"Ouch! Dammit!"
Rufus winced as he sucked his thumb into his mouth, the hammer he had been holding tumbling to the ground very nearly missing his foot.
"You okay, man?"
Wyatt's voice momentarily called Rufus' attention away from his throbbing thumb, towards the edge of the forest clearing from where the Delta Force soldier was fast approaching.
"Where the hell have you been? I thought you were going to help me with this?" Rufus spat out as he glowered up at Wyatt, squinting against the bright afternoon sun as he did so.
Holding up two dead rabbits, Wyatt shrugged, "I was getting us dinner. How's it coming?" he asked with a nod towards the wash tub.
"It's coming…if I can just get this damn thing to…ugh." he grunted as he attempted but failed to attach a metal bracket across the top of the wooden lid he had fashioned. Pulling it off again with a huff, he wiped his brow and rechecked his measurements, "Something must not be lining up right…" he murmured to no one but himself.
"Here," Wyatt offered, setting the pair of rabbits down on the workbench, "let me see that thing." Taking the metal bracket from Rufus, Wyatt forcefully snapped it down over the wooden lid and immediately pounded it into place with a few blows of the mallet. "There," Wyatt breathed out, "is that good enough?"
Dumbfounded, Rufus gaped at Wyatt, "Yeah, that's good enough…would've been better about an hour ago. You knew we were doing this…did you really have to go off and kill Thumper over there? Don't we have more of that pea stuff Lucy made the other night?"
Coloring slightly, Wyatt shrugged, "Well, I just...I wanted to surprise you guys with some supper…you know," he added as he shifted his feet awkwardly, "to sort of apologize to Lu…to the both of you…for um, how I acted last night and…and everything."
Frowning thoughtfully, Rufus sighed, "Yeah, well…I'm sorry about how I left things with you last night too…I guess we've all been under a little bit of stress lately."
"You don't have to apologize." Wyatt interrupted with an adamant shake of his head. "I deserved it. I mean, I probably wouldn't even be here without you and Lucy…you guys really came through and I…"
"You've come through for us too, Wyatt." Rufus reminded him with serious nod, "You've saved our asses this whole mission…it was kinda nice to return the favor."
They stood apart uncomfortably for a few beats before Wyatt offered uneasily, "Do you…I mean, can I give you a hand with something else or…"
"Nah..." Rufus dismissed, "Don't worry about it…I'm almost done with this part…won't be able to do much else until I get some more pieces made. Nodding at his dead rabbits, he urged, "You go ahead and do your thing…I'll call you if I need you."
Taking his cue from Rufus, Wyatt took his game and made his way to the back of the cabin where he set to work skinning and cleaning the pair of them. It wasn't something he particularly enjoyed, but it did put him in mind of simpler times…when he would go camping with his Grandpa.
Those were the few happy times he could remember from his childhood. Sitting in the back of his grandpa's old Ford pickup, driving down a dusty ranch road to the lake where they would set up camp for a weekend of hunting and fishing. Some folks might have packed hot dogs or burgers for a trip like that…just in case…but Grandpa Sherwin always scoffed at the idea, saying that "wasn't really camping."
Sometimes they would live on fish, other times it would be rabbits or snake, but mostly, it was doves. In West Texas, especially, dove hunting was…well, it was just what you did. His grandpa had taught him everything there was to know about cleaning and cooking various animals…and while some people may have turned their nose up at it, for Wyatt…being poor…hunting was just a way of life that more often than not, saved him from going to bed hungry at night…especially when he was with his no-account sonofbitch father.
Hunting had taught him self-reliance, something his grandfather rightly said, "couldn't be learned from a book. You could read about planting seeds, hunting game," he had said to Wyatt on one particular camping trip, "but until you actually get your hands dirty and do it, you'll never quite learn how to take care of yourself."
He never dreamed then that he'd be using those lessons to survive the 18th century.
After cleaning off his workstation and dumping the entrails and skins into a nearby bucket to be buried later, Wyatt made his way back into the cabin, quartered rabbits in hand. Limited on what he could use in the way of spice, he managed to scrounge up some thyme and rosemary from spices Lucy had procured from Mrs. Poe. After seasoning the rabbit meat, he then went in search of some kind of vegetable they could use, finding a few still good carrots in their garden that, he noted, was in desperate need of attention. Remembering John Fraser's rebuke, Wyatt made a silent determination right then to spend as much time as was necessary to get their neglected garden back into shape.
He had just finished arranging the meat and carrots in a deep cast iron skillet and had just crouched down to place it snugly in the fireplace when the sound of Rufus' shouts had him scrambling to his feet and racing out of the door. Rounding the corner of the house at full-speed, Wyatt stopped suddenly at the sight of a horrified looking Rufus covered in blood and guts from the waist down…holding the bucket he had used earlier away from him in disgust.
Too horrified to speak, apparently, Rufus stood frozen to the spot as Wyatt bit back a laugh, "I'm…I'm sorry…I didn't think you would…"
"What the hell, man?" Rufus finally squeaked out. "What the hell?"
"It's…it's not that bad." Wyatt offered, though it was immediately clear to him that Rufus did not agree with that assessment.
"You know, if I knew you were going to use my stool as a damn hazmat container…"
"I thought it was just a bucket…" Wyatt tried to explain.
"Yeah, to you, maybe…but to me?" Rufus demonstrated as he flipped the bucket upside down, "it a very handy and portable piece of multi-functional furniture. Dammit," he gritted out in frustration, "what am I gonna do now? These are the only good pants I have."
"Relax," Wyatt assured as he rolled his eyes, "I've got another pair you can borrow."
But as it turned out, Wyatt did not have another pair Rufus could borrow in that when they made their way inside the cabin and opened his trunk, they found it frustratingly empty. "The wash." Wyatt remembered with a gasp, "Lucy must have…"
"Oh that's just great." Rufus groaned, "What the hell am I going to do? I can't walk around like this!"
As much as Wyatt wanted to tell Rufus it wasn't that big of a deal, he really couldn't…because he wouldn't have wanted to walk around like that either. "I guess it's a good thing we're building a washing machine, right?" he asked with a teasing smirk, though Rufus was hardly amused. "Come on," Wyatt urged, "it's not that big of a deal…we'll just wash them up real quick while dinner is cooking, okay?"
"No, not okay." Rufus reminded him with a pointed look, "What exactly am I supposed to wear while we're washing up my pants? I don't know how things are for you white folks, but my underwear consists of this damn shirt."
"Yeah." Wyatt acknowledged with a knowing nod. Jumping through time had offered them all kinds of surprises…underwear, or the lack thereof being one of those surprises. Sometime after their first mission in 1937, Lucy had apparently taken it upon herself to make sure that Mason's wardrobe department had dealt with their "costuming errors" as Lucy had called them. He didn't understand why…after her historically inaccurate underwire bra had all but saved their asses in that jail cell in New Jersey, he thought that their clothing, like his gun, would've been one area that she would've let slide.
But no, for Lucy, it was "too big of a risk to play around with fashion", no matter how undetectable (and therefore, as Wyatt believed, pointless) it seemed. "If our clothes aren't era-appropriate, we are going to stick out like three sore thumbs." she had maintained, even as he had rolled his eyes in annoyance.
For the most part it hadn't been that big of a deal. Sure, the wool clothing in 1836 had been itchy and uncomfortable and the shoes left a lot to be desired…but their missions were, at most, (well, until recently) a couple of days…and having been in Delta, he was used to all kinds of physical discomfort. Hell, he was trained in discomfort – a few hours or a couple of days sucking it up in some ill-fitting rags? Totally doable. But when he dressed for this mission to 1754, and saw that his outfit consisted of a shirt long enough to be a dress, a pair of stockings and a pair of knee pants, he couldn't help but run out to Mason's staff and ask if they were sure they hadn't forgotten something in the way of "some boxers or something."
At the time, he was already angry at Lucy and his frustration only mounted when his question was met with a chuckle and resounding "No, that's how men dressed in 1754."
So he had sucked it up, figuring things could always be worse. For the most part, the breeches were comfortable and while there were a hell of a lot more buttons and things he had to contend with, it wasn't the worst thing in the world. And after seeing Lucy's struggles with her layers of skirts, corsets and those pillow things she had strapped to her side, he figured out of the two, he had it pretty damn good. Whatever the men lacked in the way of traditional underwear in this century, the women had made up for it with a vengeance.
Which gave him an idea.
"Maybe…" Wyatt muttered as he flung open Lucy's footlocker. He felt odd going through Lucy's things, particularly since he was essentially raiding her panty drawer…but desperate times called for desperate measures and all of that. Unlike his own bare footlocker, Lucy's was filled to the brim with ruffles and lacy fabric, heaped onto one another in what he figured was a semi-organized fashion. There were her chemises, her nightgown, her extra gowns, her petticoats…but nothing, he breathed out in relief, in there in the way of pantaloons or whatever the hell women called their underwear in this day and age. Figuring that she had probably set those off to wash like she had his own clothes, Wyatt was about to snap the lid shut in defeat when he suddenly looked up at Rufus with a meaningful grin.
"What?" Rufus asked him, suspiciously before taking a look in the footlocker himself. Realizing Wyatt's meaning, Rufus shook his head in meager protest, "Oh no…no…no…."
But Wyatt was already shoving Lucy's petticoat at him, "It's either this, or you sit around here naked from the waist down until we get your pants washed. What's it gonna be?
The sun was just beginning to sink slowly into the horizon when Lucy finished pulling the last of the linens off the clothesline. It had been a long and exhausting day for more reasons than just laundry and while she was grateful for something that kept her busy enough to give Wyatt his much needed space, truth be told, at that moment, she would have given anything – in that moment- to have her pair of front loaders.
After weeks of hovering over Wyatt's feverish figure, constantly worrying about whether or not he was going to succumb to whatever infection was ravaging through his body or miraculously make another recovery, she hadn't realized how much it had affected her. Her emotions were a mess…and not just because of what had happened the previous evening. Like Wyatt, she had spent too much time cooped up in that cabin…and with a litany of dark and depressing thoughts assaulting her every time she had a moment to think, it amazed her that she hadn't completely snapped…as Wyatt appeared to have done.
Emotionally, she was exhausted.
As such, she was on edge…so, it's not like she didn't understand where Wyatt was coming from…just needing to get out of that cabin, out of that bed and able to breathe…but it still didn't make his outburst any less painful. It wasn't so much the false accusations of spying that stung…it was, despite her best attempts to play it off, the biting admonishment that she wasn't really his wife.
Of course, she knew that. She had seen to it personally, after all.
She never wanted to replace Jessica. She understood how Wyatt felt about his wife. But after countless nights of caring for him, watching over him, feeding him…sleeping next to him…the whole fake marriage thing seemed…not so fake. In those tense moments…and even in the days that followed his recovery, she could almost imagine them to be actually married…and she really had tried to live up to the 18th century expectations of what her role encompassed. How many nights had she pored over that ridiculous book from Mrs. Poe, just so she could fit in? How hard had she worked to learn the basic tasks that women in this age had learned almost as soon as they could walk?
And yet, despite all of that – despite the fact that she, Lucy Preston, was now able to cook an entire meal from…from practically nothing…over a hearth stove….and scrub out laundry by hand…and dress wounds…and bake bread….Wyatt had only seen it as her attempt to supplant the woman who would always have his heart.
She was devastated and mortified beyond belief.
He needed his space, he wanted her to leave him the hell alone…so she did. Spending practically all day out of doors, with the promise of doing more the next day had given her a healthy dose of sunshine and fresh air and kept her securely away from Wyatt…that is until there he was, practically begging her to let him help out with the laundry.
She couldn't understand it….and she didn't really want to…not tonight anyway. Her back ached something awful; carrying load and loads of heavy wet linens and stooping over her laundry basket all day had certainly taken its toll, but it was nothing compared to the absolute pounding in her head.
It was bad enough being in the 18th century with no foreseeable way back home, but now she had a marriage to contend with, albeit a fake one, but still - a marriage that Wyatt had made perfectly clear he did not want.
Not that that was a surprise to her.
She knew how Wyatt felt about this whole ordeal…it was just part of the job. She thought, or rather hoped, however, that his aversion to this little charade might change. She harbored no hope that he would completely embrace the whole idea of marriage to her, a woman who was not Jessica…but she did hope that maybe, someday he might…not be so opposed to the idea that they could actually…that she could maybe…
Nope.
Angry and frustrated tears sprang to Lucy's eyes as once again, she recalled the anger and disgust in Wyatt's face as he slung those stinging words at her - You're not really my wife, you know. And while yes, Wyatt had sort of apologized for that, she knew that his true feelings weren't too off the mark. Wyatt was and would always be in love with Jessica…and being forced into a kind of marriage with her, had to be doing a number on his emotions.
Hell, it was doing a solid number on her own.
Wyatt, however, had lived with the guilt and regret of that one, horrible night for five years, had devoted himself to finding his wife's killer and bringing them to justice, and had, until recently, harbored a hope that one day…one day…he might be able to save her.
Just like she wanted to save Amy.
So of course, Wyatt was frustrated and angry…trapped here, like they were, stuck in a loveless marriage with his co-worker. She was frustrated and angry too…in her own way. They had both lost someone they loved, they had both clung to the hope that somehow, in their travels…or maybe when all of this hellish "chasing Flynn through time" was over, they could reset a few things in their own lives…fix their regrets.
She just wished Wyatt didn't see her as one.
Lucy blinked back the tears as she folded up the last of the sheets. She didn't blame him. She couldn't. He had never given her any reason to believe that he would ever…
It had all been her doing. For some stupid reason she had gone and let herself fall for a man who could and would never love her back. There might have been times…those moments when he would look at her and her breath would catch…times when she thought that maybe…maybe there was something more between them than just co-workers, friends…or whatever it was they were to each other in this insane world of time travel they had found themselves in. Those moments, however, were fleeting…no sooner would she begin to hope, than Wyatt would remind her in his not so subtle ways, exactly where she stood.
Like he had last night.
"All finished, dear?" the kind voice of Mrs. Poe called her out of her reverie.
Yes, she was finished. SO finished with this whole damn century.
Turning to her with a tense smile, Lucy nodded, "Yes, at least for today, anyway." Seeing an opportunity, she offered hopefully, "I can stay, if you like, and help you get the loads ready for tomorrow. You and Margaret did so much of the hard work today and I…"
"You helped out a great deal." Mrs. Poe said with a smile, "I'm an old woman, I'd rather sit and do the washing rather than be standing and stooping on my feet all day." Nodding at her meaningfully, she added, "I suspect you ought to be getting home now, before it gets too dark otherwise your husband will be worrying himself sick over ye."
Lucy didn't doubt that Wyatt would be worried…but it wouldn't be for the reasons Mrs. Poe thought - it was just part of his job.
Huffing out a breath Lucy picked up her own linen basket and made her way back down the well-worn trail back to the cabin…if only to deliver their clothes and let Wyatt know there was no reason to worry about her. She had no intention of staying some place where she wasn't welcome and given everything that had transpired, even with Wyatt's attempt at apology, her feelings were more or less trampled on…and she didn't want to subject herself to anymore painful reminders that no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried to be everything she imagined a good wife would be….it would never be enough.
Not for Wyatt, anyway…because she wasn't Jessica.
At some point, though, she knew, they were both going to have to come to terms with this situation. Until Rufus repaired the LifeBoat, she was Wyatt's wife for all intents and purposes here…and it would raise more than a few eyebrows if she spent night after night away from her "husband." Having already been on the receiving end of the gossip mill, Lucy really had no interest in giving them more to chatter about, particularly in regards to her love life…or lack thereof.
Still, something would have to be done…in a one room cabin, there wasn't exactly any place to go to be alone…or give someone some space…and with winter coming, spending extended amounts of time outside to avoid one another, Lucy figured, would prove to be more than a little difficult.
No. Whether she liked it or not, they were going to have to come up with some kind of arrangement…or Rufus was going to have to figure out some way to fix the LifeBoat soon because Lucy wasn't sure how much more of this fake marriage she could take. Emotionally, she was drained. Not just from desperately trying to fit into a role she felt ill-qualified for, but also in fighting to keep her feelings for Wyatt from showing in the face of his obvious distaste for…all of this. How could she keep it up? How could she go on pretending that none of this really mattered to her when every day her heart broke a little more knowing that Wyatt would never…
"It's just part of the job." Lucy gritted to no one but herself as she tossed her head back in fierce determination, "It's just another hump…that's all." she added, silently resolving to do whatever she could to help Rufus do whatever it was he needed in order to get that LifeBoat back up and running as soon as possible.
"Okay, you know what?" Rufus breathed out heavily as he adjusted Lucy's petticoat more firmly around his waist, "this isn't going to work. What the good is a washing machine if you still have to haul water back and forth from the water pump to the cabin…and then back out here?"
Pouring out his own bucket of steaming water into the wash tub, Wyatt shrugged, "Yeah, seems a bit much for one pair of pants."
"You think?" Rufus chuckled dryly, before screwing his face up in concentration. "And seriously, how the hell does she walk in these things?" he grumbled as he stumbled over Lucy's petticoat, "There's got to be a way to make this more efficient." With his hand stroking his jaw, Rufus slowly made his way around his crudely built invention, muttering to himself, "How can I get this thing to heat up water without having to haul it back and forth?"
"Build a fire under it?" Wyatt suggested.
"That's a wooden washtub, Wyatt." Rufus dismissed, "Even we built something up to keep the fire from touching the base there, I don't know…I think it would be too risky, don't you?" Frowning, Rufus crouched down, "Maybe I could have Tom hammer out a base for this thing to sit in?" But once again, he dismissed the thought, declaring it to still be too dangerous to have burning hot metal against wood, explaining that different kinds of wood had a different autoignition temperature and without knowing what specific kind of wood was used for the wash tub…
"Well," Wyatt sighed, not waiting for him to finish discussing different theories of thermodynamics, "I guess we could always build a little outdoor stove here so we don't have to haul it quite so far. Hell," he shrugged, "that might not be a bad idea, anyway…do some outdoor cooking…what?" Wyatt asked as Rufus stared back at him open mouthed.
"That's it!" he gasped excitedly, "I mean, I'd just have to get my hands on some copper…I mean, that really shouldn't be a problem…but if I can get Tom to help me hammer out some copper coil…"
"Copper coil?" Wyatt asked with narrowed eyes, "What for?"
"You ever hear of a Dutch Tub?"
Wyatt stared back at him blankly, "Um…no."
"Basically," Rufus explained with a grin, "it's an outdoor hot tub that's heated by fire…but not in the way you'd expect." Crouching down next to the wash basin, he explained, "In a Dutch tub, you're basically using heat and gravity to create a sort of pumping mechanism. If I drill two holes in this thing, one here and the other….um….about here," he stated as he pointed to a higher point on the tub, "insert some copper tubing, one end in each hole, like so," he mimed, "and wrap the middle section of that copper coil around a heat source…like your outdoor stove…it will force the cool water out of the washtub, through the tub, where it will then accelerate around the source of heat and rush back into the tub…replacing the cold water...with hot water."
"Holy crap, Rufus," Wyatt exclaimed, "are you…are you talking about a hot water heater?"
"I guess I am.' Rufus shrugged, "A rudimentary one…but really, the concept is all scientifically based, it's not really that advanced…the trick is that copper coil." he mused, "I've got to make sure I can get enough to wrap it around the heat source a few times, so that it has time to heat and accelerate….hmmm….I'm going to have to take some measurements down…and then of course get some resin…"
"Could you do that with a regular tub?" Wyatt interrupted eagerly.
"I don't see why not" Rufus shrugged, "but you have to remember, man - this isn't something that is even supposed to be around right now…and unless you want to be bathing outside, there's really not a hell of a lot I can do about getting this to work indoors, you'd have to drill a hole in the wall and…I mean, where the hell would you even put a tub in there?" he added with a nod towards the cabin.
Wyatt heaved a sigh as he took in the sight of their one room abode. He had been so proud of the place when they first arrived, happy and relieved to find something, anything to meet their needs. But as he looked at it now, it seemed woefully insufficient. One room that served as a bedroom, changing area, kitchen, dining room…it might have been fine if it was just him…but with Lucy? Rufus was right, where would they even put a bathtub? He had already walked in on her naked once, he really didn't want a repeat of that scenario. "Maybe we could build on a bathroom…" Wyatt muttered thoughtfully.
"We could what, now?" Rufus asked gaping at him. "I thought you were all hellbent on getting us the hell out of here as soon as possible, and now you're talking about putting on an addition?"
"That's not what I…come on, Rufus." Wyatt hissed awkwardly as he tried to explain, "Lucy and I aren't really…you know…and I'm sure it's not exactly comfortable for her to…she…she needs her privacy."
"That's very thoughtful of you Wyatt," Rufus quipped, a small smile tugging at his lips, "but do you have any idea how long it would take to do something like that? And with winter coming along too? There's no way you would be getting that done any time soon."
"Yeah, well it's not like we're going anywhere any time soon." Wyatt replied with a scoff as he roughly got his feet, "you said it yourself, you're still learning to be a blacksmith. Who knows how long we're gonna have to try to make it here? I mean, I thought by now…"
"What?"
"Well, I don't know," Wyatt shrugged, "I just…I thought by now…I mean, they've got to know we're not coming back, right? Don't you think that they would've…I don't know…come looking for us or something?"
"How?" Rufus asked with a derisive laugh, "They'd need a time machine, Wyatt…and seeing how this one is here and Flynn has got the other one…"
"Yeah, but that's just it, isn't it?" Wyatt pressed, "Time doesn't make a damn bit of difference, right? Not to us. They could build another one and come back to get us 15 years from now and we wouldn't even know the difference."
"I guess that's true." Rufus mused, "but first they'd have to find someone to fund the damn thing. This may come as a surprise to you, man…but time travel? It doesn't come cheap."
"Yeah but.."
"And then they'd have to train someone to pilot it," Rufus continued, "and with the only two viable pilots currently out of commission…I know I make it look easy," he said with a slight chuckle, "but it's not like driving a car, I'll tell you that."
"Yeah, but…"
"And besides," Rufus pressed, before stopping suddenly with a pained expression.
"What?" Wyatt urged.
"Well…" he began almost reluctantly, "who knows what the hell our present is like right now, with Flynn running unchecked, all through history." He swallowed hard, attempting to keep his emotions under control as he explained, "If Flynn's whole agenda is to get rid of this Rittenhouse? Wyatt, who the hell do you think funded this project?"
"So you're saying that if Flynn actually did what he set out to do…"
"Without Rittenhouse, there would be no time travel." Rufus said with a sigh, "no Mothership, no Lifeboat…no team back at Mason making this all happen. No team," he said with a meaningful nod, "even realizing we're gone."
Wyatt nodded grimly as he turned his gaze back to his handiwork, "Well, that's comforting."
"Look, Wyatt…I know that it all seems pretty hopeless." Rufus offered weakly, "but I'm gonna do my best to get us the hell out of here…okay? I promise. Even if it takes me ten damn years."
"You think we're going to be here for ten years?"
Wyatt and Rufus both startled and turned suddenly at the sound of Lucy's aghast voice. She was standing just apart from them, her arms burdened with a basket full of folded laundry, looking at the two of them in confusion and a little bit of horror.
"No, no, "Rufus assured her, casting a wary eye at Wyatt, "we're just talking hypotheticals."
"So hypothetically speaking," she pressed anxiously, "you think we're going to be stuck here for…for ten years?"
"No, Lucy," Rufus assured again, "it's just a number, alright? I was just…um…I was just explaining to Wyatt that I was going to do everything I can to get us out of here…no matter how long it takes."
No matter how long it takes. Even, Lucy thought with a fair amount of anxiety, if it took ten years. Ten years. Of course, she knew that fixing the Lifeboat would be an arduous and long process…and that there was a chance, a very big chance that it would all come to nothing.
That, despite Rufus' best efforts, this could very well be it.
She had, however, pushed those doubts, those feelings of hopelessness aside, and chose, instead, to cling to a hope that they would figure a way out of this mess sooner rather than later. Now that she was more desperate than ever to get home because of the impossibility of her situation with Wyatt, the prospect of ten years of pretending absolutely overwhelmed her and it was all she could do to stand there on quaking knees and offer up the smallest of protests, "But Rufus, by then" Lucy said, swallowing hard and avoiding Wyatt's eye, "who knows what…I…I mean, with Flynn…and everything."
"Listen," Rufus urged in an attempt to calm her obvious anxiety, "we've got a time machine, right?" he shrugged, "since we aren't there, in our present…technically…we could come back any time after Flynn stranded us here….and for them, it will be like no time has passed at all. Of course," Rufus amended, "we'd have to make sure enough time had passed so that they could find the protocol."
"If they ever found the protocol." Wyatt reminded him grimly and Lucy, at once, wished he hadn't brought up the fact that even if a repair could be made, their situation was pretty much hopeless.
Wyatt must have noticed Lucy's look of complete despair, because no sooner had he uttered those words, then he made his way over to her, holding out his arms in what Lucy foolishly believed was meant to be an offering for a hug…until she remembered she was still holding a laundry basket.
"Here, let me get that for you," he proposed with a gentle smile, attempting to tug the basket out of her grip.
Lucy, however, would not let go. Instead, she gaped at him in confusion as he made to take the basket from her, hardly believing that now, even hours after she had refused his help, he was still seemingly determined to make good on his offer to lend her a hand…and she wasn't about to let him do that. She couldn't - because allowing Wyatt to help her, take care of her would just end up causing her more heartache in the long run. "No…" she argued, gripping the basket tighter, "it's…Wyatt, you don't have to, I just…" but he would not take "no" for an answer.
"I've got it, Lucy." he said a bit more firmly, finally wrenching the basket out of her hands, offering her a sardonic look as he did so as he made his way towards the cabin.
Bristling somewhat at Wyatt's infuriating determination to help her when she dead-set on not letting him, Lucy trailed behind, resolving that if he insisted on carrying her laundry basket a few yards to the cabin, she would insist on putting everything away. When she arrived at the door, however, the aroma of cooking meat stopped her dead in her tracks. "Are…are you cooking dinner?" she asked in confusion.
Smirking slightly as he kicked open his footlocker, Wyatt shrugged, "Yeah…thought it would be nice to feed you for a change."
"That wasn't necessary," Lucy began, "I mean, there was plenty of food from the other night…"
"I wanted to do this." Wyatt replied firmly, "I figured…since you were working so hard and since you both basically saved my life…I should…you know…say thank you. It's almost ready," he pressed, almost desperately as she stared back at him, still standing in the doorway, "I just…I wanted to try to make things right." he added quietly with a shrug
Hardly knowing how to respond, Lucy remained frozen in the doorway, staring back at a wide-eyed and hopeful Wyatt…a complete 180 version of the man who had stormed angrily through that very door the night before. Her head was shooting off all kinds of warning bells, reminding her that this was just another sure-fire way to get herself all tangled up in an emotional rollercoaster with Wyatt. He said he wanted space. He said this marriage was just part of the job. He said he wanted her to leave him the hell alone and here she was, trying to do just that…for his own sake and for hers.
But now Wyatt had gone and made her dinner. "I…I…don't…" she stammered in confusion, 'Wyatt…I…I really should just go…I mean, you…"
Damn him. Damn him and his wounded puppy dog looks.
"You made dinner?" she asked in exasperation, feeling her resolve rapidly dissipate in the wake of his too-blue pleading eyes.
"Yeah, I made dinner." he replied with that infuriating smirk of his and that was it - her resolve was nearly gone. "I told you, ma'am…" he pressed, teasing, "I'm not completely helpless."
Offering him a sardonic eye roll for his allusion to their fight the previous evening, Lucy responded, "I know that…I just…I wasn't expecting…"
"Yeah." Wyatt acknowledged awkwardly, suddenly serious again…and once more, Lucy was struck by the sound of regret in his voice. It seemed so sincere, so genuine…so maybe…
No.
She needed to stop this. This had nothing to do with her and everything to do with their dynamic as a team and their ability to survive this century. It's why he married her, after all…so that he could keep an eye on her…so they wouldn't be separated. It was just part of the job…and she absolutely needed to remember that. Especially right now as he looked up at her with that hopeful, wide-eyed intensity that made her go weak in the knees.
It infuriated her to no end how he so easily tugged at her heart strings. How just something as simple as a look from him was enough to send her swooning. Seriously, how pathetic was she?
"So…what do you say?" Wyatt asked, doing that slight shrug of his that just made him all the more endearing. "Stay?"
She should have said "no." She should have stuck to her guns and drawn the line in the proverbial sand that theirs was merely a professional relationship and therefore, should be treated as such….no gestures required. Her heart, however, seemed to revolt in protest and before she could even articulate in words what she knew she had to do to keep her sanity, she found herself stupidly nodding and tripping through the front door and into their tiny cabin.
Though he looked somewhat relieved that she had accepted his invitation to dinner, Lucy noted that Wyatt was hardly at ease. Normally so cool and collected, he was visibly agitated and nervous, one moment attempting to clear off the table, the next checking on their meal, before letting out a curse and pacing in front of the fireplace, trying to remember where they kept their dinnerware.
She would have found it funny if she weren't so bewildered by it all.
"Wyatt," Lucy finally offered up out of pity, "the plates are right there…next to you," she added as he continued to search for them, "on the shelf."
"Thanks." he muttered, clearly embarrassed…and Lucy, unable to stand seeing him so jumpy and so unlike himself was just about to leave him to his work to go find Rufus when he waltzed through the door, cursing.
"Might as well add an extra shirt to that list of things we need to get from John Fraser," he muttered, "Damn sleeve got caught on the agitator and ripped…think I'm gonna have to grind it down just a bit more…"
Lucy was just about to ask what he meant by…all of that, but her attention had just been drawn from Wyatt's nervous pacing to the swishing and rustling that accompanied Rufus' arrival. Startling, she blurt out in total confusion, "Are you…are you wearing my petticoat?"
Rufus' mouth fell open in horror as he quickly looked down at the ruffled skirt and back up again at a bewildered looking Lucy. "Oh sh…I know this seems a little weird," he admitted, completely mortified, "but I needed pants…and Wyatt didn't have any…and I didn't want to sit around here literally half-naked, so I..I mean, we," he explained with a gesture towards Wyatt, "thought it wouldn't be so bad if…if…"
"If you rifled through my underwear drawer and helped yourself?" Lucy asked pointedly.
Chuckling nervously, Rufus shrugged, "Well…to be fair, we ruffled through Wyatt's first…but…but…" he shifted his feet awkwardly as he tried to explain, "look, you had to go off and take his only other pair of pants to wash, okay? And I really didn't want to be indecently exposing myself. Besides," he added, "it's not like this is your actual underwear or anything…"
"That is my actual underwear Rufus." Lucy replied flatly, a flush rising to her cheek.
"Yeah, okay," he conceded, "but you know what I mean. I'm not in your…you know.." he attempted, gesturing to her lower half, "what do you call them? Bloomers?
"Bloomers weren't really a thing until the 19th century Rufus…" Lucy explained tensely, her face still bearing the unmistakable signs of embarrassment.
"Okay fine…your skivvies…long johns, whatever the hell you women call your undies in this century."
"Rufus…"
"Hey, there's no need to be embarrassed, alright? I mean, I get that we sort of rifled through your underwear drawer and everything, but I swear, we didn't even touch anything that remotely looked like…I mean, we didn't even see anything that looked…did we, Wyatt?"
Upon being addressed to attest to something he absolutely did not want to admit to, especially with Lucy standing right there, already angry at him, Wyatt merely gulped and looked away, looking as if he wished the floor would just open up and swallow him whole.
Huffing out a breath, Lucy gritted, "You didn't see anything that looked like underwear because that is my underwear. Oh my God, Rufus….do you not know anything about…no, of course you don't… I mean why would you?" Lucy spat out, frustrated and humiliated. In a voice of strained calm, Lucy explained, "Bloomers weren't a thing until the 19th century because they weren't a thing in the 18th century, alright?"
Rufus' narrowed his eyes at her in confusion for a brief moment, before realization dawned on him and his mouth dropped open in horrified understanding, "Are you…are you telling me…that all this time you've been going commando?"
Desperately trying to ignore the unmistakable choking cough that escaped Wyatt at that pronouncement, Lucy rolled her eyes and hissed, "I'd hardly call it that when I am wearing nothing but layer upon layer of….ugh. Yes, Rufus, women did not wear what we traditionally know as underwear in this century, okay? But" she added with a meaningful nod, "men didn't either so I don't know why…"
"How is it," Rufus continued, completely ignoring her, "that you've got about five hundred things going on under those dresses of yours…but no underwear? I mean, with us, I kinda understand…we have pants. But you? There's nothing…you know…covering your business.
Again, a choking cough escaped Wyatt, but Lucy didn't dare glance his way. "Can we please talk about something else?" she gritted out angrily, her face now flushing a bright shade of red.
'Alright, alright." he dismissed with a wave of his hand, before muttering under his breath, "but seriously it's just one more piece of fabric…doesn't seem like it would be that much more of a hassle…."
"Rufus!" Wyatt and Lucy both yelled out together… and she was taken aback that he looked almost as uncomfortable and irritated by the conversation as she was.
He, however, wasn't looking at her, instead Wyatt was glaring at Rufus, tossing him his freshly laundered pair of extra slacks, "Here, why don't you take my pants? Keep them for all I care…just shut the hell up. Please."
"Well, I'm sorry but…I mean, you have to see how ridiculous this whole this whole thing is. She's got….I mean, how was I to know that…you figure she's already got…." But seeing the continued murderous glare of Wyatt aimed directly at him, he shrugged sheepishly, "I'm just gonna change. Sorry, Lucy." he muttered as he pushed past her in the doorway.
Left alone now with Wyatt, who looked almost as equally mortified as she was, Lucy pushed back from the table and stammered awkwardly, "You know what? I…I think I'm just gonna go, so you two can keep doing…whatever it is you're doing…"
"Wait, what?" Wyatt asked, wincing at how desperate he sounded, "You're leaving?"
Turning back to him uncomfortably, hand on the door, Lucy shrugged, "Well, yeah. You two clearly have…something going on here and…I just think it would just be best if I…wasn't here…right now."
She turned to leave again, but Wyatt had already crossed the room and was hanging onto the door, preventing her from closing it behind her, "Lucy, please…" he began, before asking in a quiet voice, his face reddening, "Look, I'm...um…I'm really sorry about all of that…I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If I had known…I mean…he just needed something to wear…"
"It's fine, Wyatt…"
"No, it's not." Wyatt groaned as he rubbed a hand across his face, "I didn't mean for…I'm just screwing everything up, aren't I?"
"Wyatt…" Lucy sighed, "I just…I don't want to make this any more uncomfortable than it already is. This cabin is too small to give us any kind of…you know…privacy," she added with another pointed look towards where Rufus had been standing, "and…I just think…if you really want space…"
"So this is about last night?"
"No." Lucy said a little too quickly, before amending with a sigh, "Okay, yes…partly." She said with another pointed look towards where Rufus had disappeared behind her, "I just think that considering everything, it's best if I just…"
"Look, I should have never…" he bit his lip ruefully as he attempted to make one last plea, "I understand if you don't want to stay…I sure as hell don't deserve anything but a swift kick in the ass right now…but…Lucy," he said quietly, tentatively taking her hand in his, "I don't want you to go. Really."
Lucy's breath hitched in her throat at both the sweetness of the gesture and the sincerity in Wyatt's voice. She hardly knew what to think, given how adamant he had been just 24 hours before that she was essentially suffocating him by refusing to "leave him the hell alone" now he wanted nothing more than for her to stay?
Why?
Though she knew it was a bad idea, she chanced a glance up at Wyatt and felt her knees slightly give way at the sight of him, looking at her with an intensity that took her breath away. His pleading eyes, imploring her to reconsider had her almost convinced to do just that…because she was weak where he was concerned.
And that was the problem, wasn't it? It's why she always found herself constantly suspended between hoping for something more with him and lamenting the fact that it would never happen. "Wyatt…" she began as she worked her fingers out of his gentle grip, but no sooner had she managed to liberate her hand from his, than Rufus plowed into her from behind, effectively pushing her into Wyatt's chest.
"Oh, sorry." he muttered sheepishly as he made his way through the door, "I wasn't looking where I was going…you okay, Lucy?"
No, she was not okay, but she couldn't really talk about that right now.
Stumbling back away from Wyatt, Lucy stammered, "It's…it's okay…um…I was just…I was just about to…"
"Come on," Wyatt urged, his demeanor no longer serious, but teasing, "I'm not that bad of a cook…you ate the last thing I made for you, didn't you?"
"The snake?" Lucy replied with a derisive laugh, before asking, suddenly horrified, "That's…that's not what we're having for dinner, is it?"
"Lucy," Rufus piped up as Wyatt moved to the fireplace to retrieve the skillet, "Do you honestly think I would stick around for another snake dinner?"
"Well, then…." she began, still hovering by the door in a desperate determination to leave, but her curiosity was beginning to get the better of her. Whatever Wyatt had made, smelled delicious and though she was sure that whatever John Fraser's household was eating for dinner would be equally delectable, she couldn't help but wonder what it was that Wyatt had prepared…for her. Despite her better judgement, she found herself slowly moving away from the door and towards the table where Wyatt had just set down the skillet with a heavy thud.
Removing the cast iron lid, Wyatt waved away the torrent of steam that issued forth before peering inside and attesting, "I think that's just about done."
"What…what is that?" Lucy asked, completely astonished.
"It's not snake, I'll tell you that." Wyatt chuckled, but seeing Lucy's admonishing glare, he cleared his throat and replied, "Uh…it's um…rabbit…I um…I got a couple of them in a trap."
Half-worried that she would have some sort of conscientious objection to eating something that was cute and cuddly, Wyatt inwardly cursed himself for being so damn honest. He should have let her try some of it first, he inwardly berated himself, before telling her what it was. Lucy, he remembered, wasn't like him…she didn't grow up learning how to hunt and forage for food…unless, he figured, you counted hitting up Whole Foods on a busy day – which he absolutely did not. For her, cute and cuddly animals were just that…cute and cuddly…while he saw things like deer, rabbits…hell, even squirrel as a good source of meat…especially when it was all you had.
For several agonizing seconds, Lucy sat there just gazing at the skillet of food in front of her, not saying a word, even as Wyatt tentatively dished some meat and carrots onto her plate. He hardly knew what to make of her reaction, whether she was happy, angry, upset…but seeing as how she didn't outright object to what was placed in front of her, he figured he wouldn't press the issue…he was just damned relieved she had decided to stay.
Typically, Lucy and Rufus jabbered away during their meals. Wyatt, never being much of a talker, would occasionally contribute to their discussions, but mostly was content to just sit and listen. Tonight, however, neither Lucy nor Rufus seemed inclined to talk…and Wyatt, trying to get some kind of reading on whether Lucy was still angry with him or not, kept pushing the conversation, hoping that something might spark her interest enough to provide more than just the obligatory one word answers to his questions about her day.
But he was running out of things to say and they weren't even half-way through their dinner.
"Ugh." Rufus muttered pushing his ripped and dangling cuff out of the way for the fifteenth time, "I'm just gonna rip the rest of this damn thing off."
"No wait," Wyatt offered, leaping up from the table and retrieving a small sewing kit from the shelf, "I can fix it…well, good enough until we can get you a new shirt."
"You?" Lucy asked with an incredulous laugh, taken completely aback by the fact that Wyatt Logan, the reckless, hotheaded, Delta Force operative…was now threading a needle. "How does that work?"
"How does what work?" Wyatt asked, his concentration focused on Rufus' torn sleeve, "Sewing? You just put the thread through the needle and…"
"No, I think she means how is it that out of all three of us, you are the one that kills it with a needle and thread?" Rufus offered with a chuckle that was echoed by the Delta Force soldier, himself. "Seriously man, where in the hell did you learn how to sew?" Rufus asked, "Don't tell me that's something else they teach you in Delta Force?"
"Oh come on, Rufus…sewing is a basic life skill. Didn't either of you ever take Home Ec. in high school?"
"No, I did not." Rufus maintained, "My electives were all science and math classes."
"History and music." Lucy replied with a shrug.
"Why I am not surprised?" Wyatt scoffed as Rufus shrugged indifferently, "You can roll your eyes all you want, but knowing how to sew is a valuable skill to have….you never know when it can get you out of a bind….like fixing a cuff on your sleeve or putting a button back on your pants."
"Or saving someone's life?" Rufus tossed back implicitly, "If you remember correctly, I somehow managed to stitch your ass up in 1865, no special training required."
Wyatt smiled to himself as he remembered the assessment the doctor at Mason had given of Rufus' handiwork after that mission, "Yeah…that too." he answered with a chuckle, chancing a quick glance at Lucy as he did so…but she wasn't smiling…she was frowning.
"Yeah, well I may not be the best at sewing…or blacksmithing for that matter," Rufus pressed, not noticing that Wyatt's attention, for the moment was on Lucy, "but at least I can…what was it you said? Use what I learned at MIT to make things a little easier for us all here? I don't see you building a washing machi…" he trailed off, an expression of horror slowly descending on his face as Wyatt dropped his hands and stared hard at him.
"A washing machine?" Lucy asked in confusion, before seeing the look of apparent anger on Wyatt's face, "Wait…what?" she began, turning to Rufus, "Are you building a washing machine?"
"Dammit, Rufus." Wyatt cursed.
"Are you serious?" Lucy asked again, "Are you actually building a washing machine?"
Horrified, Rufus sat up in his chair, "Look, I…I know what you're going to say, Lucy." he began, stammering nervously, "I…I know these things haven't even been thought of yet…but…but Wyatt told me….he said, use your MIT skills, Rufus…make life easier for us in the century, Rufus…and so that's what I'm doing."
"Well, we haven't exactly done anything yet." Wyatt argued weakly, exchanging uneasy glances with Rufus, "I mean, it's not really finished or anything…we were just sort of messing around with the idea…"
Lucy gaped at the two of them incredulously as she stammered, "I…I can't believe you…"
"I know. I know." Wyatt nodded as he rubbed a rough hand over the back of his neck, his voices filled with regret and frustration, "We can scrap the whole thing…I…I was just trying to make life a little easier for you, that's all."
"You did this…for me?" Lucy asked again, still confused…and though she didn't seem mad, she didn't seem exactly happy either. "You…" she started, before turning her full attention to Wyatt, "Is this what you…when you said you wanted to help me with the laundry, I didn't think…I mean, I was just kidding when I said…"
"I know." Wyatt acknowledged, "I just…I saw that Rufus had made a few other inventions and I got to thinking that maybe…"
"A few other inventions?" Lucy asked incredulously, "What is he talking about, Rufus?"
"Dammit, Wyatt." Rufus spat out in exasperation, "Just had to throw me under the bus, didn't you?"
"Rufus…" Lucy warned.
"I just improved on old Jethro Tull's seed drill, alright? And okay," he muttered at her continued look of admonishment, "I also made a smoke jack for the new kitchen…you know, to turn the spit…but that's not exactly a new thing…I mean, da Vinci sort of came up with that one. And okay," he added after a meaningful glare from Wyatt, "I might be toying around with the idea of an 18th century version of a hot water heater ya know…for this washing machine…just so we don't have to haul water back and forth all the…"
"You're kidding?" Lucy gasped out in disbelief, "A hot water heater?"
"I know! You don't have to get all upset about it…I haven't built it yet, okay? So we can just scratch that idea, alright?"
"Why would you want to do that?" Lucy asked with a derisive laugh, shaking her head in confusion, "Do…do you think…did you think I would be mad about this?"
"Um…yeah," Rufus answered uneasily as he exchanged a glance with a stunned Wyatt, "I mean, you're always the one getting all up in arms about…you know…not changing history an everything."
"Rufus," Lucy breathed out in exasperation, "We made penicillin for heaven's sake…almost two hundred years before it's official discovery…besides," she added with a scoff, "it's not like there aren't already washing machines in this cen…what?" she asked as Rufus' face dropped from relief into sudden disappointment.
"They already have washing machines?" he asked flatly.
"Well, not in the sense that you and I know them, but in the north of England, with all of the textile mills and everything they had a form of washing machine." she explained with a shrug, "It was so popular, in fact, the first home machine has been on the market in London for about…well, I guess a few years now. Why?" she asked with a broadening grin.
"No reason." Rufus muttered, before exchanging a look with Wyatt who was trying but failing not to laugh at him. "Are you almost done?" Rufus snapped as Wyatt accidentally stabbed him with the sewing needle.
"Yeah, yeah…I'm almost done." Wyatt said dismissively as Lucy began clearing off the table, which drew his attention once more away from Rufus' sleeve.
"Ow!" he yelped as once again Wyatt managed to stick his arm, "Will you watch what you're…" but seeing that he was absolutely distracted by Lucy, Rufus just shook his head with a slight scoff, "You know what? I think that's good enough."
"Huh?" Wyatt responded, turning once again towards Rufus, "No, it's okay…I'm almost done."
"It's fine, Wyatt. Besides," Rufus shrugged as he got to his feet, "you're getting me a new shirt anyway, right? And anyway, I should probably be heading back…"
"Yeah…right." Wyatt muttered as he awkwardly got to his feet and reached to shake his friend's hand, "Thanks for your help, man…you know with the…"
"Don't mention it," Rufus dismissed with a wave of his hand, "especially since you could probably get ol' John Fraser to order one for you." he added with a roll of his eyes. "I'll be back tomorrow to work on it some more."
Wyatt followed him to the door, almost hating that he was going…because it meant that he would be left alone with Lucy. Typically, that wouldn't have bothered him…they had been alone together plenty of times. But tonight, after her silence all through dinner, he figured the moment Rufus left, the awkwardness would be back, full force. He hardly paid any attention as Lucy and Rufus exchanged good-byes, his nerves keeping his thoughts fairly preoccupied.
Something Lucy noticed the moment the door was closed and Wyatt was still hovering by their entryway.
"You going somewhere?" she asked after a few moments.
"Huh? Oh…um..no, just…um…just thinking." he replied awkwardly before easing his way towards where she was still straightening up after dinner, "So…how was it?" he asked anxiously, "Dinner…I mean."
"What? Oh…um…it was fine." Lucy breathed back uneasily, "Thank you."
"You didn't say anything." Wyatt explained, "so I…I wasn't sure if you…"
"No…it was…it was really good, actually." Lucy responded with a nervous chuckle, before apologizing, "I should have said something before, I just…I couldn't believe…I mean, I didn't realize that you…"she stopped short, before clearing her throat and adding quietly, "I um…didn't know you could cook quite like that."
"Well," Wyatt replied with a slight smirk, recalling their earlier conversation, "There's a lot of things you don't know about me…ma'am."
Far from being offended by his allusion to their earlier discussion, Lucy let out a small chuckle and nodded, "You cook, you sew…what other talents are you hiding?"
The words were barely out of her mouth before a self-conscious blush rose to her cheek, but if Wyatt noticed, he didn't let on. Instead, he shrugged indifferently, "Well, it's been a while since I cooked anything like this…besides the snake, I mean." he added with a derisive laugh. "My grandpa and I used to camp a lot," he explained with a sigh, "We'd hunt to eat…just part of roughing it, you know?"
"No, I wouldn't know." Lucy replied with a shake of her head, "I'm not exactly the outdoorsy type."
"That I do know." Wyatt teased, before turning serious again, "I…um…I really am sorry about…about everything…I didn't mean, you know…what I said. Hell," he scoffed, "I don't even know why I said it. I was just…I…really do appreciate everything you've done, Lucy. I swear." Lucy frowned and nodded, but said nothing more and Wyatt, not wanting to push his luck any more than he already had, determined that he would spend the rest of the evening following her guide.
Much like dinner, Lucy didn't seem all that inclined to talk choosing instead, to sit in her rocking chair and read. While she did cast an occasional glance in his direction, she gave no indication as to whether or not she was still mad as hell or on her way to forgiving him…and while it drove him a little nuts, he figured it was his own damn fault for being put in the dog house to begin with.
When it came time to get ready for bed, Wyatt dutifully left the cabin for a few minutes so that Lucy could change, taking care to knock before he made his way back inside. As he crossed the threshold, however, he almost wished he had spent a few more minutes outside. While Lucy was fully covered and dressed in her nightgown, her hair was up in a messy bun as she stood by the dry sink and washed her face. He had seen her do it about a thousand times before, but somehow tonight, with the candles spent and only the soft glow from the fireplace illuminating the room, it seemed far more intimate than it ever had before. Swallowing hard, he made his way over to the loft ladder and began to climb up, gritting his teeth as the tender skin on his side pulled and stretched as he raised his arms.
"What…are you sure you should be doing that?" Lucy asked, turning towards him in alarm.
Looking over his shoulder at her, Wyatt lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, "It's okay…it's not so bad anymore."
"Oh." Lucy muttered as she pulled back the covers of the bed, "Okay, well…goodnight then, Wyatt."
"Goodnight, Lucy." he muttered back as he hoisted himself up to the loft.
He had no idea how long he laid there, staring up at the ceiling…far more aware of Lucy and every single move she made below him than he wanted to admit. His mind rattled off every stupid thing he had said the night before, every stupid thing he had said since…and for not the first time in his life, he wished he could go back and change a few things.
Wyatt had just determined that he would not be getting on wink of sleep, when the sound of Lucy's voice – hushed and barely above a whisper, called to him from below.
"Wyatt? Are you asleep?"
He said nothing for a while, half wondering if he had imagined it…but then he heard her flop over in the bed once more and decided that maybe he had. Clearing his throat, he made a short reply, "No."
"Oh." she responded a little louder than she had before.
For several tense seconds, Wyatt laid there waiting for her to say something else...but the room remained unnervingly quiet…well, except for the sound of her fluffing her pillow in apparent frustration. "What's wrong, Lucy?" he finally asked in confusion.
"Nothing." came her reply, but Wyatt wasn't buying it.
"Yeah right, nothing." Wyatt scoffed, "You've been tossing and turning for at least an hour and half, Lucy. What's wrong?"
"I just…I can't sleep." she gritted out in exasperation. Sighing heavily, Lucy called up to him again, almost tentatively, "Wyatt? Could you…ugh, you know what?" she dismissed, "nevermind. It's fine. Goodnight, I'm…I'm sorry I bothered you." She had just flipped back over onto her side when the sound of Wyatt's feet hitting the floor had her sitting up in bed with alarm, "What are you doing?"
"What do you need, Lucy?" Wyatt asked simply, "I'm already up. What, do you need a glass of water? Some warm milk? You want me to put another log on the fire? What?"
Lucy gaped at him slightly, before shaking her head in embarrassment, stammering, "I…I just…ugh…it's not…"
"Then what is it?" Wyatt asked in determination. "I can't help you if you won't tell me."
Ugh." Lucy breathed out as she covered her face with her hands, "It's just…I seem to sleep better…with you." The admittance was hardly out of her mouth before she added in obvious mortification, "It's stupid, I know."
But Wyatt didn't think it was stupid at all…because if he was being completely honest…he slept better with her too. He, however, was not about to admit that…nor was he about to admit that hearing her confess that she liked sleeping next to him was more than a little gratifying. He could not and would not gloat about it, though…that would do nothing to repair their relationship…so instead, he eased himself into the bed next to her with a heavy sigh, desperately trying to calm the racing of his heart as she sheepishly snuggled herself into his chest. He had just draped his arm over her back when she muttered sleepily, "This doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you."
Smirking into her hair as his heavy eyelids fell closed, Wyatt murmured, "I know…ma'am."
Notes:
Whew, that was a long one...and that all used to be part of that last chapter.
We talked about the washing machines last time, but this time we're going to be talking about the wonder that is the Dutch Tub...and after reading about them, I kinda want one...though I have no idea where I'd put it...maybe if our next house is in a secluded wooded area somewhere, I'll add it to my husband's - hey, we should totally try to make this - list. I think it would be fascinating just to see it in action...just a science experiment...many just build a mini one. Here's a video of how it works/what it looks like...I think it's the coolest thing ever. If you're reading this on fanfiction - I don't know if the link will come through - this site is clunky and weird when it comes to this kind of stuff.
. /yhs/search?fr=yhs-itm-001&hsimp=yhs-001&hspart=itm&p=Out+door+hot+tub+with+natural+wood+heating+source#id=1&vid=e5238a0be0350ee57ed2557e6a8a593d&action=click
Wyatt is still going to be working to "take care" of Lucy...and little by little she's going to let him. Obviously, she's very hurt and desperately trying to protect her own heart in all of this and so she is going to be sort of wary about it all...at first.
I really hope you enjoyed this update. Thank you so much for reading and have a great day!