Sammy and JoAnn got into the spirit of that. They asked about hot dogs on a stick over a fire, and I told them we didn’t have any hot dogs and it was time for bed.
While Bev talked them into that, I went outside and found the pump box, which was right next to the hose. I opened it up and looked inside and listened to the sound of the pump. It seemed to be humming right along.
There was a faucet that ran up one side of the well box. I turned it on. It coughed and sputtered and spat out some foul-smelling, rust-colored water that finally ceased to stink and turned clear.
I turned off the faucet and went back inside the cabin.
The light was on in the bedroom. Bev had shaken out the bed clothes and remade the bed. She was fluffing the pillows when I said, “I think we got water now.”
I went to the bathroom and flipped the light switch and was pleased when it came on. I turned on the tub and sink faucets and let the stained water sputter out of them for a while.
While that went on, I returned to the storage room and made sure the electric water heater was working. I turned it on and went into the kitchen. I looked under the sink and found some Comet and a sponge. I turned on the kitchen sink and let it run. I heard the toilet flush in the bathroom. JoAnn was coming out of the bathroom with Bev. We put JoAnn in bed, and before Sammy went to the bathroom, I cut off the bathroom faucets. When Sammy finished, we tucked him in with JoAnn and gave her her teddy bear and turned out the bedroom light, but left the bathroom light on and the door cracked.
Bev and I went into the kitchen, cut off the faucets, turned out the light and sat at the table, not looking at one another.
“I found some cleanser and a sponge,” I said. “I’ll elbow grease the bathroom when I’m sure the kids are asleep. I guess it doesn’t matter, but I think a shower would help both of us, and that tub’s on the nasty side.”
I remembered I had once given that advice to Bill. I was big on showers as therapy.
“All right,” Bev said.
“If I can find a toilet brush,” I said, “I’ll be in hog heaven.”
“This is Arnold’s place?”
“Yeah. I hope he’s okay.”
“I hope that Snake sonofabitch missed the credits to Mothra ’cause he took time to rape me.” Bev said, tried to laugh but broke down sobbing. “God, he stunk. He stunk so bad.”
Bev sobbed and I neither said nor did anything. I didn’t know what to say or do. Eventually, she grew silent and stretched her hand across the table without looking at me. I took her hand and held it for long time.
She said without lifting her head: “The fat one tried to rape me and couldn’t. It frustrated him because Snake laughed at him. He used the bottle on me.”
“God, Bev… I…”
“You couldn’t have done anything.” Bev lifted her head and turned sideways in her chair and didn’t look at me. “You needn’t think you could have because you couldn’t. I know that now. You couldn’t have done anything. I wanted you to do the impossible because I was scared and secretly I believe too many movies where the hero always makes a break at the last minute and does something to save his woman.”
“I certainly wasn’t much of a hero.”
“You went back in the house with it blazing to rescue Fred. A stuffed bear. You’re either a little bit of a hero or you’re plain stupid.”
“I had a gun, but Snake surprised me and took it away from me.”
“That’s beside the point, and you know it. Listen to me, Hank. You were actually very cool and tried to keep things under control best you could, and the best you could wasn’t good enough because no one’s best would have been good enough. We’ll see this through. The important thing is we’re all okay. And I love you.”
“I want to believe that,” I said.
“Believe it. Believe I love you.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Physically, a little. I’m cut… down there. But it’s not bad. I’ve stopped bleeding. We’re not going to the police, are we?”
“I don’t trust them.”
“When I quit thinking about me, I start thinking about the house. I feel sick.”
“I know.”
“You think that shower will work now?” Bev said.
“I’ll clean the tub some.”
“I’ll do it while I shower. I want something to do besides stand there under the water and think. I can think when I’m ready to think.”
Bev got the cleanser and the sponge, went into the bedroom and closed the door. I heard the water running in the bathroom a little later on, and I got up and made sure the doors were locked and checked on the kids and found them fast asleep. I listened to the water and thought about what Bev was washing away. Snake’s stink. Smoke. Blood. Sperm.
I got the shotgun outhest ast of the truck and put it on the kitchen table and stuck the. 38 in my belt and turned my chair toward the window next to the table and pulled back the curtains and sat there waiting, trying to empty my mind, but reliving the whole thing over and over, watching the moon lie down on the trees until a dirty cloud in the shape of an opened mouthed hippopotamus floated out of nowhere and consumed it.
I awoke to Bev draping a blanket over me. She smiled down at me, and I felt better than I thought I could feel. She found one of Arnold’s old plaid shirts somewhere, and it was big enough on her it worked as a dress. She smelled like cheap soap.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s all right.” I sat up in the chair and curled the blanket into my lap. “I want to take a shower. Have I been asleep long?”
“Not long. An hour, perhaps. The water’s still cold. But I didn’t mind.”
I put the. 38 on the table and got up and kissed Bev’s cheek and went and showered in the cold water for a long time. Longer than I would have been able to at any other time.
Except for my coat, I pulled my clothes into the shower with me and washed them with the cheap soap and hung them over the shower rod in the bathroom.
I dried on a damp yellowed towel Bev had laid out for herself, then found a half-bottle of alcohol in the medicine cabinet and a pair of fingernail clippers. I poured alcohol over the fingernail clippers, and used them to pinch broken glass out of me.
I cat-stepped into the bedroom and used the light from the bathroom to go through the dresser drawers. I found a couple pairs of khaki pants and another flannel shirt and some socks and several pairs of boxer shorts. I picked a pair of shorts decorated with biplanes, slipped them on and put on the pants and shirt. The pants and shirt were too big and long and I had to cuff the pants at the bottom and cinch up tight with my belt. The shirt sleeves I rolled up to my elbow. I carried my coat, socks and shoes with me, tiptoed silently back to the kitchen.
Beverly had made a pallet of blankets and had rolled up a couple of others for pillows. She was under the covers and had her back to me. From her shape beneath the covers, I could tell her knees were drawn up toward her chest. From the way she was breathing, I knew she was asleep.
I put the shoes and socks on a chair by the table and slipped under the covers with my clothes on and put my knees into the back of Bev’s knees. I lay the. 38 at the head of my makeshift pallet, closed my eyes. Anxiety drifted me away.
24
I woke up mad and sick and wanting breakfast.
I rolled over and my body seemed to be made of baling wire and coat hangers. I sat up and listened to the birds singing and Sammy and JoAnn playing outside.
I collected the. 38, got up, looked out the window and saw the kids run by in their night clothes. Down by the lake I could see Bev sitting on the dock, her back to me.
