Alex nodded and pointed to a diminutive, nearly indiscernible path leading off the wagon trail and into the woods, barely wide enough to accommodate the narrowest of all-terrain vehicles. “It’s just up the hill from here,” she said, then grabbed her belongings and trotted off.
“Do you want us to go with you?” asked Michelle.
Alex stopped and turned, her eyes falling on Fred at first. “I don’t want to scare them. They…need to know it’s me, first. After that, we’ll see.” She paused. “No offense, Fred.”
As Alex darted into the woods, Fred and Michelle stood stationary, staring at each other with a matched pair of dumbfounded looks.
“This day just keeps getting more and more peculiar by the minute,” Fred quipped, staring through squinted eyes. “The woods around here are thicker than most of the jungles I’ve visited before, and I think I’d rather go skinny-dipping in the damn Amazon river before I’d chance a swim in that pond over there.” Fred gestured to where Alex had vanished in the trees a moment before. “You think she actually lives up there?”
Michelle shrugged. “If everything she’s told me is true, then, yes, I believe she does.”
Fred turned suddenly upon sensing movement in the woods. When Michelle saw his reaction, she put her hand to her sidearm, but left it holstered when Alex emerged from the woods, a bright smile leading the way.
Fred exhaled, lowering his rifle. He lifted his arm to look at a nonexistent watch on his wrist. “You know—it’s been over an hour.”
Alex bit her lip. “Yeah…I’m sorry about that.”
“I take it they were more than happy to see you?” asked Michelle.
Alex’s smile grew broader. “Oh yeah. Most definitely. They didn’t want me to come back down here, but I told them I had to.”
“Mighty kind of you,” Fred groaned.
Alex approached Michelle while angling her body away from Fred. “Michelle, my mom said it’s okay—she would like for you to come up to the house.”
Michelle’s eyes lit up. “She did? That’s great, Alex. I’d love to meet her.”
Fred grunted. “You shouldn’t go up there alone, Michelle. One of us should follow along while the rest remain here.”
Michelle sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Fred.”
Fred’s jaw clenched. “Have you already forgotten our conversation?”
Alex positioned herself between the two and about-faced the ex-Army Ranger, who towered over her. Her smile faded. “Fred, I’m sorry—I really am. But no one else here can come to my house.”
“And why would that be? You know us—you know we don’t pose a threat to you…or your family. We brought you this far, for heaven’s sake.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed, and she began blinking rapidly. She turned to Michelle, appearing lost in a search for the right words. After a moment, her eyes met Fred’s again. “It’s not that, it’s not anything like that. It’s because the rest of you are all…men.”
Fred drew back a few steps. “What?”
“Fred, it’s okay,” Michelle said, reaching for Alex’s hand. “I’ll go with her. If I need help, I’ll just scream…or something.”
“Wait one.” Fred went to his ATV and returned with an AR-15 SBR, a short-barreled version of the standard AR-15. He handed it to Michelle, who looked it over a moment before slinging it over her shoulder. “I prefer shooting over screaming, Michelle. You shoot. Let the other guy do the screaming.”
Michelle nodded and, much to Fred’s chagrin, disappeared with Alex into the woods.
After several minutes of trudging up a narrow, substantially eroded path, Alex’s house soon came into view, even though it didn’t look like much of a house at all. It was an older, rickety, log-cabin-style home similar to others found sporadically in isolated areas of Appalachia. As appearances go, the home was primitive, and could’ve been built as long ago as the early twentieth century, using trees cut and felled from the nearby woods. Its features included a footerless timber foundation that didn’t allow room for a basement, cellar, or even a crawlspace, and a shingled roof that had been patched nearly a thousand times with various materials, even duct tape.
Michelle recognized the home’s siding as T1-11 plywood, something she had become familiar with during her tenure as a lumberyard sales employee in her teenage years. It was well-weathered, had a partial coating of brown paint, and appeared rotted away in many locations.
Aside from the house, Michelle’s eyes were drawn to the gardens she could see, which, just as Alex had explained, were sizable, plentiful, and located practically everywhere in raised beds all around the house and surrounding property.
“And here all along, I thought I was the one with the green thumb,” Michelle said jokingly.
Alex only giggled through closed lips.
Michelle kept walking and promptly unslung the SBR when she saw the front door swing open and almost fall from its hinges. A middle-aged woman with shoulder-length hair emerged and stepped down onto the stoop below. She had a robust, pear-shaped frame and looked almost corpulent at first glance. After further observation, Michelle concluded her mass to be primarily attributed to musculature, along with what could only be described as a considerable bustline.
The woman wore a stained apron that hung to her knees and shrouded a torn and tattered pair of denim jeans, which also bore stains, mostly in earth tones.
“That’s my mom,” Alex said proudly, the sparkle returning to her eyes.
Michelle nodded and waved, but didn’t receive one in return. The woman had appealing features, but was sending along an expression capable of welding iron. “I thought so. She looks—rather mad.”
“She’s not mad. She just doesn’t trust people,” said Alex. “And it’s been a while since we’ve had company.”
“That might explain the look she’s giving me,” Michelle calculated, deciding the time had come to return the SBR to her shoulder. “Are you sure she’s okay with me being here?”
Alex peered over to Michelle from the corner of her eye. “She has an M1 carbine in the house. She would’ve killed you already if she wasn’t.” She giggled and called to her mother. “Mom, this is her. This is Michelle.”
The woman’s eyes fell onto Alex and her features gradually softened. Soon, a smile appeared, and she descended from the stoop and walked over to Michelle, halting when she was within inches. The woman hesitated, then wrapped a set of sturdy arms around her. “Thank you. Thank you so much for finding my Alex. Thank you even more for taking care of her and a thousand times that much for bringing her back to us.”
Michelle returned the embrace in a cumbersome manner while Alex’s mom continued squeezing the life from her.
“You’re very welcome,” Michelle said. “It was no trouble for us…we were glad to help.”
Reaching for Alex, her mother pulled her firmly under her arm, placing her cheek on top of Alex’s head. She held out a hand to shake with Michelle after using it to wipe some of her tears away. “I’m Jesseca. But please, just call me Jess.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Michelle said, taking Jess’s hand, instantly feeling the strength in her grip.
“I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done,” Jess said. “Really—I’m forever indebted to you. If there’s anything you need or anything I can do, just say the word.”
“You don’t owe us anything. I’m just glad we happened on her when we did. My daughter Lauren was the one who helped Alex get away.”
Jesseca’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I hope she killed the bastards. Whoever they were.”
Michelle paused, the response taking her by surprise. “As a matter of fact, she did. She—Lauren killed all of them.”
As she spoke the words, Michelle realized that her own response had come as an even greater surprise. What mother says such things regarding her daughter?
Jesseca placed a kiss on Alex’s head, smiling grimly. “That’s good. You raised her right.”
“Thank yo
u. I wish I could take all the credit.”
Jess, still fighting her tears away, began looking around. “Well, where is she? Didn’t she come with you? I should thank her as well.”
“She wasn’t able to make the trip,” Michelle said. “But you’ll meet her someday soon, I’m sure.”
As Jesseca released Alex, two other girls stepped out from a hiding spot behind the house, each the spitting image of each other, each carrying a striking resemblance to their mother. They galloped to Alex and hugged her simultaneously, nearly tackling her to the ground.
“Girls,” Jess said sternly, “come over here and introduce yourselves, please.”
The one appearing to be the oldest was the first to heed her mother’s request and shuffle over, while permitting a rather ostentatious belch to escape the recesses of her stomach via her mouth along the way. She was followed by Alex’s younger sister in tow. Just like Alex, both girls had an olive hue to their skin that seemed filthy at first glance. Michelle couldn’t discern if it was extended sun exposure, or if they hadn’t bathed in a while—neither would’ve shocked her in this day in age.
The oldest, who introduced herself only as Mack, shared many of her mother’s most prevalent features. She was a larger girl, a few sizes bigger than her sisters, but she carried it well—almost as well as the thick, hardcover book she carried under her arm, which, even during the collision with her sisters moments ago, had not been dislocated. Her smile was just as lovely as it was eternal.
After introducing herself, Michelle gestured to the book snuggled under Mack’s arm. “What are you reading?”
Mack didn’t answer at first and glanced over to her mother as if she required approval to speak. Responding almost telepathically, Jess acknowledged the silent request by fluttering her eyelashes coupled with a sincere smile.
“Kidnapped,” replied Mack, grinning. “By Robert Louis Stevenson.”
“Mack is the reader in the group,” Jess said. “She absolutely adores reading—she’s been addicted to words and prose since she was one day out of the womb.”
Mack nodded and echoed her mother. “Yeah. I adore reading. I read a lot—almost all the time. I mean, I do—when I can. When we’re not working our asses off, which we do all the time, too.”
Jess patted Mackenzie on her butt, and she scooted away, laughing as the youngest leapt forward and presented herself as if springs existed on the soles of her shoes.
“Hi, I’m Desirée. But you can call me Dez…or Dizzy…either is fine. Trust me, it’s fine. Sometimes my sisters call me that…Dizzy, that is. Not sure why, but they do. It’s not like I’m really dizzy or anything.”
The young girl’s words rattled off with energy and perpetuity. Desirée was tall and acutely thinner than Alex. She had the same twinkling eyes as her sisters, and the brightest shade of sandy blond hair, which was remarkably clean, recently brushed, and pulled back into a ponytail. She was delightfully pretty, well developed for her age, and her mannerisms were abrupt and spunky.
With the intros concluded, the girls huddled together and ran away hand in hand, leaving the adults to stand alone in the front yard.
“So where do you live, Michelle? I take it, not far away?” Jess asked.
“Not at all—just down the road in Trout Run Valley.”
“I’ve heard of that place. I’ve just never been there,” Jess said, leaning in. “We don’t really get out much.”
“So I’ve been told,” Michelle responded, grinning.
“Oh? I see. Alex has a tendency to talk too much. We don’t usually divulge much about our lives to anyone—if and when we get the opportunity, anyway. Which is rare.”
“Jesseca, it’s fine, really. The things she told me weren’t that personal. Regardless, I promise we’ll respect your privacy. If you don’t want us to come back here, just say the word.”
Jess smiled. “That’s kind of you. I appreciate that, I do. But for now, since you’re here, let me show you around. I can give you the grand tour of our little homestead.”
Michelle followed Jess through the front door and was instantly greeted by a musty, humid air mass. Every square inch of wall space was adorned with a flourishing plant of some variety. Some grew in pots, some in jars, and others still in glass, wooden, or plastic containers situated on tables nearest the windows.
“Alex mentioned you had a lot of gardens and you grew your own food,” Michelle said. “But her words didn’t do it justice. This is amazing, Jess.”
“My girls and I do things the way they were done centuries ago—I like to refer to us sometimes as frontierswomen. We grow year-round, and we eat most of what we grow. Whatever is hardy and can tolerate the cold, we keep outside. If it’s finicky, it lives in a sun box. If it’s super-finicky, we keep it inside next to a window. I have a method for growing just about everything we need.”
Michelle nodded and studied the assortment of plants, trying her best to identify them. “You definitely have a…well, I guess you could call it a colonial way of life here. Is there anything you don’t grow?”
“There isn’t much, I admit. I revere plants. Botany and horticulture are two of my favorite areas of study—ranks right up there with pharmacology. Makes for good hobbies, too.” Jesseca sighed with delight. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It definitely is. I could take lessons from you all day,” Michelle said, turning to Jess. “Did you say pharmacology?”
Jess nodded. “I’m not a pharmacist or anything—more like an amateur apothecary.” She pointed to a shelf of books displaying titles regarding medicinal plants and herbs. “That’s my medical library over there. We treat every illness using nature’s medicine. Healing herbs and plants and essential oils are the main items I keep in my first aid kit.”
Michelle continued to eye the interior of Jess’s home with spectacle and amazement. “So this is what it’s like to be truly self-sufficient,” she said. Her eyes found a shelf in the family’s kitchen in an adjacent room. It supported nearly a dozen Mason jars, and inside each jar swam a miniature fish. The floor creaked as she stepped closer. “Are those minnows?”
“Mm-hmm. They belong to Mack.”
Michelle cocked her head. “She keeps minnows as pets?”
“Well—you see, she used to have betta fish, about a dozen or so of them,” Jess explained. “Some got sick and died, and we ran out of food for the rest, and they passed away not long after. Mack got really upset about it. So we had to find a replacement for them. Wasn’t hard to, either, with a creek just down the hill.”
“Alex made it out to sound like the four of you never leave your house,” Michelle said. “How did you get your hands on betta fish?”
Jess’s expression grew nervous. She leaned her shoulder against the threshold into the kitchen. She whispered, “It’s been a while now, but at one time, there were five of us.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.” A pause. “The ‘ex’ has not been home in well over a year.”
Michelle didn’t know how to respond at first. Then she recalled Alex’s rather unexpected response to Fred’s question earlier, regarding men not being welcome. She caught Jess’s eye. “And I take it, only by the hesitance in your answer and the tone of your voice right now, this was a good thing, then.”
Jess bobbed her head merrily. “Damn right it was. Best damn thing to ever happen to me and my girls. That man was the epitome of wickedness. A real-life revolting, obnoxious, hateful, self-serving asshole. He treated me like shit for years and, for whatever reason, treated the girls even worse, except Alex, though—she was always his favorite. He didn’t bother Mack too much, either, especially after she got older. She was oblivious to him and able to fight him off.” She paused hesitantly. “Unfortunately, that left my youngest in the worst position. If Alex was the object of his affection, my youngest was most definitely the object of his aggression.”
Michelle’s face went a shade of pale. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Jess.”
&n
bsp; “Well, he’s gone now, and we’re doing just fine without him. That’s all that matters.”
“You’re right about that,” Michelle said. “You know, Jess, I don’t know why you’re being so forthcoming. Especially with someone you just met.”
Jess shrugged. “Can you think of a reason I shouldn’t be? You did bring my kid back to me, you know. I think that merits some benefit of the doubt.” Jess motioned for Michelle to follow her, dismissing the topic. “Come with me. If you think what you’ve seen so far is something, wait until you see what I have out back.”
Michelle’s eyes grew wide as she absorbed the view after stepping foot into Jess’s backyard, where even more gardens appeared before her. The plants there grew tall and wide and flourished, mostly in raised beds appearing to have been carved and crafted by hand.
Michelle ran her fingers through her hair, a feeling of awe mixed with envy befalling her. “This is beautiful…and almost unbelievable. It’s like I just walked into the Garden of Eden.”
“I take it you approve?”
Michelle only nodded, her words escaping her.
“Well, that makes two of us. It’s a lot of work to keep them looking like this. It took time to learn the proper places to put them all, some plants don’t like to be too close to others. But some prefer it, you just have to figure out which ones.” She exhaled and placed her hands on her hips. “It’s a real work of art—it’s a shame only half of it is edible.”
Michelle awoke from her daze. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Jess angled her head while one of her eyes squinted and gleamed. She walked over to a garden nearest the house, pointing her finger to one of the plants. “Know what this is?”
Michelle shook her head.
“Hemlock,” Jess said, and pointed her finger to several others. “Over here we have belladonna, or deadly nightshade, and that over there is foxglove.”
“Foxglove?” retorted Michelle. “Isn’t that poisonous?”
Jess smiled proudly. “Oh, it’s lethal. In fact, most everything you see in these beds is deadly. If you really want to get extravagant, I have a ton of English yew growing over near the forest edge.”
What's Left of My World (Book 3): We Won't Go Quietly Page 12