“No. Security regularly patrols this road and I always keep my IMP with me. Which reminds me, I’ll need to call Mrs. Belfort and let her know our plans. She can inform the guards we’re using the cabin, so they won’t burst in on us. We haven’t had any problems with poachers or trespassers in years. It’s a well-known fact around these parts that the grounds are patrolled. So it’s pretty safe if you ever get in the mood to stay up here.”
“It hardly seems dusty at all.”
“I have someone come out here once a month to dust and check out the chimney for debris and bird nests.”
“What type of wood was used in its construction?”
“Yellow poplar. The foundation is native rock. The interior was paneled with cedar in the early 1900’s. The roof is cedar shingles and recently reroofed. There were McPhersons living in this cabin as late as the 1940’s, until a bigger residence was built in the valley. The family moved to Knoxville in the late 1960’s, but always kept the cabin maintained as a family vacation home up until Grandmother purchased the property in 2032.”
“Interesting.”
“The cabin is built on the old Scotch-Irish floor plan. It has this one room we’re in, called a pen.” She peered overhead, pointing to a loft covering a portion of the ceiling. Ariel saw a ladder leading up to it at one end. “That’s the loft where all the McPherson children slept. The parents slept here in the main room.”
“Not much privacy, was there?”
“No. But privacy was probably a luxury back in those days, only found in a secret hollow or a place down by the creek.”
“I notice there’s no electricity.”
“It was never wired for that. And the only running water is from a hand pump to a well on what was the original back porch renovated in the 1920’s to make a kitchen and a pantry.” She gestured toward the door in the middle of the wall on the other side of the room. “That’s the door to the kitchen which has a back door leading to another porch.”
Kiernan left out one important room Ariel would need soon. She grew apprehensive thinking about the alternative. “Bathroom?” She held her breath waiting for the answer.
Kiernan hesitated, her lips suppressing a smirk. “Well—such as it is.”
“Oh, no, Kiernan, don’t tell me it’s an outhouse.”
Kiernan delayed her answer for a few seconds. Ariel squirmed while thinking the worst. Finally, Kiernan said, “No. It’s right at the end of the back porch, one of those antique flush toilets from the turn of the century. You have to fill the tank to get it to flush. I keep four one-gallon containers of water in there for that purpose. It drains into a septic tank. I keep a supply of sani-wipes in there as well as sani-towelettes. When you’re ready to go, I’ll take you to it.”
Ariel let her breath out in relief.
They sat silently for a few minutes, Ariel’s attention on the fireplace where she watched the flames lick over the wood. The blaze made crackling and fizzing sounds, as the heat forced out air and moisture. This was the first time she’d seen a wood fire in a real fireplace. The closest she ever came before was the gas fire in the fireplaces at Crestview. The aroma from the burning wood was pleasant, and her imagination formed the uneven flames into interesting shapes of animals and fantastical beings, but she still felt a little on edge.
“I think I would feel uneasy staying out here by myself, Kiernan. Besides, I’d probably burn the place down trying to build a fire.”
“You mean you were never a Girl Scout?”
“No. And I’ve never been camping, or roughed it.”
“You mean to tell me you live next door to the Smoky Mountains and have never been camping? You were deprived.”
“We do go skiing in winter for a day, and in the summer, white water rafting, and day hikes.”
“You haven’t lived until you eat canned beef stew warmed in a pot over a campfire—a real gourmet experience.”
“Stew made with real beef?” Ariel had rarely eaten beef before marrying Kiernan. Now beef was on the menu at least once a week, and a few times Ricardo fixed her a real beef hamburger for lunch. She found the taste heartier and richer than the ersatz substitutes.
“Yep. I order the canned stuff from a cattle ranch in Texas along with the fresh beef. Dennard’s Range-fed Steers. They have their own meat processing plant. The cans are the old-fashioned kind and not Pop-hots. You have to heat the contents up in an actual pan. Not as delicious as freshly-cooked beef, but still tasty on a cold, rainy night like this. I’m sure there’s a stock in the kitchen, along with other types of food. Let me know when you get hungry.”
“I’m feeling hungry.” She paused before adding, “I have to go potty first.”
“Let me call Mrs. Belfort, and then we’ll go.” Kiernan reached over to the end table to get her IMP from her belt bag while Ariel stood and walked over to retrieve her long underwear. She stroked a hand down the length of them, discovering they were dry and toasty warm as well.
She moved back to the sofa to put them on, once again seeing Kiernan gaping at her legs before quickly averting her attention to conclude her call. For some reason, knowing Kiernan had been checking her out didn’t upset Ariel. She thought that if she were provided the opportunity, she would certainly check out Kiernan’s bare legs. She remembered they were nice, as was the rest of her. A brief flush of arousal assailed her, which rapidly transformed into the heat of a blush.
Kiernan said, “Nature calls, let’s go.”
Ariel followed her through the door and into a kitchen dimly lit from windows on each end. An antique wooden table with lion claw feet sat in the center with four chairs around it. A wood-burning cook stove was set against the wall next to a wood cabinet with a sink set into it and a hand pump over the sink. Shelves lined the other wall, filled with cans and cartons of food as well as cooking utensils.
Kiernan opened the back door to a screened porch. The rain pelted against the sides, and a little water drizzled in near the far end, but other than being cold, the porch was sheltered well. Firewood was neatly stacked at one corner. The other end was a closed off area with a door. Kiernan motioned with her head. “You go first.”
Ariel opened the door into what was essentially a closed in toilet stall, around the size of one in a ladies room at any regular restaurant or store. A small window gave a view out into the gloomy twilight of the surrounding woods. A sudden thought hit her: Well, this is novel. A view while you poo. She laughed.
When she exited, Kiernan asked, “What was so funny in there?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on. Tell me.” Kiernan made the request sound like a command.
Ariel considered Kiernan’s statement before saying, “What’s the magic word?” Kiernan appeared puzzled, and Ariel said expectantly, “Come on. Tell me—?”
Kiernan rolled her eyes. “Please.”
“A view while you poo.”
Wrinkling her forehead in confusion, Kiernan said, “What?”
“You’ll see what I mean.”
“If you say so.” Kiernan entered the bathroom, and a few seconds later Ariel heard a loud laugh.
IN THE KITCHEN Kiernan surveyed the pantry shelves. She found a flashlight on a shelf and clicked it on, shining the beam over the canned goods and cooking utensils. She picked up a gallon-sized iron pot with a wire handle and handed it to Ariel along with a wooden spoon and salt and pepper shakers. Next, she selected a good-sized can of beef stew. She skimmed her flashlight beam across the other canned goods. “Now for dessert. How about peaches, or do you prefer pears?”
“Peaches.”
“Peaches it is. I’ll grab a couple of cans of soda. We can take this out to the fireplace, and I’ll come back for the plates and spoons.”
After setting the items in front of the fireplace, Kiernan knelt in front of the fire, pulled off the lid for the stew, and poured the contents into the iron pot. Using the hooked end of the poker, she pulled out a two-foot long iron rod attached to a swivel
from the left upper inside wall of the fireplace and placed the pot handle carefully over the rod. She pushed it with the poker until it hung over the fire. Retrieving the wooden spoon and handing it to Ariel, she instructed, “You watch the stew. Stir it a few times. I’m going to get the plates.”
Kiernan took the lantern from the mantel, walked over to the front door and pushed in the dead bolt. Going over to the windows, she closed the curtains before heading to the kitchen. She locked the back door and retrieved two aluminum camp plates and spoons.
In the living room, Ariel sat in front of the fire, legs akimbo, stirring the stew.
Kiernan placed the lantern back on the mantel and plopped down beside Ariel, laying the plates and utensils to one side. “Smells good. Do you think it needs salt and pepper?”
Ariel spooned up the stew and gingerly took a taste. “I think it does. Here, you taste and see what you think. Be careful, it’s hot.” She moved the spoon up to Kiernan’s mouth.
Kiernan gingerly took a taste. “Definitely needs salt. Pepper wouldn’t hurt either.”
“I agree.” Ariel added the necessary ingredients.
Kiernan watched Ariel stir the bubbling stew. She spooned up some, offering it once again to Kiernan. After taking a taste, she said, “I think it’s ready.
Ariel took the poker and removed the pot from the hook, carefully placing it on the stone hearth. Kiernan held the plates and Ariel filled them with stew. Ariel settled back against the couch and crossed her legs, and Kiernan handed her the plate of stew. Kiernan took one of the soda cans and popped the top, feeling the instant chill of the self-frosting can. While they ate, they discussed the many sights they’d seen that day.
“I must say I thoroughly enjoyed riding on your motorcycle. Thanks for inviting me,” Kiernan said.
Ariel beamed. “I enjoyed taking you. We’ll have to do it again.”
“You tell me when. I’m game.”
“We might be able to get one more ride in before cold weather arrives. Soon, I’ll have to store my bike for the winter.”
“When do you start riding again—that is, when is the weather warm enough?”
“Late March, if it’s an early spring. That’s iffy though. April’s hit or miss with some good days, and some rainy and chilly days. May is when you can expect the riding season to begin. Summer in the higher altitudes is nice, but there are a few days that are too hot and humid.” Ariel discussed places they would enjoy taking rides to on her motorcycle or in her convertible.
They finished eating and stared at the fire for a few minutes in companionable silence. Kiernan heard Ariel yawn. She rose and took the cushions off the couch. “Scoot out of the way, and I’ll pull out the bed.” She went over to the chest and pulled out sheets, blankets, and pillows.
Ariel rose, and together they made up the bed.
Kiernan said, “Why don’t you get into bed, and I’ll turn off the lantern.”
“What about the dishes?”
“We can wash them in the morning.”
Ariel stood, pulled off her shirt, leaving on her black silk long-sleeve undershirt. Kiernan swiftly averted her eyes, but not before seeing how sexy Ariel appeared in the black, skintight underclothes. She knew it was going to be torture lying next to her and knowing what was beneath those garments.
She felt aroused thinking about Ariel’s gorgeous breasts. She mentally shook herself, removed her sweater, and hung it on the back of the chair, leaving on her long-sleeve undershirt. She clicked off the lantern and slipped under the covers, keeping to her side. She rolled onto her back, very aware of Ariel a little more than a foot away.
For a few minutes, all she heard was the crackle of the fire, until Ariel said, “You ever sleep up in the loft?”
“Only a few times when I was a teenager when I had slumber parties here. It’s dark up there because the ceiling is low. Mostly, we all camped out in sleeping bags around the fireplace.”
“Yeah? I bet this was an ideal place for slumber parties. No parents to disturb you when you became rowdy.”
“So right. It was out of the watchful eyes of Grandmother, and we always managed to get our hands on hard cider—not enough to get us rip-roaring drunk, but enough to get us high—and imagine we saw, or heard, the ghost of Molly McPherson pining away for her intended.”
“This cabin is haunted?” Surprise was evident in Ariel’s voice, and Kiernan glanced toward her. Ariel pulled the covers higher and jumped when a gust of rainy wind hit the windows.
Amused, Kiernan said in a teasing voice, “Why, Ariel, you mean to tell me your scientific and logical bent of mind believes in ghosties and thingies that go bump in the night?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know what to believe. Throughout the centuries, there have been too many accounts of supposed encounters with what are termed spirits for the phenomena to be dismissed as overactive imaginations at work. I think there are scientific explanations, but who’s to say those explanations aren’t within the realm of what we term the supernatural?”
“I agree science doesn’t have an explanation for everything.”
“Tell me about this ghost that supposedly haunts this place.”
“Over the past two centuries there have been reports of a ghostly apparition seen in the window.” Kiernan riveted her eyes on the window to the left of the front door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ariel glance nervously in that direction. Kiernan continued, “They say Molly’s intended was Joshua Daniels, and he joined the Confederacy and left to fight. After the war was over, she waited for his return. She would place a lighted candle in the window. He never returned, but she continued to burn a candle for ten years after the war, until she died of a broken heart. Broken hearts were the leading cause of death among young people back in those days, if you believe all the tales that come out of these mountains.”
“I thought it was ‘Hatfield and McCoy’ type feuds that killed you.”
“A few feuds went on in these parts, and bloodshed was involved.”
A distant flash of lightening drew a nervous glance from Ariel toward Molly’s window. She focused her attention back to the fire, and then on Kiernan. “Have you ever seen this ghost?”
“No. I’ve never seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. Two of the guards patrolling this area reported seeing what appeared to be candle light and a shadowy form in the window a couple of times. When they went to investigate, nothing was there. Maybe it was the moon’s reflection in the window, or a light from somewhere else.” Kiernan rolled on her side and faced Ariel, continuing in an exaggerated whisper, “Or—maybe it was Molly’s ghost waiting for her long lost lover. Woooooo, Joshua, oh Joshua, wherefore art thou, Joshua?”
Ariel giggled. She deepened her voice and accentuated her Southern accent. “My dear, Molly, I regret to tell you I done met me this here city gal over in Memphis, and I’m now plying my trade as a rumrunner on the Mississippi. You must forget about me.”
Kiernan drawled, “Why you lowdown polecat, taking up with some Jezebel. I hold you in lower regard than I do a mangy, flea-bitten cur of a Yankee Carpetbagger.”
“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
Kiernan laughed, and Ariel joined her. Just when Kiernan thought she’d finished, Ariel commenced to laughing again, triggering Kiernan once more.
A rumble of thunder rattled the windows, and Ariel jumped. “Geez!”
“Whoa, I guess Molly’s not amused.”
“Guess not.”
“You know, you’re close to the truth when you said Joshua was a rumrunner. The Daniels had a long history of moonshining—well up until the 1960’s. I can show you the location where they kept one of their stills.”
“I would like to see that. Anything left of the still?”
“No. In fact, there were a few ‘Hatfield and McCoy’ feuds between the Daniels and Bearfoots over still locations, and scandals between the two families of the Romeo and Juliet variety.”
Ariel fluffed h
er pillow and regarded Kiernan. “This sounds like a great bedtime story. I’d like to hear more.”
Kiernan told her tale of the Daniels and Bearfoots. When she reached the conclusion, she heard a puff of breath from Ariel and saw she was asleep, exhaling quietly. The golden glow of the fire played shadows over Ariel’s face, drawing Kiernan’s attention to the enticing dark dot at the corner of her mouth. She gently touched it with her right forefinger, feeling the slight bump. Ariel twitched her lip, and Kiernan jerked her finger away. She wistfully whispered, “And they lived happily ever after.”
A JOSTLING MOVEMENT pulled Ariel from sleep. The warmth pressed against her back retreated, and there was more movement. She pulled herself partway up to see what was going on and heard Kiernan say, “Sorry to disturb you. The fire is going out. I need to put in more wood.”
Ariel snuggled once more under the covers and listened to the sounds of Kiernan tending to the fire. The covers moved as Kiernan slipped into bed protesting, “Brrr, it’s cold.”
Ariel slid over to Kiernan, put an arm around her waist, and spooned against her back, feeling the solid warmth and inhaling a slightly smoky scent mixed with an earthier one that the primal part of her mind, now emerging as she descended into sleep, found alluring. Somewhere in the part of her that was still aware, she thought holding Kiernan felt so right, as if they belonged together.
KIERNAN NESTLED INTO the inviting warmth against her back, reveling in the protective arm thrown around her, right below her breasts. She had a new feeling, of security and safety, with Ariel holding her like this. She had always been secure and safe in the knowledge she was self-sufficient and capable, depending on no one but herself.
Suddenly, she sobered when she realized this new feeling was probably false. Ariel sought only warmth against the cold. But what was the harm in pretending, for tonight, that Ariel was indeed her protector? That her arms were the haven she needed when the haggling and dealing at the office left her drained and weary, and yes, feeling vulnerable.
Linda S. North - The Dreamer, Her Angel and the Stars Page 23