Fat Tuesday(87)

"I wanted to die."

"What?"

"I wanted to "

"I heard what you said," he said testily."It's just a hell of a way to go, drowning in that shit."

"No," she said, shaking her head, which was still tangled and wet and matted with duckweed."When I was a little girl, I prayed every night before I went to sleep that angels would come down and carry me to heaven before I woke up."

He realized now that her laughter on the pier had been a symptom of hysteria. This was phase two of it. She'd been terrified of the swamp, of drowning, maybe of him. Should he shake her, slap her, or humor her?

He decided on the last."At one time or another, all kids pray that.

Usually when they're pissed off at their parents and want to teach them a lesson for being so strict."

"I was ashamed."

"Of wanting to die?"

"No, of the things Angel did and made me do."

If this was an act designed to spark pity, it was a damn good performance. She spoke in a faraway voice, sounding very much as she must have as a child, curled up beneath the covers, imploring angels to come down for her.

"I think that's why God took my baby. To punish me for praying for the wrong things."

Burke had heard enough."Come on, stand up."

He pulled her to her feet and began undoing her belt buckle. If the fabric had been dry, the oversized pants would have dropped the moment the belt was loosened. Instead the heavy material clung wetly to her thighs.

He dropped to his knees and pulled the pants down her legs.

"Listen, it doesn't work that way." Taking hold of one ankle, he guided her foot from the pants leg. He did the same with the other foot.

,"God's too busy running the planet to keep scorecards on everybody.

He tossed the pants aside and went for the buttons on Dredd's old shirt, undoing the bottom one first and working his way up. He talked to distract himself from the smooth belly he was addressing."All that guilt shit, it'll eat you up. Believe me, I know. So you've got to stop thinking that you're to blame for losing your kid, or you'll get as crazy as me. It was biology. That's all."

"You don't have to do that."

He raised his head and looked hard into her eyes and saw that she was lucid. Her malaise had passed. He came to his feet, but his hands remained resting lightly on her waist."You were losing it."

"I'm okay now."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you afraid to leave me alone after what I said about wanting to die?"

"Maybe."

"If I still wanted to die, I could have let myself drown. I didn't want to."

"I didn't want you to either. If you had, it would have been my fault for not believing you when you told me you couldn't swim."

"And your conscience is overloaded as it is?"

"Something like that."

He lost track of the seconds that ticked by, because he had her undivided attention at least her gaze didn't waver from his and he was acutely aware of her skin warming beneath his palms.

Apparently she became aware of it too, because she glanced down at his hands, and, when she did, he released her and stepped back.

"That muck is beginning to dry," he said."It'll be hard to get off.

Lean over the railing and I'll help you wash your hair."

She looked hesitant, uneasy with that idea. A little vexed over her diffidence, he added, "A bucket of water is heavy, especially if you're trying to pour it over your head. Okay?"

Without any more discussion, she moved to the edge of the pier and leaned across the railing. Burke emptied half a bucket of clean water over her head, then worked shampoo into a good lather, scrubbing her hair from roots to ends. He rinsed out the worst of the filth, then shampooed a second time.

Soap suds foamed over his hands as his fingers slid up through her hair to massage her scalp. Lava flows of bubbles ran down her nape and into the valleys behind her ears. A strand of soapy pearls slid down her throat, over the gold chain of her cross, and beyond, into the collar of Dredd's ugly flannel shirt and onto what Burke knew were beautiful breasts.

He didn't stop shampooing until the lather completely gave out, and then reluctantly. He filled the water bucket again. Dialogue seemed inappropriate, somehow, so he reached around and cupped her chin in his hand and tipped it down. Slowly he poured the rainwater over her head, moving it first to one side, then the other, guiding it by applying the slightest pressure to her chin.

Finally the last drops trickled from the bucket.

Burke backed away. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the back of her bowed head, then he filled the bucket again and set it on the pier near her feet."There's a towel behind you there on the stool.

You'll be cold when you finish. Might want to wrap up in the quilt."

Then he left her.

Inside the cabin, he stood in the center of the room, breathing hard and pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. His headache had migrated from the knot on his head to the backs of his eyeballs, where it pulsed like a gangsta rap beat. He was sweating like it was July instead of February.

Clumsily, he assembled the first-aid items on the table. He was repositioning the table and one of the chairs nearer the heater when she appeared in the doorway wrapped Indian-fashion in the quilt, a towel turban around her head."I left my clothes soaking in the bucket.