Deliciously Mated(8)

Shaking, she tried to think. There had to be a way to get it back. The lost and found. The cook said he was putting it in the lost and found. Maybe she could find it. Clara looked around. The spa afforded her an opportunity to get clean. Could she clean up enough to look like a guest? Could she walk up to the front desk and ask for the lost and found? Without freezing up. Without appearing like a bedraggled forest urchin?

She hadn’t spoken to another human in six years. Only her skink and the other animals. And herself. God.

But she had to try. She had to get her book back. It was crucial.

Okay.

Okay, she was doing this.

Clara nodded, closing her backpack and tying the strap around the end so she wouldn’t lose anything else. She crawled from under the counter and made her way carefully to the back of the spa where the showers were. The dim track lighting offered her enough glow to get a picture of her surroundings.

A small row of lockers painted a soothing blue stood outside the door. She tested one and it opened. Inside was a blue sweater and a pair of white slacks. The pants wouldn’t fit her, but the shirt might work.

The wall behind her was lined with shelves full of product. Clara scanned the array of shampoos, body washes, and lotions. Her eyes landed on an herbal hair removal remedy. She squinted as she read the instructions on the back. She was skeptical that it could work on her coarse, dark leg hair, but she was desperate. Her search for a razor had resulted in nil.

She tucked it into her elbow and grabbed some shampoo, conditioner, and soap from the shelf before ducking into the shower room.

Clara stopped just inside the door, gawking at the elaborate setup. Three stalls lined one wall, each with mosaic tiled doors framed in smooth river rock. Carefully, she set her things on the nearby bench and took a deep breath. She could do this. It was a shower. How hard could it be?

Stepping forward, she pulled on the handle of the middle stall. It came open with a snap, making her jump at the noise.

She kept still. Listening. Everything was quiet.

Pulling the door all the way open, she examined the inside. Okay, so it was your typical slide-on faucet. No funky computer mojo. She could handle that.

Clara stepped back and caught sight of herself in the mirror that took up the entire wall opposite the shower. What she saw choked her heart in her chest. That couldn’t be her. Could it? She’d seen her reflection in dark windows and in the calm of the streams she bathed in, and it hadn’t seemed so… frightening.

She took a step forward and the reflection moved too.

She was thicker than she’d been a few months ago. She knew because her clothes fit tighter. And it made sense as she was prepping for the winter. But she was much thinner than when she’d last looked at herself in a mirror.

She removed the ball cap she’d used to hide her hair. The dull brown stuff that tumbled out looked like burnt straw.

Clara’s eyes searched frantically for anything that looked like her. Anything that she could connect with. Something that would make her think that’s me.

Her face was covered in mud that she’d put there in order to blend more fully into the night. But her lips maybe. Yeah, maybe they were familiar. They’d always been full. Kissable, her sister had called them.

Somehow she found her eyes, her gaze clashing with the mirror’s.

There. There she was.

That’s me.

The thought was reassuring. It calmed her. No matter what she looked like, no matter how long she’d been away from civilization, she was still her. Clara Destacio.

Reaching up, she fingered her straw hair. It had grown long. Nearly to her waist. Maybe the spa quality product would help tame it.

With a sigh, she stripped off her muddy clothes, shoving the shirt and cap in a nearby trashcan. Once again, she’d have to salvage her jeans. Her boots and socks, she tucked in a corner by the bench.

Reaching into the shower, she turned on the water to let it get warm. When it came to temperature, she gingerly stepped into the stall, bringing the soap with her. But as soon as she did, water began shooting in pulsating streams starting from her head and moving down her body.

A yelp clawed its way up her throat but she stifled it with her hand.

The shower was motion activated.

Clara pressed her hand to her chest, willing her heart to remember its normal rhythm. She needed to hurry in case someone noticed the noise from the shower. She didn’t know for sure how insulated this room was. And getting caught with her pants down would be the ultimate embarrassment.

But the water felt so damn good. With the hot springs that were abundant in this area of Arkansas, she had warm water to bathe with. But a shower… water spraying over her body like warm summer rain… that was a privilege she didn’t get often.