Two days later he had the fence finished.
They stood by the barn, both back into their soft and comfortable clothes while looking out over the small farm. He had crossed his muscle thick arms and her slender hands were palm down on each side of her small curvy hips. He wore a smug but happy look on his face. She had a cocked right eyebrow as her head swiveled left, then right.
The whole place was completely refurbished. The new fence was twice as wide as the old one, almost three times as long. All the rocks were cleared and the ground was ready for next spring. Every vegetable was picked, stored in the fruit cellar out back and two entire cords of chopped firewood was sitting next to the large cottage all neatly stacked.
“Look at you,” she stated in a matter of fact tone when her eyes settled on him. “I can tell. You’re still full of energy and ready for more, aren’t you?”
“Show me what to do and I’ll get started,” he replied casually, still wearing his happy look and ready for the next project.
“Here I am,” she started to complain mildly. “I’m exhausted. My arms ache, my back is a little twitchy and my feet are sore. I have a crick in my neck.” Then she gestured as he changed his expression to apologetic, but she wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “Everything is done. I’m never done. Snow comes when I still got food in the field. Or I let the hammer and wood to repair the fence sit under three feet of winter until the snow melts. I always run out of fire wood just before spring, and you cut five times as much as I could. I got enough for three winters there. I’m impressed, yes sir.” Her voice started to rise and she was getting angry at herself. “I work you and work you and work you. I got you a whole new wardrobe and you gave me a new freaking fence. Clothes are cheap! I give you food and you give me a whole new roof on both the barn and house. I'm the one who owes! Why did I do that to you?” Now she was almost at a full tirade. “I worked too damn it, but you… HEY!”
He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder and started walking for their shared home. He did this the last time too, when she started to bicker and fuss, then yell at a section of her farm that wouldn’t grow no matter how much she tended it. Once he got her away from it, she calmed down and started to shake her nerves off. On a farm, frustration leads to anger and that leads to mistakes that could make sure they both go hungry during the winter. He quickly examined the source of his confidence and wrote off such knowledge to common sense rather than any memory coming back.
“Put me down!” she demanded loudly. He didn’t put her down and took her inside. Unlike last time he pulled her hollering self off the job, there wasn’t a load of work to finish that was subject to angry mistakes. This fueled her anger even more this time instead of leveling out. “You big monster, you know I’m angry and I’m sore, put me down or I’m going to bite you!” The threat had value, she had eye teeth that were naturally longer than his and could cause damage, but he blew it off in his mind. It wasn't in her nature to hurt anyone on purpose. He knew what was needed as she did work extremely hard. He had noted the ankle swelling earlier, but she hadn't complained and had walked normally. As for now, there was no insult she could throw at him that would stick. “You walking tree, unhand me this instant! You hulking miscreant! Now I’m really mad! Whoa!”
He had marched into her bedroom and slung her down onto the feather mattress. She bounced lightly on the large flower patterned quilt and her large comfortable looking feather pillow. The last time it was the white wood couch where he took her and spoke in soothing tones. Now it was her bedroom which surprised her to sudden silence. Hanging upside down over his shoulder where she could only see his back and feet, she had no idea he was headed there.
She stared up at him with her wide, luminous lavender eyes, all the complaint and anger from her face evaporating. She didn’t say a word as he raised an eyebrow at her. Then he turned and sat down at the edge of the bed. His strong hand grabbed her ankle and he flipped her quickly onto her side. She must have weighed all of a hundred pounds so this was easy for him. Her gasp at being flipped so casually disappeared when he peeled off her shoe and started to massage the bottom of her swollen heel.
His thumbs traced the lines of her insoles up to the ball of her foot, then all the way back down to the pad of her ankle. She had a thick callous all around the edge and he massaged carefully, knowing he had to work out the soreness without hurting her delicate bone structure and tendons. Her back was almost against his back while on her side, legs in a bent kneeling position that placed both feet easily in his lap. As he took the other foot and peeled off that shoe and went to work, he was glad he decided to do this. The tendons felt spongy and ready to sprain with the slightest mis-step. He couldn’t see her expression but knew this was beneficial. Something inside of him reached out for this knowledge and it came easily. Another instinct welling to the surface or some well honed skill that silently dwelt deep within? He couldn't tell for sure which it was so he didn't question the source.
She remained completely silent and he took that as a good sign. He felt that if he rubbed her feet wrong or too hard, she would let him know with a yelp. Once he was sure he had completely relaxed both feet from toes to ankles, he returned to the first foot and massaged the top. This was the part of the foot that met her ankle and was a little more swollen than the heel. He was more careful in that spot as he got the feel for her muscles, knowing exactly how hard or gentle to go. He had to get enough blood to circulate a healing flow to the right area. Yes, she had been in pain for quite some time and never said a word. No wonder she got so stressed out and lost her temper over nothing.
Her foot was completely limp by the time he finished with it, and then he picked up the second foot and started on it’s top. That one was swollen along the ankle joint as well. He spent around fifteen minutes kneading the knotted muscles back to their original shape. He also knew from her breathing that she was asleep. He carefully stood up so she wouldn't wake, grabbed the spare blanket from the open side closet and gently covered her.
Ryan watched her sleep for a few minutes, wishing his heart wouldn’t go out to her like it did. He was certain she was clueless about how he felt. Her carefree happy and playful nature sometimes made him forget that she didn’t know he was in love with her and he would slip a phrase or gesture. As he practiced though, he got better at covering it up until he could figure out if she was so nice to him because she was feeling pity for his situation, or because she had special feelings for him too.
The sun started to set so he went around the large cottage and lit all the candles in their glass pillars. The design was brilliant, easy to light and put out. If one fell over it would extinguish the flame automatically even if the glass broke. Then he went to his own makeshift room; a blanket hanging to partition an area for his bed and little else near the back door. He slipped under the covers with a tired sigh. Before he could ponder his identity or origins yet again, and look for any internal clues as to his knowledge of feet, sleep fixed its grip on his brain and squeezed.
Morning sunlight shining through the little stained glass window of the back door woke him. The smell of cooked vegetables and hot spiced apple cider made his belly rumble as he changed his clothes. A teal set of shorts and pullover tank top took no time at all to put on and he found her in the kitchen setting the table. She wore a brilliant green and gold patterned knee-length dress, which she knew was his favorite.
“Good morning, Myra,” he greeted her as he had every morning since his first night there. She always greeted him back in the same fashion, but not today. At first he thought she was pissed at him, but that vanished along with one of the largest, kindest smiles she had ever given him. Her smiles before had often been soft or lopsided. This time he saw her pearly white mini fanged teeth and her large lavender eyes crinkled at the edges with everything she put into the moment.
She placed a plate that had more than the usual portion before him and poured the steaming apple cider into a larger mug
than he usually got. Then she served her spot at the small table across from him and sat down, eyes flashing again along with that brilliant smile.
“I take it you slept well?” he asked, returning the large smile with a happy chill going down the back of his neck.
“Yes I did, thank you,” she whispered back.
Whispered?
He started to eat and he found everything had a lot more flavor than usual. This puzzled him as to why, then his eyes found the reason on the shelf above the wood burning stove. Jars of spices, labeled and sealed, lined the entire length from one side to the other. He had never seen them before and couldn’t understand the significance of this new behavior. He didn’t let his eyes linger on them for too long, he didn’t want her to notice that he noticed in case it would upset her. Then he rethought that. He should notice since she went through the extra effort.
“This is the best breakfast you’ve cooked yet,” Ryan complimented honestly. He took another big bite and winked at her, wondering if at least their occasional mutual winks were still functioning as before. She actually gave a full blush, then as if in afterthought, winked back and smiled beautifully again.
“My lord,” she started to say softly, barely louder than a whisper now. “We’re ready for winter but the winter isn’t here yet. If there’s anything you wish, ask and it’s yours.” Then she started to eat, her eyes watching him, measuring his reaction.
My lord? He wanted so badly to ask, but knew that some of her society’s foibles were based on ritual and routine. Break that routine and she would naturally feel insulted. It was how she was raised. How all of her people were raised. Yes, she knew he wouldn’t know as he was clueless about a lot of it, yet the pattern of her behavior that was set by his previous day’s actions couldn’t be ignored or turned off for a verbal lesson. His status with her changed somehow and now he had to figure out how much for the better... or for the worse.
“Anything?” he verified, keeping his tone light and good natured. Well, as lightly as possible for a baritone.
“Anything,” she whispered back. She stopped eating and paused with her hand halfway to her throat, then put both hands on the edge of the table and those lavender eyes locked with his light blue gaze.
“Tell me if you enjoyed your foot massage,” he requested happily. Again, her entire demeanor changed and her blush returned for an encore performance.
“You can do that to me anytime you like, my lord,” she said, almost breathless. “But next time, you don’t have to carry me over your shoulder, I promise.” Her face softened and her whole body relaxed.
Ryan suppressed a chuckle, fought with his gut to keep from cracking a loud laugh. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hide the fact he was trying not to lose it. Myra noticed all right, paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. She started to giggle and that was all the hint his funny bone needed. They both ended up expressing their shared humor again and it felt good. After they calmed down enough to finish breakfast, and while she was slow at getting back into the swing of their casual friendship, she always referred to him as her lord from there on out.
Two weeks later winter arrived like a bulldozer out to bury the warmth forever.
There was no warning. The air didn’t grow cooler by the day or give a brisk announcement. The wind simply had a sultry warm breath when it blew across his face one day, then it was all gone by morning. The world was covered in white and the large cottage was icy until they pulled in some logs and lit them with the flint wand. The device was designed to have the wand inserted into an iron hole under the pitch filled dry wood. When pulled out quickly, the large sparks would go up through the grille and catch the thin slivers that supported the logs. It took only a few strokes to get the desired effect and small flames licked outwards from under the load of dry pine.
Even though they dressed warm and had a good fire going, Myra grew more silent and shivered unless she was very close to the fireplace. When she cooked meals, she hovered over the wood stove longer than usual. Winters were rough on her, Ryan noticed, and only after a few days of watching her silently suffer did he decide to do something about it.
It was shortly after breakfast when he approached the fireplace with his thick blanket. The roaring blaze filled the whole room with dancing yellows, greens and reds. Myra stood too close as far as he was concerned, certainly he would have felt uncomfortable. So he opened his blanket and while holding two corners up high over his head, stepped between the fireplace and her body while saying innocently, “Excuse me, please.”
Her eyes were wide and bugged out at him. He had cut off her source of refreshing heat on purpose. He smiled back at her over his shoulder to let her know all was going well, but her return gaze was blank. It was then he realized that she should have been angry with him, or at least asking what in the hell was he doing. Instead, she remained silent as if rebuking him was now against her policy. That somehow coincided with her new title for him whenever she wanted to talk or get his attention.
His fingers felt like they were about to be burned off when he turned and walked towards Myra. She didn’t back up but planted her feet, unsure what his plans were. She figured it out rapidly when he wrapped the ultra warm blanket around her and him both, then scooted her to the low couch that had been placed in the room opposite of the fireplace. The lavender pools of her eyes were accepting and absorbing everything about him at the same time. She didn’t say one word as their body heat, with the help of the ultra warmed blanket, kept them both toasty until it was time to make dinner.
The conversation was still light, much to his annoyance, but soon dinner was done and she went back to standing close to the fireplace. She thanked him on a regular basis however, when he ventured outside and grabbed some wood for the stove and fireplace. If the slight nip in the air of a fireplace warmed room did this to her, he could have only imagined how she would have suffered by going out into the snow herself.
That night as Ryan lay atop his own feather mattress, he was beginning to wish he could get back his previous status with her. She was chatty and liked to laugh then, but now it seemed like she was more… formal. That was it. Everything was more serious and had to be perfect for him. He got larger portions that he had been hard pressed to finish, but knew through experience all ready that not to finish all of his food only made her unhappy for the rest of the day. She wouldn’t raise her voice anymore to him, he also realized, and tried to decide if that was an improvement or not. He missed the feisty side of her quite a bit.
While he wrangled with it in his mind and was completely self distracted, he didn’t hear her walk up. When he did finally see her it startled him. She was wearing a loose button up top and a light pair of loose pants. All he had on was a pair of thin shorts. While the house was nippy to her, it was pleasantly warm for him and he wasn‘t even under the covers.
The surprise of seeing her there almost hid the fact she carried a quilt. Without so much as an explanation, Myra climbed into bed with him and pulled her quilt up over them both. Her arm slipped up and over his well defined chest, her naturally cold feet were a slight shock, but made their way in between his calves and quickly became comfortable. She rested her head on his shoulder, snuggled close, and it then registered that she had made the quilt ultra warm by the fireplace. He finally found his voice, his heart pounding so hard in his chest he wondered that she didn’t comment on it.
“Are you warm now?” he asked in a whisper.
“Yes my lord, you’re very warm,” she replied as quietly. Her head slowly nodded against his shoulder and he felt like he was in heaven. She was so light he could barely feel her weight. After a few more minutes of silent contemplation, he picked up his head ever so much and glanced down at her. Those large almond shaped eyes were closed and she was sound asleep. The man inside him that cared so much for her advised caution, that no matter what he might think she was there for, it would do far more harm to be wrong if this was some sort of culture diff
erence, or her way of keeping comfortable while feeling safe and secure with him. Probably a combination of both. So there he was, a beautiful woman sleeping on his chest while curled up against him and he was too afraid of being wrong to test her levels of personal affection. He finally fell asleep an hour later wishing she had kissed him instead and erased any doubt.
The winter lasted three months and the sharp frigid wind was unrelenting. Every cold afternoon he warmed his blanket and shared it with her on the couch. Every frigid night she warmed her quilt the same way and snuggled up against him for a deep comfortable sleep. The first day of spring changed their lives again, once more in a way he could have never imagined.
Chapter Four - Providing Proof
Ryan was alone and he was instantly awake. This was the first time in months his eyes opened and Myra wasn’t curled up against him for warmth. Sunlight streamed across his face from the little stained glass window in the back door as he contemplated where she went. While he had gotten used to her being there, the relationship remained platonic. He couldn't bring himself to make any moves for fear of losing what he had in companionship. After all, she was susceptible to the cold and he generated a lot more body heat than she did. While they had snuggled together all winter long, she never made a move that she had wanted more. Wait. Sunlight?
It almost eluded his notice. He swung around and off the bed and gazed out of the side window. As fast as the snow had arrived, it was gone to reveal a darkened wet ground where little green shoots were pushing up through the mud.
He shook his head in wonder and felt the seasons shouldn’t change so quickly. He could feel the warmth all around him, certain there was a summer breeze blowing outside through the trees as birds played from one branch to the other. A clanking of metal from the kitchen area caught his notice and he walked quickly with his shorts on and nothing else. Normally he dressed before going to breakfast, but the abrupt change in seasons messed with his own routine, and he was curious about her actions. Sure enough, Myra had already cooked breakfast and the portions were served, wearing her daily work leathers that were light and cool. Warm weather meant she rose early, cold weather made her slow and a late riser.
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