time ago. Yet the only flight she remembered taking that had gone over an ocean would’ve been when they had traveled to America from Ireland. She’d been so young that she didn’t think she remembered anything of that trip.
The more she tried to remember, the more her head pounded. She didn’t know if it was from her head injury or a mental block.
No doubt what she’d been through was horrific, and the details would hurt all that much more when she did recall them. For the moment, she was content to just lie here and rest.
Roash flew into the room and landed on the side of the bathtub. The ceramic was hard for him to grip, so he eventually flew up and landed on the back of the toilet and stared at her.
“It’s okay, Roash. I’m fine.”
Wanting to feel the warm water over her injury just for the peace it would bring her, she dropped her head ever-so-slightly lower, feeling the heat soak into the rough edges of the skin that had been torn. She didn’t know if it was smart or not. It was stinging, but then any water would sting. Taking a chance, she pulled her head completely underwater, swallowing her cries.
After a moment, she came up for air, loving the feeling of her entire scalp soaking in the warm water. With low reserves and not wanting to ask Eagle if she didn’t have to, she pulled herself into an upright position and started with the soap. It was only as she started to lather up and wash her body that she could see the tiny slices in her skin—the details of the damage to her body. With her face to toes scrubbed, she turned her attention to the shampoo.
That was a whole different process. She was forced to stretch out to rinse it, then back up for a second shampoo. By rights her hair should be rinsed the second time under running water, but what she’d done was already awesome. She twisted the long reddish locks to a tight coil and tucked it on itself high on her head. She reached for the towel on the floor, dried her face, neck, shoulders, and hands. Then using the bar at the side of the bathtub, she pulled herself up to sit on the tub edge again.
Her whole body throbbed, but it was a good kind of throbbing. She was drained by the time she finished getting dressed again.
Perched on the bathtub, she studied the floor, wondering if she should try to walk to the bed on her own. Then considered an alternative. With a smile on her face, she slipped down until she sat on the floor and proceeded to scoot slowly to the bed. But the penalty for that was exhaustion. She stretched out on top of the blankets and closed her eyes. She was asleep in seconds.
*
Eagle’s work had backed up. As efficiently as possible, he went to the cages—feeding, cleaning, checking on his charges. Some bandages had to be switched; one had been ripped off, and another splint had been pried apart. The things that some of the birds would do to avoid treatment. Even if for their own good. He patched and soothed from one end of the property to the other.
By the time he was done, he knew he’d burned through the time allotted for Issa’s bath. He’d kept an ear out but hadn’t heard her call. He and the dogs walked back inside; he washed his hands and headed for the spare bedroom. He stopped at the doorway in surprise.
She was fully dressed and stretched out on the bed atop all the covers. There was a damp trail back to the bathroom. A soaking wet towel still lay on the floor. He picked it up, hung it over the shower railing, pulled the plug in the bathtub, not surprised to see the grayish-blackish water as it disappeared. He used the showerhead to give the bathtub a quick rinse and turned back to check on her.
As he got closer, he could see her hair was twisted into a knot. And, of course, she’d soaked her stitches. They looked pretty good. The skin was less angry, and she hadn’t torn anything open. So, no harm done.
He shifted her lower half, pulling the blankets free, tucked her underneath, and covered her back up again. She murmured gently in her sleep but didn’t wake up.
Back in the kitchen he put on another pot of coffee. Just as he was thinking about food for himself, his cell phone rang. He picked it up, but there was only static. “Hello?”
No answer. Frowning, he ended the call and placed the phone on the counter beside him. He had a thawed steak in his fridge. He popped it into a frying pan and added a couple eggs. When the time was right, he took it off. Just as he sat down to eat breakfast, his cell phone rang again. He glanced at it, but it didn’t show a number. “Hello?”
Again static, nothing else. He tossed it down on the table. Obviously somebody was having trouble getting through to him. He shook his head. It was just one more of the many odd things going on right now. He dug into his steak, and his cell rang again. He picked it up. This time it displayed Gray’s number. “What’s up?”
“You could give me an update,” Gray said testily. “I know you like to be alone, but the least you could do for an old man is let me know if she’s alive or dead.”
“She’s alive. She’s in bed and improving.”
“That’s it?”
“I know this sounds bizarre, but she really wanted a bath.” He wasn’t sure what made him add that part except, to him, it was a sign of progress.
“So, she’s conscious? Who the hell is she? What the hell happened to her?” Gray exploded. “Jesus, man, you could’ve at least told me that she woke up.”
Eagle pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Gray. I’ve been a little busy.”
“I get that,” Gray said quietly. “But a little common courtesy for somebody who is part of this would help.”
“Sorry,” Eagle repeated, knowing his friend was right. There’d been time to call, but he hadn’t thought to.
“Whatever. If she is doing better, can I come by? If not today, maybe tomorrow? Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m fine and yes you can come by.” Gray hung up, and Eagle studied his phone. At least his phone worked this time. But if Gray had been upset that Eagle hadn’t updated him, he could just imagine how Annie felt, and she was even tougher with Eagle. He took another bite of steak, chewing while he dialed Annie’s number.
“A progress report?”
He smiled. Annie, she didn’t sound any different. “She’s better. Still can’t put any weight on her feet. She just had a bath.”
“You put her in a bath?” she asked in surprise. “Isn’t that a little fast?”
“She requested it. She was bloody, tired, and cold.”
“That cold isn’t good. Her body should be dealing with the chills by now.”
“I don’t know how to warm her up any more than I already am. She’s eating hot soup. She’s under the covers, and she’s wearing my old sweats. She should be warm. The house is hot.” He turned to glance at the woodstove, realizing he probably needed to bring in another armload of wood to keep it going for her. “I’m hot.”
“You’re not injured. And you’re not lacking nutrition from the last however many days or weeks. Her body is fast burning through everything you can give her to eat.”
“I’d give her more, but I don’t think her stomach could handle it,” he admitted. “She’s had a bit of coffee and a bit more soup.”
“That’s good. I presume she’s asleep after the bath. When she wakes up, try to get some protein in her. Even if it’s just a couple scrambled eggs.”
“Will do.” He hung up and proceeded to finish the steak.
When the phone rang again, he didn’t see a caller ID on the screen. He answered, “Hello?”
Static and yet not static. As if somebody really was trying to get through to him. “Hello, anyone there?”
There was a funny odd buzz, like a voice from a long way away trying to reach through the static. Eagle shook his head and shut down the phone. “Sorry. Don’t know who or why you are trying to get a hold of me, but it’s not working.”
He checked his watch and realized it was past ten already. All the work he needed to get done today was done. He had phone calls he’d planned to make but hadn’t gotten to. He grabbed his phone again, pulled up his notepad with the list of local falconry clubs. The first number, he got no answer; the second number, a man answered.
Eagle said, “I’m looking for a woman named Issa. I thought she was a member of the falconry club.”
“She’s a member, but we don’t have any contact information for her. Even if we did, it’s our policy not to hand out personal information,” the voice said apologetically.
Eagle glanced at the notepad and realized he’d called a Tom Folgers. “Tom, is there anything you can tell me about her?”
“Why? Who is this?”
“I run the raptor center out of Colorado, and I have a couple falcons I was looking to have her help me with,” he improvised. “I tried calling once before but couldn’t reach anyone.”
“Sometimes no one’s here to answer the phones.” Tom seemed to calm down then. “Issa comes in sometimes. But we haven’t seen her for months now.”
“I was trying to get a list of her credentials. Can you spell her last name?”
“The last name isn’t so bad, but the first one is deadly.” He chuckled and said, “Issa’s last name is McGuire.”
“She’s not on your website.”
“No, she’s not a full member because she doesn’t have her own falcon, so she’s not on there. All the pictures there are members with their own falcons.”
Eagle nodded. “That makes sense.” He now realized all the pictures were of one human and one falcon.
“She went to the university here too. I know she just finished her doctorate, so you might find more information from them on her.”
“Thank you very much.” He hung up, not wanting to push the issue and ring any alarm bells for Tom. Eagle looked at her last name, typed it into the search bar, and came up with several articles. One was an obituary with another name. Marie McGuire.
Age sixty-two, deceased on August 26. That was five weeks ago.
Pulling on his search skills, mostly learned in the military, he hunted down property records to see where Issa might’ve been living. Her mother’s apartment came up. As well as a PO box for Issa but no physical address.
Interesting. Eagle remembered she had talked about a cabin, which could mean very rural, as in it didn’t have anything other than a lot number.
With the PO box number, he phoned the post office and asked about her.
“Not sure I can tell you anything. She comes and goes. Haven’t seen her in a while though.”
“I’m trying to find her place.”
“I talked to her a couple times. She lives up north of the city. Lots of wide open country up there, and that’s the way she likes it, she said.”
“Good enough, thanks.” He realized the area was over an hour away. He could take a trip out this afternoon and a part of him felt like she should go with him. Only she wasn’t in any shape to handle that. As he sipped his coffee, static, like he’d heard on the phone, slammed into his head. He grabbed his hair and yelled, “What the fuck?”
Instantly the static toned down to a dull, dry background noise. And a voice said, “Sorry.”
Eagle hopped to his feet and spun in a circle. “Who just said that?”
But instead of a voice, a number kept flashing in his head. He grabbed his pen and wrote down a ten-digit number. He frowned. Was that a phone number? As soon as he had it on paper, the confusion in his head emptied. He grabbed his phone and dialed. When a man’s voice came on the other end, Eagle asked, “Who the hell are you?”
A tired but humorous voice answered him. “I’m Stefan. I’m calling on behalf of Humbug.”
And Eagle knew his world would never be the same.