Birthright

by Shay Savage

  “Another fucking note,” he mutters when he brings it down to eye level. “Was the woman who raised you into mystery novels by any chance?”

  “Yes, actually, she was.”

  “This note reads ‘Victorians weren’t all about safety.’ Should I assume this is about Victorian furniture?”

  “That would be a fair assumption.” I look around the shop, but I don’t see any Victorian era items with sold signs on them. I check out a few items, but nothing of interest strikes me.

  “This is ridiculous.” Nate is clearly frustrated. “We’re getting nowhere.”

  Suddenly, I remember something.

  “You know, there’s a Victorian bookcase at the house that has a hidden compartment with a safe in it. I wonder if she could have meant that.”

  “Back to the house, then.”

  We head back outside. The snow is coming down harder, and the streets are covered. As we walk up to the curb, a black pickup truck with a snowplow on the front slows and stops before us. The driver leans over to manually roll down the window, revealing a familiar face.

  “Is that you, Cherry?”

  “Hi, Bernard!” I wave. “I’m just here for a short visit!”

  “You be careful out here!” Bernard calls back to me. “There’s quite a storm coming!”

  “I will!”

  Bernard rolls up the window and continues down the street, throwing snow over the sidewalks. We cross the street cautiously, and I start to turn left to head back to the house.

  “Hold up a minute,” Nate says as he stops short. “Have you ever been in there?”

  He points to the Firefly Farms cheese shop down the street.

  “Sure, lots of times. I don’t think there’s a shop in Accident I haven’t been in before.”

  “Do you mind if we go check it out?”

  “Why?”

  “In the file Micha had—the one with your forged birth certificate—there was a receipt from that shop. He ordered cheese from there for the Big O. I wanted to take a look and see why he might have ordered something from that particular shop.”

  “All right.”

  Inside, Firefly Farms is warm and inviting. The varnished wooden counter is lined with cutout paper paw prints with information on pet adoptions, and a cozy collection of tables and shelves are lined with gift assortments of cheese, wine, and various products made from goat’s milk. On the far side of the shop, large windows allow patrons to gaze at the cheesemaking process.

  I walk up to the glass and look over the white plastic racks of cheese wheels, all stacked closely together in different stages of aging. To my left, another window looks into a large room with giant metal vats. Inside, a man leans over one of them, apparently adjusting the contents. As I watch him work, someone comes out of the office.

  “Well, hello there, Cherry! I haven’t seen you in a while!” An attractive, dark-haired man waves at me from behind the counter.

  “Hi, Pablo! How’s business?”

  “I’m not complaining!” He smiles brightly. “I could do without these spring storms, though. I heard you had moved away.”

  “I did,” I reply. “I’m just here for a short visit.”

  “Well, it’s good to see you. I sure do miss your Aunt Ginny. She was a loss to the whole community.”

  “Thanks.” I give him a quick smile before I introduce Nate, and they shake hands.

  Nate starts asking Pablo about the order receipt he has, and Pablo says he’ll have to check the records in the back. As we wait, another customer walks in. He’s dressed in a long, dark coat and keeps his sunglasses on. He glances at me briefly, then goes back to browsing one of the shelves full of goat milk soap. A minute later, another man of similar description joins him.

  I tense all over. Pablo comes out from the office, and Nate continues to chat with him, but I can see the transformation in Nate’s posture. He doesn’t look at the men, but he has his body turned toward them slightly, as if he’s ready to turn and pounce.

  I take a step and feel the cold glass of the window behind me. The men glance at each other, nod, and then spring toward Nate. I scream out a warning, but Nate has already anticipated their actions.

  He grabs a cutting board from the table next to him, and swings it at the first man, slamming him across the jaw. As he stumbles backward, Nate grabs a bottle of wine from the same table and smashes it over the other man’s head. With both men stunned, Nate rushes over to me, grabs my hand, and pulls me back behind the counter.

  In the meantime, Pablo is screaming at everyone.

  “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Back door!” Nate grabs Pablo by the collar and screams at him. “Where’s the fucking back door?”

  Pablo’s eyes grow wide as he points over his shoulder, and Nate pulls me through the office and into the cheesemaking part of the shop with both men following quickly. We have to detour around the equipment, and Nate grabs one of the plastic racks full of cheese and shoves it to block their way.

  A deafening blast fills the room. The worker who had previously had his head in a vat screams and runs into the side room full of ripening cheeses.

  “Cherry, get down!” Nate yells.

  The tray in front of us topples over, and wheels of cheese roll in all directions. I drop to the floor, and Nate grabs two wheels of cheese that roll close to him. He flings them over the upturned cart, and I hear one of the men grunt. Nate grabs more cheese wheels, continuing to fling them at our attackers.

  Another shot rings out. Nate grunts, and I scream.

  “Move!” Nate grabs my hand and yanks me behind him. He topples another tray full of unripened cheeses to the ground, blocking the men’s path. Nate keeps throwing more cheese as he backs away, shoving me toward the door. I swing it open, and he turns to run with me out the back door.

  We run through the parking lot, past the post office, and into the trees beyond the buildings. The snow begins to fall faster, and huge flakes cover us both. I glance behind me, but the snowfall has obscured my view, and I can’t tell if anyone is following us.

  “Nate! Where are you going? The house is that way!”

  “Can’t go to the house,” he says. “I’m not armed, and we need to get away first. Where can we hide?”

  “Hide?” I shake my head and huff out breaths as Nate pulls me along. “Where are we going to hide?”

  “That’s what I’m asking you!”

  A single shot echoes behind us, but the sound is much farther away. Despite the apparent distance, the sound still makes me jump. I look around, but we’re partly surrounded by trees and snow, and there is a field ahead of us, but the snow obscures any familiar landmarks, and I can’t figure out exactly where we are.

  “There should be a main road to our left,” I say. If we go there, I can get my bearings.”

  We find the road, completely covered in snow. I can’t see more than a few feet ahead of us, but I have a pretty good idea where we are.

  “That’s the Drane House over that way,” I tell him. “It’s right next to the cemetery where we were earlier.”

  “Drane house? Who are the Dranes?”

  “Historical landmark. No one lives there.”

  “Let’s try it.”

  It doesn’t take long, but by the time we reach the Drane House, I’m shivering so hard I can barely talk, and my feet feel like they’re about to freeze to the ground. I can’t even feel my toes. Nate grabs the handle of the door, but it’s locked.

  “Dammit!” He kicks the door, but I grab his arm.

  “Nate, stop it! This isn’t Cascade Falls! You can’t just break into places!”

  “I’m fucking freezing,” he says, “and you are, too. We need to get inside.”

  “You can’t break that door, Nate! They spent years restoring this place!”

  “Are you serious? Cherry, people are shooting at us!”

  I don’t know why, but the thought of breaking the Drane House door horrifies me.
I glance around, looking for alternatives, but I swear the cold is affecting my thinking. Through the snow, I see the outline of another structure.

  “Over there!” I shout as I pull on Nate’s hand. “There’s a building over there!”

  We run through the snow. My hands and face are burning from the cold, and my feet are completely numb. When we reach the small building, I realize what it is.

  Without any other options available, and with Nate refusing to try to get back to my place, we end up sheltering in the Drane’s old outhouse.

  “Nate, you’re bleeding!”

  “It’s not bad.” He shifts around in the cramped space, trying to get a look at his shoulder and the blood that has soaked through the top of his coat.

  “Did you…” I gasp, unable to say it.

  “Relax,” he says quietly. “It just grazed me.

  “Relax?” I shake my head. I have no idea how I’m supposed to relax when I’ve just realized he’s been shot. However, he seems so calm about it, I can only hope he’s telling me the truth. “We should get you to a hospital!”

  “Is there a hospital around here?” Nate grins, but I’m not finding his remark funny.

  “About a half hour north of here, yes. It’s not that far.”

  “Except we’re stuck in an outhouse in the middle of snowstorm. Even if we made it back to your place, which I’m not going to risk, there is no way your car is going to do anything on these roads but slide right into a ditch.”

  “At least let me look at it!” I have no idea what I’m going to do once I see it, but I’m worried and need to do something.

  Nate sighs, pulls down the sleeve of his coat to expose his left shoulder, and I see that it is indeed just a scratch on the top. I guess I was expecting a hole in his flesh, but there isn’t one. It’s barely bleeding anymore. Though he tells me I’m being ridiculous, I insist on covering up the scratch with some little finger bandages I find in the bottom of my purse.

  “Feel better now?” Nate asks, still grinning.

  “No.” Tears well up in my eyes.

  “Hey, now,” Nate says softly as he pulls his coat back up. He reaches out and gathers me into his arms, sitting down on the old boards covering the outhouse hole. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

  “It could have been a lot worse.”

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t.”

  “You knew who those men were.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “But when they came in, you were watching them.”

  “I didn’t know those men specifically,” Nate says, “but clearly they were the Ramsays’ people.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I had a feeling. I saw a car with Ohio plates parked near the post office. It had tinted windows, and I thought it looked a bit out of place. I hoped I was only being paranoid but obviously not.”

  “You think the Ramsays followed us here?”

  “Do you have some murderous ex-boyfriend you haven’t told me about,” Nate asks, “or high school rival that might want to shoot at you?”

  “No.”

  “Then, yeah, it looks like they followed us here.” He holds me a little closer. “They were watching you, not me. I think they were supposed to grab you and take you back to Cascade Falls.”

  “Why?”

  “They know we’re here, so they probably know we’re figuring things out. They don’t want us to know everything—that much is clear.”

  “But if they already know I’m a Ramsay, why would they try to kidnap me?”

  “To get you on their side.”

  “Humph!” I press my lips together. “I can’t imagine that would endear them to me.”

  “Once they have you, they can be very…persuasive.”

  I don’t think I want to know what he means by that, so I don’t press the issue. I lean my head against his uninjured shoulder and look around the inside of the small wooden structure. Aside from the bench seat with a boarded-up hole in the center, there isn’t a lot to be seen. A small shelf juts out from the wall, and stones line the floor by our feet. A slight amount of light shines in from the crescent moon carved into the top of the door.

  The air is certainly warmer out of the wind and snow, but it’s still cold inside the shack. I watch my breath escape in a puff and shiver. Nate hugs me to his chest, offering a little more warmth.

  I stifle a laugh.

  “What so funny?”

  “I just…I never expected to be stuck in an outhouse with a known gangster in the middle of a blizzard!”

  “Hey now,” Nate says, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “I take exception to that characterization.”

  “Are you saying you’re not a gangster?”

  “I’m saying this is barely a blizzard. Just a winter squall.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” I glance up at the tiny, crescent opening. Only dim, grey light shines in. “It’s getting late, and Bernard said it was going to be a big storm.”

  “Is he the town meteorologist as well as the snow-shoveler?”

  “He runs a repair shop, but he does keep his eye on the weather, yes. It’s also getting late. With or without a storm, it’s going to get very dark, very quickly.”

  “It’s only a little after six o’clock,” Nate says. “Not that late.”

  “But it will be dark soon.”

  “I’m not going to let you freeze to death out here, Cherry. We’ll wait a while and then make our way back to the car. My gun is in my overnight bag. I’m still kicking myself for not carrying it, but I’ll feel a lot better about this when I have it on me.”

  “I don’t want you getting hurt,” I say.

  “I’m more concerned about you.” He runs a cold finger over my cheekbone. “Are you warm enough? Your cheeks are the same color as your hair.”

  “Better than when we were outside. Neither of us is dressed to be out in this. I didn’t consider getting caught out in a snowstorm.”

  “How far is your house from here?”

  “It’s just on the other side of the field,” I tell him. “Maybe a ten-minute walk.”

  “We’ll get back there and into the heat before the sun sets,” Nate promises. “Does the fireplace in the house work?”

  “Yes. I used it a lot over the winter. There’s a woodpile behind the house.”

  “You just imagine a nice, warm fire,” Nate says, “and I’ll make it a reality before you know it.”

  “Sounds great for later,” I say, “but hardly making a difference at the moment.”

  “Maybe this will help.” Nate places his hand on the back of my head and pulls me to him.

  He kisses me softly, our tongues and lips meshing together in our own perfect rhythm. My heart beats faster, and a warm tingle develops on my skin.

  “Better?” Nate pulls away slightly, grins, and then moves to my neck.

  “Maybe a little,” I say as I tilt my head back to give him better access. “Mmm…that’s nice.”

  “See? We don’t need a fire. We have each other for warmth.”

  I do feel warmer. Even though I’m aware of the cool air around me and the sound of the snowstorm outside, all my thoughts are focused on what Nate is doing as he continues to trail kisses over my neck until I start to moan.

  “I love that sound.” He whispers against my skin. “I love hearing what I’m doing to you.”

  Nate moves his hands over my arms, shoulders, and back as I kiss him again. From where I sit on his lap, I can feel him harden beneath me, and soon he starts pressing upward with his hips, grinding into my backside.

  “Nate, that’s not going to work.”

  “Sure, it will.” His fingers grip my thighs briefly before he slides his hand between my legs. “I can already feel a lot more warmth here.”

  I moan as he pushes my legs a little farther apart and rubs at me through my jeans. His lips find mine again, and I lose myself in the sensations as my clit begins to throb. I feel him push my jacket open just
far enough to get his hand inside and cup my breast. I break the kiss and place my hand over his arm.

  “You can’t be serious.” I snicker and shake my head.

  “Why not? It will keep us warm.”

  “Because we’re in an outhouse!” I can’t help but laugh as I pull his hand away. The very idea is ridiculous.

  “This place hasn’t been used as an outhouse in a century,” Nate replies, placing his hand right back over my breast.

  “You don’t know that.” I know he’s right though the time frame is probably more like two centuries. Still, the area is way too small, and this place was used for its intended purpose at some point.

  “It’s not stinky.” He snickers and kisses my throat again.

  “That’s not the point!” I shake my head and slap him playfully on the chest. “I don’t want to have sex in an outhouse!”

  “It’ll be a great story to tell the kids someday.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake, it will not!” I start to push him away a little, but he holds on tight, his eyes suddenly becoming intense.

  “I want you,” he says, kissing me again. He releases my breast and removes his hand from between my legs only to start running them up and down my arms as his lips move to my neck again. He blows warm breath across my skin. “I was terrified back there, you know. If something had happened to you…I can’t even think about it. I need you. I need to be inside of you right now. Don’t make me wait.”

  I shiver, but it’s not from the cold this time. Though we had just made love a few hours ago, I feel as if we have a lot of lost time to make up, and I don’t want to waste any of it.

  “You’re the one who kept making me wait,” I remind him.

  “I regret that. Let me make up for it now.”

  I glance around the room as if it had somehow expanded in the last minute. It hasn’t. There is no way to lie down even if I were inclined to. I can’t even imagine what position we would have to be in to make this work.

  “How would we even…?”

  “Like this.” Nate grabs me by the waist and sets me on my feet in front of him. He unbuckles his belt and opens up his jeans. He pulls out his already stiff cock and strokes it a couple of times. “You’re going to be on top, straddling me.”

  “This isn’t going to work.” I shake my head as he starts unfastening my jeans.