her eyes started falling, and it wasn’t because of the
pain. Ethan was focused on her feet, so Ashley surreptitiously brushed them
away. She didn’t think he had noticed.
He covered her
right foot with Band-Aids, helped her back into her sandal, and then started
working on the other foot. Ashley endured his touch in silence. Tried not to
look at him kneeling beside her. Tried not to feel his strong clasp on her
ankle. Tried not to recall his harsh words. Tried to concentrate instead on the
physical pain—that was far more comfortable.
When he finally
put on the last Band-Aid, he stared at her bandaged foot for a few more
seconds. Then he picked up her sandal. Studied the leather straps that were
bloodied in several spots. Glared at the sandal like he wanted to murder it.
Then he put it
back on her foot.
“Thank you,” Ashley
choked out, as Ethan got to his feet again. Then she turned to leave the
bathroom, hoping only for escape.
She was stopped
by Ethan’s hand on her shoulder. He turned her around until she was facing him.
Brushed away a stray tear on her cheek with his thumb. “Ashley,” he said, in a
low voice.
Taking a deep
breath, she made herself meet his eyes. “I don’t think you needed to talk to me
that way, but I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my feet.”
He took her
face between his hands, tilting her head up toward his. She lost her breath at
his touch and at his intense expression. “Ashley, I’m sorry I talked to you that
way. I’m having trouble…controlling myself. But I never wanted to get you into
this, and now there’s nothing we can do about it. We’re in this together,
though. That means we have to help each other.”
She nodded,
almost mesmerized by his husky voice and the look in his eyes.
“But that also
means we accept help from each other. I don’t ever want you to hide something
from me that I should know about. How do you think it makes me feel that I made
you walk more than a mile on bleeding feet?” His face was strained and damp
with perspiration, and he was still holding her head between his palms. “And
then I complained that you were walking too slow.”
Suddenly seeing
his perspective, Ashley felt a wave of guilt wash over her. “I’m sorry. I was
just being stubborn. Didn’t want you to think I was a wimp.”
“I'd never
think that. I know how strong you are.” Then Ethan smiled a little and let go
of her face. “But you do wear the most ridiculous shoes.”
Now that they were
back in familiar territory, Ashley started to feel a little better. “They’re
cute. Not ridiculous. They just weren’t meant for walking.”
“I would have
bought you better shoes yesterday if you’d asked me,” Ethan told her as they
left the smelly bathroom at last.
“You kept
saying we’d be in South Dakota today, so it didn’t seem worth the trouble. Who
knew we’d be walking for miles?”
They sat down
in the designated chairs to wait for their car to be towed. “Let’s hope they
can fix it very cheaply and have it done in a couple of hours,” Ashley said at
one point.
A couple of
hours later, the mechanic informed them that the car couldn’t be fixed for at
least three days and it would cost at least three thousand dollars.
***
Ethan and Ashley stood staring
at a row of beautifully kept or restored Thunderbirds, from early antiques to
the sleek newer models.
“I love them,”
the gas station manager, whose name they had learned was Gus, told them.
“Doesn’t matter if they’re worth money or not. Just has to be a T-Bird, and
I’ll treat it like family.”
“And you want
our pitiful excuse for a Thunderbird?” Ethan asked slowly, eyeing the display
of cars parked in the long garage behind Gus’s house.
“Yep. It’s a T-Bird,
ain’t it?”
“It is indeed a
T-Bird,” Ethan said. “And you’ll trade us for that old truck?”
The truck
wasn’t in much better shape than the Thunderbird—it looked about as old—but it
did
pain. Ethan was focused on her feet, so Ashley surreptitiously brushed them
away. She didn’t think he had noticed.
He covered her
right foot with Band-Aids, helped her back into her sandal, and then started
working on the other foot. Ashley endured his touch in silence. Tried not to
look at him kneeling beside her. Tried not to feel his strong clasp on her
ankle. Tried not to recall his harsh words. Tried to concentrate instead on the
physical pain—that was far more comfortable.
When he finally
put on the last Band-Aid, he stared at her bandaged foot for a few more
seconds. Then he picked up her sandal. Studied the leather straps that were
bloodied in several spots. Glared at the sandal like he wanted to murder it.
Then he put it
back on her foot.
“Thank you,” Ashley
choked out, as Ethan got to his feet again. Then she turned to leave the
bathroom, hoping only for escape.
She was stopped
by Ethan’s hand on her shoulder. He turned her around until she was facing him.
Brushed away a stray tear on her cheek with his thumb. “Ashley,” he said, in a
low voice.
Taking a deep
breath, she made herself meet his eyes. “I don’t think you needed to talk to me
that way, but I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my feet.”
He took her
face between his hands, tilting her head up toward his. She lost her breath at
his touch and at his intense expression. “Ashley, I’m sorry I talked to you that
way. I’m having trouble…controlling myself. But I never wanted to get you into
this, and now there’s nothing we can do about it. We’re in this together,
though. That means we have to help each other.”
She nodded,
almost mesmerized by his husky voice and the look in his eyes.
“But that also
means we accept help from each other. I don’t ever want you to hide something
from me that I should know about. How do you think it makes me feel that I made
you walk more than a mile on bleeding feet?” His face was strained and damp
with perspiration, and he was still holding her head between his palms. “And
then I complained that you were walking too slow.”
Suddenly seeing
his perspective, Ashley felt a wave of guilt wash over her. “I’m sorry. I was
just being stubborn. Didn’t want you to think I was a wimp.”
“I'd never
think that. I know how strong you are.” Then Ethan smiled a little and let go
of her face. “But you do wear the most ridiculous shoes.”
Now that they were
back in familiar territory, Ashley started to feel a little better. “They’re
cute. Not ridiculous. They just weren’t meant for walking.”
“I would have
bought you better shoes yesterday if you’d asked me,” Ethan told her as they
left the smelly bathroom at last.
“You kept
saying we’d be in South Dakota today, so it didn’t seem worth the trouble. Who
knew we’d be walking for miles?”
They sat down
in the designated chairs to wait for their car to be towed. “Let’s hope they
can fix it very cheaply and have it done in a couple of hours,” Ashley said at
one point.
A couple of
hours later, the mechanic informed them that the car couldn’t be fixed for at
least three days and it would cost at least three thousand dollars.
***
Ethan and Ashley stood staring
at a row of beautifully kept or restored Thunderbirds, from early antiques to
the sleek newer models.
“I love them,”
the gas station manager, whose name they had learned was Gus, told them.
“Doesn’t matter if they’re worth money or not. Just has to be a T-Bird, and
I’ll treat it like family.”
“And you want
our pitiful excuse for a Thunderbird?” Ethan asked slowly, eyeing the display
of cars parked in the long garage behind Gus’s house.
“Yep. It’s a T-Bird,
ain’t it?”
“It is indeed a
T-Bird,” Ethan said. “And you’ll trade us for that old truck?”
The truck
wasn’t in much better shape than the Thunderbird—it looked about as old—but it
did
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