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He nodded. “It’s gotta help. Then call Dr. King.”

“Call Dr. King now,” she said. “Bath’ll wait.”

“Phone’s upstairs,” he said. “I couldn’t hang it up.”

“I’ll take care of everything,” Louisa said soothingly. “Don’t you worry.”

She followed him up the stairs. The cats were nowhere to be seen. He didn’t blame them.

In the bedroom she unwound the receiver cord from around the lamp, then stood contemplating the bed. “We gotta get that cleaned up quick. Doctor’ll wait. No one’ll be able to live in this house with that stink.”

“My briefs and the sheets,” he said. “Just seal ‘em in a plastic garbage bag and set them out in the trash. The comforter’s expensive—maybe you can throw it over the picnic table in the backyard and let it dry. Then put it in another bag and I’ll have it dry-cleaned.”

She nodded and gingerly rolled the down comforter into a loose cylinder. “Bags in the kitchen?”

“In the broom closet.”

In a few minutes Louisa was back with black mylar bags into which she matter-of-factly stuffed the soiled sheets. “Those too.” She pointed at his briefs.

“They aren’t much,” he protested. “But it’s cold up here.”

“They’re gross,” she said evenly. “After you’re clean you can wear a nice warm robe.”

He tried to put his thumbs beneath the waistband. He couldn’t. “What about Dr. King?”

She grabbed the waistband and skinned the briefs down his legs. “I changed my mind again. The doc can wait. You need some attention first.”

There were two bathrooms in the house, both on the second floor. Only one had a tub and shower. Danny stepped into the tub and braced himself as she twisted the water knob. Nothing happened. “No pressure,” she said. “No water at all.”

“I should have let the faucets drip last night,” he said. “I’ll bet the pipes are frozen.”

“Downstairs too?”

He started to shrug. Stopped. “It may be okay down there.”

“I’ll check. You stay here.” In a minute she yelled from the foot of the stairs, “Water’s running down here. I’ll be up in a second.” Actually it took quite a few seconds, but she started her own solo bucket brigade of saucepans full of steaming tap water.

He yelled as the first half gallon of what felt like scalding water cascaded down his back.

“Don’t be a baby,” she said. “You’re just cold. I’ve checked the temperature. It’ll be all right.” Louisa poured another panful, then wet a washrag and began to scrub him down. After the first few shocks, he had to admit the water felt good. With his hands locked thumb to thumb in front of him, he stared down at the brown eddy swirling in the drain. He felt more water, more scrubbing. Eventually the draining water ran clear.

“Okay, step out of there.” She toweled him down, attempting to be gentle when the cotton plush dragged across his shoulders. When he was reasonably dry, Louisa draped the blue terry cloth robe around his shoulders and belted it at the waist. “Now he down. We’ll call the doctor.”

The soiled sheets were no longer on the bed, but the mattress was still wet and stained. It looked as though Louisa had given it a good scrubbing. She spread a bath towel across the area, then fluffed out a cheap quilt from the linen rack. “Okay, lie down.” She efficiently flipped open an old wool blanket and drew it up to his waist. “Comfy?”

“I guess,” he said. “Comfy as I’m gonna get.” He knew he didn’t really feel comfortable. But then who knew when his life was going to improve? Lie down while he could. He did so, gingerly flopping back against the mound of pillows Louisa had stacked.

Only after he’d painfully settled himself, he groaned.

“What’s the matter?” said Louisa.

“I gotta pee.”

“I’ll help you up,” she said.

“I’m not sure I can make it. My back and shoulders feel like they’re going to come apart if I move.”

“Hmm,” said Louisa. “You got a chamber pot?”

“No.”

“Hold on,” she said, turning and exiting the bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

Her voice floated back from the stairwell. “The kitchen.”

Danny concentrated on using the muscles on the nether side of his bladder. Suddenly he couldn’t think of anything