weren’t so hot. He wiped his forehead and thought about Catherine, still wet and cool from the shower. If he hadn’t wasted the cup of water on the radiator, he could have drunk it.
And now he was hallucinating. He thought he saw her on the porch, wearing shorts and a shirt, her hands on her hips. He stood up, blinked and looked again. She was real. She was moving her lips.
“What are you doing out there?” she called.
He walked slowly back to the house, the empty cup in his hand. “There’s a little problem with my car,” he said grimly. “I was wondering if I could use your telephone.”
She looked surprised. “Who are you going to call?”
“A garage.”
She shook her head. “Even if I had a telephone, you couldn’t call a garage because they aren’t open on Sunday.”
“Well, then a tow truck.”
“Get real, Bentley. There is no garage. There is no tow truck within a hundred miles. What is it you’re looking for?”
“A rubber hose. The one I have is cracked.”
“Try La Luz, and if they don’t have one, there’s always Bogota.”
He nodded slowly. “Well, I won’t take any more of your time. You’ve been more than helpful and I’ll be on my way.”
“Where are you going?” she asked with an exasperated sigh.
“Back to the city.”
“What are you going to do—walk? I hate to disappoint you, but you’re stuck here for the night, or half the night. The truck comes to get us at 3:00 a.m. for market. You can ride along if you want and try to buy a hose in town tomorrow. Until then...”
“Don’t worry about me,” he assured her. “I’ll just camp out in my car. I’ve got plenty of food.”
Her eyes took in his perspiring face, his damp shirt and his grim expression.
“Why don’t you come in for another glass of water?” she asked, tucking a wet curl behind her ear.
“Thank you,” he said, following her into the kitchen. “I gave the last one to my radiator.”
She watched him drain the glass she gave him and set it in the sink. He stood and looked at her, watching her run her hand through the tangle of damp curls. The fragrance of hand-milled soap filled the air. His gaze slid down to her bare feet and then up her legs. A smattering of freckles across her knees surprised him. He felt the muscles in his abdomen tighten, and he realized he was in dangerous territory, emotionally and physically. He had to get out of there before he made a complete fool of himself. Just as he was turning to leave, she spoke.
“If you don’t mind a cold shower, you can use mine. I’m afraid I used up all the hot water, but...” “A cold shower is exactly what I need,” he said. She showed him to a stall made of corrugated plastic tacked on to the house as an afterthought, and then she disappeared. The water was cold and clear and pumped in from the well in the backyard. The tank backed into the chimney, allowing water to be heated by the fire. The soap was her soap. He stood there and let the water run through his hair and down his face, and he wished to hell she would take the truck as a gift and they could be friends. He had a feeling she was as proud as the Indian women. Too proud to accept charity. He understood that. Growing up poor could do that to you.
The other thing he wished was that he could get into his car and drive back to La Luz. Even as he dried off with her towel, he knew the shower hadn’t solved his problem. He was filled with an intense desire for a woman who hated all bankers and him in particular and was only interested in what he could do for her. Now that she knew he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted, she was even sorrier than he was that his car had broken down. As soon as he thanked her, he’d go back to his car and wait until the truck came at 3:00. He tried not to think of the car as an inferno, its black surface absorbing the afternoon sun.
Catherine was sitting under a tree behind the house packing raspberries to sell at the market when Josh walked through the back door. She looked up and dropped several berries on the ground. Now that the dirt and dust were gone his