by Hazel Parker
With Lenard, the slow, sinking feeling of getting sucked in by quicksand never went away. With him, a foam of black and white covered everything and, instead of looking classic or sophisticated, the world just looked muted. In contrast, Trevor made Alissa feel like she could finally, truly breathe. Literally, when she was with him, she felt like she could do anything. She felt like she was taking a deep breath for the first time and she was seeing the world in color.
A knock sounded and Trevor, poking his head through the door, said, “Ally. It’s done.”
Just like that, the time for rumination was over, so she rinsed off and threw on the only clothes she had that fit, unable to overlook how comfortable she felt putting them on now versus how awkward she’d felt when she first put them on.
When she walked out to the kitchen, towel wrapped around her head, the smell of French toast kissed her on the nose and her stomach rumbled in agreement. “It smells good!”
Trevor set the bottle of syrup on the table and sat. “I’ll teach you how to do it sometime.”
Sometime.
As if she’d be here after the storm was over.
They ate in silence, not needing to say anything. The rain was no longer loud enough to deter conversation, and yet there was no need for words. Unlike the suffocating silence of dissonance where there was nothing connecting two people—like her and Lenard—she and Trevor seemed to enjoy each other’s company whether they talked or not. It led her to believe there was so much more between them than strangers stuck together. But was more enough?
“That was good,” she said, standing, dish in hand to put it in the sink.
“Thanks. You can leave those,” he said, halting her arm midway from grabbing the dish detergent. “We have work to do. I’ll wash them when we get done.”
The mention of work made her a little nervous, but she nodded and proceeded to slide her tennis shoes on. “Okay. Where to first?”
The sack of grains he carried already gave her a clue.
“First, we check on the chickens. It’s been far too long and they won’t be happy.”
So they did. They walked together—well, more like Alissa followed slightly behind him like a duckling in need of direction—and made their way to the first little gate.
The coop looked a lot like a little house, obviously handmade, with wood and a ramp so the chickens could get in and out. There were wooden beams around the small structure that connected to the roof as if the coop was somewhere in a state of renovation with wiring wrapped around it.
Trevor flipped a little latch and slid inside, bending at the hip to look into the little house. He peeked in to see through the window and reached in to check something unseen.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. They look fine. A bit wet and they’re definitely hungry, but all good.”
“This thing was built solid,” she said, patting the wood.
“It was.”
She had no idea if he’d built it or not, but his next words cut out any chance at asking questions.
“Pull your shirt down and make like a hood.”
She pulled her shirt into an easy burlap carrier. “Like this?”
“Yup. That’s perfect,” he said just before grabbing eggs and putting them one by one into her shirt.
Alissa held still, counting up to twenty eggs.
“These are a lot of eggs.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t checked them for days, so there’s more than usual.” He smiled ruefully. “You’re supposed to check on them twice a day, but I don’t do it that often because I want them to have chicks.”
He talked about backyard poultry farming while he put eggs into a basket that was hanging on the wall of the coop. He himself collected several on his shirt before turning and walking back. Alissa followed, walking slowly and surely, terrified that she might drop or trip and break all the eggs. Trevor waited patiently and helped transfer each egg from her shirt into the refrigerator.
“So all your eggs are from your chickens?”
“Yeah,” he said, moving on to the eggs from his basket.
Once that task was done, he turned back to go outside and Alissa was right on his heels. Chuck followed behind them, sometimes catching up to trot beside them and other times getting lost behind to smell or chase a squirrel.
Together, Alissa and Trevor shared the workload. For hours they worked outside, first picking vegetables and herbs. Trevor was a kind teacher, pointing at indications that the food was ready for picking and which plants needed to be left alone. He got her to smell the herbs and encouraged her to get her hands dirty. They made two more trips back to the cabin before going to the shed for a shovel and something else she’d never seen before.
“Here.”
Trevor placed the shovel in her hands and picked up his own tool.
“What is that?”
“It’s a pick-ax.”
He carried the heavy-looking thing as if it weighed nothing.
“And what is it for?”
“Breaking hard dirt.”
She nodded, not quite understanding but following behind him nonetheless.
“What now?”
“Now,” he said, walking to the front of the house and down the hilltop to where the worst of the landslide had erased the street, “we dig.”
Trevor had a truck. It was clear that if he wanted to, he could get over most of the debris in the road, but down the hill where the mud was still soft and unsure, he had to clear it or risk getting stuck.
They stood in front of the land that was waist-high with dirt.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to break up the land and, if you want and feel up to it, you can shovel it over there,” he said, pointing to the wayside. “If you can’t, no worries. I’ll do both.”
“Are we going to do this all today?” she asked, staring at the thick mud as if it was a monster.
“No. Just going to start on it.”
“All right.”
She couldn’t quite mask her uncertainty, thinking the task was too much for two people—one of whom had zero experience with this type of work, at that—but she’d be damned if she left Trevor to do all of it alone. Her eyes widened as she watched his big arms swing the pointy object through the air. It landed with a dull thud, pitting and crumbling the dirt, but not going very deep. Still, dirt broke into large clumps, ready to be moved away.
Alissa realized clearing the road would take a very long time, but she was going to do her very best to help where she could.
“I’m not sure I can do this right,” she said, voicing her insecurity and concern.
“Of course you can.”
She shook her head no.
“Look at me.”
His voice cut through her inner dialogue and she found herself gazing into his eyes. Eyes that were filled with understanding and determination.
“You can do anything you put your mind to. Henry Ford said, ‘Whether you think you can or you think you can't—you're right.’ You’re whoever you say you are.” He touched her cheek with his fingertips. “So who are you?”
He went right back to work, allowing Alissa to think over his words. She wanted to be a doer, not a coward. She grabbed the shovel and slid it under the dirty with both her hands on the handle.
“Use one hand on the handle. Grip it there with your dominant hand,” he said, nodding as she followed his direction. “And the other hand on the shaft. Then use your foot to slide the shovel under.”
“Like this?” she said, kicking the edge of the blade.
He shook his head no. “Push down with your foot on the top of the blade.”
She stepped on it like instructed and was pleased to find the shovel relent under her weight.
“That’s it.”
Trevor worked like a mule horse, relentless in his swinging as if he didn’t tire. He was dripping in sweat and Alissa felt both exhausted and slow, unable to catch up. He c
hopped down the dirt, willing it under his force like a super soldier. The dirt clods piled up faster than Alissa could shovel and carry. She felt each muscle in her arms and her back scream with each stretch of her body.
But Trevor was encouraging as she worked, cutting through her exhaustion with direction and affirming words.
“You can do it.”
“You got it.”
“That’s right.”
“You’re doing great.”
Her arms were limp as noodles. She wasn’t sure if she was working, propelling herself forward because of the sheer phenomena that Trevor was still working and she wanted to show her worth or the fact that she knew if she stopped she wouldn’t be able to start again.
“All right. That’s it for now.”
“Yeah?” she said, still shoveling and wanting to be sure.
“Yeah. We’ll finish the rest tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Yeah. We should be able to drive to town… if you want.”
If she wanted. But the truth was neither of them had any obligations outside of the situation. All she needed to do was let her people know she was safe, but she didn’t want to do that anytime soon. If she did, they’d tell her to come home. Or, worse, try to come see her here.
“Come on,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “It’s time to eat.”
She felt faint and dragged her shovel behind her before Trevor grabbed it, for which she was grateful.
“You did really good.”
“Thank you.”
“I knew you could do it.” He wiped the tools down and put them back into the shed while Alissa stood by the entrance. “You’re not helpless, Ally. You can do anything you put your heart into.”
She smiled shyly under his doting, feeling empowered.
“Now. Let’s go eat.”
Again, Trevor moved around the kitchen with confidence. “You’re fancy. So you like wine, right?”
“You have wine? She asked with a little too much excitement.
“One bottle,” he said smugly and grabbed it.
She hugged the bottle excitedly. “Thank you!”
“If I’d known you liked it that much, I might have pulled it out the first night.”
She giggled and set it down. “I prefer your manly charms.”
He handed her a box of noodles from the pantry.
“So what are you cooking today?”
“We’re cooking baked ziti,” he said, grabbing her hand and spinning her into his arms. He held her close and whispered into her ear, “From scratch.”
Excitement got her heart pumping like a herd of wildebeests. God, this man really did it for her. Willing her pulse to slow down, she picked up the bottle. “Let me get this wine open first.”
In between sips of wine and flirting, they made ziti from scratch. They made the meat with sauce and fresh cheese and when it was time to put it in the oven to bake, Alissa was riled up. She was hot and bothered and the more she learned about Trevor, the more she wanted to know.
He’d learned how to cook from his mom. His dad had served in the Vietnam War. He didn’t have any siblings. He’d always wanted a brother. His favorite color was green, and he thought Chuck’s spirit animal was a horse.
While they waited for the food to bake, they sipped wine at the table.
He didn’t quite look at her when he spoke next. “Tomorrow we can drive into town.”
“Oh.”
She wasn’t sure how his announcement made her feel exactly.
“I’m sure your family is worried about you, you should let them know you are okay.”
“Right,” she said, taking a gulp of wine. “I need to do that.”
Chapter 9
Trevor had been right. It hadn’t taken long to clear the rest of the road and later the next day, they’d been able to drive into town.
The missing flyers were everywhere. Seeing her face posted on windows, walls, and sides of buildings was disconcerting. It made her feel strange, and she was glad Trevor was with her. Although, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was avoiding looking her in the eye.
He slowed the car down and, staring straight ahead, asked, “First stop?”
She huffed. It wasn’t like she had a plan. They’d barely rested once they’d cleared the road. They’d cleaned up, changed into fresh clothes, and got into the car as if he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. Despite trying to tamp down her feelings, it hurt.
“Umm, the hotel, I guess.”
He pulled up in front of the only hotel in the town and the receptionist’s eyes widened as Alissa stepped into the hall.
“Oh, my gracious. Alissa?”
She mustered up a smile. “Yes. Hi. I would like to know if my room is still available.”
Sally, according to her name tag, stared like Alissa was a ghost.
“Of course,” the woman said, still looking at her strangely. “We haven’t moved any of your stuff.”
That was a relief. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about clothes or money. “Great. Okay. Thanks.”
“Ms. Alissa, you’ve had several people worried. Your friends have been out looking for you every day.”
“My friends?” she asked, unsure who Sally could mean.
“Yes.” The receptionist grabbed the phone and dialed a number. “Ms. Liza, Alissa is here.”
Alissa gulped. Liza.
There were few people in her life who would do anything for her, come hell or high water. Liza was one of them.
Alissa heard static in her head as Sally murmured into the phone.
“Yes, ma’am. In the front room. Yes, ma’am,” she said before hanging up.
It wasn’t long before her tall, redheaded friend ran around the corner.
“Ally!” Liza screamed before throwing her arms around Alissa. It was only seconds of love before she pulled away with a stern look, her shoulders shaking a little. “Where the hell have you been? You know we’ve been so damn worried. What the hell were you thinking?”
Liza didn’t wait for an answer before turning to Trevor, who stood to the side without speaking.
“And who the hell are you? Did you take her? Are you the reason she fell off the face of the earth for days?”
“No, Liza,” Alissa said, putting herself between them. “This is Trevor. He helped me.”
“Right.” Liza’s eyes darted to Trevor in a sideways glance. “Then why couldn’t you call?”
“Because I was unconscious and I lost my phone. Besides, we were in the mountains.” It sounded logical in her head, but when she explained it aloud, it sounded strange. “Plus, there was the storm. Nothing was working. The power went out.”
Liza waved her hand in dismissal. “Fine. Fine. Who cares? It doesn’t matter anymore. The important thing is now we can go home. The rest of the girls had to leave, so it’s just me.”
Alissa shook her head. “I still have to tell the police that I’m no longer missing.” And I don’t want to go home.
“Fine. Do that and get back to me, because your mom is going crazy.”
It spoke of how she felt about her parents that she hadn’t even thought about getting in touch with them. She’d resigned herself to calling her mom as soon as she figured out what to do about Trevor.
Liza took hold of Alissa’s hand and squeezed. “And don’t take all day. I swear, girl, if you go missing again, my hair will turn gray.”
“Okay. I promise I won’t disappear again.”
She dragged her feet all the way back to Trevor’s car. He had already gone above and beyond, rescuing her and now seeing her safely back into town. After they talk to the police, he was free to leave and wash his hands of her once and for all. Except, she didn’t want him to.
The town wasn’t large and, before Alissa was ready, they were in front of the police station.
She climbed out of the car and entered the small, brick building, not knowing where to go or who to talk to. Trevor came up beside her and l
ed her towards a female officer, who was working behind a computer.
“Can I help you?” the officer cheerfully inquired.
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I just want to report myself… found… not missing.”
“Okay,” the officer said while typing some things into the computer. “Name.”
“Alissa Fontanne.”
She hit a few more keys and smiled. “Done. Would you like to report anything else?”
“No. I just got lost. Nothing else to report.”
“Great. I’m glad some stories have happy endings. You wouldn’t believe how many people go missing and are never found or found alive,” she said, her eyes tinged with sadness.
“Thanks. I think.”
“Have a nice day.”
Alissa nodded and followed Trevor back to the truck. He was uncharacteristically silent, and she was thankful because she didn’t know what else she could say. She spent the drive back to the hotel lost in somber thought.
“You ready?”
Trevor’s deep voice jolted her out of her thoughts and she looked around to find that the car had come to a stop in front of the hotel.
She nodded, but didn’t climb out. She didn’t want to say goodbye. Not when she’d just found this incredible, beautiful man.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to face Trevor and was surprised, delighted, and suddenly misty-eyed when she found his eyes finally on her.
“You know you don’t have to go if you don’t want to, right?”
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? “You wouldn’t mind if I stayed around?”
He shrugged. “Stay with me a little longer. Find out what makes you feel fulfilled. See where this goes.”
He’d said the last part as if it wasn’t important, but in her mind it was monumental.
“I don’t mind,” he said quietly, again looking straight ahead instead of at her.
“I’d really like that. Thank you.”