Page 103 of Everything Under the Sun

Thais went toward the cabin, clutching the bowl underneath an arm. “You seem to forget,” she said as we walked together, “that I practically grew up living off what the land gave us. I’m not a child. I can go into the woods by myself.”

I stopped.

“You just told me you wouldn’t do it again,” I pointed out.

She nodded. “I know. And I won’t go out alone if it worries you that much, but you should know I’d be fine if I did.”

We walked again; the back porch slowly came into view.

“Even my father trusted me to go to the lake to fish, to go into the woods and forage”—she glanced over at me—“and I was careful. I listened to everything around me, watched for anything out of place.”

“It’s not you that I don’t trust, Thais.”

“That’s exactly what my father said.” She shook her head. “But eventually he agreed to let me go. Atticus, I can’t stay cooped up inside forever. But if you want me to stay, I will. I don’t want you to get upset like that.”

I stopped again, just feet from the back porch, and turned her around to face me.

“Is that the only reason?” I asked with worry, my eyes slanted with severity. “Because you’re afraid I’ll—”

“I told you I’m not afraid of you, Atticus.”

She reached out a hand and touched the side of my face. “You should get a bath,” she said. “There are clean clothes in the bedroom. I’ll wash the ones you’re wearing afterward and hang them to dry.”

I wanted to kiss her, oh how badly I ached to kiss her, but I was still fighting with myself over whether it was okay to touch her in that way—in any way. While sleeping in the forest it had been Thais who instigated such affections, Thais who curled up so close to me in the night that come morning I ached with sexual frustration. She wanted me to touch her, I knew this like any man would know, but something about her gave me restraint. She seemed conflicted and unsure of what she wanted, and to take her, no matter how softly so as not to break her, felt…wrong.

I snapped out of it and looked at the porch, for the first time noticing the intricately placed pile of sticks and branches set against the side of the house. I took stock of the fire pit she’d constructed, the microwave shelf sitting atop the rocks placed around it, its thin silver bars already blackened in the center from a fire she’d burned last night.

“Thais,” I began, taking it all in, “what all did you do while I was…sleeping?” I hated myself that she did anything while I slept.

Thais waved her hand at the wood on the porch and the fire pit as if it was nothing. “Not too much”—she waved a hand toward the pond—“I set out a fishing line last night, but haven’t caught anything yet. Haven’t checked it this morning though; thought I’d forage first, give the morning fish time to bite.”

I was still stuck a few words back.

“You. Set. Out. A. Fishing line?” I sighed. While I slept?

Thais smiled so bright that her teeth showed.

“Yeah, my father taught me. Fisherwoman, remember?” She grinned.

I lowered my head, formed a tight O with my lips and let my breath out.

“Are you mad?” Her smile faded.

I shook my head.

“No…I’m not mad.” Not with you. I got a good whiff of myself then. “Where did you say the clean clothes were?”

Thais’ bright smile returned, and she practically danced up the back-porch steps and went into the house. I followed.

She set the bowl of soon-to-be-salad on the kitchen counter.

“I’ll show you,” she said, grabbed my hand tight and pulled me along.

On the way to the bedroom I noticed the other things she had done while I slept, but I couldn’t be negative about it anymore. I wondered how I could be so lucky in such an unlucky world to have Thais, who was as resourceful and independent as she was soft and nurturing.

Thais unfolded the clothes set against the wall and held them up to me to test the fit.

“Yes, I thought these might be too short—you’re so tall!” she said. “But you can wear them until I wash your camos.”

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