Believe: The Complete Channie Series (162 page)

Jonathan

J
ONATHAN
JUMPED
TO
HIS
FEET
, sloshing water onto the stone border. “River? Are you okay?”

She barreled toward him at a dead run, peeling her clothes off.

Jonathan scanned the area, looking for a threat but found none. Just because he didn’t see it; didn’t mean there wasn’t one. He vaulted out of the pool and ran towards River.

Her wide, glassy eyes had the battle-shocked look he’d seen on the faces of so many people in Afghanistan. She veered around him without a word.

“Hey! What’s going on?”

She sat down in the snow next to the hot spring and yanked her boots off, tossing them over her shoulders. She shimmied out of her pants then plunged down the steps and ducked under the surface of the hot water.

Jonathan ran back to the pool and jumped in.

When she resurfaced, she had her fingers tangled in her braid.

“What the hell is going on? Is someone chasing you? Are you in danger?”

She ducked back underwater and didn’t come up until her hair was completely undone. “I’m contaminated!”

“I haven’t even touched you.” The girl wasn’t just a germaphobe. She was a complete nutcase.

“Not you.” She stood up and held her hands in front of her body. “I touched a sick man’s box.”

“Okay…” Jonathan tried to avert his gaze away from her chest, but his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own. Her hair covered her breasts, but not the edge of a tribal tattoo over her heart. “I don’t know what that means, but I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“I’m gonna die!”

“What kind of sickness did this guy have?”

“I don’t know, but the box was full of filthy rags that had been used to clean up vomit!” She turned around and grabbed a nearby bucket then doused herself with water from the pool.

Jonathan waited for her to catch her breath then pointed to the hand carved message on the wooden sign behind her. “According to those instructions, part of this cleansing ritual is purging. Doesn’t that mean making yourself puke?”

River slumped forward and grabbed the stone border. “You’re right.”

She had her back turned, so Jonathan didn’t feel quite as pervy as he probably should have for checking her out. She was petite, about five feet, three inches tall, but with the arms and shoulders of a swimmer. At first he’d thought her thick, dark brown hair was wavy, but that must have been from the braid. It flowed down her back then floated on the surface of the water like a sheet of melted chocolate. Jonathan tucked his hand under his elbow to keep from reaching out to touch it.

River doused herself another nine times then sat down, submerging her breasts. This gave him a chance to study her tattoo. The design looked like a dog, or maybe a wolf with an arrow through its neck. He wanted to ask her what it meant, but tattoos could be really personal.

He’d thought about getting one after Franklin’s funeral, but Frankie would’ve hated that. He believed the human body was a sacred temple and tattoos were nothing but sacrilegious graffiti. Jonathan ran his fingers over the back of his medallion.
Brothers forever.

River sniffed, snapping Jonathan out of his sentimental trance. Tears leaked out of the corners of her closed eyes, but it was her trembling lower lip that tugged at his heart.

He reached out to wipe the tears from her cheek.

And all hell broke loose. River jumped back and continued to churn the water in her obvious effort to get away from Jonathan.

“Hey!” Jonathan leaned away from her and held up both arms. “Calm down. What’s wrong?”

“You touched me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you…? I’m not sick. I haven’t had so much as a cold for over a year. You’re not going to catch anything from me.”

“It’s forbidden for a man to touch a woman in the cleansing pool.”

Seriously?
“But it’s okay for you to prance around in front of me buck naked? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s a rule. It doesn’t have to make sense.” River closed her eyes and sighed then opened them.

“I take it there’re a lot of rules?”

She nodded.

“What happens if someone breaks the rules?”

“They’re punished.”

“Okay.” Jonathan figured as much. “What’s the punishment for touching a woman in a cleansing pool?”

“I’m not going to report it.”

“Answer the question.”

“For the first offense…one finger.”

“They’d break a guy’s finger just for touching you?”

Her gaze locked onto his stump.

“They’d cut it off?” Jonathan’s stomach clenched. This was bad. Afghanistan bad.

River leaned forward and whispered, “How did you lose your hand?”

He tucked his wrist under his elbow and hugged it to his chest. “It wasn’t a punishment.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t like to talk about it!”

River gasped and blinked her eyes.

Jonathan hadn’t meant to yell at her, but her questions were stirring up too many painful memories.“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Jonathan stretched his hand out to brush the fresh tears off her cheek.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Shit!” Jonathan jerked his hand back. “I’m sort of programmed to comfort girls when they cry and that usually involves quite a bit of touching.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” River swiped at her eyes then wrinkled her nose and stared at her fingertips as if they were smeared with blood instead of tears. “I don’t cry. Ever.”

“Everybody cries.”

“Not me.” River stood up without warning. “The post-cleanse hut may not be contaminated, but there’s no way of knowing for certain. I think we better skip it and go straight to the quarantine cabin.”

Jonathan averted his gaze, but not quick enough. The girl was a nut job, no doubt about it, but she was sexy as hell. And if he could lose a finger for touching her, what would they do to him for sporting a boner? “Um…you go ahead. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

The
quarantine cabin was less than fifty yards from the hot spring, but Jonathan’s hair crackled with ice before he reached the porch. He yanked the door open and hurried inside.

River stood in front of the stove, buck naked. What kind of game was she playing? She’d had plenty of time to get dressed. At least she had her back to him.

She turned around and arched her eyebrows then pointed at his boxers. “What are those?”

Jonathan blushed like a school girl. “What? You’ve never heard of underwear?”

“I told you to take off
all
your clothes.”

“What difference does it make?”

“You can’t keep anything that came from the outside world. Except maybe that chain and medallion around your neck. Is that solid gold?”

“Twenty-four karat.” He resisted the urge to reach up and touch the medallion that held Franklin’s feather. It was twisted around so all that showed was the solid gold back. That resin-encased feather was worth more to Jonathan than a mountain of gold. The only way anyone was taking it, was out of his cold, dead fist. “Why can’t I wear my own clothes?”

“They’re not allowed.”

“I could wash them in the hot springs.”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“You leave everything behind when you join us. It’s like being reborn.”

“I’m not joining you.” Jonathan cupped his hand over the front of his boxers to hide the effect River’s naked body was having on his.

She wrinkled her nose and snarled at him. “Stop playing with yourself. What are you? A toddler?”

“I’m not playing with myself! And I’m certainly not a toddler. I’m a man. And seeing a woman’s naked body
does
things
to a man.”

River rolled her eyes. “You need to control yourself. I already told you I don’t want to mate with you.”

“Where I come from, people don’t prance around in the nude if they don’t want to mate.”

“Well, that’s inconvenient.”

Jonathan kept himself covered with his hand and pointed at her with his stump. “I’m going to go put my underwear in the box with the rest of my clothes. When I return you better be dressed.”

Jonathan
grumbled under his breath as he ran all the way back to the first hut. By the time he got there, his skin was blue. He threw his boxers in Reuben’s trunk with the rest of his clothes then plunged into the hot spring to warm up before making the trek back to the quarantine cabin.

He opened the door and found River in a short, white nightgown that barely covered her ass. She’d also re-braided her hair. It hung down her back, six inches past her waist, in a thick damp rope. She still looked sexy as hell, but at least she wasn’t naked.

A tea kettle on top of the old-fashioned wood burning stove whistled. River moved it to a sturdy pine table and set it down. She waved towards the six cedar boxes stacked up against the wall without looking at Jonathan. “See if you can find something that fits you in Eli’s trunk.”

The quarantine cabin was three times as big as the first shack, but it still felt crowded. Three bunk beds, jammed head to foot on the opposite wall took up half the floor space.

Jonathan opened Eli’s trunk and peered inside. “Are you sure this guy won’t care if I borrow his clothes?”

“Hopefully, you’ll be long gone before he finds out.”

Not quite the answer Jonathan was hoping for. But what choice did he have? He dug all the way to the bottom of the wooden chest, looking for something that resembled boxers or even long johns. “Where’s the underwear?”

River snorted. “We don’t use underwear.”

Jonathan looked at the well-worn buckskin pants and groaned. “Oh, man, that’s disgusting.”

“Everything’s been purified.”

“How?” Jonathan glanced over his shoulder to be sure River still had her back turned. “You can’t toss any sort of leather in a washing machine and I’m willing to bet this stuff’s never been dry cleaned.”

“Our smoke sheds are dry.” River turned around and scowled at him.

“Do you mind?” Jonathan covered himself with the wadded up pants.

River rolled her eyes, again, before turning her back.

“If you don’t quit rolling your eyes, they’re going to get stuck in the back of your head.” Jonathan lifted the buckskin pants to his face and took a wary sniff. They smelled like leather, wood smoke and cedar. People had used smoke to cure meat for centuries. Would that be enough to cure any nasties on Eli’s clothes? You couldn’t get AIDS or herpes from wearing someone else’s clothes, but what about crabs? He could either wear what River gave him, or go naked.

Jonathan gritted his teeth and slid into Eli’s pants. They were a little tight around his thighs and calves, but other than that, they fit like a second skin. There was just one problem. Instead of a fly with buttons or a zipper, the front of the pants laced up over a flap of leather with a rawhide string. Tying his shoes was one of the first things Jonathan had learned in occupational therapy, but it was still going to take him awhile to get it done without his prosthesis.