Chapter 10
NASH
Knowing Raven, I predicted being cooped up in this small space would have her bouncing off the walls in no time. So I wasn’t surprised when she offered to help.
But I had to admit, I enjoyed watching her attack that wall. The sight of this pint-size woman wielding a hammer with such zeal shouldn’t have been so alluring, but it was.
And if watching her from across the cabin wasn’t hard enough, working next to her, side by side, was even worse.
She seemed a little calmer after taking all her frustrations out on the wall. And she hadn’t turned her weapon onto me. Maybe we would survive this confinement after all.
My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten all day. I retrieved my cooler and bag of groceries from the guest room.
“Hey, Tweet. Are you hungry?”
“Starved, actually. But my food is still in my car.”
“Take whatever you want of mine. I brought stuff for sandwiches. Granola bars. Chips. A bag of apples. You know, the basics.”
“What kind of sandwiches?”
“Ham and cheese and PB and J.”
“I’ll make a PB and J, if that’s alright.”
“Help yourself.”
“Thanks. The next meal is on me,” she promised.
I carried everything to the kitchen and unloaded what we needed onto the counter.
“Well, Macho Muppet, color me impressed. You thought of everything. Even a knife and paper plates.”
I soaked up her veiled compliment like a drop of water in the desert, but then shrugged it off like it was no big deal. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I work in places like this all the time. Best to be prepared for anything.”
“Even a flash flood?”
“Pretty much. The only thing I didn’t bring that I wish I had is a generator. I have one for times when the site doesn’t have power, but I knew Gladys left the power on here, so I left mine at home.”
“Let’s pray we don’t need it.”
We each made our sandwiches and loaded our plates.
“Need another bottle of water?” I asked.
“That’d be great. Thanks. Mine is long gone.”
I pulled two bottles from the cooler and handed her one.
Her goofy dog placed his head on my knee and gave me big, sad eyes. Then he shifted his gaze to my food and back to me again. “Don’t even think about it. This is my supper, big guy. Go ask your mom what she brought you to eat.”
“Shoot. His food’s in the car, too. I need to run out and get it.” She set her plate on the mattress and called Munch to go with her. “Come on, Munch. Let’s go get you some food.”
“Do you need any help?”
“Nah. I got it. No sense both of us getting wet.”
She darted out into the rain, Munch running alongside her. I forced myself to resist watching them out the window and kept eating instead. A few minutes later, the door burst open, and Munch ran inside. Raven dragged her cooler with a couple of bags on top inside. She was loaded up like an overburdened pack mule with a backpack hanging on one shoulder and a duffel bag on the other.
“I said I’d help. You didn’t have to carry all this yourself.”
She took off her jacket and rubbed her hands through her hair. “I’m used to managing on my own. And I take it as a personal challenge to be able to get it all in one load. We caught a little break in the rain, so it wasn’t that bad. Didn’t even get soaked this time.”
“You must have timed it just right. It’s pouring again.”
Raven pulled a bucket of dog food out of a bag along with two bowls. She filled one bowl with food and the other with water and set them on the floor for Munch. He wasted no time in scarfing it all down.
“He must have been famished. Poor thing.” I reached over and scratched Munch behind the ears.
“Don’t let him fool you. He always eats like that. And he’s always hungry. It’s part of the reason why I named him Munch. He eats everything in sight, whether he’s hungry or not. You know, I have to keep him on a short leash when we go for walks because whenever he sneaks behind a bush or something, he comes back with food. Once last winter, we were on a walk, and he stuck his head in a snowbank and came up with a piece of pizza in his mouth. He’s got a gift, I swear.”
“And here I thought you named him after me.”
“Wh—”
“I haven’t forgotten the not-so-nice name you always called me when we were younger. Munch was the second half of that name, as I recall.”
Raven’s mouth dropped open, and she stuttered, trying to come up with a response, confirming my suspicion. “Th-that’s not true. He’s named after the artist Edvard Munch.”
“You can sell that story to others, but I know the real reason. And I have to say, I’m flattered.” From the moment she got that dog, it tore at my heart to hear her call him that name. And seeing how much she adored him made it sting even more.
“Of all the conceited—” Her face scrunched and flushed with anger once again. “Only you would take that as a compliment, Ego Boy.”
“Easy, Tweet. You’re gonna run out of walls to smash if you’re not careful.”
“If I do, it’ll be your face that I smash next.” She slammed her fist into her palm to make her point.
I tipped my head and laughed out loud. “Never a dull moment with you around. That’s for sure.”
"Nash, I have to commend you on your remarkable ability to find humor in the most mundane and unfunny situations. It's almost impressive, like watching a clown juggling socks in the rain – both baffling and utterly pointless."
Or watching you juggling stacks of bags through a storm. I pressed my lips together to keep myself from blurting that comment out loud. No need to poke the bear.
After we both finished our meal and tossed our garbage into the trash, we got back to work removing the paneling.
I pried away the edges of the next sheet, and a pile of letters fell onto the floor. “Hey, Tweet. Come look at this.”
She peeked her head around the door frame. “What?”
“Someone must have hidden letters inside the wall here. When I pried the panel away, they all fell out.”
She scurried over and picked them up. “They’re old. Look how yellowed the paper is.” She carefully held the edges and studied it like it was a fragile historic artifact.
“I don’t think you need to be so careful with them. They were stuffed in a wall, for Pete’s sake.”
“You never know. They could be important documents or letters from some famous person. We might need to turn this over to a museum or sell it at an auction for a million dollars.”
“Slow down there. I doubt anyone famous would hide letters in the wall of a little cabin like this. They’re probably just something a kid didn’t want her parents or siblings to see.”
“We should read them to find out.”
“How about this? Let’s work for an hour, then take a break and read one letter. That’ll be our reward.”
“Are you always such a taskmaster?”
I tipped my head and looked at her out of the corner of my eye.
“Alright, alright. But I’m gonna set them on the bed, so I know you’re not sneaking a peek at them when I’m not looking.”
“How will I know you’re not peeking?”
“You won’t.” She took the letters and sauntered out of the room, waving them in the air as she went.
Was it my imagination, or did that interaction seem almost flirty?
No. Just because she’s not yelling at you, doesn’t mean she’s flirting. Don’t forget. Raven’s off-limits. Nothing can happen there.
Good thing she’s working in the other room. I ripped the panel away with more force than necessary. She might have been onto something with the smashing.