by Ann Cristy
She returned to the Cherokee, got behind the wheel, and backed it up to give herself a better start. She drove carefully, and they made it to the top of the incline without incident.
The boys clamored to get out. Curly jumped over the seat and galloped after them. They turned to look at Zen, the boys' faces alight with glee, the dog wagging his tail, his tongue hanging out. Neither of the boys seemed to notice the shabby exterior of the cabin, but Zen dreaded what she would find inside.
"Boys, we may sleep in the van tonight. There will be so much cleaning to do in the—"
"We'll help, Aunt Zeno," David assured her.
Daniel nodded, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.
Smiling, Zen put her apprehension aside as she reached above the door frame for the key that they'd always kept there. "Ah... here it is. A little dirty but..." She pushed the key into the lock. The door squeaked as it opened. "It ain't much, Ma, but it's home," she said as the musty, dusty interior met her eyes. She reached out to wipe away a cobweb.
"Is it spooky, Aunt Zeno?" David whispered.
"No, but it is filthy. Tomorrow we'll have to work hard to get it in shape. Tonight I'll see if we can get the water working. Then I'll clean the bathroom, and you boys can have a shower. We'll eat in the van, from the ice chest."
"That will be fun," Daniel said, looking up the narrow stairway. "What's up there, Aunt Zeno?" he asked, pointing to the spacious loft.
"The bedroom I shared with your mother. There's also a bathroom with a sink and toilet. But the only shower is down here."
Zen went to the power box and threw the switches, praying that the circuit breakers were in good working order. Lights came on, and she sighed with relief, then went to inspect the old refrigerator. "It works," she shouted to the boys, more relieved than she cared to admit when she heard the pump kick in, telling her that water was being pumped from the deep well her father had had dug when he'd built the cabin. She checked the water heater and discovered that it worked too.
"So far everything is on, boys."
To her delight, the boys insisted on helping her scrub the shower stall and tiles. Then they wiped out the small sink and around the toilet. Zen finished by washing the floor and bringing in fresh towels from the camper while the boys took a shower together, she listened to their laughter with pleasure and plugged in the electric heaters. Tomorrow she would check the fireplace flue.
When the boys were finished, Zen took a shower and put on fresh jeans and a shirt.
They ate sandwiches and drank hot tea from one thermos, milk from another. Zen was glad there were few dishes. She was so tired she just rinsed them and left them in the sink.
She released the back seat of the Cherokee to make a larger area in which to spread the sleeping bags and air mattresses. Curly opted to sleep on the ground outside, his presence giving Zen a feeling of well-being as total darkness descended.
Zen slept restlessly. Damon intruded into her thoughts and dreams. She muttered to herself, punching the pillow, then gazing out the window at the stars. She remembered the young woman who had given herself to Damon Aristides without reserve and knew that she could no longer ignore her still burning feelings for him.
She wanted him. She needed him to complete her life.
She rolled over, sleep claiming her at last.
The next morning was frosty cold, and they shivered in the van.
"You two stay here while I get the cabin warm. Then I'll call you for breakfast."
"Can't, Aunt Zeno. I have to go to the bathroom," Daniel said solemnly.
"Me, too," David agreed.
"All right." Zen laughed at them. "I'll turn on the electric heater in the bathroom. That will warm you up."
The boys scampered out of the camper in robes and slippers, followed by Curly, who didn't seem to notice the cold.
They laughed and joked over breakfast as cereal and eggs disappeared from plates, along with the toast, jam, and milk. Curly devoured two giant dog biscuits in seconds.
The boys surprised Zen by offering to help clean up the cabin. She laughed sometime later when she heard them yelling at Curly to get off the tile floor they had just washed.
Later, Zen found two small braided rugs stored in a closet. After she and the boys had hung them outside on a clothesline and beaten them clean, she arranged them in front of the stone fireplace.
That afternoon they explored the lakeshore. Though Zen warned the boys not to venture onto the wooden dock, which was missing several slats, she felt sure the structure was essentially sound.
"Aunt Zeno, look at Curly." David pointed excitedly as the retriever hurled himself into the water to retrieve a stick. "He's not afraid of the water."
"He was bred to the water, darling. Not even his awful experience would dim his natural inclination to it." The three of them took turns tossing the stick to the dog, who seemed never to tire of the game.
"He gets dry right away, I think." Daniel watched as his pet shook himself.
"Retrievers have an undercoat that protects them from the water so that they can resist both the wet and the cold," Zen told them.
That night, after driving to Dina Lipp's store for supplies, Zen cooked fresh fish and vegetables on the grill. Steamed in foil and seasoned with black pepper and butter, the vegetables were delicious. The fish, broiled with fresh lemon slices and butter, tasted moist and succulent. Both boys ate heartily, then sat in front of the fire watching the flames flicker over the logs.
Zen glanced around the cozy cabin, admiring the results of their hard work. Tonight they would sleep in the front room on air mattresses. Tomorrow they would clean the downstairs bedroom and perhaps start on the loft.
Zen barely had time to make up their beds before both boys fell asleep. Curly lay down next to the front door.
Zen checked the doors, placed a screen in front of the banked fire, turned off the lights, and bedded down next to the boys. But when she closed her eyes, she saw Damon gazing at her, coming toward her, overwhelming her, seeming to swallow her up.
Chapter 5
Three days passed. A bright sun made it warm enough to wear only short-sleeved shirts and slacks during the day, but the nights were cool and they huddled in their sleeping bags dressed in flannel pajamas.
The boys enjoyed working and happily scrubbed floors while Zen washed walls and ceilings.
On the fourth morning Zen was lying in the downstairs bedroom watching the play of sunlight on the pines outside her window, listening to the boys giggling upstairs in the loft. Suddenly Curly began barking and bounded down the stairs. He stood in front of the door, growling.
Just then Zen heard the squeal of brakes, followed by heavy footsteps. Someone knocked loudly on the front door. Her heart pounding, she swung her legs out of bed, snatched up her woolly robe, and stood swaying with surprise as Damon shouted through the door.
"Damn it, Curly, stop that growling. Zen, open this door."
"It's Uncle Damon, it's Uncle Damon," both boys yelled, half tumbling down the stairs.
"Be careful," Zen called to them. "Isn't that just like him?" she muttered. "Coming on like gang busters, scaring people out of bed. I should tell Curly to bite him." She struggled to pull back the bolt on the front door.
Even as she was turning the handle, Damon burst into the room and lifted her into his arms, leaving her feet dangling above the floor.
"Damn your soul, Xenobia, don't you ever do that to me again." His mouth bore down on hers, his tongue immediately parting her lips. The kiss deepened, his arms tightening as though he would never release her.
"Does this mean you're not really mad at Aunt Zeno, Uncle Damon?" David asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.
Zen was able to separate their mouths by mere centimeters, but she could feel Damon's eyes on her, and his hold didn't ease. "Uncle Damon... is just... concerned," she gasped, pressing her hands against his shoulders. "Damon..."
"That's good. Wanna go fishin'?" David smiled up at them
.
"Damon..." Zen repeated, digging her nails into his neck.
"Huh? Fishing? Fine.. .but I'm hungry."
"I'll make breakfast," Zen offered. When he didn't move, she whispered. "Put me down."
"What? Oh... all right." He let her slide down his body, but a steely arm kept her clamped to his side. Ruefully he rubbed his shabby chin, noticing the red marks left on Zen's face. "Didn't have time to shave," he muttered. "Drove most of the night, once my mother told me where you were. I had trouble finding the place. I must have driven over most of the Adirondacks before I happened on a gas station that was opening up at five in the morning."
"Harley's?" Daniel asked:
"What? Yes... that's the name." Damon yawned.
"Why don't you go to bed?" Zen suggested. "I'll call you when—"
"Aw, we want Uncle Damon to go fishing." David scowled darkly.
Zen was about to respond, but Damon squeezed her waist, stifling another yawn.
"I'll shave, then take the boys fishing. After that I'll go to bed."
Zen nodded, stunned by the burning look in his eyes. She turned to tell the boys, who were already crashing up the stairs, to get dressed and wear boots.
Damon put his hand on her shoulder. "After that, you and I will talk," he said, giving her a lopsided grin.
Once Damon and the boys left to go down to the lake, Zen quickly changed the sheets on her bed so that Damon could sleep there when he came in from fishing.
She couldn't help the happy feeling welling up inside her as she listened to the boys' faint laughter and Curly's exuberant barks. "How are they managing to keep that dog out of the water while they fish?" Zen mused, sure that no fish would come anywhere near all that commotion.
Her mouth began to water as she pan-fried raw potatoes in a large skillet, then, when they were crisp, added thin wedges of tomato. She grated fresh black pepper over the pan and left it to simmer. In another skillet she cooked bacon and fried eggs over easy. She oven-toasted thick slices of Maria's homemade raisin bread. As coffee perked in the huge enamel pot, she added eggshells to clarify it, in the Swedish way. Then she went to the old chiffonier in the living room and took out one of her mother's embroidered cotton tablecloths, which had been wrapped in foil with mint leaves. She shook it outside and spread it on the oaken table that had been her grandmother's, then ran outside and gathered pussy willows, which she arranged in a vase in the center of the table. Finally she rang the old bell hanging on the porch. The loud clang echoed in the clear mountain air.
A lump formed in her throat as she watched Damon stride up the incline, a boy on either side of him, Curly gamboling behind.
"Umm, whatever that is I smell, I could eat a ton." Damon grinned, then bent down to give her a hard kiss on the mouth. When he pulled away, his expression was serious. "Don't ever leave me again."
Zen stared after him wide eyed as he released her and urged the boys upstairs to wash. Damon himself disappeared into the downstairs bathroom, emerging minutes later, before the boys were finished upstairs.
He surveyed the cabin with approval. "Nice. How did you manage to get it clean so fast?"
"The boys helped me." Zen felt all thumbs under his dark, watchful gaze. "Of course," she hurried to add, "there's much more to do. The screen on the porch is a wreck. The door is hanging off its hinges. The windows need washing." She rattled on. "I intend to—" "I'll take care of the repairs," Damon said. "You?" Zen's mouth dropped open. "Is Yanos coming?"
Damon looked haughtily down his nose, the bump at the bridge where he'd once smashed it playing football adding a sinister element to his good looks. "I'll do them. I'll be staying here for a while."
"The couch is too short for you," Zen said without thinking.
"We'll share the bed."
"Not a chance."
"Then you sleep on the couch," Damon replied, looking bored.
Zen stood tall and faced him squarely. "Now listen here, Damon—"
"We'll discuss it later. I'm hungry." He looked up the stairs as the two boys descended side by side. "Shall I pour the coffee?" he inquired of Zen.
"Youuu!" She whirled toward the stove, lifting the huge coffeepot with both hands.
"Put that down. I'll carry it," Damon ordered softly. He took the pot and placed it on the tripod near the open fire where it would stay warm and be within easy reach. Damon and the boys sat down while Zen brought iron skillets filled with food to the table and set them on metal trivets. Over the toast she placed a quilted warmer her mother had made.
For several moments there was silence as the four of them filled their plates and ate heartily.
"Zen, that was delicious," Damon said, rising to pour fresh coffee for her. The boys drank more milk, then decided to go out and play with Curly.
"Are your beds made?" their uncle asked. When they shook their heads, he pointed up the stairs. "Wait. Take your dishes to the sink first and scrape them."
Damon supervised them, then yawned and said that he would lie down for a while. He disappeared into the bedroom.
Zen checked on the boys, admonishing them to stay away from the water when she wasn't with them, and went back to cleaning the cabin. Today she intended to clean the storage cupboard on the back porch. It was a dirty, tedious job. By the time she was finished even her teeth felt dirty.
Before she could shower, the boys came in hungry and tired. She fed them, and then watched them go upstairs to play cards. When she checked a short time later, they were both asleep, the cards scattered between them, Curly sleeping on the braided rug between their beds.
With a sigh of relief, Zen stepped under the shower, lathering herself well. It felt so relaxing to let the warm water course over her body.
She was drying herself with a towel, when she realized she hadn't brought fresh clothing into the bathroom with her. Wrapping a bath sheet around herself, she tiptoed through the door that connected the bathroom to the bedroom, determined not to wake Damon, wincing as she imagined the remarks he would make.
It took several seconds to open the oak drawers on the old dresser where she'd stored her under things. Mouth agape, she stared down at the neat pile of men's shirts she found there.
"I moved your things to the next drawer," Damon said from the bed. "Since you're so tiny, I didn't think you'd mind taking the three lower drawers while I take the upper three."
She turned to see him lying in bed propped up on one elbow, watching her. She moved back to her task, furious at his high-handedness. "You thought wrong," she declared. "When did you bring in your luggage? I didn't see you."
"While you were doing the dishes." His bare shoulder rose in a shrug. "I was sure you wouldn't mind."
"Well, I do mind." She took a step toward the bed. "This is my place, not one of the many Aristides holdings."
"I know that." He stretched slowly. Her eyes became riveted to his chest as the sheet slipped to his waist. "Comfortable bed. I didn't expect that. A little short though."
"It isn't your bed." She took another step toward him, wanting to tip him, bed and all, into the lake. "How dare you," she began, then gave an alarmed gasp and tried to leap back as Damon lunged for her.
But her timing was a tad off the mark. Damon gripped her forearm, a smile twisting his lips. He gave one short pull, and she tripped over the bath sheet and fell forward into his arms. "This is where you belong," he said softly, looking down at her, one leg draped across her middle, his hand loosening the towel from her upper body.
"The boys," Zen warned, feeling as though she was coming down with a fever.
"Are asleep," Damon stated. "I heard you tiptoe down the stairs." The triumphant heat in his eyes both angered and weakened her. "You're so beautiful... so mighty, but so tiny." He chuckled when she poked her tongue at him. "Eleni was twice your size, but she was a bit of fluff compared to you. You're not a Greek lady, Xenobia Driscoll Aristides."
"That's not my name," Zen croaked. "Besides, Greek women run their own house
holds. I've seen them." She tried not to react when he inched the bath sheet from her breasts.
"Yes, but they're more subtle, more diplomatic." Damon chuckled again as his mouth nuzzled her throat. "I have the feeling that, if I displease you after we're married, you'll back my car over me."
"Yes, I will. But we're not getting married. It's just a trial engagement." Zen's temperature soared as his mouth explored her breasts.
"You have a tiny beauty spot on your left nipple... here. I've been thinking of it for three years," Damon mused, his mouth closing over the spot. "Your skin is perfect, pink and white." Damon's mouth trailed down her body, making Zen tremble with pleasure.
He pulled the bath sheet away from her, leaving her naked and vulnerable to his gaze. His bold eyes sent fire scorching through her veins. Then he pulled back his own sheet, and she saw that he was naked, too. Their bodies came together as if drawn by a force outside of their control. Zen gasped as Damon's full length pressed against her.
"Damon, the boys..." She said weakly, trying to rally her resistance.
"The door to the hall is locked."
"When did you do that?" she quizzed, hope fading fast.
"When you were showering," Damon muttered, his breathing rapid and uneven.
"Oh." As he began to kiss her instep, holding her foot like a precious jewel, Zen felt as if she were falling off the edge of the world.
"You're my wife," he murmured, suckling her toe, tickling her unbearably. He laughed deep in his throat.
"No." Zen clutched him wildly as she fell into the heady vortex Damon was creating.
"Yes, my darling..." He turned her over and caressed the backs of her knees with his mouth, making her pulse jump in response.
"I won't be controlled." Zen's voice was muffled as she writhed beneath him, her face pressed into the pillow.
"Then control me," Damon invited, sliding his hand up the back of her thigh before following with his mouth.