Kayli Unknown

Chapter 2 - Jim

Kat's home was huge, dark, and empty. It felt emptier than ever before. Built to mimic the famous fishing lodges of Canada, it had log walls, a two story great room with stone fireplace and huge windows looking south over the lake. Above an open stairway were six bedroom suites built for the millionaires who had never come. Below were the kitchen, a dining room, and Kat's bedroom.

Kat was desperate to use her bedroom, but knew the EMT had been right about concussion. She had been hit multiple times – hard. She needed to sit, and wait, and check her own health. She chose a couch before the stone fireplace. Leather. All the seating in the great room was leather. High quality, large, dark – male furniture. Purchased, designed, and placed to please rich fishermen – who had never chosen to patronize a lodge on a very average lake in the back corner of Wisconsin. She would sink into the soft leather, monitor her pulse, and wait.

The fireplace was gas. She turned that on, but left the lights off. The gas pipes had been cleverly arranged so the fire at least vaguely resembled a real fire. She had brought the gas in. The fireplace was huge, and there was an endless supply of wood in the forest surrounding her lodge. And her customers liked a wood fire. Nice aromas. Interesting colors. But a wood fire demanded constant attention. It wasn't just cutting and splitting the wood. It was managing the fire – getting a good draft going so the smoke would go up the chimney and not into the room. Adding a log every few minutes. Poking the logs to move them into the best position as they burned. Waiting until the last of the fire was out before closing the damper, while cold air came down the chimney and chilled the room. Constant attention. She gave it that attention for two years, then had it converted to propane. Open the damper, flip a switch, fire. Far easier when her customers were gathered around each weekend, far easier tonight as she sat in the dark and stared into the flames.

Somewhat embarrassing. She owned ten acres of forest around the lodge. There was downed wood everywhere. But she used gas. Lazy? Yes. When you came right down to it, she was getting lazy. She looked at the flames and felt embarrassed.

She also felt empty. She had watched a young girl die. A terrible death. The girl terrified. Dead before she hit the floor. The cold, concrete floor of an ancient bar. A floor that needed scrubbing and resurfacing. How could any of that happen? Twelve? Thirteen? What was she doing in a car? What was she doing in a cotton dress in January? And now? Buried under the ancient roofing materials of a tiny bar at the back end of Wisconsin. Trapped on that dirty floor. Trapped in the January cold. No shoes.

Kat started crying again. She was sick at heart. She was also in pain. She felt herself begin to stiffen up. Her back had been hit hard and often. She would stiffen as she sat, and be worse in the morning. Much worse. An endless sequence of pain. She wished she had taken a Tylenol.

But she would have a morning. The girl would not. Kat pulled her feet up under her, wrapped her arms tightly around herself, and silently cried. She had left Afghanistan hoping she would never cry again. But she was. There it had been sitting on a steel bed in one half of a shipping container turning into post housing, here it was a luxury lodge and soft leather seat, but they were the same tears. She saw the girl's face pressed against the glass, and she cried.

Jim came for her about midnight. People around town thought they were the perfect couple. Both tall. Champion basketball players, him on the local high school team, her on the University of Wisconsin team. Sometimes they were the perfect couple. Sometimes they weren't.

He let himself in and settled himself next to her on the couch. He put an arm around her shoulders. He pulled her to him. She grimaced. He noticed.

"How badly were you hurt?"

"Just cuts and bruises. I'll be fine in a day or two."

"Kekkonen called me. I came up after practice. I've seen the bar. You are lucky you weren't killed."

"Is she still in there?" Kat turned to face him.

"Everyone seemed to agree it would be safer to wait until morning and get some heavy equipment in. They fear the rest of the roof might drop."

Kat had this vision of the girl's bare feet. January. She would be cold.

"They explained about the crash?"

"Said she had a very old car and came in through the front corner. The pool table stopped her, or she might have hit the guys sitting at the bar."

"She was terrified, Jim. I was facing that end of the building as I stood talking to the guys. I saw her face. I have never seen anyone that frightened."

"Stole the car from her parents, I suppose. Thought she knew how to drive. Couldn't control it."

"She had bare feet."

Jim's turn to stare at Kat. He was a decent looking man. Good hair for a man in his early forties. Solid face. Not handsome, but good enough. If you saw him walking down the street you would know he was a solid member of the community. Maybe a teacher, maybe a guy selling insurance. That "solid" face was now directed at Kat.

"So, you think maybe a runaway?"

"Bare feet, bare legs, blue cotton dress, no coat. It's like she stepped out of a warm living room, got into the car, and drove."

"Fight with her parents? Kids do that. Something we think is nothing. Late homework assignment. Special TV show. They think it's the end of the world. They explode. By now the parents have called 911. Kekkonen is probably talking to them. They don't understand how it all happened. Parents don't. Grownups don't."

"She was so scared, Jim."

"We'll know why tomorrow."

Long silence. They both stared at the fire. Jim kept his arm around Kat's shoulder, but touched her carefully. Just finger tips sliding up and down her arm and shoulder. Light touches. Soft strokes. Kat slowly uncrossed her arms and put a hand on Jim's knee.

"I like your touch. But you know you aren't getting anything tonight."

Jim just laughed.

"Kat, I don't want to insult you, but you understand you are covered in a hundred years of bar dust and pink insulation. Oh, and there's a bandage where your hair used to be."

"He told me it was a small bandage."

"Small, and very attractive, but still, I think we'll postpone any romance until you are not concussed and bleeding. Now. Let me get you to bed. Alone."

Jim stood, and pulled Kat up from the couch. He kept one arm around her as they walked back to her bedroom. He pulled her sweater over her head only to release a cloud of dust and dirt. Her jeans were just as bed. She tried to unhook her bra, but Jim saw her wince as she moved her arms behind her. He finished undressing her, and pulled a satin nightgown over her head.

"You look sexy as hell in that nightgown, but I'm putting it on you because it will feel better on your bruises, not because I'm looking for any action."

"Your time will come, but it may be a few days." She sat on the edge of her bed. "Check my eyes for concussion, and get me a Tylenol, will you?"

Jim turned on the overhead light and watched her pupils contract. He got the light off again pretty quickly, and brought her a Tylenol and glass of water. She was already under the covers. Jim lay on the other side of her bed, his clothes still on. She dropped off to sleep pretty fast. He watched her for a while, checked her breathing, then he slept too.

Jim's mornings started pretty early, but he got her another Tylenol, and checked her pupils one more time before leaving for school promptly at seven. He also gave her a light kiss on the lips. Kat smiled, then dropped her head back onto her pillow, and went back to sleep.