Author's Note: I combined chapters 1 and 2 (I think the intro was too short to catch attention, so maybe that's why readers were dropping off). The renumbering messed up chapter numbers, so some of you who originally read chapter 3 might need to read it again because it's new content. Sorry!
Thank you so much for the wonderful review and PM, YazminXD! :D
She washed in private after Trudy lit a couple candles "for relaxing." With a sigh of relief, she sank down to her neck in the steaming water and let it relax her aching body. It was somewhat of a large bathroom. The candles reflected warm golden light off the carmel brown marble walls. The counter appeared to be cherry wood with a high-gloss finish and ornate scrolling carved on the edge and the cabinets beneath. Just above it hung a large square mirror framed in beautiful antique gold finished wood.
There was a knock on the door, and Trudy popped her head in. "Wouldcha like some music? I have my music do-hicky." She held up her smartphone. "Mr. Porter taught me how to put on music. You hit this button here, and then you swipe your finger like this to search the songs." She reached around the door with the cell phone and demonstrated. "It's kinda complicated until you get used to it. I kept swiping right past the song I wanted the first day. I told Mr. Port to take it back, I didn't need no high fallutin' phone, don'tcha know. He told me to be patient, and I love it right up there with Jesus now. I have mostly country 'cause that's what we listen to in Minnesota. None of that Jesus-hatin' rock stuff the kids listen to nowadays, dont'cha know."
She stifled a laugh. "No, I'm alright. Thank you, Trudy."
"Okay. I'll just be out here doin' my sewing then. You just yell if you need me. I'll hear you like a tornado siren." Trudy closed the door.
Unable to hold back a laugh, she shook her head. Trudy certainly was colorful, and she could see why Mr. Port kept the woman around.
When the water began to cool, she drained the tub and waited for the water to go down so she could dry off in the tub.
Someone knocked on the door again. Trudy peek in. "I heard the drain. The towel's right...oh, ya got it. I'll go fetchya a fresh nightgown." Trudy disappeared and entered a moment later. "Do you need more medicine? Mr. Port said you can have a half tablet, if needed." Trudy laid out a fresh flannel nightgown on the counter and turned. With a gasp, her hand flew to her mouth. "You poor thing, you're black and blue!"
Looking down at herself, she took in the bruising on her torso and hips from the seat belt, as well as her black, swollen ankle. "I think it looks worse than it is."
Trudy helped wrap a towel around her in the tub and then stepped toward the door.
"No! Trudy, please," she begged.
Trudy spun around with wide eyes.
"Help me up onto the edge of the tub so I can get dressed. Don't bring him in when I'm naked." She clutched the towel that was tucked together at her chest.
With an understanding smile, Trudy stepped closer. "He's a good man. I'm not strong enough to help you up in a wet tub."
Utterly mortified, she tried getting up. Her back tensed before she'd even gotten up a couple inches, and she slipped back into the tub. Trudy hurried out, and she closed her eyes in humiliation, clutching her towel against her chest in a death grip.
His heavy footstep sounded on the tile floor, and she tensed. Her body clenched so tight it hurt. She sensed him standing beside the tub, and she hunched her shoulders and curled her knees to her chest a little without exposing herself. Her eyes focused on her lap as her long, damp auburn hair dripped down her shoulders and back.
He took a couple steps backwards and spoke softly. "Ms. Van Hoodie, fetch my bathrobe. It will give her more modesty."
"I'll be back in a lick-splickity minute."
Silence lasted for only a second.
"Ms. Van Hoodie said your bruising is extensive. May I check your back when she returns? It seems to be bothering you more than it should."
She looked up at him and was surprised when he squatted to be eye level with her.
Calm patience exuded from him, and his blue eye studied her intently. "You don't need to be frightened," he said gently. "Who hurt you?"
Swallowing hard, she bit her lip for a moment. How did he know? "An ex-boyfriend," she whispered, unable to look away. "He came over to my apartment to talk after we broke up." Her eyes dropped to his feet, not wanting to relive the memory but wanting him to know for some reason. "A neighbor called the police because of the noise. They arrived before he did anything." Her eyes traveled back up to his.
He held her gaze. "Except teach you to be frightened of what a man could do," he said quietly. "No harm will come to you here."
She searched his eye, absorbing his words. "Why do you wear the mask?"
Trudy bustled in with the large terrycloth bathrobe. "Forgot I left it in the dryer. It's as warm as an Alabama sun, don'tcha know," she chattered, oblivious to the interruption.
Mr. Port didn't move. Or break his gaze.
She flushed and looked away.
Trudy stilled, with the robe in her arms. She looked from one to the other. "Is everything alright?"
"May I?" he asked.
Her brow furrowed, and then she realized what he was waiting for. With a nod, she loosened her grip on the towel and untucked it enough to let it droop a little down her back as she leaned forward.
He got up and knelt beside the tub.
Warm hands swept her wet hair over her right shoulder, and then the pads of his fingers skimmed along her spine. Shivers skittered through her.
"Are you cold, Emma?" he whispered in a husky voice for her ears alone.
She bit her lip and gave a small shake of her head, but refused to look in his direction. His tone said he knew exactly why she'd shivered. His fingers gently kneaded the muscles across her shoulders. At first the muscles cramped a bit, and she bit her lip.
"You have whip lash locking up your back," he said.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod and then heard Trudy slip out of the room.
His other hand joined in as he slowly massaged her shoulders and the base of her neck. The tips of his fingers pressed into the muscles with just enough pressure. The relief from the aching was so overwhelming that her eyes rolled back and her chin dropped to her chest. Her lips parted slightly, and her breathing slowed and deepened. Those magnificent hands worked their way down to the middle of her back, his force gently rocking and lulling her into a relaxed state of semiconsciousness. She melted under his hands.
He took his time working back up to her shoulders, and then his thumbs rubbed small circles on each side of her spine up her neck to the base of her skull. His fingers rubbed the sides of her neck below her ears, where she hadn't even realized it hurt.
She sighed, utterly captivated under his spell.
"Better?" he whispered. His hands glided up into her scalp and massaged.
Her head leaned back into his hands on its own accord, and her breathing quickened slightly to soft panting. Her scalp tingled in both an erotic and relaxing way. One of his hands glided around to cup her jaw and slowly turned her head to face him. Her sleepy eyes fluttered open, her head resting on his hand that cradled like a pillow.
A blue eye searched her face. "That's the most pain-free you've looked yet," he said softly, as if pleased. Then he wrapped the robe around her and scooped her up.
Sleep threatened to claim her, and her body relaxed so completely she didn't want to fight it. She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes, utterly content to sleep in his arms. His long, sure strides gently rocked her closer to slumber.
"I talked to the flight tower, and there's going to be a break in the storm in a few minutes. We're going to slip through and get you to the hospital to be examined."
His voice vibrated low in his warm chest, a comforting sensation against her cheek. His words slowly sank in, and she blinked, trying to wake up. Disappointment flitted through her heart. He eased her down to sit on the edge of the bed, tucking the robe around her for modesty.
Trudy returned with a small suitcase. "I was ready to go just in case. All I have that won't fall off her is another flannel nightgown."
He straightened and set his hands on his trim hips, turning his head to Trudy. "She can wear my parka too. Help her dress. We have five minutes." Then he left.
"How are we going to drive through the snow?"
Trudy laughed and helped get her left arm through the armhole. "We'll take the helicopter from the roof. By flight, it's just three minutes to the hospital, don'tcha know."
She slipped on heavy wool socks, Trudy helping with her swollen ankle. "Whose helicopter?"
"Here, I'll brush your hair." Trudy seemed to deliberately change the topic.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in!" Trudy called and quickened her brushing.
He strode in wearing a heavy sweater, blue jeans, and snowboots, and carried a black and red parka and snowpants. Trudy took them, and he left again. Once she was dressed in what must be his wintergear because it was far too large, Trudy left with the suitcase. He entered and pulled up her parka hood before scooping her up. He carried her down a long corridor as majestically decorated with dark wood as her room, and up a staircase. They passed through a door and stood in a three-by-four-foot, cold room. Another door opened, and a blast of cold air assaulted her face.
She huddled into his arms until he stepped out. Snowflakes gently fluttered from the ovecast sky, a far cry from the blizzard yesterday. With disappointment, she noticed the snowfall was too hard for a view of what would probably be breathtaking scenery from a mountaintop.
Snow crunched under his boots as he walked across the roof. A helicopter perched in the center of the pad, and a man in heavy snowgear sprayed de-icing liquid on the chopper. Trudy sat inside already.
The man stopped spraying and opened the passenger door so she could be carefully deposited her inside. The man closed the door, and Mr. Port trotted around the chopper to climb into the pilot seat.
"You're flying?" Her heart jumped into her throat. Outflying a blizzard seemed dangerous enough without doing it with one eye covered too.
He leaned over and whipped the belt across her hips and then down over each shoulder. "It's legal," he answered, apparently knowing her thoughts. Then he buckled himself, and the man outside gave a signal. He started up the chopper and put on a headset.
Trudy tapped her shoulder. She looked, and Trudy pointed to her own headset on and then to the front. Her eyes followed, and she put on a headset.
"Come in TWSI68. This is Carolina Five requesting takeoff..."
She watched him flip switches and communicate to the tower for flight clearance. The blades picked up speed and whirled in a loud, droning hum. Then they began to hover. She looked out her window to see the rooftop fade away. A white veil limited the view of everything, so she glanced over her shoulder at Trudy. The poor woman had her eyes squeezed shut and hands folded, her lips muttering as if in prayer.
"She hates heights," he said over the headset. "You?"
Turning her attention to him, she shook her head.
"Good." Then they picked up speed, and he kept in constant contact with the tower to be their eyes. His movements never hesitated to hit buttons; his voice never waivered over the radio. Listening intently, she even heard him once gently correct the tower on some kind of trajectory. She watched him, completely mesmerized.
Right on schedule, three minutes later they landed on a large red cross on a rooftop. Two doctors ran out onto the pad toward the chopper.
She looked at him in question when he leaned over from the pilot seat and unbuckled her but didn't shut down the engine. "You're going back?" Going to the emergency department instantly seemed frightening. She'd just assumed he'd be there in the background watching over everything; watching over her.
"The pad has to be clear for their EMS helicopter. Ms. Van Hoodie will go with you. I left her with instructions." His gaze was calm and steady. And it gave her courage.
The physician opened the door and scooped her out. Trudy scrambled out behind. As the doctors raced across the pad with her and Trudy followed behind rambling off details of the accident from a piece of paper, she looked over the doctor's shoulder.
The chopper slowly rose and then leaned to the left in a tight turn to retrace its path. She watched until it disappeared into a curtain of snowflakes...and silently wished he'd turn around.