Orphan Maker
Page 6
Gwen watched with amusement as the two little girls glowered at each other.
Cara placed her knitting project in a basket beside her rocker and stood. “I doubt it.” She reached for one of the candles on the mantel. “Dragons horde gold and treasure. Neither of you have any of that in your room.” She lit the candle, and handed it to Rick who had finally pulled Kevin to his feet.
“I’ve got treasure,” Megan said.
“Stupid rocks,” Delia muttered, finally leaving the love seat.
“It is so treasure!” Megan looked around for support.
Terry snorted. “Rocks in a box. And not even proper arrowheads or anything.”
Loomis lit another candle, handing it to Delia before scooping Megan up in her arms. “Some people’s trash is other people’s treasure. Don’t know that a dragon would be interested in your collection, though, baby.” She gave the girl an apologetic hug. “Now let’s get you two to bed.”
Delia led the way to the far corner of the living room. Despite holding a candle, she deftly climbed the ladder that led to their room. Loomis followed, still holding Megan. Rick and the boys disappeared into the kitchen where a similar ladder awaited them.
“Lucky, you’re rooming with me,” Cara said. “Tonight we’ll put Oscar in a drawer. I know we’ve got a crib somewhere in one of the barns. We’ll dig it out tomorrow for him.”
“Where am I sleeping?” Gwen forced her sore muscles to bring her to her feet. Damn, she still hurt from that horse ride. Now that she had been off them for a time, the soles of her feet ached from the week’s forced march.
“You’re in Marissa’s room. Heather can show you the way. There’s only the one bed, so either you share or one of you sleeps on the floor. We’ll talk about getting more furniture from somewhere tomorrow.”
It took a moment for Gwen to recognize the name. Walker had used it to introduce Loomis at the church. “Why does everybody call her Loomis except you?”
“Not everybody. Rick sometimes calls her by her first name.” Cara shrugged. “She just prefers to be called Loomis, I guess. Always has.”
But you don’t care, Gwen thought. Was it a subtle power play between the cousins? Did Cara do it to call attention to the fact that she wouldn’t do what Loomis wanted? Or was it something more, a way to connect with a little more intimacy than everybody else?
Heather smiled and held out her hand. “I’ll show you your room.”
Gwen, still wrapped in her blanket, was led through the doorway behind the loveseat, then to a door immediately to her left along a short hall.
“This is your room now. Rick and I are right next door, and Cara and Lucky are at the other end of the hall,” Heather said. She opened the door, handing Gwen a candle. “Go on in. Loomis will be here when she’s done tucking in the kids.”
Clutching the candle, Gwen stepped into the darkened room. As an afterthought, she put her hand out to stop the closing of the door. “Thank you.”
Heather nodded. “Of course. Welcome to the family.” She softly shut the door.
Gwen looked around in curiosity. A comfortable looking queen bed stood in the far corner from the door, a wooden nightstand keeping it company. At the foot of the bed was a polished chest that picked up the candlelight and gleamed back at her. To her left hulked a floor-to-ceiling piece of furniture with two small drawers underneath and cabinet doors above. To her right were a chest of drawers, and a vanity with a mirror. A large porcelain pitcher and bowl stood on the vanity, as well as a brush and comb. Hanging above the dresser were two shotguns, and a combination bow with a quiver of arrows.
She ignored the archaic weapons for something more important—the inviting bed. Gwen hoped Loomis wouldn’t be so uptight as to make her sleep on the floor. She moved across the room, stumbling as her toes met a braided rug that lay in the middle of the floor. A hurricane lamp stood on the nightstand. She lifted the glass chimney and used the candle to light it, the glow from the wick considerably brightening the room. Also on the nightstand were a book and a framed photograph.
She picked up the frame to get a better look. It was a picture of a large family, taken in front of the cabin. There was no greenhouse in evidence and she wondered if that was something added after the plague. Peering at the photo, she saw a crowd of redheads of all ages. The older man and woman had to be their ’rents; she saw their resemblance in almost all the children. There were four boys and one girl. Loomis looked to be about thirteen years old, just on the verge of maturity, all gawky and gangly. Her grin was mischievous as she held the little boy, Rick, in a headlock. The three other boys were older than she, ranging in age from sixteen to twenty, and all had the trademark auburn hair of their mother. Gwen felt tears sting her eyes. She didn’t have any pictures of her ’rents. When she had left home to hang with her surviving school friends, she’d been too angry with her parents for leaving her, wanting nothing to do with them.
The door opened, and she hastily set the frame down, forcing her tears back. “Nice looking family.”
Loomis nodded and closed the door behind her. She stood at the door for a moment, and Gwen wondered if she were going to be sleeping on the couch instead.
“Which side do you want?”
The bed was against the wall. Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. No floor and no couch; things were looking up. “I don’t care.”
Loomis frowned. “I like to read before sleep.”
“Then I’ll take the inside so you can have the lamp.”
“Okay.”
This was the first time they had been alone since Gwen had jumped Loomis’s shit in the summer kitchen. Loomis hadn’t exactly been avoiding her, but Gwen could tell she wanted to be somewhere else. Maybe she thought Gwen was a renegade, somebody who didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything. Gwen decided it was good that Loomis was wary of her. For now she had gotten her point across that she was someone to be reckoned with, not a nobody to order around. She would work to get Loomis to trust her next, show her that she could be a productive member of the family, an equal. After that, she could work on the seduction.
She folded the blanket she carried, laying it on the chest at the foot of the bed. Since she had no pajamas and she knew Loomis’s sense of modesty would be sorely tested, Gwen left her clothes on and climbed under the blankets on the bed. Her body shivered with pleasure at the sensation of clean sheets, and she inhaled the smell of soap from the cloth. The mattress was firm, yet it cradled her worn body like a lover. How long had it been since she had slept in a bed with no odor of mildew?
Loomis still stood by the door, uncertainty in every line of her body. Gwen grinned to herself and rolled over, facing the wall. She cuddled with her pillow. “Good night.”
There was a long pause before Loomis answered. “Good night.”
Gwen closed her eyes, listening as the other woman began to undress, teasing herself with the imagined view. There was a creak from the cabinet at the foot of the bed, then the sound of a drawer opening and shutting. Soon the bed shifted, and Gwen snuggled further down under the covers.
“You sure the light doesn’t bother you?” Loomis whispered.
Despite a desire to know more about her roommate in every sense of the word, Gwen’s answer was blurry with exhaustion. “I’m sure.”
There was more shifting as Loomis got comfortable. Gwen fell asleep to the sound of pages turning and the gentle breathing of another person in the room with her.
Chapter Seven
With the reflexes of a battle-hardened veteran, Gwen came instantly awake. Before she knew what was happening, she scooted to the head of the bed where she curled into a protective ball. Loomis thrashed again under the covers, barely visible in the gray light coming through the window. She moaned, a guttural sound of fury and agony that raised the hackles on Gwen’s neck. She peered over her arms at the woman. Loomis panted as if she had been running for miles, her face contorted. Gwen realized her roommate suffered a nightmare and unkinked her
own body. Her heart beat fast along the path of adrenaline. She glanced about the darkened room, searching for enemies she knew weren’t there—second nature after living in the city. She had survived more than her share of ambushes.
While Gwen gathered her wits, Loomis continued to fight her demons, growling, her teeth bared as she fought the covers. “No!” she cried. “Leave him alone! He’s got nothing to do with this!”
Was it a nightmare or something based in reality? Who had nothing to do with what? Who was attacking her? Gwen chewed her lower lip. She didn’t think Loomis was the violent type. Would waking her give cause for a beating? Gwen had been down that road before. She had standards now. Being the punching bag in a relationship wasn’t one of them. The choice was removed from consideration when Loomis sat bolt upright in bed with a shout. Still uncertain, Gwen froze, not wanting to draw Loomis’s attention though they sat a hairbreadth away from each other.
The floor creaked in the hall, and there was a gentle tap on the door. “Marissa?” Rick called. “You okay?”
Loomis took a breath, her chest hitching. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“All right. I’ll see you in a bit.” His bare feet made little noise on the floorboards. Gwen heard a door close in the distance.
The woman beside her turned away, dropping her feet over the edge of the bed. She took a deep breath and scrubbed at her face. It appeared Loomis had forgotten she shared a bed with a stranger. Gwen’s movement was slight, just enough to jiggle the mattress and remind the distraught woman that there was someone else in the room. Loomis gasped and turned to stare at her in the gloom. Gwen’s heartbeat sped anew at the intent stare. She tried hard not to flinch away from the ferocity seething just beneath the surface of Loomis’s expression.
Moments passed. Loomis relaxed, her shoulders slumping as she looked away, the bedsprings squeaking as her weight returned. “Sorry to wake you.”
“That’s okay. We all have nightmares sometimes.”
Loomis chuckled without humor. She pushed herself to her feet, and went to the armoire at the foot of the bed. “Go back to sleep. The day starts early out here. You’ll need your rest.”
“What was it about?” Gwen asked, curious as to what haunted this influential woman. Powerful people sometimes had strong monkeys on their backs. “Talking about it sometimes helps.”
Pulling on a threadbare robe, Loomis grumbled. “What’s past is past. Nothing to be done about it now.”
So it’s something from the past. Unable to let it go, Gwen asked, “Was it your boyfriend, the one who had nothing to do with it?”
Loomis, who had made it to the door, stopped in her tracks. She turned, hand on the doorknob. “What do you mean?”
Her tone was dangerous, and Gwen responded accordingly. She dropped her gaze and turned slightly away, presenting herself in as unthreatening a manner as possible. “You talked in your sleep. I was just repeating what you said.”
Appeased, Loomis growled, “I’ve never had a boyfriend. Don’t pay attention to that kind of stuff. It was just a dream.” She left the room, closing the door behind her.
Gwen watched her go, thoughtfully considering her answer.“You’ve never had a boyfriend?”
***
The front of the cabin was mostly glass. As dawn began to pink the sky to the west, Loomis made her way into the kitchen with plenty of light to see by. As quietly as possible, she started a fire in the woodburning stove. The entrance to the boys’ loft was just overhead. She didn’t want to wake them, though she doubted anything short of a stick of dynamite would wake Kevin after the day he’d had yesterday. Cara or Heather had filled the teapots the night before. Loomis put one on the stovetop, knowing it would be awhile before the fire built up enough to heat the water. Overhead, the ceiling fan slowly revolved, its motor humming in the silence, reminding her she needed to find a replacement motor soon or they would lose the extra circulation.
Loomis leaned against the butcher-block island and rubbed her face. She’d totally forgotten Gwen’s presence in her room. Feeling the bed move had scared about twenty years off her life. It was a damned good thing the shotguns were hanging against the far wall of the bedroom, or Gwen would be picking buckshot from her teeth. The nightmare had been no better or worse than it ever had been. She relived the past with some frequency, though it recurred more often when she was stressed. Having a houseful of strangers would constitute stress, she guessed. Loomis hoped her mind would settle enough to allow the nightmare to slip back into its dormant stages.
Good Lord, there was so much to do. For one thing, the homestead didn’t have shoes for Kevin or Lucky, though somewhere in one of the barns there was a trunk of baby clothes. They would need more of those since Heather was due in five months or so. And another crib, diapers, clothes for the new family members, a new fan motor, and anything else they could get their hands on.
Then there was schooling. Kevin probably had never gone to school before the plague. Loomis doubted Lucky or Gwen had spent much time reading since Orphan Maker, either. They had to be tested to see where they needed to start applying themselves. Maybe Lindsay Crossing had just been lucky, but Loomis was certain that keeping the kids learning had a lot to do with their survival. Even now, five years later, the monthly town gatherings were still a habit as everyone got together and discussed what projects they worked on and what they learned from them. The flow of ideas was what had kept them alive in the past, and continued to do so now.
Today’s priority was morning chores, of course. The ewes wouldn’t want their morning milking to be neglected. Then the garden needed water, the horses to be fed, the woodbox here and in the summer kitchen refilled, the chickens and rabbits fed and watered, the traps checked for any vermin… The list of tasks at the Loomis homestead went on and on. In order to get more goods, they would have to make a scavenging trip to McAdam. That would be an overnight trip there and back. She would need Terry with her. He was good at getting into tight spots and finding hiding places. Rick would have to stay behind this time. Loomis didn’t really think her family was in danger, but with forty odd city kids in town they had to be a bit more careful. What if they were forerunners for some sort of invasion?
Loomis scoffed at herself. She was letting her nightmares make her paranoid. There was no way those kids were a threat. Most of them could barely stand for any extended time due to malnutrition, let alone attack Lindsay Crossing. Maybe Gwen was a threat, she thought, a grin crossing her face. That woman had a sharp enough tongue for it anyway.
The teapot began to rumble as the water boiled, soft wisps of steam puffing from the spout. Loomis jumped forward to grab it up before it could start whistling and wake the rest of the homestead.
***
Gwen wanted to follow Loomis. There were limits to how much she could push, boundaries that had to be maintained, so she remained in bed. As much as she wanted to know more about the nightmare or that provocative statement about never having had a boyfriend, Gwen had to keep in check until she knew Loomis better. If Gwen forced the issue, she would never gain Loomis’s trust. And trust was a priority.
Her mind whirled as she sank back into the mattress, pulling the blankets over her shoulders once more. If it wasn’t an old cut buddy, who was being threatened in the nightmare? A friend? Did Loomis have any male friends? Maybe it was her brother or cousin. Those were the only boys here. Gwen turned on her side, spying the framed photograph on the nightstand. Was it one of their other brothers, the ones that were dead? That would mean whatever Loomis dreamed of had happened before the plague had ravaged the world.
She’d never had a boyfriend? Gwen couldn’t conceive of a hottie like Loomis being pure. Every guy she knew would give their left nut for a skill twist with Loomis. She smirked to herself. Her included, even if she didn’t have a left nut. Loomis was totally off tap with those dark hazel eyes and thick auburn hair. Saggy pants or not, she had a phat build, too. I bet there ain’t an ounce of pudge on her.
Chapter Eight
Kevin kept running his hand over his scalp, absently exploring the area denied him by the mass of hair that had grown over the years. Now that much of it was missing, he seemed fascinated by the texture of what remained. He stared hard at the primer before him, lips silently working as he tried to read one of the words.
Loomis sat across from him. “We already know that you know your letters. You know what they sound like. Just make the sounds of what you read out loud.”
Terry glared at her from beside Kevin. “Give him a couple of minutes.”
Loomis bit back a grin. She had hoped another boy would adjust her young cousin’s attitude but hadn’t expected this. Rather than become mellower, Terry had turned into a rebel with a cause—defending and teaching his new “brother.” While his negative tendencies still rang true, he used them to protect Kevin from his ignorance rather than cause trouble. This morning he had taught Kevin how to properly hoe weeds in the garden and gather eggs, both tasks completed with little to no damage for a change. In fact, she couldn’t recall the two boys being separated from one another since the moment they had finished their argument the day before. Childhood being as fickle as it was, she hoped their burgeoning closeness would strengthen.
Terry hovered beside Kevin, pointing a finger at one of the words on the page. “She means sound it out. See? Rrr…uuuhh…nnn. Run. Like that. I know it sounds dopey, but it’ll help until you can read better.”
Kevin took a deep breath, and began the next word, hesitantly whispering them aloud. Loomis couldn’t hear, but Terry leaned close. Deciding it would be good to let them continue the lesson without her, she sat back and observed the others.