Chapter 4
Fawn
I don’t talk about those years. I don’t think about those years. So why am I chattering like a chipmunk?
Pushing to my feet, I check my satellite phone again. Still nothing. Grabbing his plate, I cross to the sink. “I need to check and feed the animals. Do you want to go back to bed or stretch out on the couch?”
“Couch if I won’t be in the way.”
“That’s fine.”
“I’ll hit the bathroom first.”
Stoking the fire, I add an extra log. Once he’s settled, I get him a blanket and water to drink. “Want a book to read?”
“Sure.”
I read off some titles and he chooses one. “I might be a while. I know you’re used to having a weapon, but it’s not safe with a concussion. I’m leaving Brownie to guard you. Marble will be with me. If anyone comes to the yard, he’ll let me know and we’ll get back to you.”
He nods. Brownie has her head on the couch and he’s mindlessly scratching her ear. Book on his chest, his eyes are already drifting shut. He needs rest.
After restocking the feed and water for the sheep and goats, I secure them in the pens where they can access shelter if they need to, I collect the eggs from the chickens and put the basket on the porch.
Marble makes a sweep of the yard while I secure a snow rope just in case.
Right now, I can still see the house thru the falling snow, but Mom and I learned to be cautious over the years.
Next, I make sure the two outside fire boxes at the ends of the porch are full.
Marble’s demeanor after making his rounds assures me there’s no imminent threats.
If those fools did go to the mine, they might have made it out if they started their return right away.
But if they thought they could wait it out they’re stuck.
If they were foolish enough to try navigating the storm on that ATV, they’re probably dead. Time will tell.
I don’t have any experience with a concussion, but Spade seems to be okay. He’s not experiencing any of the dangerous symptoms the book lists. He said he’s had one before and he doesn’t act worried. Sleep and food are probably the best medicine. With these conditions, it’s all I can do anyway.
I grab the log carrier and push the door open. My guest is fast asleep on the couch. One hand is resting on Brownie, as if he dozed off petting her. She looks up at me contentedly.
After stacking the wood, I turn and study him. Even in repose his face looks guarded and worn, like he’s seen and experienced too much. I could tell by his voice that the rejection from his wife hit him hard. I’ve learned to trust my animals more than people.
I start stew and mix up more of the biscuits he seemed to like. He looks like a man who could have a hearty appetite once he’s feeling better. Glancing at the pot, I double the ingredients. I’ve seen Mom’s boyfriend eat and Spade is bigger, both in height and hard muscled girth.
He doesn’t look like a Bishop. He answers when I call him Spade so I’m sticking with it.
The stew is simmering nicely, and the biscuits are on the counter cooling.
Grabbing a book, I sit at the table to read.
After trying two history books and a mystery I finally settle in with one of Mom’s romance books.
Growing up with no male influences and a father that disowned me before I was even born, then jumping into high school with no prior exposure to others my age was a shock. Dealing with self-absorbed teenage boys was confusing and disappointing. I have very little experience with real men.
Mom says that John is the real deal, like in her books.
Supportive and attentive. He’s kind and thoughtful with her and never talks down to her.
She’s tried to encourage me to date, even tried to set me up with some guys she met in town.
My instincts around men are pretty shitty.
And trust…. Well, that’s a whole other issue.
Everyone at the school said I was backward.
We didn’t have a TV. I didn’t do selfies.
Or watch hours of videos. I didn’t understand television character references and how they became a language all of their own in my fellow students’ conversations.
I had animals to tend and chores to do, wool to gather and dye. Work. Yet, I was the freak.
The men-boys I’ve met are nothing like they are in Mom’s books. Guess that’s why they call it fiction. Escapism. I give myself the escape since I’m trying to be quiet so Spade can rest and heal. I just wish the book heroes were real.
Fitting against my back he cups my breast, first weighing its plumpness in his palm then teasing the hard nipple between his fingertips.
Gentle at first then harder, plucking gently.
Yes, Simon. Feel me. Make me wet. Make me come.
No one has ever made me feel like this. Like something inside me is going to explode.
Take me. Take me now, hard like I know you want to.
The click of the bathroom door latch snaps me back from the passion of the book.
Realizing he’s awake, I slam the book shut and bury it in the yarn basket.
Crossing to the sink, I run a rag under the cool water and wipe it over my heated face.
My girly parts still tingle from the arousal generated by the book.
Damn, I was so lost in the sex scene I didn’t notice Spade had woken.
He’s stealthy. Guess he had to be as a spotter.
Filling a glass with cool water I chug half of it hoping to cool my body and thoughts. Both dogs are sprawled on the floor sleeping soundly, a sure indication all is well around the farm. Funny, they’ve accepted Spade quicker than they did John. I wonder what that indicates.
I stoke the wood burning stove to heat water for more tea. We’ve had electricity with the generator for a few years, but I still like the process of the old wood stove. Maybe it’s the comfort of something normal from my early childhood.
School was hard because there were so many things I didn’t understand.
Not the actual learning, it was the peopling that was hard to navigate.
The world had changed so much from the time Mom moved to our cabin she had some catching up, too.
Mom and I did everything together until she had to move to town.
We even learned how to use phones and computers together.
We had to since we rarely get cash from our customers.
Day to day survival things make sense to me. I guess I am a throwback and out of tune. But trying to figure out if someone is lying is hard work.
And people like Saber’s ex? I mean, really?
She knew he was military. She had to have known he’d be sent to war zones.
How could she cheat on someone protecting their country?
It’s like the guys dating one girl in school and having sex with all the others.
If the girl did it, they’d get upset and call her names.
Nope, I’ll stick with my goats and sheep. They’re easy to understand. I smile to myself. Mom’s golden rule. Do on to others as you'd have them do on to you. But take no shit.