CHAPTER SEVEN #2
She grabbed a forest-green rain jacket from a hook in the mudroom, then slid into big black gumboots.
“In July. She’s twelve years younger than me—nearly twenty years younger than Walt—has a brand-new hip and …
” She shook her head, jostling her white curls right before pulling the hood of her jacket over them.
“The man is eighty-four years old. We have three children together, ten grandchildren. I saw him through cancer twice. Prostate and colon. And this is how he repays me. By shacking up with some … sixty-seven-year-old … hussy! ” Her little fists bunched and a glimmer of fury rippled in her eyes, replacing the sadness. “I hope he dies on top of her.”
My brows nearly flew off my forehead. “Lenora!”
“Well, I do,” she said with an affirmative nod. “You should have a jacket. You’ll catch a chill.”
“I run hot. I’ll be fine. Let’s go find some wood.” I shot her a wink, which made her blush, and it also seemed to deflate some of her homicidal inclinations.
Lenora’s backyard during the spring and summer had to look like a fairy oasis. All the flower beds were immaculate, even in their barren winter state. The edging was perfect, the trees pruned, and even the little bird baths and hidden figurines seemed to be free of winter dirt and debris.
A dark-green, shake siding shed with white trim sat at the back of the long, narrow property, and we took the round stepping stones across the lawn to it.
It was a bigger shed than I thought, with a large lean-to on the more protected side.
All the wood under the lean-to appeared soaked though, and wouldn’t do us any good in the woodstove.
Lenora used a key from her pocket to unlock the shed. The smell of lawnmower fuel and potting soil hit my nose before the door was even completely open.
Luckily, there were motion sensing, battery-powered lights inside, which flicked on when we stepped in, out of the rain.
A lawnmower, weed whacker, and several other garden and lawn power tools hibernated, clean and put away to one side.
The other side contained all the makings of a gardener’s bench with pots, trowels, seed starters, and a chart for when to plant things and where, tacked to the wall.
I wandered further into the shed, and ducked under a deep shelf where, buried behind a few plastic storage bins that were surprisingly heavy, sure enough, over a dozen large, round pieces of wood sat stacked. “Bingo!” I announced.
“Really?” Lenora asked, emotion thick in her tone.
“Yes, ma’am. I’d say there’s enough here to heat your place for a while. Did Walt leave his axe by any chance? Or power saw?”
“He took his power saw since the hussy had trees on her property that needing falling. He left his axe though. Should be around here somewhere.” She went hunting while I got to work lugging the rounds out from under the shelf toward the door.
I wasn’t sure where exactly I was going to split the wood, but I needed, to at the very least, get them more accessible.
“Here we are,” Lenora said, grunting as she lifted the long-handled splitting axe. “I don’t know how sharp it is.”
“Better than nothing.” Even though it was cold out, it was hard work hauling all those rounds out from under the cobweb infested shelf and sweat trickled down my back. “Any thoughts on where I should split the wood?”
“If you’re quick, you could do it under the lean-to over there. It’s mostly sheltered, at least when the wind is blowing from the south which …” she glanced up at the trees swaying like they could hear a tune the rest of us were deaf to, “it looks like it is.”
“Then under the lean-to it is.”
Grabbing the thickest round, which was at least two feet across and over two feet long, I picked it up—grateful that it was bone-dry—and carried it out into the rain and under the lean-to.
I would use this one for my chopping block.
A grunt from inside had me running back, and bless her heart, Lenora was trying to pick up one of the rounds.
“I don’t think so, young lady,” I said, swooping in to take it from her before she dropped it on her toe.
Her raspy chuckle made me smile. “You’re a charmer, I’ll give you that.”
I carted the round out to the lean-to. “Do you have a wheelbarrow?”
“In here somewhere.” She shuffled toward the back while I carried more wood out to the chopping block.
Once I’d carted out about half of what I found, I put one of the smaller pieces on the block, lifted the axe up over my head to check how much clearance I had in the lean-to.
The answer was, not much, but just enough.
Then I wound up and slammed the blade down into the wood.
It split in two instantly, bringing a grin to my face.
I wasn’t sure how big Lenora’s woodstove was.
So I split the halves into quarters, stacking them against the shed and out of the rain.
“Here, honey,” Lenora said, coming out of the shed with the wheelbarrow.
“Oh, you’re a peach.”
“I also found a pair of Walt’s old gloves. Don’t want you to get blisters.” She held them out for me and they seemed like they might fit. I set the axe down and thanked her as I pulled them on. They were worn nearly through on the fingertips, but they’d work in a pinch.
I split more wood, and Lenora stacked it into the wheelbarrow. By the eighth round, I’d worked up quite the sweat. The wind had also shifted and was now blowing into the lean-to, drenching both of us.
“All right, Lenora. Let’s take what we have into the house before it gets too wet to light, hmm?”
The wheelbarrow was rather full, so I didn’t even wait for my new feisty friend to reach for the handles before I had them myself and booked it to the backdoor for the mudroom.
There was an overhang where we could park the wheelbarrow, and Raina and another guest met us there and helped unload the wood.
“You go get the fire started,” I said to Lenora. “I’m going to go split some more.”
She seemed like she was about to protest, but I gave her a stern look that said I wasn’t going to let her argue with me, and she closed her mouth, giving me a single nod.
Taking the empty wheelbarrow back to the lean-to, I ducked into the shed and found a tarp which I strung up to create more of a shelter for myself.
I was drenched by the time I finished it, but it felt good to do some hard work.
I worked out in my home gym every day, and was missing the muscle burn. This was a welcomed substitute.
However, my new shirt—which was tighter than I thought it would be when I bought it at the grocery store—started to chafe under my arms a little with every swing. So I figured I was already wet, but warm from exertion, I might as well just take off my shirt for a full range of pain-free motion.
To be honest, the gusts of chilly wind and the odd splash of rain on my skin as I swung the axe over and over again into the wood felt good. My sweatpants were plastered to my thighs and my feet were wet, but I felt good. Nothing like a workout to clear your head and get the blood pumping.
I filled up the wheelbarrow one more time, then tossed the rest of the dry, split wood into the shed. Lenora and Raina met me at the backdoor, their eyes wide, cheeks pink, mouths slightly agape.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, picking up two pieces and handing them each one.
“Nothing,” Lenora said, her thin, faint brows scaling her forehead. “Nothing at all, dear.”
I gave her a weird look, but she spun away, leaving Raina there staring at me like a deer in the headlights. “You guys okay? Has the power come back on?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Is the wood still dry enough you were able to get the fire going?”
Was the woman going to blink?
She nodded.
Lenora returned. “Aren’t you freezing?”
“I worked up quite the sweat, actually. The cool air and rain feel nice.”
“I’m sure they do,” she murmured, taking two more pieces of wood from me.
I handed a second piece to Raina, and both women disappeared. It wasn’t exactly the most efficient way to unload the wheelbarrow, but it worked, and in no time, it was empty. I wheeled it back to the shed, grabbed my drenched shirt, locked the shed, and met them in the mudroom.
Lenora handed me towel that I used to dry my hair and body. Her milky gaze traveled down the length of me. “Your pants are soaked, dear.”
“And with the power out, we can’t wash or dry our laundry anymore,” I said with a frown.
“We could set the portable drying rack I have next to the woodstove for some of the things. But the laundry in the washing machine will still be soapy.”
Twisting my lips in thought, I mulled over what to do. I didn’t really want to drip water from my soaking wet pants all through the house, but I also couldn’t very well strip down right there in the middle of the mudroom.
“Dear,” Lenora said, turning to Raina, “perhaps you could run upstairs and grab Jagger another pair of pants if he has them, hmm?”
Raina’s swallow was thick and slow. I still wasn’t sure if she’d blinked.
Lenora cleared her throat and nudged Raina’s shoulder. “Honey?”
That seemed to snap the stunned codfish enough that she closed her mouth, blinked, and shook her head. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure. Be right back.” Then she was gone.
“She’s an odd one,” I murmured, using the towel to wipe my face, hair, and arms again.
“I’m not sure ‘odd’ is the correct word,” Lenora replied, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
Voices trickled toward us from the dining room.
“With the woodstove going now, everyone is congregating in the dining and sitting rooms where it’s warm.
” She glanced toward the voices. “I have to say, you had quite a few spectators at these windows when you were out there.” Her brows bobbed.
I narrowed my gaze for a moment, not understanding what she meant.
But when she tilted her head forward toward my bare torso, it dawned on me.
“Oh! Shit. I wasn’t even thinking. I’m sorry.
The shirt I bought was a little tight in the arms and rubbing me when I swung the axe.
It was soaking wet anyway, so I just took it off. Are you mad?”
“Mad? I should have charged for the show and offered popcorn … or at the very least, dollar bills.”
My mouth opened in shock. “Why, Lenora Octopus Point Inn, you are a cheeky little woman.”
She snorted. “Lenora Wiley, dear.”
Raina returned carrying my pajama pants, which she handed to me without actually looking at me.
I thanked her for them and Lenora said I could use the laundry room to the left to change.
So I quickly ducked in there, stripped out of my sweatpants and boxers, and tugged on the pajama pants.
Raina didn’t bring me any boxers though, so I had to go commando. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I also still didn’t have a shirt—or socks.
Barefoot, I carried my socks and Blundstones to the woodstove and set them close by on the tile, then headed upstairs.
I took the steps two at a time, the thin, faded carpet cool beneath my feet to grab my zip-up hoodie, and toss on some boxers and fresh socks.
I also grabbed the puzzle before rejoining the rest of the guests—and Raina—in the dining room downstairs.
“There he is,” a man, probably in his late fifties or early sixties, said as his white mustache curling upward with his smile.
“The mountain of muscle who saved us all from freezing our buns off. Thank you, son.” He came over to shake my hand, a woman of roughly the same age but at least a foot shorter than him, at his side, smiling widely.
“Aw, no worries,” I said, my cheeks getting warm from the attention. “Happy to help.”
The man’s wife wasn’t shy about letting her gaze drift down my body. “I’m sure you are.”
Her husband cleared his throat and tugged her away where they found seats in the sitting room, and each picked up sudoku books.
“Should we do it on the dining room table?” I asked, turning to Raina.
Her green eyes flew open wider than dinner plates and she took a step back, her jaw jutting out, chest puffing up like she was preparing to bite my jugular. “Excuse me?”
“The puzzle?” I said slowly, lifting the box up and giving it a little jiggle. “We can do it on the dining room table here?”
The breath she shoved out from her mouth seemed to shrink her chest and deflate her ire like a pinprick to a balloon, and she nodded. “Sure. That sounds good.”
What the hell did she think I meant?
“Okay …” I headed to the dining room to set it up. She gave me a wider berth than necessary and nearly backed her ass into the woodstove to do it.
I really could not get a read on this woman.
Was she always like this? Or was this just anxiety rearing its head from being away from her kid so long?
Maybe her ghosting me was a blessing in disguise? Maybe I dodged a bullet?
A very pretty bullet though.