by Gerri Hill
“So…I’ll take you to your room if you like.” The woman—Erin—turned, and Melanie was shocked to see her blinking back tears. She set the bags down. “Are you okay?” she asked gently.
Erin cleared her throat before speaking. “Out of my element, I’m afraid.” She wiped at a tear, embarrassment showing on her face. “I… Thank you for the coffee. I’m sorry I was so abrupt earlier.”
Melanie raised her eyebrows. “Caffeine addiction?”
She nodded. “Besides coffee, I’m used to downing half a dozen Red Bulls a day.” Then Erin paused. “Do you know what Red Bull is?”
Melanie laughed and picked up the bags again. “Yes. We’re not completely cut off from the world out here. It’s a disgusting tasting energy drink that I used to drink myself. You won’t need that here. If you’re tired, go to bed. Take a nap. Sleep in the hammock.”
She went into the small bedroom and put the bags on the bed. When she turned, Erin was standing in the doorway.
“It’s small, I’m afraid,” she apologized. “But there’s a private bath.” She opened the door. “Shower only, but private.”
Erin glanced into the bathroom and nodded, but said nothing.
“I’ll bring in your other bag.”
“I can get it.”
They stood there looking at each other in silence, then Melanie moved to walk past her. “I understand you didn’t get breakfast. I can scramble some eggs for you if you’d like.”
“Actually, that would be wonderful, if you don’t mind. I didn’t eat much dinner last night.” Erin moved the hair out of her eyes with a sigh. “I don’t normally eat much anyway, but I usually have other things to occupy…”
“Other things?”
“Nothing.”
Back in the kitchen, Melanie poured herself a cup of coffee. “I try to be accommodating regarding meals. Is there something you like more than others? Potatoes more than rice? Beans or tofu? Certain vegetables you don’t like?”
“I like my steak medium rare. That’s about the only way I eat beef. Or the occasional hamburger. I really prefer chicken.”
Melanie’s eyes widened. “What?”
A ghost of a smile touched Erin’s face. “Kidding. Stella informed me that wasn’t going to happen. You’re a compassionate group out here.”
“Are you saying you didn’t know you’d be fed vegetarian fare?”
“I’m saying I didn’t know a lot of things before I got here.”
Melanie took a sip of coffee, then took the pan out of the drain, the pan that she’d used that morning for her own breakfast. She didn’t know whether she should come right out and ask the woman why she was here or just pretend it was a normal situation. Because normal, it was not. Her usual guests were brimming with enthusiasm, barely wanting to take the time for chitchat in their haste to get outside and experience the solitude—the quiet—the peacefulness of this river valley.
Before she could ask, though, Erin went out to the porch to retrieve her remaining bag, and she took it silently into the bedroom. With a shrug, Melanie cracked two eggs into the pan, then took the lid off the soup and stirred it, then turned it off. She’d let it sit, undisturbed until lunchtime. The flavors would have ample time to mesh by then.
The scrambled eggs seemed like a meager offering, so she took out the masa and made a corn tortilla, flattening the dough ball in her press before heating it on the cast iron griddle she always used for her tortillas. She put the eggs inside and added a dollop of the green salsa she’d made two days ago. She hoped it wasn’t too spicy for Erin. Not everyone liked things as hot as she did. She was about to take it into the bedroom but decided she didn’t want to start that habit.
“Breakfast is ready,” she called, placing the plate on the bar. “I’ll be out in the garden if you need something.”
She went out the kitchen door without waiting. She didn’t like her space to be invaded in the first place. Hosting a guest was something she only tolerated, much like Stella’s monthly dinners. Having a guest who wasn’t overly friendly or enthused about being there would make for a dreadful experience, no doubt. Especially if she had…well…emotional issues.
She had a fear that Erin Ryder was going to expect to be entertained. Melanie had no plans to do any such thing. As far as she was concerned, the woman could sit in her room all day, bored to tears, if that was what she wanted.
Chapter Nine
Erin devoured the taco, the green sauce nice and spicy. She’d seen the chickens outside earlier and assumed that’s where breakfast had come from. She didn’t know the first thing about chickens or egg laying and she had no desire to learn. She took her plate to the sink and set it inside, wondering if she should wash it or not. The pan that Melanie had used was soaking in the sink and she simply put her plate on top of it.
She stood there at the window looking outside. It was only then—when she heard a bird singing—that it registered that the window was open. She glanced around, noting all the windows were open, letting in a gentle breeze from the outside. She also noted there were no curtains on the windows. She assumed there was no air conditioning and she wondered how hot it got inside the house during the summer. Of course, it was already June and it was still very pleasant. When she’d left Houston, it had been hot and humid, feeling like mid-summer. Up here though, the air was dry and much cooler.
She caught a glimpse of Melanie in what she assumed was her vegetable garden. She was pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with straw or something. Erin turned away from the window with a sigh and went back into her bedroom. It was smaller than the one at Rachel’s, but at least she had her own bathroom. The room was…neutral, she thought. The bedspread was a brown and beige checked pattern, the curtains a light brown, the rug a darker brown. There was even a dark brown throw pillow on the bed. She wondered if this room had curtains—as opposed to the rest of the house—because it’s where guests stayed. She sat on the edge of the bed, also wondering what in the hell she was going to do for the rest of the day.
That thought struck her as funny. Rest of the day? What about the rest of the week…the month?
She closed her eyes and lay back. At least she was away from Rachel and her knitting needles. Melanie seemed…well, normal. If you could call it normal to live out here, that is. She seemed close to her own age, maybe a little older. That was a plus although she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she was trying to make friends with these people.
And she was cute. Surprisingly so. Why would someone like her—attractive, normal—be living out here, with all these elderly women, away from everything? Away from people?
She got fully on the bed and rested her head on a pillow, suddenly feeling tired. At least her headache had subsided. It was now just a dull ache, not the pounding that was threatening to split her head in two earlier.
Chapter Ten
Melanie finished off her bowl of soup, wondering if she should wake her guest or let her sleep. She normally ate her lunch between noon and one, not being a stickler for time, really. She’d been afraid Erin would be hungry so she’d come in promptly at noon to reheat the soup and was surprised to find her sound asleep. She’d been curled on her side, clutching a pillow in her arms. She wondered if the tightly held pillow offered her some comfort. She watched her through the open door for a bit, again having a sense of déjà vu. She could picture herself in that bed so easily. She wondered what troubles Erin was dealing with. She’d finally eased the bedroom door closed and gone back outside for another hour, continuing with her chore of piling pine needles around the tomato plants. That was one thing on her list to accomplish before the rains came. One of the compost piles was ready too. She’d tend to the peppers and beans tomorrow, heaping mounds of compost around them before topping with pine needles.
She let out a weary breath. There was a never-ending list, it seemed. Funny how it seemed to repeat itself each year, she thought wryly. Oh, she didn’t really mind the chores. It kept her busy. Kept her focused. K
ept her fed too. The days, the weeks, the months…and yes, the years still ticked by, though. Hard to believe she’d been out here seven years already. She was a seasoned veteran now. Back that first summer—it was a miracle she’d survived. She knew next to nothing about gardening. Thankfully, Stella and the others had been willing teachers. That…and the Internet. She didn’t want to brag, but she was damn near an expert organic gardener now. And now, it was she who the others called when they had pest problems or yellow spots on their tomatoes or wilt on the squash blooms or aphids on the strawberries or worms on their young cabbage plants.
Speaking of strawberries, she’d picked a bucketful that morning. Instead of freezing them, she’d kept them out, thinking she might make a pie or a cobbler for her guest. Now that she’d actually met her guest—Erin—she doubted she’d be appreciative of a homemade dessert. Oh, well. She wouldn’t mind a strawberry pie herself. Why else did she plant them each year if not to indulge?
She put her bowl in the sink and filled it with water, then, after pausing to stare at the closed bedroom door again, she went to her desk in the far corner of the living room and pulled out a notepad, scribbling a quick note. She left it on the bar, then with another glance at the door, she shrugged and went back outside.
* * *
Erin woke with a start, disoriented for a moment. What time was it? She rolled over, not finding a clock on the nightstand beside the bed. She didn’t wear a watch; she relied on her phone for that information. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, noting the sun still high in the sky as it shined into the bedroom window. She peeked out, seeing Melanie out in the garden. God, what could she possibly be doing out there for this long?
She went into the bathroom and washed her face. Her headache seemed to have returned and she stared at herself in the mirror, wondering when—if—she’d ever look like herself again. Her father had been right. They didn’t recognize her. She didn’t even recognize her.
She’d lost weight in the last year, but she hadn’t bothered getting new clothes. The shirt she wore now, the slacks, they both swallowed her. She ran a hand through her hair, hair that was much longer than she normally kept it. Longer because—in the last year—she hadn’t bothered to get it cut or keep it styled. She hadn’t bothered with a lot of things. It was like she’d stopped caring what she looked like. Sarah wasn’t around anymore. What was the point? The time and energy she’d spent on Sarah… Well, she had to focus on something else, something other than the fact that Sarah had left her. The job. She’d had only one thing on her mind—the job. Only one thing that she took the time for. Building and selling houses. Nothing else. Not her appearance, not her health. The job. And now the ten projects she’d been juggling for Ryder Construction were being handled by her father, a man who’d been out of the project management business for four years.
She could only imagine the mess he’d make of things. And when she got back, she’d have to work overtime to straighten it out. Three months? She supposed he couldn’t screw up too much in three months. Of course, it remained to be seen if she’d have any contractors left who would work for her.
With a heavy sigh, she turned away from the mirror and her hollow eyes. She was supposed to forget about work for a while, wasn’t she? She was supposed to waste away here for three long months, doing absolutely nothing.
God. She’d be batshit crazy by the time Joyce picked her up again. With another deep sigh, she went out into the living room, spying a piece of paper on the bar. She walked over to it, eyebrows raised.
“Help yourself to soup.”
“Soup?” she asked dryly, a bit disinterested.
But she was hungry. She lifted the lid on the pot, bending down to sniff. It smelled good enough. She filled the bowl that had been left on the counter and took it to the bar. It actually was pretty good. She poked around the stuff, finding potatoes and carrots, squash…broccoli. She pushed the broccoli aside, then scooped it up anyway, surprised that she liked it. She wasn’t really much of a vegetable eater. She mentally rolled her eyes. In the last year, she hadn’t been much of an eater, period. Takeout, when she thought to stop on her way home. Pizza delivery some nights. Not much else. Well, other than her nightly cocktails. Joyce had guessed right, though. She was going to have a much harder time weaning herself off caffeine than booze. She glanced at the coffeepot, but it was empty, clean.
She ate mindlessly as she looked around. It was a simple house, nothing fancy. Guessing at the square footage, she’d say a thousand, maybe a little more. The living room and kitchen were combined in the main part of the house. The door at the opposite end must be Melanie’s bedroom. There wasn’t another door so she guessed she had a private bath in there. The outside-facing walls were logs, surprising her. When they’d first driven up, she assumed it was log siding, not actual logs. It was kinda rustic and homey…if you liked that sort of thing.
She let her spoon clank into the bowl, surprised that it was empty. Without much thought, she went to the pot and picked up the ladle, scooping another helping of soup into her bowl. She leaned against the counter to eat, her gaze landing on a desk. A desk and a laptop. Her eyes widened. Melanie had set up their website, Stella had said. Melanie must have Internet then.
She quickly finished her soup and put the bowl in the sink, then hurried to her room. She dug her phone out of one of her bags, going quickly to the settings. Yes, there was Wi-Fi available. Her excitement tempered a bit as a password was required. She looked out the window, seeing Melanie petting a goat.
A goat?
She moved to the window, calling out.
“Hey…Mel.” She held up her phone. “I need the Wi-Fi password.”
Melanie walked closer to the house, then shook her head.
“No. Sorry. Can’t.”
“What? Why not?”
“Rules.”
“Rules?”
“Stella’s rules.” Melanie turned to go, walking toward a shed of some sort.
“Wait! She’s not going to know if you give me the password.”
“I’ll know.”
“What? No. Wait.”
But Melanie ignored her, disappearing inside the shed. Erin rubbed her forehead, hoping to ward off the fast approaching headache. Rules? She tossed her phone on the bed, then went outside, using the kitchen door instead of the front. She was immediately surrounded by clucking chickens, one of which pecked at her leather shoe.
Do chickens bite?
She stood completely still, wondering if she should make a run for the shed Melanie had disappeared into or take cover back in the house. The shed was closer, but the door was closed. What if it was locked? What if the chickens attacked?
She was butted from the back and the scream was out before she could stop it. The chickens scattered as she lurched forward. With her heart hammering in her chest, she spun around, finding a goat—a gray and white floppy-eared goat—staring at her, its nose wiggling as if trying to decide if she was friend or foe.
“Do not…attack me,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Rosie—leave her alone.”
Erin held her hands up. “Will it bite?”
“She’ll eat the shirt off your back if you let her.” Melanie walked over and rubbed the goat’s face. “Go on, Rosie.”
“Do…do the chickens bite? I thought they were about to attack me.”
Melanie smiled and took a straw cowboy hat off her head. “They’re looking for a handout, that’s all. I take it you’ve never been on a farm before.” Her fingers brushed the blond hair away from her face.
“No. City girl. I never even had a pet.” She relaxed a little as the goat—Rosie—wandered off. “So…no Internet? Really?”
“Afraid so. The website makes it very plain. No cell phones, no Internet, no TV at most of the houses.” She tilted her head, studying her. “You did see all that, right? On the website?”
“I did not. My…my sister arranged all of this. And as soon as I see her again, I’m go
ing to kill her.”
Melanie laughed appropriately, assuming she was joking. At that moment, she wasn’t sure if she was or not.
“It’s not so bad. It’s very freeing, really.”
“How do you even know what’s going on in the world?”
Melanie shrugged. “Mostly don’t care.” She held up an empty bucket. “I’m about to pick green beans. You want to help?”
“Pick green beans? What does that entail?”
“You bend over and pick the ones that are ready.” Then Melanie nodded. “Ah—city girl. You’ve never seen a garden before, have you?”
“About the closest I’ve come to a garden is the produce section at Whole Foods.” Erin shoved her hands into her pockets. Back when she used to shop with Sarah, that is. Back when they used to be happy and would enjoy staying in and cooking together. Back when things were normal in her life. How long had it been since Sarah had left her? More than a year. It was right after Christmas. Damn. A year and a half already. Seemed like yesterday. No… Seemed like a decade ago.
“So…no on the green beans then?”
Erin looked at her thoughtfully. “I’ll trade you green bean picking for the Wi-Fi password.”
Melanie gave her a half smile. “I can manage on my own then, thanks. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”
She walked off without another word, and Erin watched her for a moment as Mel plopped the hat back on her head. She turned, seeing movement by a tree. There was a red glass…thing hanging there. Tiny birds buzzed around it and she smiled. Hummingbirds. Had she ever seen a real live hummingbird before? She watched for a few moments as four or five fought for a spot at the feeder. Then she let out a deep breath and made her way back into the house. Once inside, she realized she hadn’t thanked Melanie for lunch. Or breakfast, for that matter. Where were her manners?