MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN

by Christine Rimmer

  She told Sam it wasn't necessary. "It's not a big deal to me, Sam. I can take it, I really can."

  Sam just shrugged. "There's no damn reason why you should have to take it, and that's the plain truth." Sam had beautiful pale blue eyes, infinitely gentle eyes, Eden thought. She could see, looking into those eyes, why Delilah seemed to be such a happy woman.

  Eden glanced away from Sam. When she looked at him, she kept thinking about the contentment be and Delilah obviously shared. Some couples had all the luck. They found each other, and they both accepted that what was between them was meant to be. Everyone in town said that Sam and Delilah had once been archenemies. Eden just knew that had to be pure bunk.

  "Let us stand by you, Eden." Sam went on. "If not for your sake, then for ours. It'll make us feel better to know you're not getting a rough time from any of the hooligans around here."

  "But—"

  "Please?"

  How could she resist the appeal in those kind eyes? She agreed that they could all waste their time if they wanted to.

  Monday, she didn't have to work. The first thing she thought of in the morning was that she and Jared were supposed to have gone to Heather's for dinner that night. But now that wasn't going to happen. She thought, to be polite, that maybe she should call Heather and formally express her regrets. But somehow, she just couldn't go through with it. And Heather knew what was going on anyway.

  Eden wandered out to the kitchen, considered making coffee, and then returned to bed instead. She slept most of the day. Laurie called, waking her, about two in the afternoon. Eden's friend suggested that they meet in Grass Valley for a girls' night out. Eden said that she was very tired, some other time maybe. Laurie asked if Eden was sick.

  "No, really. I'm fine. Listen, I have to go now."

  She hung up and went back to sleep. She was sleeping a lot; she knew it. But somehow, her tiredness just wouldn't go away.

  Tuesday, Brendan sat at the bar through Eden's whole shift. And Wednesday, it was Patrick once again.

  Thursday morning, Eden had to drag herself out of bed. She really was just terribly tired.

  Everything seemed so very … dull lately. As if there were a dirty window between herself and the rest of the world. Her wonderful life in North Magdalene seemed to have lost all of its luster. Somehow, with Jared's leaving, her whole existence had become tedious and drab.

  Far back in her mind somewhere, she felt that her real, vital self was an unwilling captive to this deadness, this numbness that had completely claimed her life. She could almost hear a faint voice inside her soul calling her, chiding her to put away her sorrow and get on with living once again.

  She understood that she'd have to pull herself together sooner or later. She'd have to spend more time at work. Also, she really should clean up the cabin, which had somehow become a real mess. Her dirty clothes seemed to be everywhere, and the kitchen was a disaster area.

  But just thinking about tackling the dishes that seemed to have piled up so high in the sink made her so tired she could hardly stand up. If she couldn't even face the dishes, how was she going to face getting on with her life?

  Really, all she wanted was to be allowed to climb back into bed. Come to think of it, she was too tired to work today at all.

  She thought of Patrick. Maybe he'd be willing to help out if she called him.

  She did call him. When she asked if he'd cover for her, he acted surprised and apprehensive.

  "Eden, are you sick or something?"

  "No, no. I'm fine. I just… I need a little rest, that's all. And since Nick will be taking the opening shift, if you would just help me out by closing up tonight, well, I'd really appreciate it. I just don't feel like working today."

  Patrick didn't answer for a moment. Then he said, "Eden, I'd be glad to close up for you."

  "Great. Thanks."

  "But maybe you ought to—"

  "Look, Patrick. I have to go now."

  "Eden, I—"

  "Thanks again. I mean it."

  Eden hung up and dragged herself back to bed. She lay down and pulled the sheet over herself and closed her eyes. The phone rang. She ignored it. She just wanted to be left alone to sleep. At last, the ringing stopped. Eden let out a long breath of relief and settled deeper into her bed.

  * * *

  She wasn't sure how much later the pounding started. She groaned a little in her sleep and wrapped her pillow around her head.

  "Eden! Eden, gal, you answer this damn door!"

  Eden gritted her teeth and tuned out the shouting. If she refused to get up and answer the door, the racket would stop eventually, she was sure.

  She sighed in relief and relaxed a little when the pounding and shouting finally did stop. She even put her pillow back under her head where it belonged.

  And then she heard the kitchen door slam. And someone stumping—there was no other word for it—through the kitchen.

  She felt no fear. She knew who it was by the way he was moving, and the shouting voice had been quite familiar. All she wished was that she'd had sense enough to lock the door before going back to bed.

  But it was too late now. Oggie was in her house, and he was going to find her.

  "Eden! Where the hell are you, gal?"

  Eden moaned and pulled the blankets over her head.

  "Eden? I ain't foolin' around here. If you ain't decent, you better make it known now, 'cause I ain't leavin' until we've had us a talk." Oggie paused, listening, no doubt, for her response. When he got none, he announced, "All right, then. Have it your way. I'm comin' in."

  The stumping started again, slow, loud and determined. She heard every last thump of his laborious approach. Finally he halted with a hard thud of his crutches in the open doorway to her room. She could hear him panting from his exertion and settling himself a little against the door frame. She stayed burrowed under the covers. Though she knew her behavior was thoroughly childish, she still hoped that if she refused to even push the blanket off her head and look at him, he might just go away.

  No such luck. He had caught his breath and he was ready to tell her exactly what was on his mind.

  "Pitiful," he said with utter disgust. "Purely pathetic. that's what you are."

  She resolutely did not respond.

  "This place looks like my place, for godsakes, gal. It's a disgraceful mess. And look at you, hidin' like some silly, wimpy little twit under them covers. What the hell's wrong with you?"

  Through her numb exhaustion, she felt a twinge of irritation at him. He'd always been a pushy old goat. Who did he think he was to come bursting into her house like this? Hadn't she made it perfectly clear to him—and to everyone—that all she wanted was to be left alone?

  "You answer me, gal!"

  Oh, why wouldn't he just leave?

  "I mean it. Answer, or by God, I'll—"

  She didn't want to hear what. "Go away," she whined, though she had told herself she wasn't going to say a single word.

  "Not on your life," Oggie intoned. "Now, get out from under those covers, and face me like the real, strong, gutsy woman you used to be!" He struck the wall with something, probably a crutch.

  "Leave me alone." Eden pulled the blanket tighter over her head.

  Oggie grunted and mumbled. Then she heard the thud of his crutches as he started walking again.

  She heard him approach the bed and then stop right beside her head. There was a nerve-racking silence and then a bunch of clattering, then silence again. Eden, still cowering beneath the blanket, surmised that Oggie had just thrown his crutches to the floor.

  Eden clutched the covers tighter and gritted her teeth and refused to peek out and make sure that the old fool was okay. He could just pick up those crutches himself and toddle on out of here, whenever he got tired of standing there staring at the lump her body made under the covers. She was not going to talk to him. She was not going to talk to anyone, and that was that.

  But then, out of nowhere, she felt the bl
anket yanked away, ripped free of her hands.

  Eden let out a yelp of pure outrage, closed her eyes and turned away. "Go away, Oggie. I mean it. I don't want to talk to you."

  He grabbed her shoulder and forced her to turn back to him. "Look at me, Eden Parker. Look at me now."

  His voice was so compelling that her eyes popped open. "What?"

  "Hear what I have to say."

  "I don't feel like it."

  "Do you think I give a damn whether you feel like it or not? I ain't leavin' till you've heard me out."

  Eden groaned. There was just no escaping Oggie Jones once he had his mind made up about something.

  "You listenin'?"

  "Oggie, you've got no right…"

  "Just answer. Are you listenin'?"

  "This is not fair."

  "What part of 'Are you listenin'?' didn't you understand?"

  She glared at him. "Oh, all right."

  "All right, what?"

  "All right, I'm listening."

  "Good."

  Grumbling to herself, Eden sat up and pushed her tangled hair out of her eyes. "Okay. Get it over with. Say what you came to say."

  "I will." He was holding on to her night table, trying to brace himself there while he hopped a little to keep his balance on his good foot.

  Eden found it hard to watch his struggle to stay upright. It had to be painful. As exasperated as she was with Oggie right that moment, there was no denying the facts: the man was seventy-five years old, and still barely able to get around without a wheelchair. It would be cruel to make him totter there in front of her much longer.

  "Oh, wait a minute," she said sourly. She reached for her robe that was thrown across the foot of the bed, pulled it over her sleep shirt and then slid off the bed on the other side.

  Then she went to him, picked up his fallen crutches and took him out to the big main room. She led him to the most comfortable chair and helped him get seated, propping up his bad foot on a hassock.

  "That's better," he said when he was settled back. "Now. You got coffee?"

  She put her hands on her hips and cast her gaze toward the beamed ceiling. "Honestly, Oggie."

  "Well, I ain't had but one cup this morning," he said with a mildly affronted snort. "I got up a little late, and I got me one cup, and then Patrick calls and tells me you don't feel like working today. I mean, what the hell's the world coming to when Eden Parker don't feel like goin' to work?"

  "I've been … very tired."

  "Tired, my rosy-red behind," Oggie muttered. "Anyway, I started callin' and you wouldn't answer, so I got Sam to drop me off on his way over to the store. I towed these old bones all the way up those damn stone steps out there. I deserve a second cup of coffee if any man ever did. I'll say what I came here to say only after I have been sufficiently fortified with caffeine." He pulled a cigar from his pocket. "Mind if I smoke?"

  "Would it make any difference if I did?"

  His beady eyes gleamed. "Hell, no." He struck a match. She grabbed an ashtray from the mantel and put it at his elbow. "All right. I'll make the coffee," she grudgingly agreed.

  "Three sugars," he instructed, as she went through the door to the kitchen.

  Fifteen minutes later, Eden returned carrying a tray with the coffee and sugar, spoons and cups on it. She'd had to wash the cups and spoons, since almost every eating utensil she owned was dirty. She set down the tray on the coffee table and served Oggie his coffee while he sat there, thoroughly pleased with himself, puffing on his smelly cigar.

  At last, having served herself, too, she took the seat across from him. "Okay, Oggie. What do you want to say?" She realized with some surprise that she actually wanted to know.

  It also occurred to her that bickering with her partner had done her a world of good. She felt more lively than she had since the morning she woke to find Jared gone.

  Oggie said, "You are actin' like a quitter, Eden Parker. And that has got to stop."

  Eden looked down at her coffee cup. "I know," she said softly, and realized that the dirty window between herself and the world seemed to have been wiped clean. She felt sad, still, it was true. And just the thought of Jared's name caused an aching in her heart. But the numbness was fading.

  Her partner was right. She was acting like a quitter, and she did have to stop.

  Oggie hadn't finished yet. "I didn't partner up with no quitter."

  "I know."

  "And I'm sorry that my fool son left you. When I find him, I'll break his face. But even if it really was over between the two of you—"

  "It is over, Oggie."

  "We'll get to that." Oggie shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth. "Where was I? Oh, yeah. Even if the two of you never work things out, you got to pick yourself up and go on."

  "I know, I—"

  Oggie's eyes grew moist. "Believe me, I know what it is. That dead-numb feelin' when your love is gone. When my beautiful Bathsheba passed on, I thought more than once about takin' the shortcut to her side. But I held on. And I learned to live again, though a part of me will grieve for her for all my born days." A single tear trickled down Oggie's wrinkled cheek.

  Eden, feeling as if she intruded on something very private, looked away. And then she heard Oggie's quick sniff and saw in her peripheral vision that he wiped the tear away.

  "Well, I do digress," he said, and puffed some more on his cigar. "The point is, you got to get on with your life. You of all people oughtta know that, 'cause like I said before, you are not a quitter. That's why I picked you out for my Jared in the first place. 'Cause you got real stamina, gal. Not to mention one great pair of legs."

  Eden gaped at him. "Excuse me?"

  Oggie actually blushed. "Well, now, gal. It ain't no secret about them legs of yours."

  Eden wasn't asking about her legs. "No. I mean what you said about choosing me. For Jared."

  "What about it?"

  "I could have sworn you said that you picked me out for Jared."

  "You got it."

  "You mean … when I first came to town with Laurie, when Jared was nowhere around, when I didn't even know him? You're saying you selected me for him then?"

  "You're damn straight I did. You think I would have given away half my boy's inheritance to anyone but the woman destined by fate to become his wife?"

  In spite of her shock at what Oggie seemed to be saying, Eden felt it only fair to point out, "You hardly gave it away to me, Oggie."

  "Hell. You know what I mean. And you are just right for my Jared. You got the patience and the good sense and, until lately, you never took things too serious. Besides that, you're nice to look at. My boys all deserve pretty women, 'cause my boys stay true until death. A true man deserves someone nice to look at for the rest of his life, don't you think?"

  "Well, I—"

  "Yessiree, I knew you was the one for Jared the first night Laurie brought you into The Hole in the Wall."

  "Oggie, you can't really be serious."

  "Oh, but I am. Just look at me, gal. Look at me good. I'm an old man. And an old man knows things. Otherwise, what's the point of gettin' slow and stooped and all wrinkled up?"

  "But, Oggie, I—"

  "You purely talk too much, gal. Anybody ever tell you that?"

  "Well, I—"

  "But that ain't the end of the world. My beautiful Bathsheba, she never could shut her yap, either."

  "She couldn't?"

  "Hell, no. And still, she was and always will be the empress of my heart."

  "Yes, I think you've mentioned that before." Actually, Oggie had rhapsodized about his dead wife more than once since Eden had met him. And he never failed to refer to the woman at least once each time as the empress of his heart.

  "But enough about an old man's memories," Oggie decided. "We've got some serious plannin' to do. If you're through hidin' in your bedroom, that is."

  "What do you mean, planning?"

  "Are you through bein' tired?"

  "Well,
yes, I—"

  "Listen. You put some clothes on and drive me back to Delilah's now. And then you clean up this place. And then, when you're sure you don't want to crawl back in bed and hide some more, you and me will have a talk."

  "But, Oggie—"

  "Nope. I am firm. You gotta be strong in your heart to do what I'm thinkin' of. I gotta be sure you're ready to face the world alone again, before we even consider how we're gonna get that troublesome man of yours back home where he belongs."

  "Oggie—"

  "Go. Get some clothes on."

  * * *

  Though she coaxed him for several minutes more, the old man would not tell her what he was thinking of.

  At last, Eden got dressed and drove him to Delilah's.

  "You call Patrick and tell him you'll be goin' in tonight after all," Oggie said, when she helped him out of the car and got him propped up on his crutches.

  "Oggie, you are pushing it," Eden told him tartly.

  He cackled. "That's what I like to see. A little fire and indignation. What good is any woman without fire and indignation? Anyway, you work your shift tonight, and you and me will talk after you close up."

  "You want me to visit you here at Delilah's?"

  "Hell, no. I told you I can't smoke in her house. And I got a feelin' I'm gonna need a good cigar between my teeth in order to explain this to you right."

  "Is it bad, is that it?"

  He only winked at her. "I'll be waitin' at your place when you come home tonight. Someone will drive me."

  "But—"

  "Just leave the door unlocked."

  * * *

  Chapter 18

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  Oggie took his cigar from his mouth, looked at it and stuck it back in. "So whaddaya say? You think you're up for it?"

  Eden rose from her chair and went to the big window that looked out on the deck. It was a little after three in the morning, so she saw nothing in the glass but a shadowed reflection of herself and the main room of the cabin behind her. Outside, it was pitch-black.

  "Well?" Oggie prompted.

  Eden was thinking. His plan was a crazy one. She doubted it would work. But even though she realized now that she could go on without Jared, she didn't want to live her life without him if there was any possible way she could draw him to her side.