here we go...chapter 3. still, i own nothing Cold Mountain related, excpet my own character. she stems from my brain. the rest...nope, not mine.
Chapter 3: Soon you will see
For once, the cabin door did not creak so loudly. She closed it quickly behind her, not wanting to wake Inman, who was still soundly asleep. Somehow, the prospect of seeing him again so soon seemed to grant her some extra speed in carrying out the usual chores she did every morning. For it seemed as though no time had passed from when she'd crossed the cabin's threshold with empty pails, and then returned with milk and water. Yet again, the door opened with quiet ease and she slipped inside quickly, not wanting to let any heat escape. As she walked across the cabin, hands full, she glanced over and saw Inman still sleeping. He had to have been completely exhausted and she wasn't for the life of her willing to wake him. Breakfast passed, quietly and uneventful, and soon she found herself going about the rest of the day's tasks. Her thoughts stayed excitedly on Inman throughout the day—it'd been so long since she'd seen anyone and his presence was most welcome.
Midday and into the afternoon found her sitting by the hearthside, mending and sewing. It seemed every few seconds her glance was stolen away by him who still lay asleep. Something about him, that she couldn't quite place, intrigued her—maybe it was just that she had been alone for so long that any person would have interested her so, but the image of the firelight in his green eyes stood vivid in her mind. She'd not seen him smile, but she could just imagine what he would look like with one.... She looked at the stitch she just finished and ripped it out. Her focus was not on sewing and it showed—so then what was the point of continuing if it was only to be redone? A discontented sigh escaped her and she let the shirt fall loose to her lap. She rested her head against the back of the chair and her gaze wandered over to Inman for the hundredth time it seemed. He looked peaceful asleep—as though the coldness she'd seen earlier melted away under pleasant dreams. She squinted harder in the fading light—he was shivering. His bed was somewhat far from the fire and the cabin was at times drafty. She rose and fetched the quilt from the end of her bed. Walking softly on the hardwood floor, she neared him and draped the quilt over his sleeping form, tucking it back at his chin. Instantly, he relaxed a bit more and the involuntary shaking ceased. The setting sun cast shadows about the room, and he seemed just a vision to her tired eyes and not real. Absentmindedly, her hand extended down towards his scratched, unshaven face, and gently brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes.
"I hope your dreams are pleasant." She whispered quietly—but then her mind snapped awake. She withdrew her hand back quickly, as though her touch would wake him. Looking him over one last time and deciding he must be warm enough, she turned towards the stove to fix dinner, unable to believe that so much of her emotion was being evoked by the mere presence of this visitor...this stranger.
Steam and savory smells wafted freely from the pot of stew she'd set to simmer. And the bread had just gone into the oven—it wouldn't be too much longer now. She turned and began putting away her mending basket.
"Have I really been asleep all day?" She jerked her head around at the unexpected sound of his voice.
"Yes...yes, you have." She said, a glad smile forming. He shook his head and brought his hands to his face—he couldn't believe it. He felt guilt-ridden about the previous night and had planned to be off the very next morning, but he had stayed over another whole day, and now a whole other night.
"I'm really sorry...I didn't mean to." He said, the guilt he felt showing through his words.
"No, no, its alright," she assured him, "You looked absolutely exhausted last night, and you obviously were." She rose, mending basket in hand and placed it in the corner.
"If you're hungry, I've stew ready. The bread will be done in a little bit, if you want to wait, but if you'd like some stew now, your welcome to it." He raised his head and looked somewhat baffled. Her generosity seemed to have no end, and he felt so guilty for his continuing acceptance of it with no hope of ever being able to return the favor.
"I can wait for the bread." He said, slinging his feet over the edge of the bed onto the cool wood floor. He rose and turned to make up the bed, but stopped as he noticed the additional quilt that had been added since he fell asleep. Never before had he met someone who was willing to offer so much—to him, such benevolence had never existed before. But that's how his problem formed—the idea of never needing help. He cast a quick glance her way—she was bent over, peeking into the oven door to check the bread. He wondered if she thought that way too...and if she did, was there anything he could do to destroy that idea before it could destroy her....
"The bread's ready." Jarred from his thoughts, he raised a silent nod and headed for the table. Neither had much, if anything, to say over dinner. It passed mostly in silence. From the look of it, he was contemplating something—she could almost see the ideas swirling around his eyes. She ate the stew, curious to know what was going on behind his expressionless face.
"Did you sleep well?" Not that the silence needed to be broken, but he had looked peaceful enough and she hoped that his dreams were too.
"Oh, yes, thank you," he said quickly between bites, "And thank you again for the food."
"You're welcome."
"Will you let me do something for you?" he asked, rather hurriedly. A shocked look registered on her face for but a moment before she regained her composure.
"Oh no, you don't have to. I'm not expecting anything in return—"
"Please, let me stay for a few days and help you around here. If you've been alone for as long as you say, I'm sure you could use some help somewhere."
"Inman...please...I don't really need your help, thank you though." She couldn't accept his help—it showed she was weak...but then, she realized that if she should ever need help, she wasn't sure she could ever bring herself to ask for it. He knew it—she had the same ideas he once had. He lowered his head before raising it and regarding her with a somewhat understanding look.
"There isn't anything your heart isn't willing to sacrifice, is there? Except your pride—your ability to accept help from others. And at a time when you may really need it, that foolish pride will turn it away. Let it go. Accept my help—you could use it I'm sure. And after everything you've done for me, it's the very least I feel should I do." She was stunned, shocked—he knew her that well in just two days. She'd been living alone, on her own for so long, forgetting how to accept the help of others, even when she herself gave it so freely.
"I know what that's like—to think you don't need help, maybe you don't," Inman started again, "and to think that its weak to accept other's aide. And now...living entirely on the bits I'm lucky to find and the generosity of people like you. Soon you will see that pride, and those thoughts, just aren't worth it. Everyone needs helps at one point or another during life. Please accept my offer—and then I'll be movin' on, feeling satisfied that I was able to repay you somewhat." Her eyes must have registered the anguish and confusion she felt, for scarcely had he said ten words in one sentence, let alone revealed such deep-felt insights.
"Fine..." a note of forced defeat seemed to emanate from her voice, "Stay as long as you choose—but don't you keep tacking on extra days for each that you eat and sleep here. For I'm not about to stop offering you food and a place to rest as long as you're here."
"I won't," she thought she saw a quick smile surface across his stoic face, "If you've three days worth of fair work, I'll deliver three days fair labor."
"There's things to be done—nothing too pressing, but projects that need doing none the less." He nodded his head in silence, with some of that self-ridden guilt vanishing, lightening his eyes a little it seemed. She had caved in, for she knew he was right. Something in his voice told her he knew it to be true. Yet, surprisingly, she could not help but be excited about him staying longer. Since his arrival, she realized just how much she had missed having someone around. And...something about him brought a smile to her face every time he had looked her way. Her feelings for him were growing with each passing minute she was around him."Thank you." He said before rising from the table. She gathered up the dishes and set to washing, trying not to focus on Inman or that he had made her realize she wasn't—or could ever be—as strong as she had hoped she was.
With the washing finished, she turned towards her bed to turn it down for the night. In passing, she noticed Inman, laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head. She had nothing more she wished to say, so she let him lay and have his quiet thoughts. She was immensely curious to know what all swirled around in his mind and the cause of the hurt that clearly showed in his eyes—all the things he must have seen and witnessed in war, and then his journey towards home. Those would sure have to be some things that would linger in a man's mind. His eyes had looked heavy, as though they were burdened by unpleasant memories. Would his eyes lighten before he left? She wondered.... Having crossed the room quietly, she fell softly to her knees by the fireside. Gently rolling the glowing cinders around in the ash, a smile played across her tired face. These next three days were to be ones she knew she'd treasure a lifetime.
review if'n ya want. i'll get the fourth chapter up soon....hopefully.
