Free The Cold Kiss by John Rector Page B

“Four or five, including you two.”
    “Is that a lot?”
    “These days it is,” he said. “We used to do our share during hunting season, but not so much anymore. Now, most folks stay at one of the big chains over in Harlan or back in Red Oak.”
    “Sorry to hear it.”
    “It is what it is,” he said. “You know what they say, time and tide.”
    I didn’t know, but I kept that to myself.
    I watched Butch fish another wrinkled cigarette out of his pocket and light it with a kitchen match, then he waved it out and said, “Hope to see you two at breakfast, if she’s feeling up to it, of course.”
    I told him he would, then he turned and walked away.
    I closed the door.
    Sara was still in the bathroom, so I sat on the bed and waited. I noticed the green backpack lying on the floor by the bed. Seeing it made me think of Syl, which made me wonder. Soon my hands were shaking, and I squeezed them together as tight as I could.
    They wouldn’t stop.
    A few minutes later I heard the toilet flush and the water run in the sink, then Sara came out holding one hand over her stomach.
    “I hope this doesn’t last the entire time,” she said.
    “Is it supposed to get better?”
    “I think so.”
    She climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Who was at the door?”
    I told her about the food.
    “Ugh, stop.”
    “Not hungry?”
    “God, no.”
    “Probably just bananas and wet vending machine muffins,” I said. “I’m hoping for coffee.”
    “Jesus, Nate, knock it off, will you?”
    I kept talking, but I had no idea why.
    The words just seemed to roll out of my mouth. I ran through all the breakfast foods I could think of, eggs and bacon, omelets, waffles, pancakes and maple syrup.
    The list went on and on.
    I didn’t stop until I felt Sara’s hands on my face. When I looked up, she was sitting on her knees, holding my head between her hands. Her eyes were soft, worried.
    “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what’s wro—”
    She shushed me then leaned in and kissed me, soft. I didn’t want her to stop, but eventually she did.
    “Are you okay?”
    I nodded, but this time there were no words.
    “Are you sure?”
    I told her I was.
    “The worst part is over,” she said. “It’s done.”
    I watched her, and for a second the desire to tell her what’d happened the night before was overwhelming. I even opened my mouth and started to confess, but I stopped myself and looked away. I knew I’d tell her someday, but not yet. She’d had a hard enough time when she thought Syl had died in the car. She wasn’t ready to know the truth.
    Sara kissed me again and I turned away.
    I reached for my shoes on the floor and slid them on, then grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair.
    “Nate?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    “I’m fine.”
    She paused. “Was it really awful?”
    I told her it was, then motioned to the door. “Are you sure you don’t want me to bring you some food?”
    She didn’t say anything right away, then she leaned back and pulled the sheet up around her neck and said, “Something light, a banana or an apple, maybe? In case I’m hungry later.”
    I told her I’d see what I could find, then I opened the door and stepped out into the cold.
    I pulled my jacket tight and started down the walkway toward the office. When I got to the end of the building, I looked out at the empty field. I could see the cottonwood tree in the distance. It stood black and skeletal, a thin crack against a white sky.
    I stared at it for a while, thinking about the night before and trying to ignore the cold feeling spreading through my chest. When I finally turned away, I told myself that what was done was done, and it couldn’t be taken back. I had to let it go.
    Syl was dead, and the snow was deep.
    It would be a long time before anyone found him, and with any luck, the plows were already on their way. We’d be back on the road this afternoon.
    All we had to do was