Cards of Love: The Hermit

by Cora Brent

  My ankle continued to throb so after swallowing a dose of ibuprofen I disinfected the cut on my leg and sat in the cozy living room chair with a package of frozen peas strategically placed on the worst of the swelling. I tried to scan through my research notes but gave up on that when my mind kept wandering. So I set aside my research and scrolled through the books on my Kindle in search of something to read. I had no memory of selecting the romance novels I found on there but decided to give one a try. Unfortunately the bearded rogue of a hero made me think of Jeremy and Jeremy’s big hands and Jeremy’s broad shoulders and the disconcerting yet arousing fact that Jeremy had seen me without my clothes on. I set aside the hero’s throbbing manhood and returned to my research notes. Lusting after a gruff, gorgeous, formerly famous neighbor with a tragic past was the stuff of fantasy but I wasn’t going to add it to my agenda. I was here for work and nothing more.

  Thanks to yesterday’s trip to the store I had a lot more food on hand. My ankle was feeling better already and I figured in a few days I’d be getting around again just fine. I felt like an idiot for my reckless trek into the desert and I winced every time I thought about how I’d made a fool of myself in front of Jeremy Gannon but none of that could be helped.

  Instead of stewing over things I couldn’t change I fried up some chicken cutlets and heated the defrosted peas. I’d never been a great cook but preparing a simple meal and unpacking the last suitcase made me feel more at home. Mindful of Jeremy’s warning about dangerous people, I uneasily slid a hunting knife under my mattress and fell asleep while reading a rather dry hundred year old account of a doomed mining expedition in the Superstitions.

  The next time I opened my eyes it was because something exploded over my head. I could see nothing. After a few heart pounding seconds I realized it was only a thunderstorm. The power had been knocked out. Sheets of rain cascaded against the windows. Another clap of thunder followed a flash of intense lightning. I’d heard about these storms, the monsoon-type rains that savaged the desert for a brief time every summer. I’d assumed since it was September that the storms were finished. Apparently I was wrong.

  I crept out of bed, my feet landing on the floor at the same instant as the next thunderclap. Some primeval instinct stiffened my spine even as I knew I was safe here in the little house. The weather raged outside but everything under this roof was quiet. The whistling sound of the aging air conditioner had been knocked out with the power.

  Since there was no way to get back to sleep in the midst of all this I decided to go outside to check things out. After all, this might very well be the last storm of the season, possibly the only desert storm I’d have a chance to witness. I’d forgotten about my mildly sprained ankle until I took a step. Limping gingerly, I snatched a bed sheet and wrapped it around my shoulders before venturing outside.

  The temperature must have dropped thirty degrees since the blazing pinnacle of the afternoon. A decorative overhang made out of thin metal cupped the front door enough provide some shelter from the rain. I stared in fascination at the storm that seemed more suited to the tropics than the desert. With all the lights out and the moon obscured it was difficult to see anything until the next flash of lightning showed the soaked moonscape beyond the little house. The concrete step I stood on was a good six inches from the ground but water reached my toes. That didn’t seem like a good sign. Water would get in the house if the rain didn’t stop soon.

  My brain was still mulling over the possibility of floods when I heard the distinctive noise. It was not a clap of thunder. It was nothing that came from the sky. It was the crack of a shotgun blast. I knew the sound well. One of my uncles, Cliff, would often shoot at birds and squirrels on the acreage of my grandfather’s property when he’d get drunk. My mother would become afraid, keeping me indoors until my grandfather or one of his employees put a stop to Cliff’s crazy antics.

  A second blast reverberated. Echoes could be deceptive but I could swear it didn’t come from very far away. I didn’t know why anyone would be firing a gun during a thunderstorm. And at the moment I didn’t really want to find out. Another flash of lighting highlighted the hill that obscured Jeremy’s home from view. The gunshot seemed like it had come from that direction. My heart was already pounding and I took a step back. I shut the door and locked it but that didn’t seem secure enough so I pushed a kitchen chair under the knob.

  The rain was letting up but the power had not returned. Maybe I’d been wrong about the gunshot. It was possible I’d been hanging onto the last traces of sleep and all the sordid stories I’d read about violence in this area were playing with my head. There was one account about a group of friends who went searching for the gold mine one Easter weekend over sixty years ago. They were grad students from Arizona State and one of them boasted to his roommate about an antique map that had been purchased at a thrift shop. They believed they knew the location of the gold mine and set out to prove it. Their skulls were found six months later by an unlucky hiker. Each had a bullet hole between the eyes. There were no hints about the killer or killers. And no sign of any gold.

  As the minutes ticked by my fear receded. I yawned. The storm was ending and there were no more gunshots, if there’d ever been one in the first place. Instead of returning to bed I curled up on the sofa. It smelled a little musty and the flowery pattern was decades out of date but it was comfortable. It was actually more comfortable than the bed where an unruly box spring had been poking me in the ass every time I rolled over. The sheet was wet so I hung it over a chair and snuggled under a throw blanket, hoping my dreams wouldn’t lead me to the same dark place they’d taken me last night. Any thoughts of Alex were as raw as they ever were. And the agony was as sharp as it had been ten years ago. As for the rest of them, they’d never acknowledged what they’d done. And I’d never forgiven them.

  But my mind didn’t wander toward old pain after all.

  Instead it kept dwelling on Jeremy.

  “I saw everything.”

  My hand strayed low, pressing between my legs to ease the surge of arousal that dampened my panties and made me squirm. I didn’t know Jeremy. He sure as hell wouldn’t win any awards as an outstanding conversationalist and his solitary life was obviously his choice. If Jeremy wanted to rejoin the world he certainly had options. He must like this role he’d created for himself, the hermit of the desert. Even if I tried to get to know him I might have no success. But now, in the cover of darkness, as my hand worked between my legs I could admit that didn’t matter. I was attracted to him. My feelings were simple. And purely physical.

  I moaned as another hot flare of lust sent my fingers inside my panties and I bucked my hips, bearing down and getting as deep as I could reach while my other hand pushed my shirt up and kneaded my breasts. As a final flash of lightning sliced the sky and briefly lit the room I wondered what Jeremy would do if he happened to be standing at my window now, if he’d stand there and watch while I writhed around on the couch and tried to make myself come.

  “Oh fuck,” I gasped and gave in to the tidal wave that left me panting and shaking and pretending that Jeremy Gannon’s face was really between my legs.

  Coming off the orgasmic high was something of a letdown. I covered myself with the flimsy blanket and felt ridiculous. Sooner or later I’d run into Jeremy again. I wondered if his perceptive eyes would guess where my mind had been. I really hoped not.

  Then I wondered if the real Jeremy was as well endowed as the Jeremy I’d been fantasy fucking. In that case I really hoped so.

  “Stop,” I muttered and rolled to my side, willing sleep to take me instead of the imaginary Jeremy. Which it did. And when I opened my eyes again the harsh glare of a desert morning filtered past the gaps in the paper window shades.

  But that wasn’t what had awakened me.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  I couldn’t imagine why anyone would be knocking on my door this early. I’d only met a handful of people since arriving in the state and my
house wasn’t exactly on the beaten path. The visitor might be my realtor. Or Betty Grable. Or maybe one of the scary locals Jeremy had hinted about had come to pay me a visit.

  The thought crossed my mind that the visitor was Jeremy himself but I dismissed the idea. I remembered the look on his face when he discovered me in his house yesterday. Annoyance mixed with puzzlement. He obviously wasn’t a guy who appreciated unexpected company. Or any company. He wouldn’t be running over here to come hang out before breakfast.

  I got to my feet and grimaced over the remaining soreness in my ankle, although it had improved considerably since yesterday.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  The sound was louder this time, sounding almost impatient.

  “Coming,” I grumbled as I shuffled over.

  Then I paused six feet from the door. I was alone and lacking in basic self defense skills to an embarrassing degree. Thanks to my sprained ankle I wouldn’t even be able to run if I needed to. Not that there was anywhere to run to anyway. The only place nearby was Jeremy’s house.

  “Who’s there?” I called. The door wasn’t thick. Whoever was on the other side was bound to hear me.

  “Jeremy,” replied a booming voice and my knees went a little weak. I flashed a guilty glance at the sofa, remembering Jeremy’s starring role in my self gratification.

  “Jeremy Gannon,” he clarified as if there gangs of roaming Jeremies in these parts.

  “What do you want?” I blurted.

  I thought I heard him chuckle. It seemed unlikely. Jeremy didn’t seem like the chuckling type. But when he answered there was amusement in his voice.

  “Open the door and find out.”

  I glanced down. I was dressed in a shrunken pink tank top that should have been retired twenty laundry cycles ago and a pair of old turquoise mesh shorts.

  “Hold on a minute,” I shouted and dashed off to the only bathroom. The cracked vanity mirror over the sink confirmed my worst fears. My hair stood out in six directions, a trail of drool remained visible on my right cheek and my nipples were openly advertising their braless state. I looked like a bosomy cavewoman with bad fashion sense.

  Tucking my hair behind my ears and washing my face improved the picture slightly. I swished some spearmint mouthwash around my mouth, spat in the sink and paused in the bedroom long enough to retrieve a t-shirt. I hastily pulled it over my head en route to the door and took a breath before moving the chair out of the way and turning the knob.

  Jeremy leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and a toothpick hanging out of the side of his mouth.

  “Hey,” he drawled, a bearded snapshot of cool, casual sex appeal.

  “Hi,” I answered and hoped the mouthwash had vanquished my morning breath.

  “You lost your power,” he said.

  I’d forgotten about the storm. And about losing the electricity. But now I looked behind me and saw that the cheap plastic plug-in clock on the kitchen counter was frozen in time and that the air felt stuffier than usual.

  I turned back to Jeremy. “Is that why you’re here? Out of concern for my lack of electricity?”

  He didn’t answer either question. “Down in the east valley they got clobbered by the storm. It will probably take a few days for the utility company to make it all the way out here.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. Somehow I always felt like I was naked under Jeremy’s scrutiny. “Good to know.”

  A beat of uneasy silence followed and an expression crossed Jeremy’s face that I hadn’t seen before. Beneath his scruffy beard he blushed, ran a hand through his hair and stared down at the cracked concrete stoop. I could swear he seemed embarrassed.

  Jeremy blew out a breath and looked me in the eye. “You wondered what I was doing here.”

  My heart skipped. “I’m still wondering.”

  He gestured behind him. “Call it my version of an apology.”

  I stared at the object he’d pointed to. I hadn’t noticed it before. The thing was a yellow and black box on wheels that stood about three feet high.

  Jeremy answered the question before I could ask it. “It’s a portable generator. Like I said, it may be a day or two before we get the power fixed. I’ve got plenty of gas for it and your air conditioning unit is small enough to run it for at least a few hours a day and get the place cooled down for a while. You’ll also be able to recharge your phone and computer or whatever.”

  This was an extremely considerate gesture, something I wouldn’t have expected from Jeremy, given his rather chilly mood the day before.

  “Don’t you need it?” I asked him. “I assume you’re also without power.”

  He shrugged. “That doesn’t bother me. But I have a feeling it will bother you a whole lot.”

  I wasn’t going to argue. In fact I was quite touched that he was going to all this trouble.

  “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

  Jeremy nodded and turned away. He bent down to examine his generator. “I can get it hooked up if you want to go about your business.”

  He didn’t respond when I mumbled another thank you so I left him to his task and retreated to the bathroom after grabbing a change of clothes from the bedroom. I felt weird about stepping into the shower with Jeremy nearby so I opted for another splash of cold water on my face before pulling my hair into a high ponytail and changing into a more respectable ensemble.

  I inspected my reflection critically. I no longer appeared as if I’d just rolled out of bed but suddenly my clothes seemed frumpy, inadequate. Usually I didn’t pay much attention to my wardrobe and I could admit the change of heart was directly related to Jeremy’s proximity.

  I dug around in the box I’d slid beneath the vanity and extracted the few cosmetic items I owned. There’d been a time when I cared all about this stuff; the right makeup, the right clothes. I was the homecoming queen my senior year of high school. And I danced under the lights with my king and thought the world was perfect and everything in my life was destined to be beautiful. But that was a long time ago. And those were just some of the pieces of me that had never been recovered after my heart shattered.

  With a sigh I slid my glasses on my face and stepped into a pair of flip flops. I could hear the cough of an engine coming to life and I followed the sound outside to where Jeremy was fiddling with the generator beneath the hot sun. He looked up when I approached and was very businesslike about showing me how to operate the machine.

  “Only run it when you need to,” he said. “Keep in mind it runs on gasoline.”

  He ran a hand over the top of his generator fondly, as if it was a pet. That reminded me of something.

  “Do you just have chickens?” I asked. “I saw the pen yesterday but didn’t get too close.”

  Jeremy straightened up and looked toward the hill that concealed his property on the other side. His voice was soft now. “I had eight chickens.”

  “Have they run away since yesterday?”

  He frowned. “Coyotes. A couple of them got into the pen last night during the storm. Lost two of them.”

  “Oh.” I winced, picturing the carnage. Then I remembered something else. “You know, I could have sworn I heard a gunshot during last night’s storm.”

  He nodded. “You did. I fired my shotgun to scare off the coyotes but it was already too late.”

  I wanted to reach out and touch his arm but something held me back. “I’m sorry.”

  Jeremy’s eyes found mine. “It happens.”

  We looked at each other. I knew I wasn’t imagining the sexually charged energy in the air. I just wasn’t sure if it was radiating only from me.

  I cleared my throat. “Would you like to come inside?” I asked, taking a stab at playing hostess. “I’m not fully functional until I’ve had a cup of English tea. Do you like tea?”

  He considered the question by staring out toward the Superstitions. So far I never knew what to expect when Jeremy opened his mouth to speak. He surprised me when look
ed my way and said, somewhat bashfully, “I’m not much of a tea drinker but I’ll take a glass of water if you can spare it.”

  When he smirked I realized he was teasing me over yesterday’s raid on his sink.

  “I think that can be arranged,” I said with a smile and felt his eyes on me as he followed me into the house.

  Jeremy stood in the small living room and looked around while I set my cast iron tea kettle on the gas stove. At least the gas was unaffected by the loss of electrical power. The teapot was an antique and had once belonged to my mother. It was one of the very few possessions I’d retained from my childhood.

  “You can take a seat,” I called as I filled a glass from the tap.

  Jeremy eased down onto the flowered sofa where I’d slept last night after getting off to fantasies of him. He didn’t relax though. He perched right on the edge as if he was preparing to run away while his right hand drummed against his thigh.

  “Did you know them?” I asked as I handed over the glass and sank down on the opposite side of the sofa. “The people who lived here before me, I mean. I assume they must have been the ones who left the furniture.”

  He swallowed half the contents of the glass and then shook his head. “Not very well. There’s been nothing but renters in and out of here as long as I’ve been around.”

  “And you’ve been in the area for five years?”

  He frowned and set the glass down on the narrow wooden coffee table. “Did Betty tell you that?”

  “Yes.”

  Jeremy didn’t volunteer any further information. An awkward pause followed.

  “You must be young,” I commented.

  Jeremy disagreed. “Nah, not really.”

  I recalled the details I’d gleaned from the internet. “What are you, twenty-six?”