Courage (Strength Series Book 1)

by T. L. Nicholas

  I turn to the dingy sink, run cold water over my trembling hands, and swipe them across my face. I look exhausted. I look sad. I look beaten down. I think it’s about time to fix that.

  I pull some paper towels from the dispenser on the wall, dry my hands and face, then lift my head high as I can as I push through the door.

  Chapter Six

  We’re on the road again and I’m fascinated with the mountains outside the windows. I’ve spent my life surrounded by farmland and water and everything is so big here. There are woods everywhere you look, and the roads are lined with trees so thick you can’t see the other side. Not like where I’m from, where there are woods but they still let light through, where they’re… small. These seem to go on and on forever and I know they don’t really, that there are houses on the other side somewhere, but it’s all so beautiful I want to breathe it all in. The air doesn’t smell like petroleum plants, rotting cattails and fish here. I had never noticed how bad it really smelled back home, until coming here where it smells clean, truly clean. I want it to cleanse me and help me start over.

  Chance seems to be deep in thought, but I see him look at me out of the corner of his eye now and then. When I returned from the bathroom back at the rest stop he didn’t ask about Travis again. He had everything wrapped up, the garbage thrown away, and held his hand out to me. When I took it, he pulled me closer and placed his arm around my waist to support me. He looked down into my eyes and said, “You don’t ever have to tell me anything you don’t want to, Alex. Someday maybe you’ll trust me enough to tell me everything, but for now? All I ask is that anything you do tell me is truth. Deal?”

  His eyes are pools you can drown in, I had thought. I’d almost laughed out loud, but managed to catch myself. I’ve always thought sentiments like that were so overwrought and stupid, but in that moment, I knew what they meant. When someone’s eyes are so unique to anything you’ve ever seen before, poetic thoughts flow from your mind unbidden. Fine. I would bid them to stop. He’d started to look concerned, I had taken so long to answer. “Okay. Deal.” I’d muttered and dropped my head, making a promise to myself to steer clear of those eyes.

  So far, so good.

  We come around a curve and there’s a beautiful opening in the trees, a flash of a city below us for a moment, then we curve to the right in front of a mountain, and it’s gone. There are restaurants on the left, exits to go to other parts of the state on the right and it hits me, “We’re in New York! I missed it? How did I miss it?” I ask.

  He shifts his gaze to me and grins, “It was a ways back. You seemed really deep in thought and I didn’t want to disturb you. I’m sorry. I can always take you back in a few days if you want so you can see it.”

  I shake my head. “That’s okay. I just didn’t realize we were almost there. We are almost there, right? You said it wasn’t too far into New York. What city was that?”

  He hits the brakes and turn signal to go around a slow car in front of him and I notice how his thigh muscles bunch when he moves his leg. I mentally slap myself, and try to focus on his lips - words. I focus on his words. “We just passed Binghamton and Johnson City,” he says. “This through here is still technically Binghamton, but this is the Upper Front Street part of it and it’s a little less city. We’ve got another twenty minutes or so to get where we’re going.”

  “I remember,” I say. “Wisely Point, right?”

  He snorts. It’s oddly cute. “No, Whistler Point, but close.”

  I want to ask what his house is like, what Whistler Point is like, and where I’m going to go. I’m not sure I’m ready for the answers though, so I enjoy the view flying by my window instead.

  The stores along the road give way as the mountains behind them surge forward to the highway and lift us up onto their backs. It’s breathtaking and I turn to him and smile. I’ve never been anywhere like this before and in this moment at least I can be happy. Everything after I get out of this truck is unsure, but in this instant, I feel like I’m flying. I feel safe, and I wish we could keep driving forever.

  We pass a gas station on the left, a bunch of houses, an exit on the right, and go through a corridor of trees that feels like a tunnel. When we come out on the other side, I lose my breath. The mountains are off in the distance, or we’re on the top, I’m not even sure, but I can see forever. Rolling hills, mountains, and blue sky that goes on endlessly. However I got here, it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. I can imagine Cadan running through the woods, fishing in the rivers down below, and I want to be here so much. I never knew it even existed, but it already feels like home and I haven’t set foot on the ground yet.

  We pull off an abrupt exit that says, “Whistler Point” and there’s nothing. We turn right and I see a stop light down at the end and a couple of cars, a sidewalk. We turn left at the light and I realize this is like where I lived in Maryland. It’s the kind of town that has two stoplights, a dollar store, a couple of pizza joints and not much else. We turn right at the next light and go over a bridge extending across a beautiful river. He makes an immediate, hard left and we climb a steep incline. I feel a little nauseous. It’s a bit like being on a roller coaster, and I’m not at all used to that.

  Near the top of the incline, my nausea is forgotten as I see huge concrete barriers in the river. “What are those?” I ask. He looks over to where I’m pointing, “They’re the locks, for the dam,” he explains.

  “They dam the river? Why?” I ask.

  “No, they dam the lake,” he chuckles.

  I’m just about to ask what lake, when I see it. I thought the mountains were beautiful, but they were nothing compared to this. I’ve lived near the ocean my whole life, and it’s beautiful, but there’s something charming and comforting about a lake surrounded by trees. It looks cozy and warm. Safe, protected.

  The ocean is so open and exposed, not at all like this. The mountains stretch their lazy backs in the distance as the lake pools for miles below us. The road we’re on follows alongside the lake, and while the view is blocked periodically by the trees, every time the view opens back to the lake it feels like your brain is expanding to take it in. I’m in love with this place. For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong somewhere.

  The truck slows and pulls into a driveway on the lake side of the road. Butterflies flip and flop in my stomach, vying for space with Cadan. The house is a giant by the standards of all homes I have lived in through my life. It’s white with dark blue trim and a wrap-around front porch. I’ve always wanted one of those. I’ve read about how nice they are in books, but never known anyone who had one. A large tree stands alone in the front yard, like a guard. I think it might be a maple tree, but I’m not really up on my trees. The sun is just starting to lower behind the mountains and the sky is turning fascinating shades of pink and purple.

  My door opens and I jump, lost in thought. “Come on, Alex. Time to get out of this damned truck.” Chance holds his arms up for me and I slide down into them. It’s mortifying, both because of the warmth that slides through me and because I need his help, but I don’t want to hurt my ankle again. “You need a ladder for that thing,” I say as he sets me down.

  He grabs my backpack and bag out of the backseat of the truck, closes the doors, and says, “But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to pick you up anymore, now would I?” and he winks at me. Now I’m blushing. I feel the heat climb up my face, and I hate myself just that much more.

  We make our way to the porch and cross it to the front door, where he fumbles through a full ring of keys until he finds the right one. He opens the door and a huge white thing lunges out and attacks him. I scream at the top of my lungs, then realize Chance is laughing at me and the attacker is the biggest dog I’ve ever seen. It’s standing on its hind legs, front paws on Chance’s shoulders, looking down at me with curious brown eyes at least twice the size of my own. I think my head might fit inside of its mouth.

  “Allow me to introduce Shadow,” h
e says. Shadow the dog throws a paw over from Chance’s shoulder towards me and it’s easily twice the size of my hand.

  “Shadow? Aren’t dogs named Shadow usually black? Or Velcro dogs? Is that it, he’s always up your ass?” I ask, warily eyeing Shadow.

  “I guess normally that’s how dogs get that name, but Shadow earned his because he can be silent as a shadow, despite his size and color, and I find that pretty impressive.” He answers as the dog jumps down and the whole porch shakes. Shadow immediately shoves his head into my side and he’s so tall it covers the area between my hip and the bottom of my rib cage. “Wow, he really likes you,” Chance says. “He usually doesn’t warm up to people this quick.”

  “What’s he doing?” I ask as Shadow pushes steadily against me. I’ve never been much of a dog person. I like them fine, but I’ve never had one of my own and I’ve certainly never met one bigger than me before. “He wants you to pet him,” he answers. “When he was a pup I taught him to push like that instead of laying his face on you because he drools sometimes.”

  “Oh,” I say, and tentatively drop my hand to the top of his huge head. He’s so much softer than I imagined he would be that I can’t stop myself from digging my fingers into his thick fur. He wiggles his head towards my fingers and a giggle escapes before I can stop it. I scratch him harder and he wiggles more. I scratch his ear and he growls low and long. I jerk my hand away and step backwards as my ankle twists and I go down on my ass, hard.

  Looking up I see Chance laughing, and then he’s blocked out by a blizzard of dog. Shadow towers above me as he sniffs my face, eyes, nose, mouth, everywhere, and I’m just trying not to scream. He’s going to eat me. I came all this way to be mauled to death by a monster dog while his owner laughs at me. He didn’t bring me here for a job, he brought me here as dog food. I bet dog food is expensive for a dog this size. He probably eats whole cows.

  “Shadow, move. She’s had enough. You’re scaring her, dopey,” says Chance’s voice as his arm appears around Monster Dog’s chest. Shadow is pushed aside and I see Chance again. He grabs my hands and pulls me up. “You okay?”

  Shadow’s excessive sniffing pulled hair loose from my ponytail, so I shove it out of my eyes and look up, “No. I didn’t come all the way here to be dog food, I came here for a job, and I don’t think it’s very nice that your dog knocks me over and you laugh at me.”

  “I’m sorry I laughed, but you have nothing to worry about with Shadow. He prefers to eat intruders and thieves. Also, he didn’t knock you over, you fell. He was trying to make sure you were okay.”

  “He growled at me!” I glare at him.

  “No, that didn’t happen either. He groaned at you, which is entirely different.” I roll my eyes, but he continues anyway. “He loves having his ears rubbed and he can’t help but voice it when he gets them rubbed. You hit the spot, he liked it, it scared you, you fell, and he felt bad. He didn’t knock you over or growl at you, Alex.”

  I’m not at all happy with that analysis, but I can’t deny the truthfulness of his version. I suppose it’s possible I overreacted. A little.

  I look around Chance and see Shadow lying in front of the door, head on his huge paws, looking up at me through sad brown eyes. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m not used to dogs. I’ll get used to you,” I say. When I hold my hand out he belly crawls over to me and lays his head against my calf. I pet him again and this time when he groans I don’t freak out. I hope I can get used to him. He’s a pretty dog, but so large it’s mildly terrifying.

  “Ready to go in and get settled?” Chance asks quietly. I nod. It hits me, again, that I just met this guy and I’m walking into his house. A house hours away from everyone else in the world I know. We’re on a fairly populated road, from what I saw on the drive here, but from this porch I can’t even see any other houses. My stomach twists and Cadan bounces around like a gymnast as we walk through the heavy wooden door, Shadow close on our heels.

  We walk into a foyer with old wooden stairs in front of us leading upstairs. There’s a mirror on the wall to the right, but I avoid looking at it too hard; I don’t want to know what I look like. The foyer is long with two huge windows, one at each end, and a floor to ceiling bookcase between them. There are coat hooks behind the door, a bench under each window. It’s painted a light yellow and feels warm. He nudges me to the right and we walk into a living room that’s bigger than my bedroom, the living room, and kitchen combined at Bay’s house.

  A huge flat panel TV is on a stand across from two huge windows that face the road. In front of those windows is a large couch with a wooden frame that looks comfortable, a huge recliner, a smaller chair, and two end tables. In front of the couch is a cedar hope chest with a padded top on wheels. It looks like this is a combination coffee table and footrest.

  Two more windows look out towards woods and there is what looks to be an original brick fireplace between them. The floors are uneven in places and appear to be very old. The room is painted a deep wine red and I love it. I like red rooms, though people so rarely achieve the right red. But this is perfect. I wonder who did it. Chance doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who likes bold colors.

  We go through a large archway into a dining room that is every bit as large as the living room. It’s painted a soft olive color, which should look terrible with red in the next room but instead looks welcoming and warm. A large window sits above a woodstove with a glass door. It sits on a pretty tile hearth and I wonder if it works. I always wanted a fireplace, and now it appears there are two here. Wait, I won’t still be here in the winter. This is temporary.

  The floors are the same old, scarred, apparently original ones. There are two doorways to rooms on the right, and another on the left, but he steers me past the large dining room set, through another arched doorway, and into the kitchen. This room has clearly been remodeled. The appliances are all stainless, and the counters are a gorgeous, reddish brown granite. The cabinets are some sort of red wood with pretty arches on the doors. The floors are a light wood, but newer than the rest of the house’s floors. I think I remember seeing it at a home store before. Bamboo? Teak? I remember the stuff I saw was expensive. The curtains are apples on a country red gingham background and the walls are a pearl-like white that changes color and shimmers in the light. I didn’t even know paint like this existed, but it’s exactly right for this room.

  He directs me to sit at the island in the middle of the room, on one of four chrome bar stools with red leather tops. I sit, relieved to be off my feet already. I can feel that my feet have swollen after only this short time walking through the house. It’s been a long day.

  “You must be hungry.” It’s not a question, but I answer him anyway.

  “A little,” I say. My stool moves as Shadow lies down and rests his head across the bottom bar. He really is quiet; I had forgotten he was here.

  Chance walks behind me to the fridge and I hear him rummaging around. I don’t have the energy to look behind me and don’t want to feel like I’m being nosy either, so I look around the kitchen. “I don’t have any turkey,” he says, “but I do have frozen pizzas, hot dogs, grilled cheese –,”

  “Grilled cheese?” Oh, how the little things thrill me now. “I love grilled cheese! I haven’t had it in so long. I don’t know why, I guess you just forget about it.” I laugh to cover my babbling.

  “Grilled cheese it is then,” he says, pulling cheese out of the fridge. He sets it on the counter, then opens a drawer next to the sink and retrieves bread. He walks into a room on the other side of the kitchen and comes back out with a frying pan, a red one. Weird. Maybe it is him that likes red.

  “So, Chance, you got a thing about the color red or something?” I blurt out.

  He turns the burner on, butters the bread, places it in the pan, assembles the sandwich, then turns, leaning against the stove, and stares into my eyes. “Why would you ask that?” he asks, far more serious than I ever imagined his response would be.

  �
��Um… because there’s red everywhere? On everything?” I lick my lips nervously. What’s the big deal? It’s just a damned color choice. So much for me making small talk.

  “I don’t think so. It just seemed to fit the rooms. Once there was so much red in the kitchen it made sense to make the pots and pans red too so everything is cohesive. I don’t have a thing about it, but I don’t have a thing against it either,” he answers.

  It seems a solid answer, but he’s still looking at me weird and I’m starting to feel a little uncomfortable when he pushes off the stove and walks toward me. He rests his elbows on the counter in front of me and his face is so close to mine. “It’s going to be a lot easier to get the exact color red I’m looking for when I finish redoing the laundry room now, though,” his voice has dropped down into that silky whisper again, and with him so close it feels like I’m being burned alive.

  “Why?” I ask and it comes out as an embarrassing whispery croak. When did I stop breathing?

  “Because now I can show them exactly what it is I need, exactly what it’s supposed to look like when the sunlight glints off it on a sunny day,” he whispers as he moves forward and reaches up to twist his fingers around some of the hair Shadow pulled loose on the porch. “This color. It’s the color of ripe strawberries on a summer afternoon, a sunset at the end of a perfect day on the porch.” He continues to twist my hair slowly around his long, calloused fingers as he talks.

  “It’s the first maple leaf to fall in autumn, the cardinal that perches on the branches of a snow-covered tree in winter to remind you the cold will be over soon. Just when it feels like you’ll never be warm again. It’s the color of everything that matters. Love, passion, and fire. That’s what this color is, this one right here,” he says, pulling his hair-wrapped fingers out in front of both of us. “Depending on how the light hits it, your hair is all of those things. This is the red I’ve been looking for.”