Chapter 23

Our return to the cabin became a déjà vu moment and a mirror image of when I’d first arrived with Darlene about ten days ago. As our rescue vehicles approached, it appeared as though Sheila and the entire membership of the Society of Sisters were waiting on the cabin’s balcony in freezing cold.

The upper deck erupted in shouts of joy and welcome hand waves as Seraina dismounted from the snowmobile. The boisterous display of affection slammed into a wall of silence as I climbed off the passenger seat. For the most part, the expressions on the faces of the assembled women were neutral displays of puzzlement and curiosity, as opposed to blatant hostility. A few of the ladies gave me tentative nods of greeting.

Sheila leaned forward, braced her gloved hands on the icy railing and studied Seraina for a moment before turning her attention to me. I now knew how a field mouse feels when looking up only to find a soaring hawk looking down.

“Welcome home. Thank God you’re back. We’ve been searching for you for a week. Do either one of you require medical treatment?”

“No, we’re okay. The only thing I need is mouthwash to get rid of the taste of rattlesnake,” Alice answered to the amusement of the crowd.

“Glad to be back!” I exclaimed as I greeted the gals with a joyful thumbs-up of my own.

Sheila returned my gesture with a slight nod and wave of her hand, a half-smile on her lips. “Wonderful, we’ll start your debriefing session in sixty minutes. Use the time to shower and change into fresh clothes. Grab a bite to eat if you’re hungry. See you in an hour.”

The colony’s leader turned on her heel and walked into the cabin.

WTF! Debriefed? That didn’t sound family-friendly-fuzzy to me. In my limited military experience, debriefings were a crapshoot between a mindfull and Monday morning quarterbacking. Victory has a thousand fathers while his twin brother, defeat is an orphan.

When things went well, debriefings were a cakewalk; otherwise, the interrogation took on shades of the Spanish Inquisition as the powers above grilled you like a pork chop on the barbecue. As much as I hated the procedure, I also understood debriefings were unavoidable. Success and failures each teach important lessons, but only if we take the time to learn.

Our drivers took the upwind position as they escorted Seraina and me to the second-floor shower a few doors down from the room I shared with Darlene. I couldn’t blame them. We smelled worse than a blacksmith’s armpit.

“Dennis! Alice! Wait for us,” Darlene called out as she ran forward with Alice’s daughter at her side.

“Mom, Dennis, welcome home!” StarShine screamed as she double hugged her mother and me before wrinkling her nose and backing away.

“Christ! You smell like a wet dog.” Darlene gave me a sloppy wet kiss of welcome as our small mob continued toward the shower.

“Perhaps he smells like a wet wolf,” Seraina laughed with a wink.

“Yeah, an old soggy beast with stinky fur.” Darlene’s nose wrinkled as she gave me an inquiring glance.

I shrugged and looked over at the gals assembling along the second-floor railing opposite our position. We had become persons of interest, and the sisters were curious to see what the cat dragged in.

Entering the relative privacy of the bathroom was a relief. After a week alone with Seraina, I found the throng of curious onlookers to be slightly overwhelming, or as Darlene would quip, “Too much people.”

“I’ll race you to the showers,” I said to Seraina while unbuckling my pants and kicking off my shoes. Whew! We stunk.

My grungy underwear likely qualified as hazardous waste. As I stripped, I checked out my reflection in the mirror over one of the restroom sinks. Crap! I looked like I’d fought a battle with a dirt monster and lost. My thinning hair was greasy and matted, my once white undershirt was a dingy shade of gray, and a week’s worth of stubble did nothing to improve my appearance. I removed my socks, dropped my trousers and slid out of my jockey shorts before I added my shirt and T-shirt to the pile of dirty clothes at my feet.

“Should I wash them or burn ‘em?” I pointed to the floor.

“Neither. We should bury them in the garden. We’re always in need of fertilizer,” the driver with rust-brown hair suggested with a laugh.

Seraina’s daughter dashed across the room to the showers and turned on a dozen before she vanished behind clouds of billowing steam. A few moments later, a naked Starshine emerged from the fog.

“Come on!” she shouted with glee as she beckoned us to join her.

Our two rescue drivers exchanged glances, whispered a few words to each other, disrobed and entered the rising mist. A hot shower after a long bone-chilling day riding snowmobiles was too tempting an offer to pass up.

Many hands make light work, and Seraina and I took turns scrubbing the crud off each other’s bodies while Darlene and StarShine helped the best they could. I can’t begin to describe the delightful arousal and absolute pleasure of their delicate hands and hot soapy water washing away enough dirt and grime to start a small garden. Alas, despite the growth, there was no harvest. I might as well rejoice in the moment and pray for a late frost.

Ahhh! To be warm and clean once again. Heaven is real. Bath time over, there was a minor problem with clean clothes. I would be damned if I was going to be naked while being debriefed by Sheila and the Society.