Panther On The Prowl. Nancy Morse
as he guided her through the doorway into the kitchen. He took her slowly around the small room, waiting patiently as her hands moved tentatively and then grew more confident as they explored the refrigerator, the stove, the sink, the cabinets.
“Soup,” he explained, when she examined the cans in the cabinet. “It shouldn’t be hard to remember that tomato is on the left, chicken noodle’s in the middle and minestrone is on the right.”
Disheartened, she said, “My life has been reduced to right and left.”
“There’s no guarantee that you’ll see again, but there’s no reason to think you won’t.”
Her shoulders slumped. The world was a scary place when you couldn’t see. Not knowing what was out there and whom to trust. Sometimes it was even scarier when your eyes were wide open. When you let yourself be swayed by what others thought was best for you. When you were too blind to see the mistakes you were making.
Rennie sighed and turned toward the sink. “Does this need washing?” she asked of the ceramic bowl in the sink.
“Yes, but—”
“Just because I feel like an invalid doesn’t mean I have to act like one.” Feeling around, she turned on the water, found a sponge and what she assumed was a plastic bottle of dishwashing liquid and proceeded to wash the bowl.
John gave her credit for trying, even if she did leave soap in the bowl after rinsing it.
“Where does it go?”
“In the cabinet. Top shelf.”
She reached up on tiptoe to place the bowl on the shelf, but when it wouldn’t quite reach, he stepped forward to give her a hand. His arms swept past her on either side to grasp the bowl that teetered on the edge of the shelf. The hard-muscled length of him came up against her as he leaned forward to push the bowl into place. For several moments neither of them moved. His hands came to rest palms down on the counter on either side of her. She could feel his arms coming to rest a hairbreadth from her body, which had gone all rigid.
“Turn around.”
The plea in his voice made Rennie catch her breath. She was confused and afraid. It was one thing to fantasize about him, but quite another to actually give in to this crazy attraction she felt for a man she couldn’t see.
“It’s not what you think,” he said. “I want to say something to you, and even if you can’t see me, I want to say it to your face. Turn around.” His tone was demanding, the plea slightly more urgent than before.
Rennie turned slowly around, brushing against his arms that did not withdraw until she was facing him. She knew that his eyes were upon her and felt herself melting from their heat.
“Please understand,” he said. “I would have taken you in even if you weren’t as beautiful as you are. And as far as telling no one that you’re here, I’ll respect that. But don’t expect anything more from me. The fact is, I’m going to stay as far away from you as I can get. Believe me when I say it’s for the best.”
Rennie was aghast. “If you’re assuming that I want more from you than a place to stay, you’re mistaken.”
“All I’m saying is, the imagination can play powerful tricks on us, and we all make mistakes when we’re feeling helpless.”
“I see,” she said tersely. “And I suppose that was my imagination just now when you leaned against me? That’s funny, because it felt more like—”
“I never said I wasn’t attracted to you,” he said. His arousal had been instantaneous and her alluding to it was embarrassing. “But let’s be frank. You didn’t exactly move away, either. And that’s the problem.”
“If there’s a problem here, it’s yours,” she said. “I’m not in the habit of passing myself around like a dish of salted peanuts, and certainly not to a man I don’t know.”
“And if I were to kiss you right now, what would you do?”
What would she do? Scream? Slap him? Melt into his arms and cling to his strength as if for dear life? For all she knew, the man resembled Godzilla. But what difference did that make? It wasn’t his face she was attracted to. It was his strength, his kindness, his difference. Even the distance he placed between them only drew her closer. It was the way he asked no questions. It was the honesty with which he confessed his own attraction to her. It was the plea in his voice when he said it, as if he were begging her not to test him. It was all that and everything she didn’t know about him. It was, simply, him.
How was it possible to feel such attraction to a man she couldn’t see, or to feel a longing for a man she had known for only a brief time? It had to be that she was feeling lonely and vulnerable in the aftermath of her experience with Craig.
“I’m tired,” she said. “I’d like to lie down.”
She made her way out of the kitchen on her own. With her hands outstretched before her, she groped her way back to the bed and sank down onto the soft mattress.
John let her go without offering assistance. She was right, it was his problem. He had created it a year and a half ago and now he was suffering the consequences of his actions in a way he never could have imagined. It was useless to deny his attraction to her, yet he could do nothing about it, and maybe that was the price he had to pay for his guilt.
Her voice from the bed called him away from his dark thoughts. “You’ve done so much for me.”
The soft, lilting tone should have warned him that it wasn’t as simple as that, but there was something about her vulnerability that drew him, and he heard himself say, “If there’s anything else I can do…” his words trailed off awkwardly. What could she possibly want from him other than a place to stay?
“Actually, there is. You can help me with my work while I’m here.”
“I don’t know much about anthropology.”
“Maybe not, but you must know about Seminole folklore.”
He looked at her curiously. “Why do you want to know about that?”
“I was recently awarded a grant to study the myths and legends of the Seminole people. That’s what I was on my way to do when my plane went down. I was looking for an airstrip. There’s supposed to be one at about 25© longitude.”
“You mean that beat-up little strip over in the next county? I didn’t know anyone even knew about it.”
“The night watchman at the university told me about it. He’s an old Seminole with family on the reservation. He said to call him when I arrived and he would have one of his relatives pick me up and take me around. He told me I could stay with them on the reservation while I was doing research.”
The hairs at the back of John’s neck were rising. “I can tell you some of the legends, sure.”
“That would be great. I can’t thank you enough. And once I’m a little stronger, do you think you could take me around so that I can speak to some of the people? No offense, but you don’t sound very old, and we both know that it’s the elders who carry on the oral tradition of any indigenous people.”
Misinterpreting the taut silence that greeted her request, she said, “I said before that I could pay you. Not all of my money was buried beneath the wreckage.”
“No.”
“Well then, perhaps I could make a contribution to the Everglades Research Center.”
“I mean no, I won’t take you around.”
He knew now what more she could want from him, and it was far worse than he could have imagined. Suddenly she was so much more than merely a beautiful, vulnerable woman who had tumbled into his life. She was dangerous.
If she delved deeply enough, she might uncover the legend about the panther, a tale his people fiercely guarded