by Jackie Zack
Kory frowned at the floor. He glanced at her, his pained expression lightened. “That would be difficult to put up with.”
“Aye, especially after…” Why’d she let that slip? No reason to bother him with it. She sighed and tapped her fingernails on the armrest.
Kory chewed a bite of teacake for a while, with a solemn-eyed expression. “After…?”
“Oh, nothing important. Don’t want to get into all that right now.”
“About your ex?”
“You’re pretty smart, ya know. At least with—some things.” Ah. Puke. She didn’t know when to shut up.
He smiled for a short second. “Thanks…I think.”
The microwave howled like an air-raid warning. Kory looked at her with a should-I-be-worried expression of troubled eyes and wrinkled forehead.
“Don’t worry. The popty ping is only letting you know about the fry-up.”
He started to say something then paused. She could almost see his thoughts bumping around in his brain.
“The microwave. Your dinner is ready.”
“Right.” He pointed the direction of the kitchen, then headed off.
Griff hopped up into her lap, bumping her sore leg. Ouch! She held her breath and then puffed air until the spike of pain lessened. No way could she eat anymore of the teacake.
“Here you go, poppet.” She gave him a piece.
Griff all but smiled and set in on the morsel.
Dafina’s only thought was to help the foreigner, and it was a good thing she did, but should she confide in him? What would he think of her trouble? Would he care enough to help? Maybe.
A guilty notion threatened. She’d planned this all along only to secure his help. No, really she didn’t. Why did her conscience rear its ugly head and make her miserable at the most inopportune times?
Kory grabbed a hot pad and pulled a molten hot plastic container out of the microwave and knocked off the lid. Steam shot out. The aroma made his mouth water, making him realize again how starved he was. But he needed to let it cool off for a few minutes.
To get his mind off the food, he looked out the kitchen window that faced the road. The goat was still out there. It had moved away from the grass and chewed on an orange flower.
Kory assumed that living away from a city only gave one rest and relaxation. Dafina didn’t seem to get much of that, especially today. The way that he’d added to her trouble made him sick. He wouldn’t be surprised if she worried what she was going to do with him. Probably even fretted if she could trust him.
She had enough problems with that Hoover guy. He glanced out the side widow by the table. A murky yellow house peeked out from behind some trees. At least it was a good distance, maybe a thirty yard dash away. Hopefully the Hoover guy was big like Pops. Then at least the distance would take him longer to traverse and give her a heads up that bad stuff was on its way.
A reflected light caught his attention from the road. Two bike riders headed toward the dirt path. He was sure they were the same two guys, but they headed in the same direction as before. That meant that they had to have doubled back the other direction when he was busy with Dafina. Oh, God, they are after me. The rest of his prayer evaporated as fear clutched his heart.
The riders slowed and stopped at Dafina’s driveway. The shorter guy motioned as he talked to his buddy. They turned to look toward the drive and the house. Kory stepped to the side of the window by the curtain, still keeping one eye on them.
The two left their bikes by the road and started walking up the drive. The taller one abruptly stopped and stuck his arm to keep the other from proceeding.
“Kory, you okay in there?” Dafina called.
He hurried in a bent over fashion to the hall. “Shsh! The guys are on your drive. The ones following me.” He said the words so softly that he feared she wouldn’t hear them.
“Oh, no. What—”
“Wait.” He headed back to the window.
The two had resumed walking, eyes resolved, jaws set in determination. Suddenly they stopped. Green Laces and Short Guy backed up with bugged out eyes. Then Kory saw the reason. The goat was preparing to charge them, pawing the ground with a hoof. The men turned tail and scurried to their bikes. The goat charged after them all the way to the road then abruptly stopped with legs poised to rush at them again.
In one quick move, the men picked up their bikes, turned them the opposite direction, and headed down the paved road toward civilization. Somehow it did Kory good to see them afraid of the goat. They were ordinary guys not willing to face the nubby-horned confrontation. They didn’t pull out guns or knives, definitely a plus. And they didn’t beat the goat to a pulp with their bare hands. Another gold star for them.
Why did Kory worry about them anyway? The whole thing had to be a coincidence or a misunderstanding. Surely, more than one man on the face of the earth had green shoelaces.
Even so, he would keep an eye out for them. And right now, he felt he had the upper hand. The two didn’t know that he knew they followed him. Plus they had no way to detect his whereabouts with the bike hidden in Dafina’s storage shed. They’d give up and find something else to do.
He picked up his dinner and found a fork from the last drawer he tried. He didn’t want to sit at the table next to Pops.
“Kooorrry.” The whisper sounded like it was right next to him, sending a shiver over his upper body. His name ushered forth from some unknown spirit. “Is everything okay?”
Only Dafina. He headed toward her. Seeing her concerned expression, he realized he should’ve told her right away that the two strangers had been scared off.
“I wish you could’ve seen it. The goat—”
Her eyes brightened then gleamed. “Chased them away, did he?”
“Did he ever! You might consider buying him from…” He didn’t bother finishing his sentence. Her dark look could’ve won superiority over Sundae’s facial expressions of deepest angst. What was it with him that he always had the knack of gleaning cold eyed, frowning faces from the female gender? Wake up, Kory. He glanced at her ankle. “Oh yeah, right. You don’t get along with—”
“The mucky beast. You’ve got that right. I never did learn how to get on his good side.” She glanced at the container in his hand. “’Ave a seat.”
He sat next to her in the candy cane chair with the scratchy yarn blanket, half closed his eyes briefly with a prayer, so quickly she wouldn’t notice, then he took a bite. The savory taste of meat made his mouth water all the more. But it was still too hot! He thrashed it back and forth over new parts of his tongue and cheek that hadn’t been burned yet, while taking in a big breath, hoping to cool it down. He glanced at the table by her chair. The Unseen glared back at him. Revulsion tightened his gut. He couldn’t let Dafina read it. But first he must keep his focus on putting out the fire in his mouth. He took a gulp of water, tricking himself that his eyes didn’t shed tears.
The heat dissipated. Could he smuggle the book out of her home somehow? Why did the thought of her reading it bother him so much? He stirred the food in an effort to cool it.
“Taste okay?” she asked.
“It’s great—just letting it cool.”
She smiled with half-lidded eyes and must’ve caught his glance toward the novel. She patted it. “Hey, I’m enjoying the book so far, and I haven’t run into any butler yet.”
“Oh, yeah, that—”
“Is there a butler?”
He rolled his eyes to the left and thought. A creative answer, where was it?
“I take it by your silence that you aren’t going to tell me.”
Sure that his grin turned sheepish, he gave no explanation. He took a bite of the roasted beef. The dinner had to be planned by heaven. The flavorful juices brought his appetite back to full life. He chewed and swallowed.
“Dafina, I…” How could he put it into words? Here he was a writer, yet fumbled with communication. “My gut…”
Her glance swept to his belly
which didn’t help matters. Not that he had any accumulation of fat there. If anything her eyes showed appreciation.
He continued, “feeling is that it pains me…”
Her eyebrows lifted in questioning doubt, a smirk playing with her lips.
“…for you to have all that bad gunk stuck in your mind. Once you read something it can stay with you forever.”
“I’ve read books that I can’t remember a thing. Not a character’s name, any sort of scene or plot. Just gone.”
“True.” So true. How could he say what he wanted without sounding the egotistical clod? “But thing is,” he squinted from inner pain, “that we’ve met, and you might attach some sort of emotion to the book, so you’d remember. How about reading one of my other books instead?” Anything, but that one. He’d have to sneak it out or at least carefully rip out some sections. Maybe she wouldn’t notice if he could get the pages out clean enough.
“Oh, you worry too much.” She waved a delicate hand through the air. “I’m not a child.”
He stared. How old was she? Time or age didn’t seem to have a hold on her.
“I’m twenty-seven.” Her eyes regarded him. “Old enough, wouldn’t you say.”
“Quite.” He glanced away from her piercing expression and landed on the angel with the sword. His immediate response came in the form of squirming in his chair. Absentmindedly he placed a forkful of cabbage and potato in his mouth. Wonderful in its simplicity.
Simplicity. Wasn’t that what was missing in his life and what he really needed?
“Now then…” she said.
He returned his gaze toward her. What? A piece of cabbage slipped out of his mouth and plopped into the plastic container.
“I don’t think you’ll have enough time to make it to the next village or back to town.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can ride the bike all night if I have to.” His one foot took off and almost kicked him in the calf. Not only did his legs complain, but his heart did as well. He was bushed.
“With those darrens out there?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. How could I live with my conscience? I have a guest room that—”
“That’s so kind of you, but I can’t bother y—”
“It’s no problem, really.” Her eyes pleaded. She slipped her foot off the stool and wiggled her body out of the chair.
“You shouldn’t put much pressure—what do you want? I’ll get it for you.” He set his dinner on a side table.
She shook her head. “Have to go to the powder-room.”
He helped her up and walked with her down a dark hall, supporting her. She thanked him and disappeared into the bathroom.
Stepping back to the living area, he grabbed the container of food and ate his dinner at a quick pace while looking out on the backyard. The stone house piqued his curiosity. Although old, it looked kept up with glass windows and even curtains. The flower garden around it gave the scene a fairy tale appearance. A gazing ball perched on a wrought iron post of vines and leaves. He chugged down the water and ate another teacake, feeling grateful.
Oh, good grief! The book. What must he do? It wouldn’t be right to take it. He grabbed his backpack which he’d deposited beside the candy cane chair. He unzipped it and pulled out a pen. He could hastily mark out some of the sections that she’d get to first and worry about the rest later.
The sound of running water through pipes told him she’d be coming out the door any minute.
Chapter 6
Kory focused on the book, wishing to extinguish the foul matter with a super power of laser eyes. He took a step toward the table. Muffled sounds from the hallway door met his ears. Stifling a groan, he tossed the pen at his backpack and headed toward the hall to help Dafina return to her chair. Griff joined Kory as he passed the kitchen entrance.
The bathroom door opened and Dafina peered out. “Thank you for helping me.”
“It’s not a problem.”
She directed her attention to Griff. “I don’t feel a bit good, poppet.”
The dog made a move to jump up on her leg.
“No, no, no!” She moved her hurt ankle behind her.
Griff whined and disappeared into a side room.
“It’s okay,” she called after him. “Poor thing. I don’t know who his first owner was…but…”
Kory knew what she meant. Griff’s first owner had been mean to him. “What kind of dog is he? I’ve never seen one like him.”
“Really, now? He’s a Welsh corgi. Have you noticed that he doesn’t bark? And corgis are supposed to bark.”
“Oh, I—”
A loud rap sounded at the door, sending an adrenalin rush through Kory. Had the two men returned?
“Who could that be?” Irritation sounded in Dafina’s voice. She glanced in his direction and must’ve read his mind. An expression of understanding passed over her face. Her lips pressed together as if summoning her inner fortitude. Maybe even a touch of anger as she clenched her jaw. “Listen, I’ll check who it is. I’ll be able to see them, but I don’t think they will be able to see me. If it’s two men—”
“If it’s them, don’t answer the door,” he whispered in haste. He hated how cowardly his words sounded, but he couldn’t risk Dafina getting caught in whatever trouble followed him.
“Right.” Her eyes narrowed. She peeked around the corner. Her shoulders relaxed and she motioned for him to help her to the door. “You’re in luck, Kory Slate. It’s Hoover.”
He took in a breath, inadvertently expanding his chest. The man’s name brought a primal feeling of protecting one’s own upon him. As he supported her to the door, he hoped to get a glimpse of the man through the door window, but no luck.
Dafina opened the door, and he stepped beside her still holding her hand. His forearm braced hers to help alleviate pressure on her right leg.
Hoover must’ve knocked on the door then stepped off the porch. He stood on the path, holding a leash attached to a harness on the goat. Low rays of evening sunlight streamed across Hoover’s muscular figure. A breeze wafted his shoulder length, sun-bleached hair away from his handsome, chiseled face. Kory hated to admit that the man’s physic was near perfect with a wide, muscled chest. His white shirt strained across his tan body. Hoover could be a model on the cover of bodice-ripper books, either that, or a spokesman for a butter commercial.
Kory choked on his own spit and clamped a hand to his mouth as he coughed. Dafina rejected his attention? Holey Moley.
“Dafina, I’m sorry about Biggins getting loose—again.” Hoover’s high nasal voice sent Kory into another fit of coughing.
You’ve got to be kidding.
“Do I owe you money for anything he’s eaten?” The Greek god with a woman’s voice turned his attention to Kory and then back to Dafina. “Who’s that guy?”
“I—I uh—” Kory cleared his throat.
“No need to explain, darling,” Dafina whispered in Kory’s direction, loud enough for Hoover to hear. She lifted her voice. “Don’t worry about it for now.”
“Is he your husband? Finally get done reading the paper?”
“Well, bye.” She waved and moved to close the door.
“Cheerio.” Hoover waved and smiled. Whoa. He was in need of a good session of teeth whitening.
As Kory helped her to the living room she exclaimed, “Well, I guess you can see why Hoover isn’t my type.”
“Oh—yeah.” He nodded in earnest. But in every truthfulness, all the guy needed was a good woman who would order him to the dentist, buy the right toothpaste, and send him to a speech therapist.
“I don’t go for those body-builder types.” Dafina shrugged.
****
Kory unlocked the door to the stone house on Dafina’s property, thankful that spending the night in the old dwelling was an option. She’d tried to sway him into using her guestroom with concerns of comfort. But once she’d mentioned the place that she hoped to use as a bread and breakfast, it cinched the deal. To giv
e her satisfaction, he flipped a coin to make the choice. Heads it was.
As he opened the creaking door, he half expected a wild animal to jump at him. Nothing, not even a moth. The heavily plastered walls were white with dark support beams. A stone hearth owned its spot as the main focal point, majestic in proportions taking up most of wall to the left. A colorful knobby rug sat on the wooden floor. The building housed only one room except for the bathroom that hid behind a dwarfed door off to the right. He’d have to be careful or he’d clunk his head on the way in and out.
She’d warned him it would be a lot like camping with no bed or electricity. If he became cold, he’d have to start a fire in the fireplace. Considering the pillow and all the blankets she’d made him take, he’d be fine. It was only midsummer after all.
He plunked the blankets down on the green, blue, and red spotted rug, and sat at the old metal kitchen table on a matching chair—an easy choice—the only furniture in the place. He opened his backpack and pulled out the horrible book he’d written. Might be easy enough to tear out the most offending pages. Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice. Her bookmark designed with a corgi puppy caught his heart. Sweet, innocent.
Thankfully, she’d not had any desire to read and only wanted help walking to her bedroom. He’d wished her goodnight and lifted the book on the way out. Feeling a tad guilty, he assured himself there was no other way.
Was it possible he worried too much? Upon reaching certain sections, wouldn’t she toss the book aside and forget it? No…she’d read it. Then judge him with great disappointment. He couldn’t take out everything, just the very worst.
Sunlight waned from the back windows. He’d have to work by candle light if he couldn’t get the task completed quick enough. He glanced at the fireplace mantle where several pillar candles stood next to a box of matches. So he wouldn’t have to do it later, he lit one and set it on the table.