over.
“Hey!” Patrick had relieved himself of the tray and caught my shoulders in both hands, reigniting the memory of the dream. “Get yourself back in that bed!” He half-pushed, half-carried me. He pulled the covers high on my chest. “Woman, you don’t have a tot of sense.”
The coughing fit had passed, and I found myself amused at Patrick’s concern. Whether feigned or real, he made me believe he was worried. “Thank you. I’ll wear the cough out soon enough.”
“Not if you stand half-naked in open doorways.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.” I realized how flirtatious the words were as soon as I spoke, but there was no getting them back. Such behavior was wildly inappropriate, and shame heightened the heat in my face. “Thank you for bringing the soup.”
“I’ll get more wood.” He struck a ridiculous pose and flexed a muscle. “I have the brawn to tend to the needs of a beautiful sick woman.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The foolish exuberance of youth and good health amused me. His unrelenting attempts to seduce me were a delicious serving of flattery, but he knew, as I did, that it would come to nothing. “I’m not really sick. It’s just a bad cold.”
“It gives me pleasure to help you, so pretend to be a damsel in distress.”
There was wisdom in his flippant sentence, and a truth I’d never faced head-on. “Stoke the fire.” I waved a feeble hand. “And maybe you could feed me, too. I’m so weak I may expire.” I slumped into a classic swoon.
“That’s more like it.” He brought the tray to the bed and lifted a spoonful of broth to my lips.
The intimacy silenced my tongue, but my heart pounded. I’d laid the challenge and he’d called my bluff. As the adult, I had to set the boundaries. He was a young man and Dorothea’s surrogate son. She wouldn’t be amused. It was up to me to control the situation. I was older, not to mention contagious.
I took the bowl and spoon. “Thank you, Patrick. You’re a considerate young man.”
“I’m not just a boy.” He pushed my hair from my face. “You’re beautiful, Aine.”
I caught his hand. “Hardly. I’m a doctoral student worn to a frazzle. And I’m sick. I shouldn’t flirt with you. It’s wrong.”
He made no attempt to touch me again, but he didn’t leave the bedside. “Why are you so scared of feeling? Who hurt you?”
“I never took you for a sensitive young man.”
He laughed at my honesty. “Just because I like girls and they like me back doesn’t mean I’m thick as a brick wall. I’ve watched you. The way you’re always alone, even around other people.”
I put the soup on the bedside table. “You are observant. Right now, I’m focused on my work. That’s the way it has to be. You’re a handsome young man. I see the girls who come here to be near you. You can have your pick of all of them.”
“I’m interested in you.”
“You’re wasting your time, Patrick. You only think you’re interested because you know it’s impossible.”
“We’ll see about that.” He picked up the tray and left without a backward glance.
8
The fever passed and I met Joe at Walden Pond. The sky was blue and the sun was out. The snow had melted, but there was no doubt that winter had set in for good. Barrenness pervaded the scenery. Not unpleasant, but different from the dancing golden foliage I’d encountered when I’d first ventured around Walden.
Standing at the edge of the pond where I’d found the doll, I saw no sign of humanity except for the man beside me. We could have been dropped into a wilderness at any point in time. A songbird, which should have long been south for the winter, trilled a buzzy sree and a sharp whistle. Civilization might be a mile away, or a hundred.
Joe’s thoughts must have run somewhat parallel to mine, because he said “Makes you wonder how Thoreau stood it, all by himself. He had to walk to town for human company and the weather often kept him
“Hey!” Patrick had relieved himself of the tray and caught my shoulders in both hands, reigniting the memory of the dream. “Get yourself back in that bed!” He half-pushed, half-carried me. He pulled the covers high on my chest. “Woman, you don’t have a tot of sense.”
The coughing fit had passed, and I found myself amused at Patrick’s concern. Whether feigned or real, he made me believe he was worried. “Thank you. I’ll wear the cough out soon enough.”
“Not if you stand half-naked in open doorways.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.” I realized how flirtatious the words were as soon as I spoke, but there was no getting them back. Such behavior was wildly inappropriate, and shame heightened the heat in my face. “Thank you for bringing the soup.”
“I’ll get more wood.” He struck a ridiculous pose and flexed a muscle. “I have the brawn to tend to the needs of a beautiful sick woman.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The foolish exuberance of youth and good health amused me. His unrelenting attempts to seduce me were a delicious serving of flattery, but he knew, as I did, that it would come to nothing. “I’m not really sick. It’s just a bad cold.”
“It gives me pleasure to help you, so pretend to be a damsel in distress.”
There was wisdom in his flippant sentence, and a truth I’d never faced head-on. “Stoke the fire.” I waved a feeble hand. “And maybe you could feed me, too. I’m so weak I may expire.” I slumped into a classic swoon.
“That’s more like it.” He brought the tray to the bed and lifted a spoonful of broth to my lips.
The intimacy silenced my tongue, but my heart pounded. I’d laid the challenge and he’d called my bluff. As the adult, I had to set the boundaries. He was a young man and Dorothea’s surrogate son. She wouldn’t be amused. It was up to me to control the situation. I was older, not to mention contagious.
I took the bowl and spoon. “Thank you, Patrick. You’re a considerate young man.”
“I’m not just a boy.” He pushed my hair from my face. “You’re beautiful, Aine.”
I caught his hand. “Hardly. I’m a doctoral student worn to a frazzle. And I’m sick. I shouldn’t flirt with you. It’s wrong.”
He made no attempt to touch me again, but he didn’t leave the bedside. “Why are you so scared of feeling? Who hurt you?”
“I never took you for a sensitive young man.”
He laughed at my honesty. “Just because I like girls and they like me back doesn’t mean I’m thick as a brick wall. I’ve watched you. The way you’re always alone, even around other people.”
I put the soup on the bedside table. “You are observant. Right now, I’m focused on my work. That’s the way it has to be. You’re a handsome young man. I see the girls who come here to be near you. You can have your pick of all of them.”
“I’m interested in you.”
“You’re wasting your time, Patrick. You only think you’re interested because you know it’s impossible.”
“We’ll see about that.” He picked up the tray and left without a backward glance.
8
The fever passed and I met Joe at Walden Pond. The sky was blue and the sun was out. The snow had melted, but there was no doubt that winter had set in for good. Barrenness pervaded the scenery. Not unpleasant, but different from the dancing golden foliage I’d encountered when I’d first ventured around Walden.
Standing at the edge of the pond where I’d found the doll, I saw no sign of humanity except for the man beside me. We could have been dropped into a wilderness at any point in time. A songbird, which should have long been south for the winter, trilled a buzzy sree and a sharp whistle. Civilization might be a mile away, or a hundred.
Joe’s thoughts must have run somewhat parallel to mine, because he said “Makes you wonder how Thoreau stood it, all by himself. He had to walk to town for human company and the weather often kept him
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