The Hermit Read online

  He went into his storage room and removed a pair of long johns that had proven to be too snug for his comfort as well as a new pair of his boxer briefs and a white undershirt. Everything was huge on her but it was the best he could do.

  When he had her body covered enough to preserve her dignity, he pulled her close to the edge of the table so that most of her hair hung over the side. Using a pitcher, he rinsed her hair several times with vinegar to kill and dislodge any lice she might be carrying.

  Ryan had been unable to determine her hair color, so many layers of grime had given it a gray hew. With each rinse, the dark brown began to show through.

  He allowed the last rinse of vinegar to sit for a few minutes while he trimmed and cleaned her nails and toenails, noticing several severe breaks to the nail bed. He placed the trimmings in another bag and zipped it in with the clothes she’d been wearing.

  When he finished, he pulled the heavy socks over her feet, leaving them over the long johns for extra warmth. He inspected her scalp with a flashlight and comb to ensure there were no eggs or bugs infesting the length. Satisfied, he washed it with regular shampoo and rinsed it one last time before towel drying it and running a comb through until it was detangled.

  He dried her neck before pulling on the flannel shirt and buttoning all but the top button. After he rolled up the long sleeves, Ryan moved her to the soft worn couch near the fire that he’d layered with towels, pulling an old quilt over her still form.

  Ryan made beef broth and ginger tea, knowing he’d have to get her to eat gradually. Taking a large dropper from his medical bag, he sat on the edge of the coffee table and carefully pulled down her lower jaw. Testing with a small amount of the broth, he waited to be sure her body’s natural reflex would kick in and make her swallow.

  Nodding his head with a slight smile that felt foreign on his face, he worked to feed the cups of both liquids to her. It took a long time but he felt she’d likely be able to keep it down. He sat back on the ratty chair he favored and watched her in wonder before falling asleep.

  The days passed slowly. He discovered if he took her in to the toilet, pulling her clothes away and placing her in position, she would pee without an issue. That she had no bowel movements convinced him she hadn’t had solid food in far too long.

  Ryan doubted she’d appreciate such intimacy with a complete stranger, no woman would, but it saved her clothing. Every two days, he removed and washed what she was wearing, gave her a sponge bath, and treated her wounds. He always left her dressed in one of his shirts and clean socks while he washed the rest in the hand crank washing machine. He allowed them to hang in front of the fire until dry then he always redressed her fully, being careful not to put his hands on her bare skin more than absolutely necessary.

  They existed in this space together, though she was unaware, with him her primary caregiver as she healed from God only knew what trauma. He stayed close to home, having no need or desire to stray far.

  Before he’d come up here for the last time four years ago, he’d made a dozen trips equipping this remote home with the basic necessities and creature comforts he’d refused to live without. An old mining road allowed him the ability to drive loads to the bottom of the mountain where he could transfer everything to a rugged Kubota and haul it to the cabin clearing several miles away. The ATV was secured in a cave should he need it. He hadn’t driven it in a long time and hoped the battery still worked.

  The days passed as they had for so long. Only now when Ryan read, wrote, and listened to music he also waited for his unknown patient to wake up. Every day, her pulse was stronger, her color a bit better.

  Eight days after he found her, he was feeding her beef broth from the dropper when she opened her eyes and startled the shit out of him. He sat back, putting plenty of space between them. They stared at one another for several long minutes, saying nothing as she fought to stay awake, to figure out where she was and who he was.

  She wanted to stay awake but her body overruled her. Eventually her eyes drifted closed and she whispered sadly, “Please…please don’t hurt me.”

  Then she was out again and Ryan found himself unable to move. For the longest time, he sat there beside her, feeling a tiny crack in the frozen ice surrounding his heart for the last several years. He set the bowl down beside him and buried his face in his hands. Never in his life had he heard such heartbreak and fear from another person. It gave him a clarity regarding his own troubles he’d refused to confront in all this time.

  He picked up one of her frail hands and held it lightly between both of his large ones. “I will not hurt you. You’re safe with me. I swear it. No one will ever hurt you again. I desperately want to know what happened to you.”

  He patted her gently and stood, replacing the quilt over her chest and going into the kitchen. As he had since finding her, he cleaned and locked up and collapsed in his chair across from the couch in front of the fire. Stretching his legs out in front of him, Ryan fell asleep in the same place, with the same view, he’d held for eight nights.

  Over the next few days, she opened her eyes more and more but didn’t speak again. When she was awake, she shook constantly. He carried on as he had been, sleeping in the living room and nursing her back to health.

  His questions would have to wait.

  Chapter Two

  She opened her eyes and kept completely still, totally silent…it was important to establish where she was and who was the greatest threat before she let anyone know she was awake. Moving only her eyes, she took in her surroundings.

  The first thing she noticed was the lack of foul smell. It smelled clean here…wherever here was…like pine and wood smoke. It wasn’t the place she’d become unfortunately familiar with over the last months. Barely moving her head, she glanced at the quilt over her body and suddenly realized she was warm for the first time in so long. She was also fully…covered, even under her clothes.

  Then she saw him sitting in a chair not far from her. Her breath hitched and her heart began to race. Wait. He was…sleeping, and she wasn’t tied up or shackled.

  Sitting up carefully, feeling every ache in her body, she curled into the corner of the couch, presenting a smaller, less vulnerable target. The quilt came with her; she couldn’t bear to let it go yet. The softness and warmth so novel to her now, when once, such things had been common in her life. She looked around more fully, taking in the small fire, burning down in the hearth and the neatness of the space.

  Bringing her gaze back to the man, she examined him more carefully. He didn’t appear to be armed. He was clean, though not clean-shaven. He wore what looked like several months of beard growth. His hair was dark blonde, his beard slightly darker. He wore a flannel shirt and jeans with heavy hiking boots. From what she could see, he was in very good physical shape.

  How had she come to be here? Where was she and who was this man? A log popped in the fire and she felt her entire body spasm in abject terror.

  “It’s just a log. Please don’t be afraid.” Her eyes came back to his, wide with her fear of the unknown. He didn’t so much as blink the bright blue eyes peering at her intently. His voice was soft when he told her, “I’m not going to move. I won’t hurt you. I don’t know exactly what you’ve been through but you are safe here. If you need the bathroom, it’s behind the couch. There is water and food in the kitchen. I won’t touch you, I won’t hurt you. I’m going to stay right here until you feel comfortable then I’ll go bring in more wood.”

  She’d tightened her whole body into the most amazingly small ball and had the quilt clutched to her chin, only her frightened eyes visible above it. “There’s a brass candlestick on the fireplace hearth. It’s very heavy. It would be a dangerous weapon if you swung it at someone’s head. You can keep it with you and brain me if you think I’m going to hurt you.”

  She looked at the fireplace, finding the candlestick with her eyes, moving nothing else. “I have one question, you don’t have to answer it if you don�
��t want to.” Her gaze swung back and she stared at him, scared out of her mind. “What is your name?”

  Confusion washed over her. “My…name?” her voice was rough but he could hear the bell-like quality beneath. “You…you want to know my name?” He nodded once, being careful to remain very still. “I haven’t heard my name in…so long.” She closed her eyes for just a moment and when she opened them, she said, “Daphne…Pierce. My name is Daphne Pierce.”

  He nodded with a very small smile, attempting to reassure her, she knew. “Daphne, my name is Ryan Wallace. I’m a doctor. There is nothing that would cause me to hurt you. I found you in the woods, brought you here to try and help you. I want nothing from you; I will take nothing from you. I have a computer and a satellite phone if you need me to contact someone for you. The nearest town is called McArthur; you’re at the base of the Wrangell Mountains in Alaska. McArthur is about twenty miles away due south. I will take you there if you want me to. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like but you are not a captive. You are in control, Daphne, and you are safe.”

  She stared at him for a long time, “I…I have to use the bathroom.” He nodded. She stood carefully, keeping her legs against the couch and backing slowly around it. She was weak, unable to stand fully upright. She held the furniture then the wall for support.

  “Daphne, take the candlestick.” She froze, looking from him to the brass, reaching out with a shaking hand and curling her fingers around the heavy base. Clutching it to her chest, she backed the rest of the way to the bathroom door and closed it without a sound.

  He stayed where he was and waited. Fifteen minutes later, she opened the door and seemed surprised he was still in the chair on the other side of the room.

  “Are you…is there anyone else here?” she asked him from the doorway.

  “No one lives within twenty miles of this cabin but me. Just me, Daphne, and I won’t hurt you,” he gestured to the kitchen, “If you’re hungry or thirsty, the kitchen is over there. Please be careful how much you take in at first. You’ve been nearly starved to death. Your stomach can’t handle much yet. You were dangerously dehydrated so I’ve been giving you water, ginger tea, and beef broth over the last eight days.”

  Daphne came out of the bathroom and plastered herself against the wall beside it. “Eight days…I’ve been here eight days? You…fed me?” He nodded. “Did…did you…undress me?”

  “The day I brought you here I cleaned you, treated your wounds, and dressed you in the smallest clothes I could find,” he paused, “I touched you as a patient, Daphne, treated you as a doctor. I did not abuse you then and I won’t now. I swear to you on my life.”

  Reaching up to touch her hair, she whispered, “You…you washed my hair…” He nodded. “I…haven’t been able to wash my hair in...” She cleared her throat, “What’s the month? The year?”

  Of all the things she could have asked him, this shocked Ryan most. He told her and watched her eyes widen in shock. She slid to the floor, landing on her butt with a soft thump. “Almost two years. Oh my God, two years.” She was breathing too rapidly and Ryan knew she was going to hyperventilate.

  “Daphne, you need to calm your breathing.” She was beyond the ability to do so and he stood, approaching her carefully and her terror ratcheted up several degrees. “I will not hurt you, let me help you.” He crouched in front of her and her fingers tightened so hard on the candlestick her knuckles were white.

  He reached under her back and her knees, lifting her easily and carrying her toward the kitchen. He set her gently in a chair and moved to a drawer, opening it and pulling out a paper sack. He showed her what to do, “You’ll have to put the candlestick down to seal the bag. I’ll go back to the chair, Daphne.”

  Walking around the far side of the room, he returned to the chair and she pulled the bag to her face, keeping her eyes on him. From the moment Ryan had stood up to help until he sat back down, no more than thirty seconds had elapsed.

  Her breathing leveled out and she set down the bag. Daphne was still for a long time before clearing her throat and saying quietly, “Thank…thank you.”

  Ryan nodded at her. She got up slowly and moved to the kitchen sink, her eyes never leaving his face, the brass weapon in her hand. Turning on the tap, she used her hand and scooped water to her mouth.

  “Daphne, there are glasses above the sink on the left.” She froze, seeming to consider this before slowly opening the cabinet and staring at the items inside. With a shaking hand, she reached for a glass and held it, staring at it in wonder. Absently, she put her weapon on the counter and held the glass with both hands. Putting it under the running water, she filled it and shut off the tap. For a long time, she stood staring at the water in the glass, the sunlight streaming through the window causing it to sparkle.

  “It’s so…clean. I’ve missed that,” her voice was trembling and Ryan felt a tightening in his chest. This woman had been through so much that clean drinking water moved her. She looked at him and sipped it with an expression of pure relief and gratitude on her face.

  “Daphne, where are you from? I won’t ask for anything more than you’re willing to tell me, but should we call someone for you?” He kept his hands on the arms of the chair, remaining as still as possible. He was shocked at the strength of his need simply to care for Daphne, to help her.

  “I…I’m going to sit down, is that alright?” she asked him quietly. He nodded, remaining still and giving her a kind smile. She made her way slowly to a chair and sat as if in pain, running her hand across the top of the table. Realizing she’d left the candlestick several steps away, she looked at it and darted her eyes to Ryan’s.

  “I won’t hurt you, Daphne, but I’ll understand if you need it with you.” She went and got it, placing it on the table within reach.

  It took her a long time to tell him her story. She was unused to speaking and stopped often to gather her thoughts or take a tiny sip of water. Ryan watched her with a lump in his throat. “I had a life once, a husband. He was a wildlife photographer for National Geographic and Outdoor World, among others. His name was Steven Pierce.” She stopped to clear her throat and wipe her face of the silent tears that coursed down her cheeks.

  “He was a nice man. I met him in college when we both attended Ohio State. We’d been married for a year when he received an assignment to photograph the Alaskan glaciers.” She glanced out the kitchen window, taking in the mountains beyond. “I’d never seen anyplace more beautiful.”

  Dropping her forehead in her hand, she took a moment to compose herself. “We were camping near Kennecott when three men attacked us. I thought they’d take what they seemed to want from me and go. I knew…I could endure what I thought would be one traumatic event, that it would be alright in the end. I was very…naïve. I hadn’t been educated on the depths evil men will sink to.”

  She sipped her water, going silent for several minutes, gathering her courage to speak about the horror out loud. Tears tracked down her face but she didn’t make a sound. “For two days, they stayed in our camp. My husband was…abused…just as I was. He’d been hit hard with the butt of a rifle when they ambushed us, he was in a coma through all of that, and I’m grateful…so grateful. If there is anything I could be glad for, it is that Steven didn’t know what was happening to him.”

  Her hand clenched hard against her chest and she gasped for air. Picking up the paper bag, Daphne pulled herself back together but her voice was trembling as she resumed her story.

  “He died on the morning of the third day, he just stopped breathing. I thought, they’ll go now. I figured they’d kill me…I was prepared for that. I…I hoped for it honestly.” She wrapped her hand around her throat, rubbing gently. “I never considered they’d take me with them. I never thought it would go on and on. They packed up our camp and threw Steven’s body in a deep ravine with our camping gear. They kept his camera equipment but Steven they just…just tossed him away.”

  She put her fingers to
her temples, “We hiked deeper into the forest for three more days. They took me to a cave; there was a cage built inside. They didn’t feed me at first. I think they figured I’d die anyway. I had a bucket and the bedroll from my tent. Sometimes they’d be gone for days.” Daphne’s voice trailed away, as if she’d been transported back in time.

  Ryan didn’t move, no matter how much he wanted to. He said calmly, “Daphne. It’s alright. You’re safe now. They can’t hurt you; they can’t ever hurt you again.”

  In answer, she exhaled on a sob and continued, “I was afraid for them to come back. I was afraid they wouldn’t and I’d die trapped in a cage like an animal. All this time, I’ve done nothing but wait. Wait to be used, tortured, given scraps of food and drinking the water that dripped from the cave wall.” Daphne looked at Ryan across the room, her hand going subconsciously to the jagged scar on her jaw, “I…I fought at first but that made them…worse. Usually, they…they came no less than two at a time…”