“Sure. There’s folks living everywhere in these hills, but that’s the end of our territory and ah, there’s a really deep gorge running along the boundary.” Max stepped between two wild roses that fell to either side of the trail and spread her arms. “Okay, we’re here.”
About all you could say about the Home Place was the roof and walls were intact; what you could see of them anyway. The vines climbing over them were so thick Elizabeth had to look closely to find the windows and the opening cut through the greenery that led to the porch.
The woods had taken their first steps in reclaiming what had once been a cleared yard. Tall grass, weeds and two foot high trees dotted the landscape. The remnants of a vegetable garden stood off to one side, its rows marked by crooked stakes, frayed string and a few brown stalks of last year’s corn. A headless scarecrow stood guard at the center.
This was a picture of backwoods poverty and not the cheerful little bungalow Mr. Begley had described. From the scene he’d painted, she’d pictured herself on a wide and welcoming front porch comfortably ensconced at a small rustic table, typing her manuscript in fresh air and sunlight. Baskets of brightly colored flowers hung over the porch rails while butterflies flitted in and out sipping sweet nectar from the blossoms.
Inside would be snug and cozy with just enough room for a single woman to be comfortable without spending half her day on housework. She’d seen herself curled up in an over-stuffed chair in front of a glowing hearth, the light shimmering off sparkling windows.
“So, what do you think?” Max asked expectantly.
Whatever Elizabeth had thought or pictured in her mind, this wasn’t it. It was a good thing her legs ached and she was out of breath. They were the only things that kept her from screaming and running back to find that three mile path that led to town and civilization.
“With a little work, I’m sure it will be very nice,” she lied.
“Once we get those vines cut back, you’ll see a big difference,” Max assured her, “Damn stuff grows overnight. Let’s go inside and see what’s what.”
Elizabeth followed Max into the gloom. Something scurried across her foot as she ducked under the vines. She screeched and jumped, knocked into the vines and released a horde of gnats and mosquitoes along with two irate birds. Swatting away the swarm, she practically pushed Max off her feet getting through the door and breathed a sigh of relief when she noted the screen was mercifully whole.
Her relief was short lived, however. The inside proved little better than the out. In the dim light, she could see the main room, maybe fifteen by twenty feet with a stone fireplace at one end. ‘Fully furnished’ included an assortment of rickety furniture, most with only three legs, and an array of empty bottles and cans. Off to the right was a wide door leading to a kitchen that came right off the pages of Good Housekeeping. Circa 1933. A once white enamel gas stove stood on high legs, its small oven doors accessed by handles that looked like coiled springs. It shared the end wall with an ancient refrigerator with the motor and cooling system encased in a grey metal, vented canister at the top. The window between them looked out into the woods. Light green cabinets with red laminate countertop lined the adjacent wall. A tentative swipe of her finger showed the glass fronts of the upper cabinets were grimy, not frosted. The chipped enamel sink was set underneath the room’s other window, its plumbing concealed by a soiled curtain of faded pink daisies.
Elizabeth suppressed a shudder and headed for the bedroom at the back of the house. This room wasn’t part of the original cabin. The clapboard siding and large picture window confirmed the fact they were later additions. A bathroom was off to the side and through its window she could see that the bathroom and kitchen walls formed two sides to the small covered and screened porch which served as a home for an old wringer washer and a fairly new drier.
The bathroom itself was a surprise. It was small and she’d have to be careful she didn’t bend over when she sat on the john or she’d smack her head on the sink, but other than the grime of long disuse, it was in good shape. The extra-deep tub was even equipped with a shower. Her eyes filled with tears at this small blessing. She’d been picturing trips to the outhouse in the middle of the night.
“Stove works!” Max called from the kitchen. She’d found a bucket and some rags and an assortment of cleaning products that had never been opened. No surprise there. “Where do you want to begin?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath and noisily blew it out. “I’ll tackle the bathroom if you’ll start on the bedroom. Then I’ll at least have a clean place to sleep.”
She was dumping her first bucket of dirty water off the back porch when she heard approaching vehicles coming up the dirt track that lead to the back of the house. Two cars and a bright red pickup truck pulled in side by side.
“The cavalry has arrived,” Max said of the four women and two men who emerged. “Gwenna, Brie, Vickie, Lara.” She introduced the women as they entered the house. The men were pulling equipment from the back of the truck. “That’s Morgan and the big handsome one is GW.”
“Hey!” one of the women, Elizabeth thought it was Lara, yelled. She had her hands on her hips.
Max laughed. “Okay, okay. The handsome guy is Lara’s Morgan,” she clarified, “And the big handsome redhead is mine.”
“That’s better,” Lara laughed, “Where do you want us to start?”
GW walked by with a chainsaw and rake. He poked his chin at Morgan. “Marshall sent us over. He says you’ve got us for two days to do whatever you need done.”
“It seems to me, he should have taken care of this before his tenant arrived, not after,” Elizabeth said crisply. He was the landlord, after all and she hadn’t yet gotten over the condition of the place.
Morgan’s eyes widened and his eyes shifted from side to side as if to see if she’d been overheard. GW simply shrugged.
“That’s not for me to say, ma’am. Marshall’s the boss and we do what we’re told. He says to tell you George will be up about noon with your things and some paint for the walls. I figure we’ll clean up today and tomorrow we’ll scrape and paint the windows and porches and fill any chinks between the logs. You got anything else needs doing, you just make a list and we’ll see what we can do.”
Elizabeth blew air up to fluff her bangs. “I’m sorry. I’ve no right to take my frustrations out on you. This is more than kind and I really appreciate it.”
GW winked. “No offence taken, but I don’t want you thinking poorly of Marshall either. He didn’t know what Eugene done until you told him. It’s been a while since Eugene sent anyone up the mountain and he usually makes arrangements for them to stay in town.”
Elizabeth started crossing items off her list of Things To Say To My Landlord Next Time I See Him. Eugene Begley had defrauded them both. It was a kindness that Marshall had let her stay.
By eleven-thirty, almost everything that could be washed, repaired or thrown out was. As if someone flipped a switch, work stopped as quickly as it began. The women went out to the cars, brought boxes and plasticware bowls to the newly exposed porch and set out sandwiches and salads for lunch. GW and his silent friend carried a cooler filled with drinks.
Max was right. With the vines cut away and the windows sparkling, the cabin regained some of its charm. An old wooden rocker and three salvaged kitchen chairs provided seating for the women while the men sat on the wooden steps.
“I feel awful about this,” Elizabeth confessed when one of the women passed her a sandwich. “You’ve all worked so hard and I couldn’t even offer you lunch. I can’t thank you enough.”
“We should be thanking you,” Gwenna started to say, but Brie interrupted.
“What she means is, we’re real glad you decided to come and we hope you’ll stay.”
“Yeah,” Vicky added, looking wide eyed at Gwenna, “It’s nice to have someone new move in and we felt real bad about Eugene not telling Marshall he’d rented out the Home Place.”
“Why w
ould Marshall put up with it? He’s Chief of Police and I should think what Mr. Begley did was illegal.”
“Because more often than not, Mr. Begley does more good than harm. He’s a good at what he does. Why that man could sell water in a rainforest.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” Elizabeth sighed.
The conversation turned to other things and during the course, Elizabeth learned that none of the women were born on the mountain. She thought that might be the underlying reason for their generous help. They knew, first hand, what it felt like to be new.
They were all married and none had children though they all sounded as if they wanted them as soon as possible.
“What about you?” Max asked, “You ever think about having kids?”
Elizabeth had thought about it and concluded that her chances were slim to none. She’d never had a strong, long term relationship with a man and she couldn’t use a casual encounter as a donor. For her, having a child should be a shared joy between two people who loved one another.
“I think I’m happy just the way things are,” she said and hoped she sounded convinced. She began to gather the plates and glasses.
“But…?” Gwenna began. The others quickly hushed her.
“George is here,” GW informed them though how he knew was a mystery to Elizabeth. She couldn’t hear anything but the wind.
She’d no sooner completed the thought than she heard the truck. Big and burly, George looked like he could hold a car up with one hand while he changed the tire with the other. Elizabeth recognized him as one of the men who’d led the horses out of the burning barn. Gwenna ran ahead to meet him as he climbed down from the cab.
She greeted him by jumping into his arms and giggled girlishly when he whispered something in her ear.
“They’re well mated,” Max laughed. “They’ve been married for five years and still act like newlyweds.” Then her smile faded. “The only thing that could make them happier would be a child.”
“No luck?” Elizabeth asked sympathetically. It seemed a shame such a loving couple should be denied.
“No luck for any of us.” Max pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. “No child has been born on this mountain for six years.” She ran with the others to help unload the truck.
Elizabeth wanted to ask why, but infertility was such a private matter and obviously a painful one. These women were all so open and friendly. Still, they didn’t know her well enough to call her friend.
The truck was loaded with more than her belongings. The two tall and comfortable looking wingback chairs would be perfect before the fire and the dinette set with four matching chairs and a lovely corner cabinet would fit perfectly in the corner by the kitchen. Her metal framed computer desk-in-a-box looked incongruous against the antiques, but when blocked off from the rest of the room by two glass fronted bookcases, it formed a nice little office in one corner of the living area.
She was most excited to see the bed. She’d only been camping once in her life, from which she returned sore and covered with poison ivy. The thought of sleeping on the floor held no nostalgic appeal.
It wasn’t until it was set up with the headboard in place that she realized she was already familiar with its comfort. It was the bed she’d slept in at Marshall’s and it made her wonder if all these lovely things came from his home. She was glad he held no grudge for the way she’d treated him last night.
With the living area walls painted a soft buttery yellow and the furniture in place throughout the room, the Home Place lost its dismal look and began to look like, well, a home.
There was still work to be done. The bedroom needed a second coat and kitchen painting hadn’t been started. The men would take care of the porches and she’d chosen a rosy red for the doors and the shutters GW unearthed beneath the porch.
The others had gone home with promises to return in the morning and after she’d finished the leftovers from lunch, Elizabeth decided a shower was in order.
“I’m the only thing left to be washed.”
Chapter 8
No matter how late it was, no matter how tired you were, sleeping alone in a new place in the middle of the woods with no comforting normal house sounds and no curtains at the windows wasn’t easy. Sure, she’d slept alone in her apartment, but there were fifty-seven other tenants sleeping under that industrial roof and she always had the comfort of knowing that if she screamed, Mrs. Bee across the hall, who never slept and opened her door at the slightest noise, would certainly hear her and call 911.
Elizabeth lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
“Who would hear me scream out here?” she asked the hole in the ceiling where a light bulb was supposed to be. “Who would dial 911? Oh, wait a minute, there is no 911, only Harmony, who’ll call everyone with the news before she calls the cops.” She sighed and shrugged. “Oh well, at least she’s there if I need her.”
“Oh yeah? And what will you call Harmony with, Ms. Smar T. Pants? There’s no phone in this cabin and your cell phone wouldn’t work even if it wasn’t dead because you can’t remember where you stuffed the damn charger.” Shit. She’d crossed the invisible line and was answering herself.
“Oh shut up and go make a cup of tea.”
Elizabeth used her flashlight to make her way to the kitchen. The silky feel of the floors, worn smooth by hundreds of years of bare feet before hers, eased her distress. Her doors were barred and there were no horses here to attract the wolves. A helpless old man lived here before her and according to Max, he died of old age. She was perfectly safe.
She flipped the switch for the single forty watt bulb that hung from the kitchen ceiling, took a mug from the upper cupboard, filled it with water and laughed out loud. How much of civilization we take for granted. No microwave. She’d have to do this the old fashioned way.
The freshly washed pots were stored one inside the other in the lower cupboard. She reached in and something moved against her hand. She squealed, pulled back and threw the cupboard door closed. She slammed the mug on the counter and swore when the water sloshed. Damned mice!
They’d taken care of a dozen or more while cleaning out the kitchen and after Max and the others laughed at her timidity she sucked it up and took matters into her own hands. She was becoming an accomplished mouse killer. She was a different woman from the one who crossed paths with that furry rodent on the porch this morning. She was brave. She was strong. She grabbed the broom from the corner. She was going to kill the little bastard.
She started at one end, pulling out the pots and pans and attacking with her broom. She moved to the next cupboard and the next, driving her foe before her. When it was trapped in the corner with nowhere to run, she’d drive home the killing blow. This was her home and she would not be driven out of it by fear of the unknown. Or a shitty little mouse.
She threw open the final door, shifted the broom and struck. She felt the impact and it was too large for a mouse. A rat? She cringed and then straightened her shoulders. No matter. Large or small, a rodent was a rodent and she wouldn’t tolerate the creepy creatures in her kitchen. She leaned down to get a better look at the enemy. It slithered right at her and fell to the floor.
“Aaaaack!”
Elizabeth backpeddled and was still backpeddling as she threw the broom to the floor. She grabbed the flashlight and almost threw it, too. The snake crawled over the broom and headed right for her or at least she thought it did. She really didn’t stop to look. She was too busy running for the exit. She threw the bar off the front door and headed for the path.
Across the overgrown yard she flew. She had no shoes and wore only her nightgown. She didn’t care. She was sure that thing was following her. It had to be five, six, eight feet long!
She couldn’t get the stride she needed with her legs restricted by the skirt of her gown. She reached with one hand to draw it up over her knees, caught her toe on something and stumbled. The flashlight went rolling down through the opening betwee
n the roses. She scrambled after it and grabbed it. Still running head down, she lurched into the path ahead.
And rammed into something resembling a brick wall.
“Oh!” Her flashlight shone on heavy leather work boots.
“Oooph!” Marshall’s large hands gripped her shoulders as he doubled over. “What is it? What’s happened?” he coughed out as he tried to straighten from her head-butt.
“Sna, s-s-sna, s-s-sna…” The word wouldn’t come out. She wove her hand back and forth, snapping her thumb and fingers together. “Sssss. Big!”
“Snake? Where? What kind?”
Kind? It was a snake. It was big. That’s all she needed to know. Didn’t matter what kind of snake it was. The important thing was to put as much distance between you and it as quickly as possible. Marshall was violating the number one rule on her list of What To Do If You Meet A Snake. He moved past her toward the house.
“No!” That came out clear enough. Elizabeth pulled his arm to prevent him from going forward. Instead, she found herself pulled along in his wake, her hand seized by his.
“Where is it?” he asked again when they reached the porch.
“K–k-k-kitchen.” She was still attempting to move in the opposite direction. He wasn’t gripping hard enough to hold her. She didn’t want him to let go.
“Stop,” he said firmly and tugged her hand. Like jitterbug dancers, the tug brought her swinging around and into his chest. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, holding her in place until she gave up the fight. The hand holding hers he used to lift her chin. “It’s just a snake. I’m sure you’ve seen one before.”
“O-only very briefly in the zoo and I never invited him home for supper.”
He laughed and gave her a quick squeeze. “That’s my girl. Not so scared you can’t make a joke of it.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
Elizabeth followed him into the house, peeking out from behind his broad back. She wasn’t proud. If that snake came slithering across the floor, she was going to climb that broad back until she was sitting on his shoulders. He, after all, was wearing boots.
The Alpha's Mate Page 6