Shit, Truck thought, got two to warm up. “Kitt, son, can you go get yourself some warm, dry, clean clothes?”
I got this one, Tish said, and Kitt turned to the door, again cradling the item he had carried so cautiously through the woods. “Present.” His tone was aggrieved, but he moved out of sight and down the hallway.
Truck called after the boy, “Bring your clothes back here, Kitt. Hang out with me while we get Mom warmed up.”
“PRESENT!” The bellow from a distance away made Vanna shift in his arms, and he continued on his path to the door that he hoped led to an adjoining bath.
Looking around the little room, he saw a wide, long bathtub lining the far wall, a separate shower stall arranged at one end. A short wall served as a divider, with the stool on the other side. Cabinets were built into the wall behind the door, and he saw decorative towels hanging from a rod near the sink. This was another area with a definite stamp of personality, and he chuckled to see the whimsical mermen paintings that hung on either side of the vanity mirror. His Vanna enjoyed a bit of fantasy it seemed, if the unrealistic bulging muscles and pecs on the fish-tailed men were any indication. I’d give her whatever fantasy she needed, he thought, cautiously reaching out to twist the tub’s faucet handles, releasing a flood of water, carefully balancing his burden.
The sound reminded him of his terror as he ran beside her towards the creek, imagination feeding him visions of a struggling Kitt fighting chin-deep in raging waters. The outcome could have been so different, and this possibility was something he knew Vanna lived with every day with her boy. Trying to decipher his wants and needs from the limited clues he could provide. She lived her life in anticipation of the next demand. Always on duty, it seemed.
Fingers in the heating water, he tugged the tub stopper in place, seeing the level immediately begin to rise. He had just sat back on his haunches when he heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle and waited, listening to see if it passed by her house. When the engine noise swelled and cut off, he knew it must have pulled into her driveway. She might have called someone before she chased after Kitt, he thought, then discarded the idea. She’d run out of the house without shoes, without grabbing her phone, and without closing her door, there was no way she’d stopped to make a call.
“CADE!” Kitt’s happy shout split the air and then Truck heard the boy’s feet pelting back down the stairs, accompanied by Tish’s laughter in his head. Boy’s got sweatpants on him at least, she said and Truck shook his head at how his mind filled in her humor.
Sounds like it’s someone he knows, Truck thought. Listening to the commotion of multiple people moving around on the ground floor, chatter and laughter interspersed with what sounded like concerned inquiries. Not willing to wait any longer to get Vanna into the water, he settled her into the warmth, keeping a hand behind her head, one tucked under her arm, supporting and holding her in place.
He narrowed his eyes when he recognized one of the voices filling the downstairs with loud demands. Tipping his head towards the door he shouted, “Gunny, man, upstairs.” Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs, followed by the now-familiar tread of Kitt, and another set he suspected belonged to Sharon.
“What the fuck?” Gunny’s head stuck in the bathroom door, his gaze sweeping over Truck and Vanna. “The fuck are you doing in Peeper’s bathroom, Truck?”
Truck turned back to a Vanna who had begun to rouse, the heat from the rising water finally beating back the chill. Mud and dirt swirled around her, twigs and leaves floating on top of the water and her thin t-shirt clung to every curve showing above the surface. Beautiful curves, he thought, his gaze tracing to the still-rising level of water and back up, beautiful woman.
Glancing back at Gunny, he made a quick decision to protect Kitt from knowing how his actions had endangered his mother, saying instead, “Kitt had a big morning. Went for a swim in the creek.” He moved his feet slightly, conscious of his own wet socks and cold toes. “Vanna decided to join him.” Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, eyes peeking up at him in bemused surprise. “I need to get her warmed up, man. Can you and Sharon see to Kitt?”
Sharon’s voice floated from behind him, concern warring with laughter in her tone. “Can do, Truck.” Her voice turned wheedling, “Come on, Kitt. Let’s get a shirt on you and warm socks. No seams, I know how you roll, buddy.”
Shuffling footsteps were moving into the hallway when he heard Kitt say, uncertainty in his voice, “Cade?”