When the Wind Blows - James Patterson [57]
She whispered, “I’d like to wash my hands.”
Wash her hands? We were actually carrying on a conversation. We were, weren’t we? Oh God.
“Just a minute,” I called out to Kit. He had no idea! My voice was a muffled squawk, but I thought he’d heard me.
I opened the door for the little girl and she walked out past me. I’d asked her to trust me; I had to show some trust, too. She took a few steps, then turned back.
She hesitated. Her eyes held a question.
“Oh yeah,” I said and smiled. “Turn right.”
She smiled back at me. The girl smiled at me and I melted. She was absolutely beautiful, and also charming. She was a little girl, for God’s sake. She couldn’t be any older than eleven or twelve.
I gave her a fresh towel and washcloth. “Thank you,” she said, and closed the door to the bathroom. I heard her using the facilities and it seemed so unreal. The tap water ran, then shut off. Kit wasn’t going to believe this. Hell, I almost didn’t believe it myself.
A few moments later, the bathroom doorknob turned slowly and the girl opened the door. She emerged slowly, first just peeking cautiously around the doorjamb. God, she was something else! Her eyes were intelligent, probing mine. She’d washed her face until it was pink and shining. She was such a little beauty. How in hell had this miracle happened? How could it be?
“Come on. Let’s eat,” I said.
“Spaghetti? Or soup?” she asked, then grinned.
I smiled at her.
I got it. She’d made a little joke.
“Very cute,” I told her. “You’re funny.”
“Yeah,” she continued talking. “I’m cute as a button. So they say.”
They? Who the hell was “they”?
I pointed. “That way. Straight down the hall.”
Chapter 58
THE TWO OF US entered the tiny dining area just as Kit was bringing a full pitcher of sun tea to the table. He started, fumbled, but nimbly caught the pitcher as it was headed toward the floor. Good hands.
He recovered his cool admirably. The G-man. He carefully set the pitcher of tea down. He wiped his wet palms on the back of his jeans.
“Hi, guys,” he said. “I see we’ve cleared up our little differences.”
“Maybe,” the girl said. “We’ll see.”
I saw Kit’s jaw actually drop. It fell a good four inches. “Oh. Well, that’s nice to hear.”
It was amazing that the wild creature of just hours ago, the one who’d tried to break his bones, the one who’d bitten him, was talking to him now. She was witty and funny, too. Where had she learned to talk, and how to act? Where had she come from?
“This is my friend Kit,” I said to the girl.
“Hello,” she said softly. “You’re the cook, right?”
Kit’s jaw dropped again. He nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s me. The chief cook and bottlewasher around here.”
I pulled out a chair for her and the girl wriggled into it. “Thank you,” she said. She was polite, too.
I went to the kitchen, as if this were the most natural thing in the world to do. Alone in there, I tried to stop myself from hyperventilating, tried to get a grip. I brought out the salad bowl, utensils, napkins. I brought a dinner plate for the girl. Placed everything on the table.
My arms, my legs, my hands, everything felt strangely disconnected and discombobulated. My hands were clammy. My body felt as if it were lost in space. I was suffering a little tunnel vision. Other than that, no problem.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her as I attempted to toss the salad.
“Kit,” I said.
He looked at me. Didn’t understand. “Yes, Frannie?”
“The spaghetti,” I said. “Some of us are starved.”
“Oh. Right.” He stumbled against a chair, righted it, and went back to the kitchen. He soon returned with the steaming bowl of pasta.
All the while the girl was watching our every move. I was still trying to look nonchalant and wondered if either of them could hear my heart racing, pumping like an old oil well. Did the girl really trust us at all? Would she suddenly bolt from the table? Try to escape from the cabin?
Kit spoke