Precious and Fragile Things (28 page)

F
or the first morning in a long time, Gilly's stomach didn't hurt. She got out of bed without the rumble and roil of nausea, and that alone was enough to put a smile on her face. The bright morning sunshine, too, lifted her spirits. Its yellow glow meant warmth. Soon, the days would get longer, the sun hotter. Soon, she thought, as she opened the pantry to look for food, the snow would melt entirely.

Todd had risen before her. He said nothing as she prepared pancakes from a boxed powder mixed with water. Even the smell of the food didn't make him stir from his seat. An ashtray overflowed beside him.

“Ugh.” Gilly wrinkled her nose as she sat down across from him with her plate of pancakes. “Todd, do you have to do that at the table?”

Silently he got up and went through the pantry. She heard the back door open and close. When he returned, the ashtray was empty.

“Want some pancakes?” she asked around a full mouth.

He shook his head. Brooding. Gilly took a deep breath, not sure what she was going to say, but ready to say it anyway. He cut her off with a short hand gesture.

“Hush.”

She chewed, though now the golden cakes stuck in her throat. She washed them down with a glass of cold, clear water, then stabbed another. She was starving.

“My life has always been shit,” Todd said. “Can you blame me for wanting to turn it around, now?”

“Of course not. But you broke the law, Todd. You can't expect it to be without consequences.” She sipped water, paused, searched his face. “I'm sorry, but that's the way it is.”

He grimaced. “Do you really think I deserve to go back to jail? Is that what you want?”

Did she want that? “I don't know.”

“Why didn't you get out of the truck when I gave you the chance?” he asked. “None of this would've happened if you'd just got out of the damn truck.”

“One of life's greatest mysteries,” Gilly told him. “I don't know that, either. It was wrong.”

“So now we're both fucked.”

She got up and put her empty plate in the sink. “Maybe.”

“Those were my last smokes,” he told her. “All gone. No more.”

“Smoking is a bad habit,” Gilly said.

“Bad seems to be the only kind I have,” Todd replied. “Let's play a game.”

M
ore days passed that way, with board games and puzzles, but Todd didn't seem to have the patience to pay attention to any one thing for long. Gilly couldn't blame him. Aside from her kamikaze jaunt around the house and his trips outside to cut wood, neither of them had left the tiny cabin for more than a few minutes.

He shuffled the cards again but only halfheartedly dealt out the hand. Gilly didn't take them. She got up from her chair and stared out the window.

“Looks like a nice day,” she commented.

He sighed and reached up to run a hand through his now short hair. “Yeah.”

“Come outside with me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Didn't we talk about that before?”

Gilly looked back out the window. “The sun is shining. It looks a little warmer outside. It's better than staying in here all day.”

“Okay.”

Gilly grinned. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I mean it. I'll help you build your damn snowman.” He stood and stretched, seeming impossibly tall.

“Snow woman,” Gilly corrected. “With huge boobs.”

Todd laughed and shook his head. “Jeez. Okay.”

“C'mon,” Gilly said, and reached over to take his hand. “It'll be fun.”

But a few hours later, with snow in her face and up her shirt, Gilly didn't think it was so fun. Todd, however, was having a blast. Now he laughed in her face while he held a huge handful of sopping snow ready to throw at her.

“You're bigger than I am!” Gilly cried, wriggling. “Not fair!”

“If you can't play with the big boys,” Todd said with an evil grin, “don't start the game.”

Perhaps throwing that first snowball hadn't been such a smart idea. Gilly was willing to admit that. Taunting him hadn't been so smart, either.

“Get off me,” she gritted out, feeling another inch of snow creep beneath her layers of clothes. They'd stomped it down in a lot of places, but most of it was still up to her knees.

He did, then held out a hand to help her up. “You started it.”

His dripping face was evidence of that. Gilly slapped at the snow on her clothes, then lifted her face to the sunshine. Thank God it was warmer today than it had been last week. It hadn't made a lot of difference in the depth of the snow…not yet. But it would.

She waved her hand at the huge snow woman they'd built. “Aren't you ashamed to act this way in front of your girlfriend?”

Todd trudged over and slapped a couple of handfuls onto the already gigantic chest. “She can't be my girlfriend unless her hooters are bigger.”

Gilly shook herself so the snow slipped out from under her clothes. “If they get any bigger she won't be able to walk.”

“She's made out of snow,” Todd said. “She can't walk anyway.”

For a moment she wasn't sure he knew she'd been joking, but the devilish twinkle in his eyes proved otherwise. “You're a smart-ass.”

He bowed, low, with a sweeping gesture of his hand. “Yeah. I know.”

Gilly felt a burble of laughter welling up in her throat, but quenched it. “I'm cold. Let's go back in.”

The noise reached them both at the same time; she knew it by the way Todd stood suddenly, head cocked, face turned toward the woods. A low, buzzing rumble. It had been so long since Gilly had heard anything like it she couldn't, at first, figure out what it was.

Todd had no trouble. “Snowmobile.”

Her guts clenched, the snow-packed earth beneath her feet tripping her so she stumbled. Todd grabbed her arm to hold her up. His fingers pinched hard even through the layers. He wasn't looking at her, but Gilly had no doubt he was completely, totally aware of her.

The buzzing came closer.

“Get inside.” Todd yanked Gilly so hard she stumbled again, her feet tangling. He didn't even give her the chance to get up before he was dragging her.

Snow got up inside her shirt, cold and stinging, and Gilly swung at him. “Todd, stop it!”

He waited, but only the barest moment before grabbing her
with his other hand, too, and hoisting her over his shoulder. Dangling this way, her hair in her face and the blood rushing to her head, Gilly couldn't even scream. She clutched the back of his sweatshirt as Todd stumbled. She closed her eyes and prayed they wouldn't fall.

He banged open the door to the lean-to and put her down. Gilly wobbled, the world spinning. Her flailing hands knocked a couple of cans from the decimated pantry shelves and a moment later, Todd had done the same but on purpose.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Todd—”

Without even looking at her, he pushed her back against the wall opposite the shelves hard enough to knock the breath from her. He reached a long arm into the shadows of the shelves behind the supplies and pulled. The shelf moved aside, exposing a narrow closet.

“No!” Gilly cried.

Todd looked at her. “Get in there.”

“No, Todd!”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her close, gaze boring into hers. “It's where Uncle Bill hung meat to cure. It's been empty a long time. It won't even smell bad. Get in there and be quiet.”

The revving rumble of the snowmobile's engine was much, much louder. Gilly shivered. Time had turned to syrup again. She shook her head.

The motor cut off. Gilly tensed; Todd went stiff. Gilly strained to hear the crunch of boots on snow.

“If you don't get in there, if you make a sound, I will kill whoever's out there. And then I'll kill you,” Todd said flatly. “And then I'll do myself, too.”

He pushed her into the closet and slid the door closed. It
wasn't dark or warm. Stripes of light shafted in through the gaps between the wallboards, the only solid surface being the back of the door through which he'd pushed her. Large hooks hung from the ceiling and lined the boards, stained from long-ago kills. He was right, it didn't smell bad, no matter how many corpses had hung here. In fact, the only scent tickling her nose was the faintest whiff of gasoline from outside and the lingering undercurrent of wood smoke. The stove vented into this space, or around it, or something, maybe to aid in curing the meat. She didn't know. She didn't care. Gilly pressed her fingers to the wall and looked through a crack.

It was a ranger.

Todd opened the back door and went out into the snow. The ranger was admiring the snow woman, and he turned with a grin as Todd walked up. Gilly pressed her forehead to the boards, trying to see.

“Hey,” Todd said.

“Hi, sir. How's it going?”

“Good. Fine.” Todd didn't even glance toward the cabin. “What can I do for you?”

“Just doing a routine check. We're making a run on all the places out here that back up to the state game lands. Making sure everyone's got what they need.”

“I do,” Todd said.

She'd never heard him sound like that—cool but friendly. Todd had ceased to be a stranger to her, but his voice was utterly alien just then. The ranger didn't notice, and why would he? Todd wasn't acting suspicious. The ranger had no idea she was there, and wouldn't, unless she screamed.

Even from here she could see the leather sheath on Todd's belt. She knew too well the length of the blade inside. With his hands on his hips it would take him a second to whip out
the knife. Did the ranger have a weapon? Even if he had a gun, would he be able to draw it before Todd stabbed him?

Gilly stayed quiet.

“That's quite a snowman. Snow lady.” The ranger laughed and looked around at the cabin.

What would he see? Gilly clutched at the wood, not caring about what blood might have darkened it in the past. The snow, trampled. Smoke coming from the chimney. No vehicle.

No vehicle.

Notice. How did Todd get here without a car? Please, notice.

“How about this snow, huh?” The ranger kicked at some of it. “Worst we've had in as long as I can remember. Lots of folks buried back here. Got a fellow a few miles up on Timberline Road, he's got a plow. I could send him over if you need it.”

“Ah…no, thanks. I'm okay. Snow can't last forever, right? And I stocked up good before the storms started.”

The ranger took another look around the yard and swung his gaze back to Todd. “You all alone out here, sir?”

“Ah…no. My wife's with me.” In profile, Todd's grin was just as transforming as it was full-on—the ranger seemed calmed by it, anyway. “Sort of a…honeymoon.”

The ranger laughed and tipped a finger to his hat. “Gotcha. Don't want to be disturbed, huh?”

“You got it.”

“But you've got a working phone? Someone to call in case of an emergency? I see you don't have a vehicle here, sir.”

“Had to park it at the end of the lane,” Todd said easily, evenly, breezily. “Though it's not there, now, my wife's brother's borrowing it for a couple weeks until we get back. He'll come pick us up on a snowmobile if he has to. Like the one you have. What is that, a Bearcat five-seventy?”

The ranger looked over his shoulder. “Yep.”

“Sweet.” Todd walked over to it farther from the house. He shot a glance over his shoulder, seeming to look right into her eyes, then turned to openly admire the snowmobile.

The men talked about vehicle specs while Gilly shivered. This wasn't the way it had been at the gas station, when she'd lost her senses. Now she wanted to scream out, to batter the door open with her fists.

He said he'd kill the ranger. Then you. Then himself. Even if he doesn't…what will happen if you scream and the ranger doesn't hear you? What if he does and he manages to keep Todd from attacking him? What if Todd doesn't kill him, and the ranger gets away? What would happen then, Gilly?

Gilly turned her back to the crack she'd been peeking through and slid down the wall to bury her face in her hands. Shuddering with cold and anxiety, she wept. Her tears froze on her lashes.

You know what would happen.

You have to take care of what you love, Gillian. Even if it makes you bleed.

After another few minutes, she heard the snowmobile's buzz moving away. A minute after that, Todd opened the door and pulled her out. His eyes were wide and staring, a little crazy. When he pulled her against him, hugging her tight, Gilly was too surprised to stop him. They breathed together, in and out. His hand stroked down her back. She pulled away.

“Thank you, Gilly. Thank you.”

“C'mon,” Gilly said tensely. “Let's have some tea. I think there are some cookies left, too.”

“Maybe you should lay off the cookies,” Todd joked as they went into the kitchen. “I about busted myself lifting you.”

Gilly, nerves already strung tight, gaped at this sad attempt at humor. Her hands flew to the mound of her stomach. Even
beneath the layers of clothes she could feel a small, round bulge. Her face had grown thin, her arms and legs, too, but her belly had not. Her face heated. “That's an awful thing to say!”

She stormed into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes, tossing them into a pile on the floor. The small mirror above the sink could not reflect her entire body, so she had to rely on her own eyes and the movement of her hands as she felt her stomach.

She cupped her breasts in her hands, felt their weight and the way they ached. She slid her palms over the rounded curve of her belly. Still small. But there.

Gilly pawed through the depleted supplies Todd had bought for her so many weeks ago. Shampoo. Soap. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. No tampons, no sanitary napkins. And she hadn't noticed, had she? Hadn't paid attention to something missing that she hadn't needed to use? And she hadn't needed those monthly reminders of her fertility, because…

I'm pregnant. Oh, my God. No.

“Gilly? You okay?” Todd rapped on the door and tried the handle, but Gilly grabbed it tight before he could open it.

“I'll be out in a minute.”

She was not okay. Not at all. Gilly bit the familiar sore spot inside her cheek to stifle a moan. She sank to the floor, mindless of the cold air that had her skin humped into prickly gooseflesh. She knelt in the pile of sopping wet clothes and pressed her hands to her face.

Not this. Not now, when Arwen starting first grade and Gandy graduating from diapers meant she would begin to have some of her life back.

A baby? Breastfeeding, diaper explosions, sleepless nights?
Soft, sweet heads that smelled of baby soap. Tiny fingers and toes. The first toothless grin.

She was not a woman who “oohed” and “aahed” over babies in the grocery store or on the street. Both her pregnancies had been fraught with illness, complications and hard, relentless labor. The beauty of her children more than made up for the pain, but she'd vowed after Gandy's forty-eight-hour labor and birth that she'd never go through it again.

“Damn, damn,” she swore softly. Goose bumps as hard as rocks pebbled her skin. She had nothing dry or warm to put on. “Todd…?”

He'd already anticipated her. The door edged open, and his hand appeared. He gave her underwear, socks, T-shirt, sweatshirt, sweatpants. Layers of warmth that would do nothing to chase away the chill. She took them with thanks, dried herself, slipped them on.

“You okay?” he asked when she finally ventured forth from the bathroom. He looked at her face and guessed the answer before she could reply. “You puke again? Are you sick?”

Gilly sat on the ugly plaid chair. “I'm pregnant.”

The stunned look on his face would've been comical if she'd been in a better mood. For several long moments, Todd appeared unable to speak. Finally he ran a hand over his face, then up through the cropped remains of his hair.

“The fuck?” he asked.

“What the fuck, indeed,” Gilly replied. She plucked at the front of her sweatshirt, peeling away bits of the logo with her fingernails.