He knew she was different than the other students on campus with their brand new cars and latest gadgets, but he had not realized just how much she was going without. Suddenly, his patience had reached its breaking point. “You're not supposed to be here,” he barked, taking a small step towards her.
Bethanie up looked at him disdainfully, but he could still see the fear framing her eyes as she silently challenged him.
“You should've already gone by now.”
She shook her head adamantly, acknowledging his instruction. “I'm staying right here.”
She had to. She could not just leave her owls alone. It was her practicum project, a requirement for graduation. And without her degree, she could not take the job with the Barn Owl Conservatory in England.
Who the hell did this little girl think she was? Shadow asked himself. “No one stays.” Shadow crossed strong forearms across his formidable chest. “Administrative orders.”
“I've got to stay. I have to take care of my owls.”
“The power is going to be shut off to this building today. You couldn't stay even if you wanted to.”
“Well, I do want to.”
Shadow silently cursed, blowing out an audible breath and hooking a finger in his front belt loop. This was all he needed. Planting his weight on one hip, he drawled, “I didn't ask.”
“I'll keep a window open. I didn't grow up with air conditioning. I'm used to it. I can manage here just fine.” At least she thought she could. As long as it did not get hot again. The weather was always doing that this time of year in Virginia. As soon as she put away her short pants, it got hot again.
“And what do you plan to do for food? You know the cafeteria is closed as well.”
She had not thought about that either. All of this had just happened so fast. She had not had to leave the campus in three years, even voluntarily spending summers here working. “I'm an excellent cook,” she lied. “I know how to make everything.”
With a terse shake of his head, he reached for her arm. “Sorry. You've got to go.”
She pulled her arm away. When she was backed into a corner, literally, she did the only thing she knew how. Shaking her head fiercely and pursing her lips, she dug in her heels. Pride or humiliation, she did not know which, prevented her from telling him the truth, she had nowhere to go.
He stalked towards her again, this time gripping her forearm tightly and pulling her by her slender arm until she was on her feet. But she still managed to slip from his grasp. “Stubborn female,” he hissed. “Get your things together.”
She crossed her arms, refusing even to look at him.
So, there was nothing for him to do. He could not just leave her here. With no power, the building would quickly become an oven, despite its drafty windows. And he could not in good conscious turn her over to the administration. He was no tattletale. She was making things harder than they needed to be, but he did not know how to convince her of that. He had tried reason, and now she ignored him, he began opening her dresser drawers and removing clothes.
“What are you doing?” she asked in horror as she sprang at him. Her fear was completely gone now and was replaced instead with shock.
“You refuse to pack. I'm doing it for you.”
“You have no right to touch my things,” she nearly shouted at him, trying to position herself between him and her dresser.
He remained steadfast in his determination. “Help if you like, but you're not staying here.” And whether she liked it or not, he was just doing his job, he reasoned with himself. Too bad if that offended her female sensibilities.
With some doing, she managed to squeeze herself between him and her dresser full of personal belongings. But standing this close to him, she was painfully aware that her breasts were skimming the hardness of his chest, and that she was once again all alone with him, this time, in an empty bedroom on an empty campus.
Her breath began to come more quickly and her eyes dilated. He stopped, frozen in place with her sublime body pressed up against him. His steely gaze never wavered from her eyes. But he could feel her all over him. Her body sang to him, causing him to stiffen in response.
Finally, she gave in the struggle and spoke. “I can't leave,” she whispered softly, and as she did, his gaze faltered a moment, traveling down to the fullness of her lips as she spoke.
“Why not?” he asked in a husky voice to match her own.
She looked down at the floor and with great shame admitted what she had never said to another human being. “I don't have anywhere to go.”
In his beige and brown two-tone, 1972, Ford pick-up truck, the two of them entered the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway headed towards his home. From the rearview mirror, hung a tanned leather dream catcher that his father had made for him as a young boy. He had long since left bad dreams behind him, but it was Shadow’s way of keeping his father close.
The leaves of the trees, flanking them on both sides of the winding road were just beginning to change their color from green to vibrant shades of red and orange. Finally, they reached the gravel drive leading up to the secluded cabin in the center of three acres that he called his own. Her belongings bounced around in the bed of the truck along with Shadow's fishing pole and tackle box. Inside the cab was cozy with a blanket-covered bench seat springy enough that each bump in the road sent Bethanie grabbing onto the door handle for dear life. But this had the advantage of placing her as far away from Shadow as physically possible, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Shadow who watched the road carefully but was well aware of the indifference of the young woman sitting next to him.
On the drive, Bethanie reasoned with herself that she was just going along with Shadow's orders that she stay with him because she did not really have a choice in the matter. Her family did not want her. She had no money for a hotel room, and she could not possibly call her oldest brother for money, the stern lecture she would receive was best avoided, in her opinion. He already thought very little of her, why give him more ammunition? Besides, there was no way on earth that she would tell him that she was going to be sleeping in a stranger's home, a man's home no less.
She looked out the open window as they passed the old saw mill with its water wheel still spinning, letting the breeze catch her hair and tickling her cheek. Bethanie knew next to nothing about Shadow. He gave up so little about himself, that probably no one really knew him. And the little she did know, even though it may be gossip, she assumed to be true since it was never refuted. And what she had heard was enough to cause her to dislike him, things like drinking in bars and carousing with women who were paid to dance. A different women in his cabin every weekend. She rested her chin in her hands and blew out a breath. Now, people would think that she was one of his women. Why did a scarlet letter A keep popping into her head?
“This is it,” Shadow said reluctantly, putting the truck into gear and the emergency brake on. He could feel how much she did not want to be there. But wishing there was any other way to handle this situation would not make it better. Even though a hotel room might have been a better option, with the skinwalker out there, leaving her alone in a hotel room, he would not have been able to sleep at night for worrying that he had put her in danger. Especially since the skinwalker had tried to attack her and may be planning to do it again. He cursed, not liking the direction of his thoughts. What was he was going to do with an n'ya who challenged him and was constantly looking down her nose at him?
“Like it?” he asked Bethanie when he noticed her looking at the cabin through the truck’s windshield. “It's been here since the turn of the last century. Timber frame design. Built as solid as a mountain. Just needed a little TLC when I moved in about seven years ago now. Property belonged to the school. Former president used to live in it. Wasn't for sale when I found it. But the current president thought somebody should have it, make a home out of it, instead of leaving it here to rot. He got permission to sell it to me with the understanding that I'd not tear it dow
n. If you can believe that? As if anybody in their right mind would tear down a piece of history like this.” He cleared his throat when she did not speak. “I'll take your bags inside. Make yourself at home.”
Bethanie closed her mouth when she realized she had been listening to him with it open. She had never heard him string together so many words before. Now, she took her cue to get out of the truck and follow him into the little, wooden house. The place reminded her of one of the television shows she watched with her roommate who was more like a walking TV guide than a student. Bethanie did not take the shows for granted the way Maggie did because she had never seen them before; each one was like a new family. She loved anything to do with families. A husband, a wife, kids, a dog, and she was hooked. Her dreams came to life on the television.
Shadow let her lead the way up the three stone steps to the front door, turning back to him at the top step, he nodded for her to go inside. Slowly, she turned the knob, letting go of the breath she had been holding. Inside looked pretty much like any cabin, then she looked up. The vaulted ceiling shot up over the living room where huge wooden joists appeared to weigh a ton, making the downstairs look just as she imagined Noah's Ark. The magnificence of it was not at all what she had expected, and its beauty took her breath away.
It was the home of a refined person not the home of the uncivilized man she had supposed him to be. A basket weave design throw lay across the back of a buttery soft, brown leather sofa. An ottoman scattered with National Geographic magazines sat in the center of the room, surrounded by two other chairs made of what looked like bent sticks. More magazines and books lay atop an end table. His love of music was apparent in the size of his stereo system that looked as though it could launch the space shuttle, one of the few things she had actually been allowed to watch on television as a child. And even more books lined the back wall opposite the fireplace. An entire wall of bookshelves stood there, adorned with sculptures and statues she did not recognize.
The front room opened up to the second floor, a loft, and upstairs there were three doors that she imagined were bedrooms. How many women had seen what she was seeing now? she asked herself, then found herself hoping that the rumors she had heard of his exploits were not true.
The kitchen that was situated at the back of the house had a set of windows above the white porcelain sink that allowed for a full view of a pristinely landscaped backyard. She was drawn to the shimmery reflection of water on the wall. She gasped as she looked out the window. Behind the house was Adams Lake, the place where all students, all it seemed but herself, enjoyed sunny afternoons in bathing suits, something that had been forbidden for her to wear growing up, and because of it, she had never learned to swim. Suddenly, it occurred to her that no one was around to forbid her from wearing a swimsuit now, and the thought made her feel almost giddy. Swimming was the one thing she had wanted to do since she had been a little girl.
Shadow's boots scraped against the floorboards of the front porch as he brought in her bags. He was carrying all four of her suitcases at once, a mix-matched set given her by her social worker, as if they weighed nothing more than a pillow. “I'll put these in the spare room. You can settle in before dinner,” he said, climbing the steps and disappearing inside the door on the left.
Bethanie continued her exploration of the downstairs. “Where do you keep your TV?” she asked as she heard Shadow's returning footsteps on the stairs. She would not be able to sleep without one. It had become her only comfort at night, allowing her to sleep knowing that if she awakened during the night, she would hear the voices coming from the television and not feel so alone.
Before he could reply, the phone on the wall of the kitchen rang behind her, startling her. As he went to answer it, she crossed the living room to his bookcases and listened to his deep voice, finding it somewhat soothing as he spoke into the phone. Running her fingers across the spines, she whispered aloud each title as she came to it, noting the ones that she might like to read until she reached one in particular. “What could he possibly want with a book about Buddhism?” she asked herself.
“I like to read up on all the world's religions,” came his deep voice from behind her.
Bethanie jumped, earning a chuckle from Shadow. “To answer your first question, I don't own a television set. Got no use for one.”
Shadow was standing a little too close for her comfort. The scent of sandalwood was coming from him, and it was doing weird things to her brain, making her feel warm inside.
“Different religions fascinate me,” Shadow continued, pointing to a book titled, Loving Kindness. “The whole world finds their way to the Great Spirit. And each one does it in their own way.”
Bethanie frowned. “I suppose,” she replied softly, not convinced and feeling slightly annoyed at the fact that she had left a perfectly good dormitory with a television set to come to this house with none. But then she reminded herself of what Shadow had said about the power being shut off, and she consoled herself that it would probably be just a few days she would be stuck here. “Don't you read the Bible?” she asked haughtily, scanning the shelves for a copy. She may not know about the world’s religions, but she could quote from the Bible.
Shadow grinned. “A book about white man's God.”
Now Bethanie was really annoyed, calling it that was obviously not meant to be a compliment. “I can recite the books of the Bible backwards and forwards,” she boasted.
“A skill that comes in handy everyday, I'm sure,” Shadow said, smiling sardonically as she turned ashen. “You must be getting hungry.” He strolled into the kitchen to start their dinner, leaving the ignorant white woman with no spirituality alone with her fear and judgment. She could learn a lot from me if I cared to teach her, he thought.
“Not a fan of chili?” Shadow asked a half-hour later at the kitchen table over a spoonful of his three-alarm chili, a recipe he himself had perfected over the past ten years he had been on his own.
Bethanie coughed and wiped her mouth once more on the cloth napkin in her hand. “I like it,” she lied around the bite in her mouth, the tear streaming down her cheek giving her away.
Shadow had not seen her turn so bright a shade of red before, even after their run-in this afternoon.
“My mother was a teacher,” he said. “In the afternoons, she was always busy grading papers. So, I took it upon myself around the age of fourteen, to start cooking for the two of us.”
“Your mother was a teacher?” Bethanie asked, putting down her spoon, grateful to have something to talk about that took her away from burning her mouth on the chili.
He nodded. “If it hadn't been for her pushing me, I would've never made it through my last year of high school.”
Bethanie watched his face change as he spoke about his mother. She could tell from his expression how much he loved her. Her eyes traveled to his well-trimmed beard and further down, his mouth. She had never seen such full lips on a man before. Suddenly, she had the most ridiculous urge to touch them. His face was perfectly symmetrical, with a strong jaw and forehead. His eyes were almost clear blue, a surprising gray color much like galvanized metal. She pulled her thoughts away from his face long enough to ask, “Why did you almost not graduate?”
“My girlfriend, Maria, broke things off after seven years of being inseparable,” Shadow said, his tone flat and emotionless.
From the look on his face, Bethanie figured he was still in love with her.
“With only three months left 'til graduation. Seems I wasn't Native enough for her or her parents.” His laugh was full of derision. “My plan was to get my GED and go straight to work.”
“Then you wouldn't have become a professor.”
“I've got a Master's Degree in Horticulture. I'm not a doctor.” Shadow had never become accustomed to the honorary title of professor bestowed upon him by his students since he held no Ph.D.
Bethanie’s face took on a look of exasperation. “I mean, you would’ve spent the rest
of your life working at a job you hated. That's why my brothers both went to seminary. One's a missionary and the other's a preacher. They didn't want to have to work as hard as our father had before he died.”
Shadow's expression softened. “I'm sorry to hear it.”
Bethanie realized that she had given away more about her life than she had meant to. “Who was that on the phone?” she asked, knowing it was none of her business but desperate to change the subject.
“President Bord. Seems you were right after all. Those bodies we found turned out to be a couple skinned deer.”
Bethanie bowed her head. “It was just a guess,” she said, suddenly apprehensive about how he would take being wrong, the one thing that had always sent her father into a rage.
“Well, someone went to a lot of trouble to make them appear human.” Shadow ran a hand down his beard as he thought. “Makes it even more disturbing if you ask me.”
“Why would someone do something like that?”
Shadow shrugged. “Why does anyone do anything? Most times, they don't even know why. So, tell me what your father did for a living.”
“He ran the bakery in our town,” she answered quickly, her expression darkening at the memory of him. “Does this mean the school is open again?” she asked, changing the subject. She did not want to talk about him. Then her expression brightened as it occurred to her that the school might be reopening with the news that the bodies had been a hoax. Her time there may have come to an end before it even began.
Shadow frowned; he could understand her reluctance to talk about her father. She had lost. But he resented her great hurry to get away from him. “Nope,” he answered almost smiling. “Afraid not, honey.”
“My name is Bethanie,” she said, enunciating carefully. Pretending to be offended by his familiarity seemed like the best offense against the way he was slowly eroding her own defenses.
“Anyone call you Beth?” he asked, messing with her and enjoying himself a little too much. If he did not know better, he would have thought that he had touched on a nerve in the ice princess. He told himself that he should be getting used to it by now, but he was not. And to make matters worse, he was beginning to find her more attractive. Her face was lovely, when she was not scowling at him.
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