The Lighthouse Road(56)

Rebekah, though, was growing distant. As they sat in the tub she was reminded of the baths she used to take with Thea— with Odd's mother — and the weight of those memories, of all their implications, was drowning out the pleasure of being where she was with him. She realized, also, that their lives in Duluth would not be roast beef and honeymoon suites all winter long. Odd was a fisherman, after all, and even if he was flush now, as he claimed to be, he couldn't afford this forever. They'd end up in some tenement with noisy neighbors and the rank smell of sauerkraut in the halls. She remembered that from Chicago even if she remembered nothing else.



And beneath all of these bothers, she felt some strange and distant guilt about Hosea alone in his big shop, moping around the flat plotting his revenge. She didn't know what he was capable of. She didn't want to know.



It was Rebekah who finally spoke. "I suppose he's burned the woods down by now, trying to smoke us out."



Odd cocked his head and looked at her. He thought of saying nothing at all but couldn't help himself. "I guess he ain't found us."



"You know he's been to see Danny. He would have stopped there first."



"And you know Danny would sooner kiss Hosea on the lips than spill."



"I know."



She reached into the bathwater and rubbed Odd's foot, which was resting at her waist. She tried to forsake her doubt. She couldn't. "There's no part of you that sees the folly in all this?"



"Are we going to circle around this for the rest of our lives?" Odd said. "For God's sake, Rebekah, we ain't fifteen-year-old kids."



Rebekah looked at him and the thought of the years that separated them hit her hard. "What are we, then? Tell me, because I can't see. This isn't who we are —" she gestured at the lush accommodations, held up one of the crystal low balls "—not by a long shot."



"Of course this isn't who we are," Odd said sharply. "But it's who we deserve to be, for a few days at least. We'll figure the rest out after that." He looked at her softly now, feeling bad for snapping. He saw tears in her eyes. "Listen, Rebekah." He sat up, leaned toward her. He took her head in his hands and kissed her and then put his hands on her shoulders so they were only a few inches from each other. "I told you, I'm going to take care of you now. You and the baby. You don't have to pay for nice dresses anymore, for a nice bed to sleep in. I'm going to see to that."



She looked doubtful. Sad. "What if I'm no good with the baby? If I'm only suited to take care of myself ?"



"I ain't worried about that."



"I'm worried about it, Odd."



She tried to pull away from him but he wouldn't let her. He tried to kiss her again but she turned her head.



"What if the life you describe isn't what I want?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.



"Is that true?"



"Sometimes. I don't know."



Now he let go of her shoulders. She looked up at him quickly, grabbed hold of his hands. "I'm scared, Odd. I'm scared is all. I don't want you slipping away from me."



"You think I'm going somewhere?" He shook his head, almost laughed. "You think I ain't worried?"



She put her face into his neck and started to cry. "Men don't act like you, Odd Einar Eide."



"The hell they don't." He took her again by the shoulders, made her look at him. "I've been thinking about my mother. About the price she paid for me. Since you gave me those pictures on my birthday I can't stop thinking about her. I owe it to her to take care of our baby, to raise him the way I should have been raised. Never mind what I'm afraid of or how hard it will be or goddamn Grimm."



Now Rebekah softened. She looked down and said, "Your mother and I used to take our baths together. The summer before you were born." When she looked up there were more tears in her eyes. She stood and stepped out of the bath, took a towel from the rack and held it to her chest. "I watched her belly grow with you. I saw you all the time." She removed the towel and put her hands on her own belly. There was nothing there yet. No sign.



Odd stood, too, and stepped from the tub. He stepped to her. "You see? That means you know me all the better." He lifted her chin so they were eye to eye. "You know I'm a good man. And true."



She took a deep breath, turned away from him. She said, "It's not your goodness I'm worried about."



He grabbed her, wrapped her in his arms. They stood like that while she cried, the bathwater dripping from both of them, pooling on the tiled floor. After a while she stopped crying. She took his hands and moved them to her breasts, held them there. His pulse jumped.