Chapter Four – The Mystery of Kate

The first thing that she was aware of was a soft bed and clean sheets. She kept her eyes closed for a moment or two, not wanting this dream to disappear. After a minute or so, she became aware that it wasn't a dream, and was, in fact, reality.

That was when she opened her eyes, and found herself looking directly at a pile of clothes and other items.

At first, she was confused. What was with all this stuff? Then she remembered the list of things Jack had her make while he checked them in. With a happy grin, she seized the items and entered the bathroom. This shower was going to feel so good.

Thirty minutes later, she stepped out of the shower dripping wet and feeling the cleanest she ever had in a long time. She looked like a different girl, almost. And Jack, she found, had something of a sense of style. She pulled on a pair of blue jeans, buckled a simple belt around her waist, and slid a ribbed, dark teal sleeveless shirt over her head. A khaki jacket and her old fingerless gloves completed the ensemble, along with a new pair of sneakers. When she finally left the bathroom, all her new and old things bagged up, her face was glowing with happiness. As she then pulled her brown hair back in a ponytail, she wondered if her new friend felt any embarrassment at all while picking out and buying some of these items.

Probably, she mused, grinning to herself as she hefted her bags. Jack had even brought her bag of electronics in, so that there was no risk of them being stolen.

Speaking of Jack, where is he? It had been eight hours since they had checked in, and her pessimistic side started wondering if he had abandoned her.

He wouldn't do that, she scolded herself. He's probably outside waiting.

How do you know? Vor asked, reminding her that she knew next to nothing about the guy. Even so, Kate stubbornly refused to think ill of this man. He got me clothes, didn't he? He promised he'd take us to Nevada.

There you go with that plural again. Honestly, girl, you've gone crazy.

Yeah, well . . . solitude does that to you.

When are you going to tell him about those scars?

Later.

Dearie . . .

I said later. I'm going outside now.

She opened the door, only to discover her friend sitting on the doorstep, staring off into space. "You okay?" she asked.

He looked up at her, mock surprise crossing his face. "She's alive!"

Kate laughed. "That or I'm sleepwalking. Thanks for the stuff, by the way. I don't know how I could ever repay you for all of this."

"You can live," he answered seriously. "That'd be coo'."

She grinned. "I pay it gladly. Umm . . . Where am I going to put all of this?"

"The ride has a trunk. We can stow it there."

"Sounds coo'," she said teasingly. "Ready to roll?"

"Absolutely." He took her bags for her, stowing the backpack in the front and putting everything else in the trunk. When she got in the car, she found a bag of food awaiting her.

"I already ate," Jack explained. "Just please don't spill anything."

"In a ride as sweet as this? I dare not." She grinned again, carefully chewing on the cinnamon roll he had purchased for her. "Gosh, I was starved."

"I could see that. How long's it been since you had a decent meal, anyhow?"

She thought about that for a moment, which caused her companion great alarm. "Two or three days," she answered at last, increasing that alarm.

He struggled to maintain his composure. "Blast it, Kate," he said, his voice wavering. "Why didn't you tell me? I could've gotten you something to eat. My doctor friend isn't going to be the least bit happy about this."

She smiled dryly. "They rarely are. Especially when they see scars that shouldn't be there."

That attracted his attention. "You have scars?" Concern shot through his voice, electing a reassuring smile from the girl. "I'm fine."

He clearly didn't want to give this up, but he must have known that she wasn't going to, either, and this was no way to go about an inquiry. "All right," he relented. "But if you ever want to talk . . ."

"I know where to find you."

It was several minutes before she spoke again. When she did, she began rummaging through her bag. "Is it okay if I plug in my computer? The battery's dead."

"Go right ahead," he answered, only mildly surprised. "Say, what kinda music you got on that thing?"

"Huh? Oh . . . Skillet, a Linkin Park song, Kutless, Relient K . . . I have pretty mild tastes compared to some, I suppose."

"I don't think I've ever heard of any of those."

"Really? Here, I'll put one on."

Click-click-click, went the iPod, then Skillet's song, "The Last Night," began to play. As she listened to the randomly selected song, she decided it was rather ironic, to say the least.

"You come to me with scars on your wrist,

"You tell me this will be the last night feeling like this.

"I just came to say goodbye,

"I didn't want you to see me cry, I'm fine.

"But I know it's a lie . . ."

As it went into the chorus, she let out a quiet sigh, fingering her left wrist idly. She was in no way suicidal. Regardless, her stubborn will to live wouldn't let her kill herself. People assumed she was, though. But then, they never did ask. And if they didn't ask, she figured, they didn't care.

Somehow, she knew Jack cared, even though he hadn't asked. How could one ask if they were oblivious?

"You seem preoccupied," Jack observed. "Everything coo'?"

Kate couldn't help but laugh. "I can't get over how you say that," she told him, not trying to avoid the question but managing it anyway. "You sound like a friendly gangster."

His insanely blue eyes sparkled. "That's okay with me. I can dig that."

She shook her head, smirking. "Oh, shut up."

"I could, but it'd be an awfully quiet ride to Nevada."

Kate smiled, yawning. "I'm kinda surprised I'm still tired, but then I'm also not. It isn't as if I got very good sleep these past few months."

Jack pressed a button on the dashboard, heating the seat she sat in. "Go ahead and get some sleep," he advised. "I'll wake you in a while so you can eat."

Reluctantly at first, Kate relented, closing her eyes with a contented sigh. "Thanks," she murmured, prompting a smile from her new friend. "Any time."

She slept for a long time, only waking up just as Jack exited the highway. "Food?" she guessed.

"You got it. By the way, welcome to Nebraska. Oh, I called my doctor friend, and he said I should have you eat soup for a while."

"So . . ." Kate looked at the signs. "Panera?"

"Sounds good to me." He parked outside the restaurant, and they went inside. Ten minutes later, they each sat down with a bowl of soup and a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

"Easy, there," Jack cautioned. "With only a cinnamon roll in two days, you need to eat slowly."

Kate decided salty chicken noodle soup in a sourdough bread bowl had never tasted so good. She did her best to follow his instructions, but it was hard to restrain herself as she brought each bite to her mouth.

"Almost forgot what food tasted like," she joked, starting on her hot chocolate as soon as her soup was devoured. Already finished with his own, Jack smiled. "Can't have that," he chided. "Ready?"

Kate gathered their dishes and put them in the bin as Jack threw away their trash. "Let's roll."

Edited 4-21-10