by Nance Sparks
Carol forced a tiny smile before accepting the offer. Her eyes still brimmed with tears that threatened to spill over. Her chin quivered in an attempt to maintain control. Aren simply smiled with understanding, still unsure how to comfort her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t stay for coffee that night. You were so kind to offer, so kind to share your evening and the campfire. I’m embarrassed for my behavior, taking off like that.” Carol shrugged slightly. “My aunt had me a little off balance that night and when I saw your knife, I sort of freaked out.”
The cows bellowed out again, this time in unison. Aren had an idea what Carol’s aunt might have shared that had her nervous and she tried to stifle a sigh. She was glad that Carol came back by despite the rumors.
“Come on, let’s find you a chair to sit in so I can get these cows to stop their belly aching. Then I’ll take you up to the loft.”
Carol sat with her leg propped up and watched with a curious expression as Aren milked the two cows.
“Doesn’t that hurt them?” she asked.
“It’d hurt them if I didn’t do it.” Aren laughed. “The milk is produced regardless of how full they become. Eventually, their body would stop the production, but not before their udders would be filled to a painfully tight capacity.”
“It just looks like that would hurt. Isn’t there a machine that does that? I saw it on some ‘Got Milk’ ad somewhere. What on earth do you do with all that milk?”
Aren dropped into the usual rhythm.
“Yes, there is a machine, but I prefer to milk them by hand. It takes longer to clean the machine after each milking than it does just to do it this way. Some of the milk is used to feed other animals here, and some I get to use for cheese, butter, and to drink.” Aren wondered if it made her sound like some kind of crazy backwoods person, but Carol looked interested rather than judgmental.
Carol continued to rattle off questions, often quicker than Aren could answer. After the cows were milked, Carol watched the rest of the feed chore ritual. More questions were shot off at a rapid-fire pace, and Aren tried her best to answer them all. She realized after a while that maybe this was Carol’s way of not having to think about the heap of lumber across the street or the two lives it had claimed.
Chapter Eight
“Okay, now you’re going to have to hop. I’ll stay on your good side. You grab a hold of the rail over there. You can use it as a crutch. We’ll take this one step at a time.”
Carol’s leg was already throbbing. The large plaster cast was heavy and difficult to suspend in the air. It had been a long day and she was exhausted, both physically and mentally.
“I’m too much trouble. Honestly, if I could just call a cab and go to a hotel.”
“You could call a cab, if I had a phone. You could go to a hotel, if you had your ID and money. But you don’t and you’re here. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go tomorrow. I’ll get you a hotel room tomorrow if that’s what you want, but it’s already too dark outside to do anything tonight. Now come on, one, two, three, hop,” Aren said, helping Carol up the first step.
Carol’s muscles were weak from supporting the heavy cast, affording her little control of her leg. The momentum of the hop swung the cast forward, smacking her toes into the back of the wood step. She cried out loudly, pain shooting up and down her leg.
“Okay, enough of this. Put your right arm around my shoulders.”
“What are you going to—holy shit!” Carol felt her feet leave the ground. The next thing she knew, she was cradled in Aren’s arms. Too tired to protest, Carol held on and rested her head against Aren’s neck.
“I carried you once. I can certainly do it again.”
Carol felt helpless, yet oddly safe in Aren’s arms. Her back to the risers, Carol watched stair treads appear below as they ascended to the top. Aren gently set Carol back onto her good leg and handed her the crutches that she’d propped next to the railing. The loft was dark and somewhat eerie to Carol.
“Hang on, I’ll switch on a light so you don’t trip in the main aisle,” Aren said before disappearing into the shadows.
Carol inhaled deeply, “It smells like grass, fresh cut grass.” Lights clicked on, illuminating the vast space. “You sleep in the hay?”
“Nah, it’s impossible to get out of my hair. Come on through here. My home is in the back.” Aren guided her into the living area.
Carol looked around the loft. Neatly stacked hay lined each sidewall for about two thirds of the length of the loft. Bridles hung on hooks by the stairway, as did rope and other supplies that would be needed on a farm. The thought of Aren living up here confused her.
“You mean to tell me that you own this entire farm and you live up here, like a hired farmhand?” Carol continued to look around the space.
“Hey now, be nice to the hostess. Carol, welcome to my home. I like it up here. What do I need with a big ol’ house like that to keep up? Besides, I like the hay and the loft doors and the openness.”
“What are those, bear rugs?” Carol asked. She stood next to Aren, taking in the space.
“They’re steer hides that I’ve tanned over the years. It helps to keep the draft out in the wintertime and the heat at bay in the summer,” Aren answered. “Do you eat meat?”
“Yeah, I do as long as we don’t have to kill it first.”
Aren chuckled, pulling bowls off a shelf. But Carol noticed that Aren didn’t say she didn’t have to kill her own food.
“Can I help with anything?”
“You can sit down at the table and prop up that leg. I threw together a stew this morning so I wouldn’t have to cook tonight, given that it’s market day and all. I have some crackers and butter we can have with it.”
Aren placed two bowls of stew on the table. Carol watched Aren rummage through the shelves in the kitchen area for the box of crackers.
“Well, I thought I had crackers around here somewhere.” She sighed.
“The stew is perfect. Please, sit down and eat. I feel bad invading your space like this.”
“How about something to drink? I have iced tea, water, and fresh milk,” Aren said, pulling two glasses off a shelf.
“I’ve never had fresh milk. What’s it taste like?” Carol asked, genuinely curious.
Aren stood there with a perplexed look on her face. “Well, I guess it tastes like store milk, only fresher. I’ll pour you a glass and if you don’t like it I can get you something else. How’s that?”
“Okay,” she answered sheepishly. “Aren, listen, I’m sorry to be such a pain, but—” Carol began.
“Carol, please stop apologizing. I don’t do anything that I don’t want to do, believe me. I wouldn’t have made the offer if I hadn’t meant to. I’m glad you came by. I was wondering what happened to all of you just this evening when I pulled in the driveway—”
Carol held her hand up in a stop gesture.
“What?”
“I just needed to know where the bathroom is. I have to, you know, pee,” Carol said, her face heating with embarrassment.
The statement brought an eruption of laughter from Aren.
“Don’t make me laugh. I do really have to go.” Carol dropped her crutch on the floor while attempting to stand.
Aren ran from the back side of the kitchen counter to assist. She picked the fallen crutch off the floor, then held the crutches out for Carol. Aren guided her toward the bathroom. Carol was surprised by how attentive Aren was. Surely this wasn’t the demeanor of a killer?
“I was tempted to tell you that the outhouse was downstairs and out the back of the barn,” Aren said between giggling fits.
Carol began to giggle too, all the while hopping furiously to the bathroom. She darted behind the door, closing it quickly behind her. The crutch caught on a small rug in front of the sink, falling to the floor with a loud thud. Carol caught her balance using the sink for support.
“You almost had to loan me dry clothes, but lucky for you, I made it!”
Once they were finished eating and the dishes were washed, Aren pulled a camp stove from somewhere beneath the counter. She lit the burner, then set a camping coffee pot on top of the flame. The moment it started percolating, Carol inhaled deeply. She loved the smell of coffee brewing.
“No coffee in the hospital?”
Carol opened her eyes and looked up. “Oh, they said they had coffee, but I tell you, it was the most deplorable tasting stuff I’ve ever had to endure, and only decaffeinated at that!” The simple surface conversation helped relax her shoulders a little. She didn’t want to keep thinking about what a mess life had become seemingly overnight.
“Well, maybe you’ll stick around for a cup this time. I’ll try to keep my knife out of sight.” Aren smiled, pulling out small containers for fresh cream and sugar.
Carol took a moment to look around the loft. “It stays surprisingly cool up here, considering the fact that heat rises, and it was hot today.”
“They had this loft packed with bales of straw when I moved back. It had to be cleared out so I could store hay up here for the winter months. So, I separated the flakes and insulated the walls and ceiling both downstairs and up here. It took forever to finish the job. At the time it was for the animals, but it’s worked out well for me too.” Aren chatted freely, handing Carol a steaming mug of coffee.
After a sip of the steaming brew, Carol closed her eyes and smiled. “Ahh, now that’s a cup of coffee. I do believe that you’re the first person I’ve met who likes it as strong as I do.”
Aren smiled. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
A few moments of silence passed as they sipped their hot coffee. Carol looked through the open loft door out into the void of the night. The moon was high in the sky giving shadowy life to the landscape below. A tree caught her attention. Something didn’t look quite right. Was it growing sideways? There was something hidden in the shadows beneath it. She set her coffee cup on the table the moment her brain registered what her eyes were seeing. The tree visible from where she was sitting wasn’t growing sideways. It was the tree that had come crashing down on them in the middle of the night. That was the tree that had taken the last of her family away from her. That tree that had crushed her aunt and uncle, broken her leg. Carol felt the tears well up in her eyes, felt them spill over and run down her cheeks. She made no efforts to brush them away or control the emotion. She was too tired, too lost, too exhausted. What was the universe trying to tell her? Why was God stealing everyone away? The weight of it all was too much for her to carry. She didn’t feel strong enough to deal with it. What should she do now? Where would she go? She had more questions than answers.
Chapter Nine
The sun was up and shining brightly when Carol’s eyes fluttered open. She yawned, stretching her arms out wide before she attempted to climb from the comfortable bed she’d slept in. Specks of dust floated in the sunlight that streamed through the open loft door along with the gentle breeze. She was surprised when she sat at the edge of the bed to find that her leg wasn’t throbbing too much this morning. The smell of fresh coffee teased her nose, drawing her into the kitchen. Aren was gone, and Carol was grateful for the opportunity to gather herself, since she wasn’t exactly a morning person. She rummaged through the refrigerator for the cream container that Aren had used the night before. Excited when she found it, she poured a generous amount into her coffee and stirred in the two teaspoons of sugar. Turning around carefully, with a crutch under just one arm, Carol had a chance to take in the loft during the daylight. Aren had been right. It was a comfortable space.
Carol hobbled over to the table and found a note Aren had left for her. As she expected, Aren was off doing chores and would return shortly. Carol no sooner set down the note and settled into a chair at the table when she heard Aren’s boots clomping up the wooden stairs.
“Well, good morning! Did you sleep all right?” Aren asked from behind.
“Good morning to you too. I slept better than expected. Your bed is quite comfortable. I’m afraid I don’t remember much after I broke down at the kitchen table. Where did you sleep?”
“Bailey and I took your advice, and we slept in the hay like farm hands. It wasn’t half bad.” Aren’s smile was genuine.
“Seriously? I would have taken the couch. I never meant to kick you out of your bed.” Carol twisted around in the chair.
“Carol, look around, I don’t have a couch. It’s just me up here. I have my easy chair for those times when I can’t be outside and a bed to sleep in. Besides, I don’t sleep much anyway.” Aren approached the table and set down an armload of items. “Listen, I was able to get into your house, and I found some stuff. I’m not sure if it’s yours, though.”
Carol lit up at the sight of her purse being pulled from beneath a large pile of clothes. “How on earth did you get in there? The ceiling caved in. I couldn’t see a way to get to the other side of the room.”
“There wasn’t a way from the window I pulled you from, but I went around to the other side of the house and crawled in through a den or something like that. The bookcases supported most of the collapse, so I was able to weave through this and that until I got into what I hoped was your room. It was dark that night so I had no idea what the room really looked like. Anyway, here are some clothes I was able to pull from a suitcase in that room.”
Carol dug through her purse and found her phone. The signal was good, but only one battery bar was left and she didn’t have her charger. It was still plugged into the wall by her nightstand. She could always get another one. She squealed with the sight of her wallet and car keys and hugged them to her chest.
“Did you happen to see if my car was okay?” She had a feeling she wouldn’t like the answer.
“Well, that depends upon which one was yours,” Aren replied, her eyebrows rising above her sunglasses.
“Mine was the little blue car.”
“Well, in that case, it’s fine. Actually, they’re both fine. The five-year-old jumps out in me every so often, sorry.”
Carol smiled at the joke and then grew sad again with the reality of her situation. “Now, if I only knew where to begin. I never talked to Aunt Suzie or Uncle Frank about a will or their wishes or anything like that.” Just when she felt like she could breathe again, reality became a heavy weight on her chest.
“Well, what did your parents have done? How did your aunt and uncle feel about their wishes?” Aren asked. She poured a cup of coffee for herself before sitting down at the table.
“My parents were cremated. They wanted to be cast into the ocean together,” Carol explained, pulling up the painful memory.
“What were your aunt and uncle’s thoughts about that type of service?” Aren asked over the top of her coffee mug.
“Uncle Frank didn’t say either way, but Aunt Suzie wanted a proper funeral. She’s pretty religious, adamant about her faith.” Carol wiped a tear from her cheek.
“What faith was she?” Aren asked softly.
“Well, my mom and Aunt Suzie were raised in the south. They were raised Baptist and Aunt Suzie was as faithful as they come. She called it ‘following the Lord.’ At least, I think she was still Baptist. I remember her trying to get me to go to church with her a few times. Maybe I could call around to the churches in the area until I find which one she was a member of,” Carol said, letting her thoughts rattle off her tongue as they came into her mind.
“That’s probably a good place to start. I think there’s a phone book in the main house. Who knows how accurate it is. It’s probably been there since my teenage years. If you want to, we can walk over there in a bit and get you settled in. Or you’re certainly welcome to just stay up here. I can go and get the phone book if you’d like. It�
�s entirely up to you.” Aren looked around like she wasn’t sure what else to say.
“If you don’t mind the company, I think I’d like to stay up here at least for a little while. That is, unless you’d stay at the other house too. Honestly, I don’t want to be all alone right now.” She knew full well she probably sounded needy, but Aren was her only tie to the world right now, and even that was tenuous given that they didn’t know each other.
“Carol.” Aren paused, lightly touching the scars on her face. “Carol, I…well, see, the thing is, this is my home. That’s a house that happens to be on the same land, but I live here. You can keep the bed. I don’t mind my little nest in the hay one bit. It’s sort of like camping. That is, if you don’t mind staying up here with me.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind the intrusion? I could go to a hotel too—”
“Nonsense, there’s no reason for you to go through all that expense, and you just said you don’t want to be alone. To tell ya the truth, I’ve enjoyed the company. It’s been a long time since I had a visitor,” Aren admitted.
“Yeah, well, it’s only been one night. You could get weary of having me in the way,” Carol replied nervously. She didn’t want to be a hassle, and having to depend on someone wasn’t her style. She also wanted to ask questions about Aren’s life, about why she wouldn’t live in the main house, about the rumors Aunt Suzie had mentioned…but there would be time for that, and she didn’t want to get herself kicked out because she was nosy.
“Let’s take it one day at a time then, okay? If you want to go to a hotel, then you go. You’re no prisoner. If you want to move into the main house, where it would probably be more comfortable for you, well then, that’s no problem either. If I get sick of you, well, I’ve been known to be pretty upfront and honest. We’ll discuss it and go from there. How’s that? Does that sound fair to you?” Aren asked, a half smile touching her lips.