“Those nights,” she gasped, her eyes shocked like she wasn’t completely in control of her own words, was taking them in just as I was. “Those nights I lay next to you in our shelter, when I didn’t know if you were going to wake up and . . . and . . .” She shook her head again. She’d been so brave. So incredibly brave. “I just, I was so scared. And now you’re here, we’re together, and I’m”—she laughed, a startled sound—“I’m so grateful.”
I smiled gently at her, pulling her closer, hugging her tightly as she hugged me back. I understood that expressing herself to me that way had been difficult for her. There were bigger walls behind that one, I knew that as well. But joy raced through my heart, a feeling of victory expanding my chest that wasn’t only because of the blooming fire warming the air around us.
After a minute, Audra pulled away, turning to the fire and putting her bare hands up, as she tipped her head back. “God, that feels amazing.”
I put my hands up as well, feeling the wonderful heat as it warmed my skin, causing my muscles to relax and a final shivering tremor to move through me as if the cold that had been wrapped around my bones for days was finally, blessedly, leaving my body. Even if it’d only been a little sliver, Audra sharing a piece of her heart with me felt so good.
The warmth felt like heaven, like joy, like life, and I turned back to Audra, taking her in my arms again as she laughed. I swayed with her next to the dancing flame, the air filled with the light, bitter scent of smoke. “Tonight, partner,” I said, “we dine on beef jerky, pretzels, and chocolate.”
Audra moaned, tipping her head back and grinning at me. “I never imagined the thought of a dried rope of beef could be so wonderful.”
“We have Dustin to thank for that. When we get back, we’ll buy him a real steak dinner.”
Her smile faltered slightly, and I wondered if it was the mention of the word we that had caused her to react that way. I was in too good of a mood to let it bother me, though, so I twirled her around as she yelped out a laugh. I did too. “You know what else?” I whispered close to her ear, leaning back with a grin.
“What?” she asked breathlessly.
“We’re going to heat some water and clean ourselves up.”
“A bath?” Audra practically groaned. “Oh God, how? What do we have to heat water in?”
“We can use a plastic bottle. As long as we fill it completely so there’s no air in it, the plastic won’t melt.”
“How do you know that?”
I laughed. “Want to know the truth?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“I saw it on Naked and Afraid once. I swear, I’ve watched two episodes of that show, unintentionally, and somehow I remember that.”
Audra laughed, shaking her head. “Well, thank God, because I need to wash my hair like nobody’s business.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Audra
I’d waited for the water to cool enough that it wasn’t scalding and then partially stripped in front of the fire, scrubbing my skin with a sock, my trial-sized bottle of body wash, and the deliciously hot water. Dane went back to gather a little more wood, leaving me to my makeshift bath.
Few things in my life had ever felt so good as that soapy water sluicing over my skin, taking the grime of several days of hard wilderness living with it. I dried myself very quickly with a nightshirt, re-dressed, and then laid the damp T-shirt and wet sock over a rock near the fire. The rock felt warm to my touch and I laid my hands on it, reveling in the heat against my skin. What a difference physical warmth made to my mood. Hopefully this rock would help the T-shirt dry a little before Dane wanted to use it.
Dane. Warmth filled my chest when I remembered the way he’d taken me in his arms when I’d had a mini-breakdown after the intensity of our fire-lighting experiment. It wasn’t only the joy of accomplishment I’d seen in his expression, it had been . . . pride. Pride that had encompassed both of us, not only him. He’d been proud of our teamwork, and I’d recognized it because I’d seen it before. He’d looked at me that same way when we mo
ved into our house—looking at me from where we’d collapsed on opposite sides of the living room, piles of boxes between us on the floor. He’d had that look in his eyes as I’d told him my plans for the building he’d bought as a wedding gift. And even though it had been coupled with terrible sadness, he’d looked at me that way after our son’s funer—
I moaned aloud, grimacing and biting at my lip, the thought alone sending a sharp lancing pain straight through me. I took a deep breath, allowing a small piece of the memory in anyway, despite the way it hurt. Yes, I could see him now, standing in our kitchen, what seemed like hundreds of casseroles and baked goods sitting on the counters, never to be eaten. What had happened to those casseroles? Had someone eventually thrown them away? Dane had looked at me, and though his eyes were filled with sorrow, he’d smiled as if to say: We made it through this day, didn’t we? You and me.
I bit harder at my lip, clenching my eyes shut. Oh no, God, it hurt too much. I couldn’t think about that anymore. Not now. Not here. On this desolate mountain where I already felt desperate and—
“Hey.”
I whirled around and whatever was on my face caused Dane to stop in his tracks, concern coming immediately to his expression. “Audra? What’s wrong?”
I forced a smile, shaking my head, willing this terrible feeling away. “Nothing. It just felt cold to step away from the fire.” I stepped back toward it, holding my hands out to the welcome heat. “Ah, that’s better.”
His frown remained, though he moved closer, coming to stand across from me. “How was the bath?”
I smiled at him again, a real one this time. “It was wonderful.” I pointed at the two bottles already sitting among the fire. “I just put those on. They need another four minutes or so.”