The question is, is it possible for James to be such a pathetic idiot, or was he being malicious? I tend to think he was being purposefully mean, but it's just possible that he's really stupid enough not to have realized what he was doing. Lord knows we've seen evidence of it before.

In either case, I'm tempted to bitch slap some sense into him. Things were going pretty good with Scribe. I mean, I know I can't expect her to settle into being a loving mate just like that. I know I'm going to have to do some after the fact courting. But she was doing all right.

The kids were a big help. That warms me more than I can say, seeing her taking to them so natural. She knows, of course, that they are no part of what I'm doing. But there's a lot of folks who'd see how I feel about them, and strike at me through them. She's not like that, though. She was kind to Joshua, she's already taken with Jacob, and I could see that she ached to get her hands on Janelle. I made a good choice. She'll be a fine mother.

That's why I put her off about the douche last night. I don't want her washing away my seed. Nothing's likely to happen this early in the relationship, but still...

Besides, what condoms there are, Justine needs them. This last pregnancy was rough on her, she doesn't need to get pregnant again. Lally was real worried about her. She wanted to take her down t he mountain to a doctor she knew for the delivery, but Justine caught us unawares, almost two weeks early. The labor had been long and hard. If it wasn't for some of the pain pills we'd taken when we hit that drugstore to load up on our winter medicine supplies, I think Justine would have gone crazy from the pain.

But she says that, once the baby comes, that's pretty much it. The body shuts down the pain, the brain dismisses it. She says that's the only way the human race can keep perpetuating itself. That if any woman ever could really remember what passing a baby felt like, they'd never do it twice.

When the time comes for us, I'm getting Scribe into a regular hospital. I'll just make sure I have enough cash on hand to do it all without having to bother about insurance. I'll have to make a note to get some of the flat land kin to look into expenses these days, so I'll have a rough idea.

I'm thinking all this while I sit with Scribe bundled on my lap. She's stopped shivering, finally. I thought I was going to have to put her in a hot bath to warm her up. Not that the idea isn't appealing. Too appealing. After last night, she needs a little rest. She went through an awful lot in a short time. She looks fragile, but she has a tough streak. Still, I'm worried. She got awful cold, and awful wet.

Scribe's POV

I've never been that cold in my life. It hurts, and I am perfectly willing to sit on Jerry's lap if it will just make the cold go away. I'm from a subtropical climate. I'm not used to this. I shiver in the quilt, hugging myself. A few degrees less heat, and I will be hugging Jerry, seeking body heat. Because I know how hot his body can be.

God, I hate myself. Would I turn into some sort of a slut just to get my body temperature back up around normal? It's beginning to look like it. How in god's name am I going to escape from this place if a few yards does this to me?

Okay. I wasn't in my right mind when I took off. That... that... thing,James. He was acting so bland. Just a friendly brother in law discussing laundry. My ass. Holding up that damn gown. That gothic garment that looked like a peice of evidence in a lurid hard R drama. I could almost see it blown up about, what forty feet high on an outdoor screen. Screaming bloodstains, and a voice of some inspector or worried boyfriend crackling over dozens of speakers. We can't find her. But... oh, God, we found this!

I take a moment to reflect on the changes. Lord, it isn't quite a day. It isn't noon yet. I was waiting for Eva, we were going to lunch. I was going to spring for a sit down place, with real cloth napkins, where they brought you your salad instead of making you graze out of a trough. Then the lights went out, and everything changed.

I realize that I no longer believe he's going to kill me somewhere down the line. Sure, he's said that before, but don't most captors say the same sort of thing to their captives to keep them passive? I think so. It sounds logical. Of course, this isn't a logical situation. Back in, say, the fifteen hundreds? Fourteen hundreds? At least five or six centuries ago, it would have been different.

Unremarkable.

I find myself laughing weakly. My mother used to exhort me to find myself an old fashioned guy.

He pulls the quilt away from my face, looking at me questioningly. Why should I make anything easy for him? "It's a victim thing, you wouldn't understand."

He sighes, stands up with me, and lays me on the bed. "I think you better stay there the rest of the day. I'm gonna go get some medicine for you from Lally. She's a nurse."

"And James is an internist."

"James is an asshole--Lally is a nurse, Justine took education courses so she could teach the boys without Uncle Sam gettin' all interested. Ron has studied carpentry and we both know a good bit about mechanics. We're pretty self sufficient up here, Scribe. There isn't much you're gonna need that we can't provide."

"What does James do?"

He scowls. "He's s'posed to keep Justine happy. Mostly he gets on our nerves."

He leaves, and I curl up in a ball. I'm cold again. It's surprising how much heat he generates just by existing. I sneeze.

Shit.