Only When I Sleep

by E V Lind

  The hairs on the back of his neck prickled at the thought. Those damn spidey senses again. Alerting him, but to what? It wasn’t as if she was likely to attack him—the thought was laughable. Although he’d discovered those elbows of hers were mighty pointy yesterday. And then he’d discovered something else. That maybe he’d liked the feel of her in his arms. Shit.

  Disgust with himself filled him with more bitterness than that revolting coffee. Last thing she probably wanted was some guy lusting for her. He needed to get out of here. He yanked open the front door and went out onto the porch. The rain had stopped, leaving big puddles on the driveway. He started for the stairs when the soft rasp of Beth’s voice halted him in his tracks.

  “Ryan?”

  “What?” It came out as more of a growl than a question.

  “Th—thank you...for the kitten,” she said.

  He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face her. “No problem.”

  She met his eyes and for the briefest moment he felt a tiny buzz of connection before she averted her gaze and firmly shut the door. The sizzle, such as it was, had been so brief he wasn’t even sure if he’d imagined it, or not. She was good at that, he thought as he drove down the rutted driveway and turned onto the road. Severing contact, making it look as if she wasn’t really there. All of which should only have made him all the more determined to keep his distance, but his instincts—protective and otherwise—told him that wasn’t an option anymore.

  He wanted to know more about her and he wanted to know who had put that fear in her pretty hazel eyes. And he needed to know they wouldn’t come hunting for her.

  SIXTEEN

  Riverbend, OR, October 1941

  Dear Diary,

  Yesterday, Jonathon brought a basket of vegetables from the kitchen garden at the big house after church. Mamma said we didn't need them but he said his Mamma insisted. She couldn't really say no after that, but I could see the rage in her eyes that she had been overruled.

  When Jonathon handed the basket to me, our hands touched again. Our eyes met and I know his touch was no accident. He wants to touch me and I want to touch him, too. Not just his hands. I yearn to know him better, to feel his touch again.

  Last night, when I lay in my bed, I touched myself. Mamma says it's bad and I have always tried to keep myself pure but lately the craving is so strong that I cannot help myself—especially when I have seen Jonathon. He strikes such a yearning in me that only finds surcease beneath my fingers. At times I wake up from dreaming about him and my hands, even in sleep, are trying to fulfil my desperate need. Even so, it's not enough. My breasts grow full and ache, desperate for his touch whenever I think about him, and that place between my legs even more so.

  Mamma made Aggie and me kneel in the parlor tonight. She preached about the sins of the flesh. Sometimes I think she can read my mind, or that maybe she reads this diary. But I think my secrets are safe. Poor little Aggie. She is too young to understand Mamma's teachings and yet too naïve to realize that she cannot question what Mamma says. Her mouth was washed out with soap before bed and I can hear her still weeping into her pillow in her room. Poor sweet Aggie.

  SEVENTEEN

  Beth closed the door behind Ryan and listened to the quiet that filled the house in his absence. She let out a slow breath. The man was completely overwhelming and yet today, underneath his brawn, she’d seen the keen intelligence in his eyes—the understanding which had left her feeling suddenly ashamed—and she sensed his disquiet about her staying here. Was it that she was here at all, she wondered, or the fact that she was here alone?

  The latter might explain the gift of the kitten, she thought as she straightened her shoulders and turned the key in the old-fashioned lock. She wondered if he’d make good on his promise to change the locks. It would be a shame, she thought, to replace the old doorplate and lock with its simple, large iron key with a shiny modern version. And she knew it would make damn-all difference if someone really wanted to get inside. She shrugged. It wasn’t her choice to make.

  She heard a plaintive mew from the direction of the kitchen and smiled. So, it seemed her kitten wasn’t mad keen on silence either.

  “It’s okay. I’m coming to feed you. Just a minute, kitty.”

  Beth started down the hall but paused to look again at the bedroom by the front door, the one the kitten had hissed at. She shook her head. It was only a room. She stepped into the room and looked around. Sparsely furnished with a small double bed—heavy bed ends of turned wood overwhelming the size of the thin mattress—was pushed up against one wall next to the fireplace and the coverlet was a threadbare wedding ring quilt.

  She walked over to the bed and stroked the over-washed and worn fabric of the quilt and looked around the rest of the room. The fireplace was covered with a painted wooden screen from which cobwebs stretched up to the slightly scorched wooden mantel above. The screen was at odds with the rest of the austere furnishings with its delicately executed and, no doubt, once vibrant floral paintings on each panel.

  Next to the window that faced the front veranda, there was a very plain tall chest of drawers and upon it sat a wooden writing case. Beth crossed the room and went to lift the top but the lid held fast. Locked, she realized. Was there a key in one of the drawers perhaps? Her hands shifted to the handles of the dresser.

  Rrrrrow!

  Beth leapt back and, heart hammering in her chest, she rapidly pivoted to see the kitten growling at the doorway to the room.

  “Jesus!” she said out loud, her hand to her chest where her heart was doing its best to beat a hasty exit.

  The oath had barely left her mouth when she felt freezing cold air eddy around her. The kitten growled again and hissed wildly, its fur standing on end. Beth moved quickly out of the room and into the hall. The second she was out, the kitten began to wind lazily in and out between her legs. Still shaking from fright, Beth bent down to scoop the animal up with one hand.

  “I think Ryan was right. Your name really should be Little Shit,” she said to the kitten which was now butting at her jaw as if it hadn’t been uttering terrifying sounds only seconds ago. “You scared the living daylights out of me, naughty girl!”

  Prrrp! was its only reply along with a very deep rumbling purr that drew a smile on Beth’s lips.

  “Come on then, let’s get your food bowl set up.”

  After feeding the kitten and putting out some water for her, Beth had a look around to see if any additional cleaning supplies could be found since she’d be through with what Mary-Ann had given her soon. There wasn’t much to be seen in the kitchen but she remembered seeing a small lean-to attached to the back of the building past the kitchen. The laundry Ryan had mentioned, she hoped. She unlocked the back door and ventured into the small porch and yes, on the other side there was a laundry. Beth wrinkled her nose at the ancient washing machine complete with wringer. She didn’t know if she dared to touch the thing. Maybe there was a laundromat in Riverbend she could use, or maybe she could use Mary-Ann’s washer once she started work.

  Beth squatted down to check the shelves under the large metal sink that hung on the wall. There was nothing in the way of modern store-bought cleaners, she discovered as she poked around under the sink. All she found was evidence of a family of mice, which made her cringe and suddenly feel incredibly grateful to Ryan for giving her the cat, and a couple of plain plastic gallon containers marked “bathroom” and “kitchen”. A sniff of the contents confirmed that whatever was in them was some astringent cleanser that she decided ought to do the job.

  On another shelf, she found a neatly folded stack of rag cloths. She added them and the container to a tin bucket she dragged out from under the laundry tub and returned to the bathroom. The bathroom was small and the grout of the old tile on the floor and the wall behind the bath had definitely seen better days. In some places it had fallen out completely. Beth applied herself to wiping all the surfaces down thoroughly with a diluted mixture from the c
ontainer and then wiped everything down a second time with hot water.

  She was exhausted when she was finished, her stamina definitely lagging. There’d been a time when wiping out a bathroom like this, even doing the floor on her hands and knees as she had, would hardly have had her raise a sweat let alone leave her feeling shaky and breathless like she was now. Maybe it was time for a break.

  She threw the dirty rags to soak in the sink in the laundry and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. At least the tea leaves hadn’t gone off like the coffee had. Just thinking about the expression on Ryan’s face when he’d tasted his coffee this morning was enough to make her smile, but he’d been right about her needing to make a list. And, she reminded herself, to see if she could retrieve the bicycle from the remains of the shed that he’d mentioned.

  Beth cast a glance outside. A watery sun peeked through the clouds. If the improvement in the weather held, maybe she’d be able to take the drapes down from her bedroom and air them outside for a while. It would hopefully go a long way toward reducing the musty scent that seemed to permeate every room in the house.

  After a sandwich and another cup of tea, Beth returned upstairs with fresh cleaning supplies, the kitten following close behind. She was using a stool and attempting to take down the dusty and surprisingly heavy drapes at the window when she heard a noise.

  “Hallooo!” Mary-Ann’s voice called from outside.

  Beth raced downstairs to the front door and flung it wide.

  “Ryan mentioned you needed some more things so I thought I’d drop them by. How did you manage last night?” Mary-Ann asked, bustling inside without waiting for an invitation. “I really should have made sure the place was livable before letting you come out here. Are you certain you don’t want to come back and stay with me until we’ve got everything done.”

  “Good morning,” Beth said with a smile when Mary-Ann finally paused for breath. “And thank you. I was fine last night and the house is, as you can see, quite livable.”

  Mary-Ann sniffed the air. “Could do with a good airing out. I’ll help. But first, you need to put these in the kitchen.”

  Beth reached out to relieve her visitor of the sack of groceries Mary-Ann toted under one arm. “Thank you, but you didn’t need to—”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Mary-Ann replied, softening her words with a gentle smile. “Oh, and I have some more clothes and household linens for you, too.”

  While Beth put the groceries away, Mary-Ann went through the ground floor of the house, thrusting the sash windows open wherever they weren’t painted shut. Beth followed her around, feeling slightly helpless in the face of the other woman’s energy but she noticed Mary-Ann hesitated at the threshold of the ground floor bedroom. She seemed to square her shoulders, as if preparing for something unpleasant, before entering the room and opening the window just enough to let a breeze swish through the old lace curtains.

  “There,” she said, brushing off her hands as she came back out of the room and met Beth in the hallway. “That’ll blow the ghosts away.”

  Bang! The window dropped closed.

  “Or not,” Mary-Ann said cryptically. “I’ll just find something to prop it open while we work.”

  “We?”

  “I said I’m here to help, so yes, we.”

  “But I’m getting free board here in exchange for—”

  Mary-Ann cut across her. “Sure, you are, but no one said you couldn’t accept a little hand here and there, did they?”

  “I guess not,” Beth conceded with a weak smile.

  If Beth was to have help, rather it be from Mary-Ann than her son, who left Beth feeling even more prickly and unsettled every time he was near.

  “Oh, and who is this we have here,” Mary-Ann said, spying the kitten on the stairs above them.

  “Ryan brought her around this morning. At least I think she’s a girl.”

  “Oh, he did, did he?”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I mentioned to him that I thought you could do with some company. Trust him to give you a cat,” she said with a quiet chuckle. Mary-Ann clicked her fingers and called the kitten to her. The kitten merely blinked balefully through the turned wooden uprights of the balustrade. “Hmm, maybe she’s not so good on the company thing.”

  “We’re still getting to know one another,” Beth said by way of compensation.

  “Right.” Mary-Ann stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms akimbo. “Where do you want to start?”

  “I’ve already done the kitchen and bathroom and I was just getting started on the bedroom I’m using. I can’t figure out how to get the drapes down by myself.”

  “Let’s get that seen to, then.”

  Together, they went upstairs and in no time Mary-Ann had unscrewed the finial at the end of the curtain rod and slid the curtain rings and drapes off. Beth sneezed three times as the dust rose from the fabric.

  “I thought I could take them outside and hang them somewhere. Maybe beat the dust out of them.”

  Mary-Ann pulled a face. “They should be replaced altogether. I don’t know how Aggie stood living here all this time without changing anything but she was always adamant her Mamma wouldn’t have it—even though her mother has been dead these last twenty years or more.”

  “Maybe she found some security in keeping things the same. Is she a sentimental type?”

  Beth had never been able to afford the luxury of sentimentality. By the time her parents’ affairs had been settled there’d been little enough left for her to get sentimental over. Just one or two pieces of her mother’s jewelry and her father’s first edition collection as well as a few pieces of worn out furniture. Of course, she didn’t have any of that now—nothing had survived the fire. It was probably for the best anyway. She couldn’t afford to worry about material things anymore.

  “Sentimental? No, I don’t think so. She’s a little too…” Mary-Ann cocked her head and thought hard. “Simple isn’t the right word, but it’s as if she’s not really here all the time, y’know? Always been that way and now they’ve diagnosed dementia as well, she’s just that bit more lost inside herself. Sad really. The last of her family and no-one to care except us, her neighbors.

  “So, where were we?” Mary-Ann started then looked at the pile of dusty fabric in her arms and rolled her eyes. “Silly me. Come on, let’s see if the old washing line is still up and we can hang these outside.”

  “I think I saw an old carpet beater hanging on the laundry wall, maybe I can use that on these to get the worst of the dust out.”

  “Good idea, although, I hate to ask. Are you up to it?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Beth insisted.

  Mary-Ann’s eyes dropped to Beth’s lower abdomen. “Just you let me know if you get too tired, and make sure you wrap something over your nose and mouth. You don’t want to be inhaling all that dust. Can’t be good for you, especially now.”

  “Now?”

  “With the baby and all.”

  Beth felt a shock run through her that sucked the air from her lungs and made black spots dance in her eyes. Mary-Ann took one look at Beth and dropped the drapes from her arms and put out a hand to steady her, guiding her to sit on the bed.

  “Take a deep breath, honey. And another one.”

  “How...?” Beth couldn’t bring herself to form the words out loud.

  “Call it instinct,” Mary-Ann said in a matter of fact tone.

  “Please, don’t—”

  “Don’t tell anyone? Sure. But once you’re working at the café, the instant I see you doing anything too heavy, I won’t be keeping it quiet. How far along are you, hon?”

  “I...I’m not sure. Around sixteen weeks, give or take, I think.”

  “Well, like I said, I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

  Beth nodded. It wasn’t like she could argue. After airing, beating and then rehanging the drapes, Mary-Ann grabbed the bag of clothes and linens she’d brought.

&nbs
p; “Here,” she said, handing Beth a stack of jeans and sweaters together with some packets of new underwear. “You can put those in the dresser.”

  “Really, you’re being too generous, Mary-Ann. I don’t know when I’ll be able to repay you.”

  The older woman waved a careless hand as if she could simply swish Beth’s comments aside. “I’ll have none of that.” She crossed the room and yanked open the top drawer of the dresser. “Well, I’ll be...”

  “What is it?” Beth asked, stepping closer.

  “They never cleared out her things.”

  “Whose things?”

  “Aggie’s sister, Lizzie—went missing back in 1942. She’d have been about eighteen or nineteen, I think. It was quite a mystery, apparently. She took off after her boyfriend—Ryan’s grandfather, actually—was reported missing in action in the war. He came back, but she never did. Aggie always talks of her as if she was still here though.”

  Beth lifted a faded cotton blouse from the drawer. Remnants of dried and crumbling lavender sprigs fell from its folds to the floor and released their faded scent. It was as if the air sighed with the memory of a long-gone summer.

  “It’s sad, don’t you think? That they kept her things like this, as if they expected her to come back.”

  Mary-Ann’s mouth firmed into a straight line but she said nothing.

  “What? What is it?” Beth asked.

  The other woman just shook her head. “From all accounts they were quite a dysfunctional family. I’ll take those clothes away for you. Let’s wipe out the drawers so you can put your things in them.”

  They worked in companionable silence until all the items Mary-Ann had brought for Beth were tucked away.

  “There!” Mary-Ann said, stepping back to survey the room in satisfaction. “I think we did a good job here. You should be a lot more comfortable, now.”

  Beth looked at the new comforter on the bed and agreed. Even the kitten seemed to approve and was sitting, grooming herself, in a sunny patch on the floor.