Romantic love story

Chapter Two: New Mercies

The woman turned her head. The sarcasm in that glance was easy to recognize.

"Okay, so that's no reason to trust me, but I'm turning to ice as we speak. I need to get into the jeep, and so do you. How about it?"

She made no answer, just sank forward in a lifeless heap-- face-first, into a large puddle.

Before she drowned in two inches of rainwater, Terry lifted her back into the vehicle. This time, he made no effort to revive her. He snapped on her seat belt, started the engine, then turned up the heater to its highest setting. Maybe doctors frightened her, and that was why she refused to go to a hospital-- Terry didn't know-- he only knew that if he couldn't take her there, it would have to be a homeless shelter in Watertown. If he could find one with empty beds this late at night. A recovering drug addict had once told Terry that those places tended to fill up early, for if you didn't grab a cot before nightfall, you often weren't able to get one at all.

Still numb with disbelief, Terry turned the jeep around to head for his little-used apartment in Chaumont. He thought of taking Madison home to John and Izzy, but the thought of their kind but exasperated disapproval that he was "doing it again," prevented Terry from considering it any further. Besides, Terry had already put his dear friends through enough heartache, to last them a lifetime. No, Terry reasoned, he had gotten himself into this predicament, and he must get himself out.

An occasional moan from the passenger seat assured Terry that the woman still lived. Not that he felt anymore fear over her dying. Freezing and weak, and soaked through to her skin, she had too much fight left in her to be very hurt.

As for him... man, was he ever cold.

The three-mile drive into Chaumont couldn't go by fast enough for Terry. Getting off the main road, he navigated surface streets until coming to a wide, two story brick building. He parked, jumped from the jeep and ran to the shelter of the small porch above his apartment door. After shoving the key into the handle, Terry fumbled with the second lock. What a time to have remembered to put on the deadbolt! He shoved open the door, flipped on the light switch, then forced himself back into the rain to get the woman.

She moaned when he lifted her into his arms. He kicked the jeep door shut, then carried her into the apartment. The heat wasn't turned on, but it came as a welcome change from outside.

Through the small living room, around the half-bath, up the stairs to the second floor and straight ahead to the bathroom. He placed her, fully clothed, into the empty bathtub, turned on the overhead shower, twisting it to the warm position. She had done some thawing in the jeep, but her teeth rattled as liquid heat soaked her shoulder-length hair, his coat, and every stitch of clothing already sopping with rainwater.

Leaving her to the warm shower, Terry went to his bedroom, just down the short hall on the same floor, to change into dry clothes. He would have liked that shower, himself, but knew she needed it more.

He jerked clothes from the closet, dressed as quickly as he could. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a matching top from his dresser, he returned to the bathroom. Aside from her closed eyes, she was as he had left her. To his relief, the color had returned to her skin, giving her princess face a rosy glow of health.

"What's your name?" he asked.

She lowered her head, tucking her chin against her shoulder. Then the trembling returned.

Puzzled, Terry felt the spray of water from the shower. Still hot. Not too hot, but certainly comfortable. "Are you still cold? Here, put these on. You'll feel better when you're dry."

No response, not even when Terry placed the clothes near the bathtub and prepared to leave.

"No one is going to take advantage of you," he said, trying to assure her into relaxing a little. "You're safe here-- a whole lot safer than hitchhiking or sleeping out at the Old Mill Campground by yourself. You're welcome to stay the night, to use the phone and call your family, or a friend, to come and get you. If no one can, I'll give you money for bus fare so you won't have to hitchhike or place yourself in needless danger. In return, I ask you not to trash my apartment, or to take anything from it that doesn't belong to you. Except for the clothes by the bathtub. Those, you can keep. Fair enough?"