Chapter 6
Fawn
I wake to a gentle breath whispering over my shoulder and a warmth snuggled along my back, a paw draped around my chest…. No, that’s not a paw, it’s an arm and a hand is clasping mine to my chest between my breasts.
Spade. Spade is snuggled against me. I should move. I should push him away.
He feels so good. He’s warm and fits around me like my most comfortable blanket. I feel secure. Cherished. Wanted.
No. Never wanted. Not the odd duck.
The right one will come, Mom promised. Fifty years it took her to find the right one after almost twenty-five years of heartache. I’m not that strong. It’s safer to be on my own.
I already know no one stays in a remote place like this. John couldn’t and he grew up in Kennedy.
Spade will be gone as soon as the snow passes, and he’s healed. If I give in, this time the heartbreak will be the real thing. He’s the one man I’ll use to judge everyone else. The one I won’t get over.
Romance book handsome, real, thoughtful, brave. No, he’d never stay with someone like me. Not the strange one. I don’t drink, dance, dress up. I don’t put on airs or fancy clothes. Don’t put out.
Just animal loving, mountain wandering me. It’s easier to be alone with my animals and nature. Hope is too devastating.
I try to shift. He hugs me tighter and whispers near my ear, “Don’t leave me. I need you.”
Relenting, I settle back into his embrace.
Memories. Just a few memories. I must have fallen back asleep wrapped in his warmth.
The next thing I’m aware of is Marble nudging my cheek.
When we make eye contact, he turns and trots to the door.
Shifting, I sit up. Spade leans up on one elbow, his large hand still resting on my hip.
“Something wrong?”
I glance at the clock on my bedside table.
It’s almost an hour past the time I normally rise.
“No. I’m just late. They need to go out.
” Checking through the window before opening the door I see the snow has slowed but is still coming down.
There’s a good two feet of accumulated snow.
After taking care of business, the two dogs bound around, chasing each other in the snow while I pull on my work clothes and boots.
Spade is right beside me. I’m about ready to walk out when Spade reaches around me to grab his coat from the hook. I give him a doubtful look.
“I’m doing fine. I know my limitations. I can help without it being a problem. No dizziness and the headache is only a dull awareness. Since we’re running late, two of us will get the livestock taken care of faster. They need food and water, too.”
Now that the dogs have worked out their kinks, they both sniff the air and survey the tree line before joining us at the barn.
Marble heads back to me and Brownie cuts across the paddock to the strip door to check on the livestock from the outside.
The dogs handle the cold better than excessive heat.
Without being told Spade starts with the chickens then joins me. We work in companionable silence both cleaning, feeding and watering. He’s even learning the names as he realizes some goats and sheep are more people friendly than others.
Finished with the morning chores, I pause on the house porch as Brownie, the hunter, makes one more pass near the tree line.
Marble follows Spade inside. The snow is slowing and there’s a lightness to the clouds.
Unless there’s another front coming in, the snow should stop sometime today.
Brownie’s relaxed demeanor eases my tension. We’re safe for a while longer.
Inside, Spade is kneeling on the floor wiping down Marble’s coat like he saw me do last night. “You’re a good boy aren’t you, taking care of your mom so good, letting her sleep. Let me get you dry and then I’ll get breakfast for you and your sister.”
Finished, he ruffles Marble’s massive head and gets a chin-to-nose tongue licking in appreciation. Spade just laughs. He’s nearly knocked down when Brownie pushes between man and dog leaning into Spade’s chest to stake her claim. Interesting.
Smiling, he looks up. “Were they littermates?”
I shake my head. “Marble chose me as a pup about three and a half years ago when I went to visit his litter. I knew exactly what I was looking for in a working dog, I guess he knew what he was looking for in his person.
“I rescued Brownie last year when her owners abandoned her outside my vet’s clinic. The note said they didn’t know she’d get so big. Some people are just clueless.”
I watch as Brownie leans into Spade while he dries her fur with the towel, whispering sweet nothings as he does. Her gaze is transfixed on him. Looks like she’s found her person as well. I wonder if we’ll both be heartbroken when he leaves.
He kisses her forehead while rubbing her ears before standing. He goes to where he put his satellite phone, checks it then looks at me.
“Nothing on mine either,” I answer his unasked question.
“I’ll feed the dogs while you start breakfast. Then you can tell me what else I can do to help or fix while I’m here.”
The morning flows effortlessly, cooking and cleaning in unison like we worked in the barn. He watches as I pull out my fiber and start carding, asking a million questions and even attempting to card a little wool on his own.
Sitting on the floor, Brownie lying beside him, he watches me work idly scratching behind her ear. “The blankets, you’ve made all of them?”
“Yes. Most of these were made before I perfected my skills. But they’re still warm.”
“Making something like this has to feel good. Jax builds furniture. The baby beds he made for the twins are beautiful. He also carves and whittles. I like working with my hands and would love to give whittling a try. He’s promised to teach me when we start work on his cabin.”
“We display some of his smaller animal carving in Mom’s shop. They’re amazing and so intricate. You mentioned you took pictures. Is photography your hobby?”
He studies Brownie as he continues his strokes.
“Force of habit. I always have a camera in my pack. I was a spotter in the army. I’d do recon, taking photos to help the actual sniper.
I’d take pictures to help identify best locations and obstructions, photos of the terrain, the target, the kill.
I’d offset those with sunrises and sunsets for me.
It’s something I’ve done for almost ten years.
I don’t know if it’s just habit or a passion.
I’ve thought about taking some photography classes. Maybe after I’m settled.”
“Can you show me some?”
Getting his camera from his pack he pulls a chair from the table to sit next to where I’m working the fibers. “It’s a small screen, once I get back to my laptop I can display them better. If you’re interested in a better look sometime.”
He starts with several sunrises in Chicago. Then each spot he stopped along the way to Kennedy. He knows exactly where he took each shot on his cross-country trip and explains what drew him to the photo. They’re beautiful.
He’s tries to gloss over the flowers, trees and bushes but I stop him. “No, I want to see them all. I’ve never left my little town. Never seen anything other than my mountain.
“These are so gorgeous. They remind me of the paintings they sell at one of the shops in town. Mom would buy calendars each year with shots displaying scenery from other states or countries. We couldn’t afford real art, but they always brightened the cabin.
“Spade, this, your photos are art. Better than some of the work I’ve seen in town. I bet you could print and frame these. Mom would display them in our shop.”
“I have more that I took in the countries where I was deployed, and some of the guys on the teams. The photos were just something I did for me. Kind of a pictorial journal of what my life was like. The men I considered brothers. The good and the bad. Never thought anyone else would want to see them. I’ve probably got fifty memory cards. Never could make myself reuse them.”
“Maybe you should create one of those books, a photo history of your travels.”
“Not everything was beautiful, Fawn.”
“Maybe people need to witness the good and the real. You made friends and probably lost some. Their families might also like a pictorial history. It might be healing. For them and you.”