Shelby makes her way toward where I'm crouching at the creek, a makeshift fishing pole in one hand, a grin on her face as with the other hand she holds up a string of three nice-sized rainbow trout for my approval. "One for each of us," she says proudly. "I hope he will wake up and eat. Where do you want me to put them?"
I nod my head toward the flat rock nearby, situated half in and half out of the water. "I hope he'll wake up, too. I'll clean them as soon as I'm done washing these clothes," I tell her.
"Good, cuz I'm hungry," she says and lays the fish on the rock. One of them flops a little, its mouth opening and closing, gills flaring with indignation at its fate. "Oh, knock it off," Shelby admonishes and lays her hand over it. "You're not going anywhere except in my stomach." She turns to me. "Hey, I found lots of wild grapes where I was fishing. I ate some. I'll grab a bag and pick a whole bunch of them."
I perk up. Grapes would be good; dried into concentrated, nutritionally-packed raisins, even better for traveling. "Pick all you can carry," I advise.
Shelby scampers to her pack next to the hut and sets her fishing pole next to it. She grabs a cloth bag from the side pocket. "Back in a little bit," she calls over her shoulder before running back where she came from.
Smiling, I turn my attention back to my task, scrubbing Jared's bloodstained pants and grimy t-shirt. Undressing him had been a difficult task, especially easing the track pants down over his shattered, splinted leg, but it had to be done. Wringing out the clothes, I shake them out and carry them to a tree where they'll hang in the sun until they're dry.
I stop for a second to admire mine and Shelby's handiwork. I can't even properly call our new and improved accommodations a shelter. Made of heavier oak branches, the chinks caulked with creek mud mixed with dead grasses and weeds, this is more of a hut, roomy enough to stand up and move around in. I even fashioned a crude kind of bed so Jared could lay in greater comfort than my sleeping bag on the hard ground could provide. It's narrow, not even the width of a cot, but it's better than nothing.
The job was an exercise in frustration and patience. Furniture-making certainly isn't in my area of expertise. When in the wilderness, normally I don't bother with any sort of luxury beyond my durable, down-filled sleeping bag and, when I'm feeling particularly self-indulgent, a pillow — which is actually a t-shirt stuffed with cattail down and tied at the sleeves, bottom, and neck. While I'm sure a mat of woven cattail leaves secured to a narrow frame of oak branches is hardly the pampered comfort Jared's used to, it's certainly an improvement over the hard ground.
It's been almost forty-eight hours since we found him, some of the longest forty-eight hours of my life. When not working on building a better shelter and his bed, the majority of those hours I've spent sleepless, watching the rise and fall of Jared's chest, obsessively checking his pulse, monitoring his fever, double and triple-checking his leg to be sure the stitches are holding and the splint hasn't shifted.
Jared spent the majority of those hours either unconscious or in a rambling and mostly incoherent delirium. Though a blessing for him in the beginning while I stitched and properly set his leg, as the hours dragged on I began to get seriously concerned. The fever was burning him alive and without sufficient fluids, dehydration would prove as deadly as the snakebite nearly was. Desperately I forced water into him a few times; other times during periods of semi-lucidity, he willingly drank from a straw I fashioned out of a hollow water reed. He grimaced throughout, and only took in a couple of ounces at a time. I kept pushing it anyway. He needed quarts, not sips.
During those early touch-and-go hours, I'd sent Shelby out, expanding the search for Jared's cell phone. I couldn't imagine a celebrity of his caliber venturing anywhere without his phone. But then, I never thought anyone of Jared's status would come out to a remote area like this by himself in the first place. Aren't famous people always surrounded by bodyguards, assistants, and handlers, even during their down time? I decided if Shelby found his phone and there was any battery life left in it, I'd make the call. And then at the first sign of rescue arriving, Shelby and I would vanish. We'd strike out to the northwest, deeper into the pine forested foothills. It's the opposite direction of our ultimate destination of Mexico, but that can't be helped. I'm holding onto the hope that Jared won't remember much of anything about us.
But Shelby returned empty handed after combing the area for a couple of hours, and I've now given up on the search. Two nights have passed. If Jared did have a phone and dropped it somewhere, its battery would almost certainly be dead by now.
Jared's horrendous fever finally broke very early this morning, and he slept peacefully through the night. Now that I can leave his side for a longer period of time, I'll have to summon help for him another way.
It's breezy this morning, with fine sand, white down from the cottonwood trees, and goldenrod pollen flying everywhere. As I duck through the low doorway, I rub the grit from my eyes. I straighten up and meet his wide-awake gaze, glowing brilliant blue even in the dim light inside the hut.
Like jewels.
For a moment, I just stand there staring at him like I did two mornings ago, unable to move or say a word. I've gotten accustomed to his presence, at least while I was frantically working to save his life, when he was unconscious and those eyes weren't piercing right through me. But now he stares back, unblinking, a half-smile playing at his perfectly chiseled lips.
"Hello," he says. His voice is groggy and weak, but he's completely lucid and alert for the first time.
"J—uh, hi," I stammer. "You're awake. I mean, really awake."
Jared's eyes leave mine and they sweep around the hut. "I'm not quite so sure of that. Where the hell am I? What is this place? I feel like I stepped into a time warp to about 10,000 B.C." His eyes meet mine again, then survey me head to toe. "Except you're wearing jeans and a t-shirt."
"I built it this after we found you. My daughter and I did, actually." I slowly approach him, wondering why I'm so nervous all of a sudden. I mean, I've been taking care of this man, I've undressed him, bathed him, stitched him back together, but now I feel clumsy and foolish. It's because he's awake, he's Jared Leto now, not just an injured and very sick man.
"Your daughter." A deep line forms in his perfectly smooth forehead as he frowns. "Yeah, I remember a kid finding me. A little girl with her hair in braids. I thought I dreamed it. She's your daughter?" Then his expression clears. "Yeah. Of course she is. She looks a lot like you." He shifts a little, and sucks in a hiss of pain. "Christ...my leg...hurts like a motherfucker."
I kneel down next to him. "I'm sure it does. Just relax. You broke both your tibia and fibula bone. Your leg's in the best splint I could fashion for you, but you can't move too much or you'll displace the bones again."
"Oh. Wow. Fuck." The words hiss from between his dry, cracked lips. "I really did it, didn't I. I'm gonna be out of commission for a hell of a lot longer than I planned to be."
"They were clean breaks, and with surgery, they'll heal well. You also have a nasty gash on your leg, which took twenty-eight stitches. The snakebite is what worried me. I had to use all my antivenom."
"Snakebite. Oh, yeah. Shit," he groans. He slides his arm out from under the sleeping bag and glances at it. The swelling has gone down, but the area around the bite is still red and tender. He studies it for a moment, and then returns his gaze to me. "Who are you? A nurse? A modern-day Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman? Maybe an angel?"
"No to all of the above," I examine the bite wound, not looking at him. "It's mildly infected, and so is the cut on your leg. I used aloe for a topical, and colloidal silver by mouth—"
"What's your name?" Jared interrupts.
I tear my eyes away from his arm and study the ground beneath me. I take a deep breath and reply quietly, "I can't tell you that."
"Why not?"
I shake my head. "I just can't. But now that you're awake, I can finally ask you why you're out here alone, and without a phone."
He's staring at me, a deep, penetrating stare that I can feel without even looking at him. "That's a long, complicated story. Could I possibly have something to drink first? My throat's on fire."
Quickly I get up and fetch a bottle of water in the corner of the hut. I uncork it and reach under his head to lift it as he drinks. "Take it easy, not too much at once," I admonish as he chugs it like a camel, and then sputters and coughs. A little water dribbles into his beard and I automatically wipe it away with the tail of my t-shirt.
Jared's hand shoots out and takes my wrist, and I jump a little. His hold is gentle but firm. His eyes widen with an indiscernible emotion in them. "I get the impression you don't know who I am. Do you?"
He must realize that I know who he is. I feel as though it's written all over my face. Jared studies me, shaking his head. "Wow. This is odd. You really don't know who I am. That's why I'm waking up here in this...this wigwam, and not in the hospital." He releases my wrist then, but his eyes are glued to my face.
I flush under that close scrutiny. "No, it's not that, it's just that I—"
"Hey. Not that I'm complaining," he adds quickly. He pulls the sleeping bag aside and glances down at himself, clad only in a pair of deep blue boxer briefs. "Looks to me like you knew what you were doing, and you did one hell of a job." Despite the pain he must be in, his eyes sparkle a little and his grin reappears. "But when a beautiful woman takes my clothes off, I make it a point to at least know her name." He puts out his hand. "I'm Jared."
Did he just call me beautiful? What the actual...?
I have no idea how I look right now—the only point of reference I have is my distorted, rippled reflection in the creek, but I can guarantee that beautiful wouldn't be a word to describe it, even if I hadn't been spending a week out in the brush. I've been blessed with an immunity to sunburn after so much time spent outdoors, but I do have a deep-seated tan that only fades slightly in the winter months. I'm sure my face as well as my clothes are filthy, and my long dark blonde hair sports dreadlocks I've worn for years. They're easier to deal with when you live the lifestyle that I do.
Unique, maybe. But...beautiful?
"This is the part where you thank me for the compliment, shake my hand and in turn, you tell me your name," Jared prods gently, his hand still extended.
I hesitate, biting my lip. Maybe I can convince him to keep his mouth shut once rescue arrives, hopefully within a few hours. Will he? I have no idea, and no way of knowing for sure. Other than his music and movies, I know nothing about Jared Leto, the man, other than he risked his own life and limbs to stop me from being killed fourteen years ago— an event he almost surely doesn't remember, but one I've never forgotten.
"I..." I glance at the doorway of the hut. "I have to check on Sh—my daughter." I get to my feet. "She caught some trout for your breakfast, and she's picking some wild grapes she found."
"Trout. As in fish?" Jared pulls a face. "I appreciate the effort, but I eat nothing with a face."
I stare down at him. "What?"
"I'm a vegan," he explains patiently. "That means no meat, no dairy, no eggs."
I blink stupidly. I know perfectly well what vegan means, but I can't help looking at Jared's beautifully sculpted, tight, toned body as I absorb this information. A vegan diet produced this near-perfection?
Finally, I find my voice, and I inject as much assertiveness as I can into it. "You can't be picky out here, Jared. You have to eat what's available, and right now what's available is fish."
"And wild grapes, you said."
"You need to eat more than wild grapes." I sigh, and add, "Besides, I fed you fish broth when you were out of it, so what's the difference if you eat it now?"
He turns a trifle green. "I ate fish broth?"
I can't help but smile. "Well, technically, you drank fish broth. You needed nutrition to help fight the infection. You still do."
Jared closes his eyes and I see his throat work as he swallows hard. "If there was anything in my stomach, I'm pretty sure I'd puke." When I don't answer that, he opens his eyes. "Well, Dr. Quinn, I'll make a deal with you. You tell me your name and your story, and I promise I'll try to eat the fish."
With only the briefest hesitation, I nod. "You got yourself a deal."
"One thing..." Jared looks decidedly uncomfortable. "I...uh, I have to piss. How?" he gestures at himself.
"Oh." I go to the corner of the hut and pick up another bottle, this one empty. I open it and bring it to him. "You might need some ...um... help with this," I stammer, feeling my cheeks flame up. While caring for him I've seen pretty much all of Jared, but oh God, this is awkward now, with him awake and aware. More than awkward. For both of us.
"I've got it." He takes the bottle and when I stand there uncertainly, still ready to offer assistance, he stares up at me. "No offense, but I've never been able to piss in front of a beautiful woman. I clamp up tight. It's a weird reflex or something. Could I have some ... privacy, please?"
There's that word again. Beautiful.
"Oh...sorry...yeah, okay. Set it on the ground when you're done and I'll empty it when I come back." My cheeks flaming hot now, I turn and quickly flee the hut.
I return to the creek and the messy task of preparing the fish. Despite my discomfiture, I smile to myself as I expertly scale and clean the trout. Jared's offered deal will work to both of our benefit. He'll eat some much-needed nutritious food, thereby setting my mind at ease. Then, as soon as we gather our things, I'll throw cut green branches and fresh leaves on the fire, creating clouds of thick smoke that'll be visible for miles. Then Shelby and I will vanish, our anonymity at least somewhat intact.
He'll tell those who respond that a woman and a child kept him alive, true. He'll be able to give them a description of us, yes. But I'm hopeful that in the little amount of time we have left I'll convince him to fudge those details, and that I'll manage to do so without having to explain the reason I need him to lie.
Shelby returns with her bag overflowing with juicy purple grapes as I finish cleaning the fish. I throw the entrails into the creek where they'll be devoured by their brethren. I wash my knife and my hands, and then wrap the fish in wet leaves I've liberally dosed with salt and lemon grass from my supply of herbs.
"He's awake," I tell her as I point the tip of my knife at the hut.
"Like, really awake?" Shelby asks. Her eyes brighten. "So he's getting better. He's going to be okay."
I nod. "He's strong and healthy. He'll be fine once he gets medical attention." I look at the bag of grapes. "Don't bother with laying any of them out to dry. We're not going to be here long enough. We'll take what's left after breakfast with us."
Shelby frowns. "Where are we going? Jared can't move."
I sit back on my heels. "After breakfast, I'm going to keep the fire going. I'm putting a bunch of green stuff in the fire so it'll smoke. Then we'll leave. People will see the smoke, and they'll come and rescue him. You know we have to keep moving, Shelby. We've been here too long as it is."
Shelby's face is downcast. "I know. But—" she looks at the hut and shuffles her feet. "I like Jared. He's nice, and I think he still needs us. Maybe he'll want to help us, since we helped him."
No. That score's even now, even if he doesn't remember it. "You don't even know him," I point out. "We don't know him. Besides, we don't need anyone's help."
Shelby scowls. "Everyone needs help sometimes. You always say that when you help me with stuff."
"Yeah, but I don't need help," I snap, a little harsher than I intend. "Wash those grapes, put them in the big bowl and mix a little sugar with them. Just a little sugar, and bring them in for Jared. Then I want you to get your sleeping bag rolled up and your stuff ready to go. Okay?"
Shelby's lips tighten, and then she sighs. "Okay."
Near the creek, I create a fire ring of rocks. In the circle I lay dry grasses and leaves for a tinder nest. Then I grab my fire board and spindle from my pack. Setting the spindle in the hole in the wood, with the tinder nest bunched around it, I begin the task of quickly spinning the stick until first an ember, and then a small flame fires up, igniting the tinder nest. When it's burning well, I lay dry kindling criss-cross over it, and then some bigger dry branches.
Thin white smoke rises, lazy wisps at first, and then in bigger puffs. I lay a long flat rock over the fire to use as a plank to cook the fish on, and return to the hut while I wait for the rock to heat.
Shelby's in there, sitting next to Jared's bed and sharing her grapes with him. Both turn to look at me as I step inside. Instantly Shelby starts to fidget, and her expression tightens.
"Lanie," Jared says with a little smile. "Your name suits you."
I cast a horrified look at Shelby. "You told him my name?! Why the hell did you tell him my name?!"
"No, no, no. Don't get mad at her," Jared says. "What's the big deal, anyway?"
"Goddammit!" I yell at Shelby, who covers her face with her hands. "Do you want to go back to your dad? Kidnapping is a felony. You know they'll put me in jail. Is that what you want? Is that it?"
"No!" Shelby screams back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it! It..it just came out!" She lets out a sob, and then races from the hut. I turn to follow her, but Jared's voice stops me.
"Whoa, wait a second," he says, and I turn. He's staring at me with narrowed eyes. With a sickening thud in my gut, I realize I've just given him a whole hell of a lot more information than Shelby has. He holds up a hand. "Is this true? You kidnapped your daughter from her father?"
"You don't know the circumstances," I snap, my defenses roaring to life. "Jesus. The first person we've spoken to since Winslow, and she's running her mouth to him!" I pace the small enclosure. "They'll find us...he'll find us...and then..." panic encircles my heart. I go to the doorway and call at Shelby, standing at the fire with her back to me, "We're leaving now! You need to come get your stuff together, and I mean right now!" I kneel and begin rolling up Shelby's sleeping bag, and then I turn to Jared. "The fire's going good enough. I'll put on plenty of green wood so it'll smoke. Someone will see it very soon, and they'll come and find you. You'll be fine."
Jared's still staring at me. "Stop, Lanie," he says. His voice is still groggy and weak, but something in it carries an unmistakable command, the same quality I remember when he stood beside me on the grandstand grounds, holding onto me while ordering the raging crowd back with nothing but his voice. "You need to stop and tell me what the hell is going on with you. Why you kidnapped your own kid, for starters."
"I..." my own voice is failing me the longer Jared pins me down with that ice-blue, laser-like glare. Swallowing hard, I shake my head. I owe him no explanation, but my mouth seems determined to move of its own accord. "I swear. It's not how it sounds." I hate the way my voice trembles, but I am powerless to stop it. Softly I add, "I'm not the bad guy here, Jared."
His tone softens, too. "Then talk to me. It's obvious that little girl is with you willingly, so I'm guessing there had to be a damn good reason you took her from him. Tell me."
I can't tear away from Jared's penetrating stare. I don't know what kind of power this man possesses, but despite the strident voice inside me ordering me to shut my mouth, to finish packing, grab Shelby and run like hell, I know I'm going to stay right here and I'm going tell him everything.