The Drought by Patricia Fulton, Extended Imagery

anything aside from the mounting pressure and the warmth of Elise wrapped around him, he didn’t hear the small voice until the timid call was repeated again. The small voice came again, calling out, “Ma, Ma?”
    He slowed his pace, whispering furiously. “Damn it Elise, why didn’t you tell me she was here?”
    In a terse voice, she called out to the shadows, “Wait in your room honey, I’ll be right there.”
    Frustrated, he tried to pull away but in a husky voice Elise ordered him to finish. God help him, but he did. Not knowing if her daughter stood in the shadows watching, he pushed himself into her, until he felt a surge come up from the soles of his feet and explode through him. Panting, they collapsed together against the door.
    She pulled away first, laughing at her own wickedness then whispered, “You go clean yourself up, I’ll tend to Angelina.”
    Stepping into the tiny bathroom, he cursed himself for his stupidity and his weakness. Elise was not a complication he needed in his life. Damn it, she was like a lioness laying in wait for him. He should have known better than to come here alone; hell he should have just sent Daniel.
    Logic was easy in the aftermath, but the sly voice of truth taunted him: Who are you trying to fool Nathan? If she’s a lioness then you’re the gazelle that wanted to be devoured. He splashed water on his face, trying to come to terms with the man in the mirror who seemed to be wearing a satisfied smile and the man in his heart who felt he was weak and a coward.
    Angelina was sitting at the kitchen table, dunking a cookie into a cup of milk when he walked into the room. She squealed in delight when she saw him, dropped her cookie, and ran into his embrace. “Nathan!”
    He swung her up into his arms and spun her around. There was a slight pang at the memory of his own daughter but he pushed it away. He looked at the girl who could have easily passed for an angel, with her white-blond hair and large blue eyes. In contrast to the lightness of her hair and her eyes, her skin looked like it had been stroked with a cinnamon stick. Nathan knew very little about Angelina’s father, only he had skipped out on Elise when he discovered she was pregnant.
    If Nathan were a betting man, he’d lay odds the father had a little color in his lineage. He stroked Angelina’s arm, tenderly. He had never seen skin like this before on anyone.
    Now those blue eyes were as wide as saucers and filled with earnest. “Nathan, did you come to catch the boogeyman?”
    He glanced between Elise and the little girl in his arms. “Now just who is this boogeyman you’re talking about?”
    “He’s the man who stole Samson.”
    He nodded knowingly then whispered in a confidential way. “Well young lady, you have my word the boogeyman won’t be bothering you anymore because Nathan Singer’s on the job, and I’m the best boogeyman catcher in the world. Now eat your cookies before I do.” Giggling, Angelina snatched up her cookie before Nathan could grab it.
    Elise watched them as they talked, noting how at ease he was with the child. She felt a slight twinge of jealousy, sensing his tenderness did not extend to her. “I’ve made some iced tea Nathan, drink a glass before you head back out into the heat.”
    He took the glass with appreciation, tasting its coolness. It wasn’t as good as Chick’s down at the diner, but it was still refreshing. After a long drink, he set the glass down and pulled out a note pad turning his full attention to Elise. “All right, when was the last time you saw Samson?”
    She thought about it for a moment then said, “I guess it must have been Saturday. Samson sometimes tends to stray. You know how male dogs can be when they catch a scent of something they want.” Sipping her tea, Elise hid a smile behind her glass.
    With the slightest nod of his head, Nathan acknowledged the jab and asked another question. “Saturday, that was four days ago. Any neighbors see