The Paper Detective. E. Joan Sims
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Vel and I risked the wrath of my parents and grandparents by setting fire to the offending outbuilding. Our punishment was swift and severe, and something I never forgot. Forever after, I hated outhouses.
Bert opened the door and deposited me inside. I looked around in amazement. It was much larger than the boxlike structure that had imprisoned me when I was six, and thanks to a small stove, it was toasty and warm.
“I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” Bert announced abruptly, and closed the door.
A small chair in the corner seemed a likely place to unload my cocoon of quilts and blankets. I shuffled over and started unwrapping myself layer by layer. When I got to the innermost core, I found I was minus about two layers of my own clothing. Bert had shucked me out of my jeans, sweater, flannel shirt, and long underwear. At least he had the decency to leave me with a long-sleeved camisole and panties. My face went hot with shame. No one but Rafe had ever seen me this undressed. Mr. Bert Atkins had some explaining to do.
The little camp stove that warmed the bathroom also provided a basin full of hot water for a quick bird bath. The towels Bert had left for me were scratchy and rough, but they smelled clean and fresh. He obviously dried them outside on a line because the fold over could still be seen in the bath towel. I shook them out to make sure no little bugs were hiding anywhere. Once assured, I had quite a pleasant toilette.
The mirror above the dry sink basin was much too high for me to see myself. All that was visible was a mop of totally out-of-control auburn curls, two green eyes, and a couple of freckles. I scrubbed hard with the soap and hot water in the hope that cleanliness would substitute for loveliness, and rewrapped myself in two of the quilts. I felt much better. I was only a little dizzy, and I was starving.
Bert returned right on time. When he tapped lightly on the door, I opened up and was about to say I could walk back when he swung me up in his arms and carried me to the cabin.
He had set a small table for two in front of the fire. He plopped me down on the sofa and pulled the table over in front of me. A steaming platter of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon beckoned. Without a word, he poured my coffee and his, and we set to work. When nothing was left of our breakfast but an “Ummm,” he cleared the plates and brought the coffeepot back for refills.
Bert sat back and looked me up and down until I blushed. I was wondering how to communicate with him when he spoke.
“I can hear some, you know. And I’m fairly good at reading lips.”
“Oh, I didn’t…”
“Yes, you did. I saw you last night when I put fresh logs on the fire. You don’t play possum very well.”
I laughed. “So I’ve been told.”
I sat bolt upright, almost losing my envelope of blankets. My head swam as I remembered.
“Cassie! She’ll be worried sick. And Mother! I have to let them know I’m all right.”
Bert pointed to a big oak desk back in the corner. There was some sort of equipment on it. It looked like a stereo with lots of fancy dials and lights.
“Radio. Runs on batteries. I called Danny last night and told him you were here. He radioed back while you were asleep. Mrs. Sterling and your daughter know where you are and that you’re just fine.”
“Oh, thanks, Bert. Er, Chief Atkins.”
“Bert’s fine. Remember,” he laughed. “I’ve seen your skivvies.”
“About that! Was it absolutely necessary to undress me?” I tried not to, but I knew I was blushing.
“Your clothes were soaking wet. You would have gotten pneumonia if I’d been fool enough to leave you to your modesty. They’re almost dry, except for the sweater. You can get dressed after you take a nap, if you want.”
“Nap? Don’t you think I’ve already slept enough? A nap is the last thing…”
The yawn caught me unawares. “Well, maybe just a short one.”
Chapter Five
The next time I woke up, the fuzzy feeling in my head was almost completely gone. The strength was back in my arms and legs, and I no longer felt shaky. I was ready to get dressed and go in search of Watson.
“Sorry,” said Bert firmly when I informed him of my intentions.
“What do you mean, sorry?” I asked as I gave him the benefit of my haughtiest look.
His response was another deep and hearty laugh. I was getting pretty sick of being his stand-up comic, and I told him so, although something somewhere inside was pleased that he was laughing. I had always thought of him as a very angry and morose man. This Bert Atkins, the man with the steel-wool beard and the laughing blue eyes was not the taciturn cop who stormed the fortress of our home last year and wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. This was a man who was happy, or at least gave a good impression of it. And I was beginning to realize that he was very attractive.
“I’ve got to go home. Mother’s expecting me for dinner,” I decided abruptly.
“No she’s not. Danny told her you might not get back for two or maybe three days.”
“Watson! I can’t abandon Watson.”
“Your jeep is fine. I walked down this morning early to check on things. I locked the door and turned off the engine…”
I was horrified at my stupidity.
“I…I left the engine on?”
I sank back on the old sofa wishing the soft cushions would swallow me up.
“Paisley, you have a slight concussion. You did nothing to be ashamed of.”
He came over and sat down beside me.
“As a matter of fact, few men I know would have been tough enough to do what you did.”
“I was stupid,” I answered in a voice that was smaller than I wished. “I left the warmth and safety of the car and started walking in the freezing cold like a dummy.”
“And a good thing that you did. The exhaust pipe was embedded in the snow bank. If you hadn’t gotten out, you might have died of carbon monoxide poisoning.”
My new-found strength vanished as I realized how close I had come to never seeing my beautiful Cassie again, and I started crying. Bert put his arms around me as the gentle tears turned into great hiccoughing sobs. When I was spent, he tucked the blankets back around me and urged me to sleep again. This time I didn’t fight it.
I finally got dressed late that afternoon right before Bert fixed dinner. He let me sit on a stool by the dry sink and peel potatoes while he gave a hilarious account of his running battle with a family of thieving raccoons who lived in a hollow tree nearby.
I cried again, but this time they were tears of laughter. After dinner we played gin rummy while listening to a soft jazz station out of New Orleans. It had been a long time since I had so much fun and I told him so.
“Me, too, Paisley,” he said softly.
“You’re very different from the way I imagined. You’re obviously not that uncomfortable with your hearing loss. Why did you come out here by yourself? Why leave Danny alone?”
He smiled. “Wow, just like a woman. So many questions.”
“Forget that ‘just like a woman’ crap. This is a question from me to you, as friends.”
“Are we friends, Paisley?”
“Well, sure, of course,” I answered brightly, avoiding the intent look in those deep blue eyes.
“I have to confess I’ve thought a lot about you since we first met,” he said. “I’ve wanted to call you a half a dozen times.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake,” I sputtered, trying to defuse the situation.