The Moose Jaw (The Fergus O'Neill Series) by Mike Delany

Author:Mike Delany [Delany, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Michael R. Delany
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The eggs had just reached the “easy-over” stage when she reemerged from the cabin. She had combed out her hair and washed, and was wearing her own Levis and shirt under the down jacket, but she was still sporting the ducks. Her lips shone with a transparent luster, which I credited to Chap-stick, since I didn’t have much lipstick in my kit. All in all, she looked good. Better than good – lovely.

I raised the coffee pot toward her.

“Please.” She said.

I poured her a cup. “Sorry I don’t have any cream. There’s condensed milk if you like.”

“No,” she said, taking the offered cup in both hands. “I’ve learned to drink it black. Thanks.”

“How do you like your eggs?” I asked.

“Scrambled, but any way is fine as long as they’re not too runny.”

I lifted the lid and let her have a look. The steam and the aroma of the bacon rolled up into the frosty air.

“Mmmm,” she said, “they look just right.”

I killed the flame under the pan and filled our tin plates. To each I added half a muffin I’d toasted directly over the burner, then carried the plates, steaming, into the cabin. She followed, bringing her mug in one hand and the coffee pot in the other. I indicated the green cook stove, its pipe now glowing a soft rose in the dim interior.

“You can set the coffee on there to keep warm.”

She did, then removed the jacket, hung it on one of the wall pegs and came to join me at the table. I watched her as she moved. It was the first time I’d seen her in her own clothes since that first night. Then they’d been sodden rags, covered with mud. I’d laundered them during the first few days, wondering as I did, if she’d ever recover to wear them again. Watching her approach the table, it occurred to me how very happy I was she had. I looked at her with open admiration. She noticed and a blush touched her cheeks, visible even in the dim light. Once again, I marveled at the complexity of women. She knew full well she’d been naked for the better part of her time with me and that I’d bathed and oiled every inch of her many times. Just last night she’d slept naked in my arms and yet, now, catching my eyes on her, fully clothed, she blushed!

The hint of a smile touched her lips and her eyes fell coyly to the floor, then quickly back up to meet mine. She covered her moment of awkwardness with a radiant smile, and echoed the words I had spoken last night.

“I know – I clean up nice.”

I returned her smile and admitted, “That you do.”

As we ate our breakfast I noted that she had excellent table manners. She sat primly and quite erect, one hand in her lap while she chewed. She also held the fork in her left hand and knife in her right when cutting, European style. I had always been embarrassed by the dining habits of my fellow countrymen when visiting Europe.

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