Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
ARLOW
The heat and humidity have taken a few days off and it’s a good opportunity to get some outdoor work finished, no matter how much I want to be in the barn. That can wait until the overnight hours. Right now, the grass needs to be cut.
Calli’s driveway is empty, or I’d offer to mow hers as well. I’m not sure if she plans to do it or if that’s her landlord’s responsibility. I wouldn’t mind doing it. It’s an easy, enjoyable job with my riding mower. My shirt gets stripped off and hung over the back of the seat before I tuck my noise canceling earbuds into my ears, turn on some music and get started.
It’s easy to get lost in my head while the mower rumbles beneath me. I’m not sure what I expected when I invited Calli to go with me to the hives, but her reaction gave me a peek at who she is. She’s cautious, but not afraid to try new things. Hell, even with a suit, I couldn’t get Lee out there for weeks. What I loved seeing the most was her compassion. She was so worried about harming one of them accidentally. Some creatures are easy to love. The songbirds and fluffy rabbits of the world get the bulk of consideration, and to see her sympathy for an insect most would run away from says a lot about her. She’s as sweet as her face.
There’s something about her that affects me in the best way possible. From the first moment I saw her in that creek, there was a shift inside me, and whatever was blocking my creativity broke free. She’s inspiring.
After cutting my yard, I cross the gravel to mow hers, then finish up with the weed eater and head inside to shower the sweaty grass off me. My only remaining plan for the evening is to draw, but a tap on my door right after dark changes that.
“Hi,” Calli says, fidgeting with her hands. “I just wanted to say thanks for cutting my grass. I know it was getting too high. Um…I was going to hire someone or buy a mower. Anyway, can I give you some money?”
“No, it was no problem.”
She blinks, her tongue wetting her lips. “Did you used to cut it for the last residents? Because Silver said it was my responsibility.”
It never even occurred to me to do it before. That cabin and whoever lived in it may as well have been invisible before she moved in. “I didn’t. I think they had a service come out or hired a high school kid.”
“Oh, you have to let me pay you then.”
Leaning against the doorway, I stare down at her. “Well, I have been known to do yardwork for cobbler.”
Her lips tilt up. “That’s a pretty strange thing to be known for.”
“It could be worse. You don’t want to know what I’d do for pie.”
“Now I kind of do want to know.” She pauses and holds up a joint. “Are you busy?”
Not anymore. “Not at all. Do you want to come in? Or we can go to the firepit.”
“It’s nice tonight. I’m up for stoned stargazing if you are.”
I grab us both a drink and we start across the yard. Her eyes scan the darkened graveyard as we wind our way through the graves. “Just run in a zigzag if they come back to life. It’s well known that zombies can only shuffle in a straight line.”
She rolls her eyes, glancing up at me. “Have I told you that you’re hilarious?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good.” Flicking her lighter, she fires up the joint and hands it to me. “What about ghosts? Do you think your zigzag theory holds up for them?”
Amusement rings in her voice and I’m glad to see she isn’t nervous to be here like she was before. “Probably not.”
“We’d need one of those little handheld vacuum cleaners to suck them up. That’d be my chosen weapon.”
“You’ve clearly thought this through. Do you believe in ghosts?”
“No, I don’t believe in anything supernatural, really. What makes it eerie to me isn’t the bodies or supernatural myths, it’s the fear of seeing a person. A graveyard at night isn’t scary. What someone might be doing in one is scary.” She grins over at me. “I watch too many true crime shows.” We climb the hill, passing the joint back and forth. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
“No, I’m not superstitious either.”
The night sky stretches out in a brilliant display of stars, drawing both of our gazes upward for a moment when we get to the top. It’s a sight that never gets old and she seems as captivated by it as I am.
Extinguishing the joint, she takes a seat on the log while I build a fire. Comfortable silence wraps around us. She lies back like she did last time, and it takes a conscious effort to resist staring at her. My fingers itch to draw her as she is, under the deepening sky, reclined on a log, hair spilling over the side like a waterfall.
After a few minutes, she turns her head to look at me. “Have you ever used a metal detector out here?”
“No, never thought about it. Do you have a metal detector?”
“I just bought one. I thought it might be fun to see what I could find. Imagine the old coins and stuff that could be hiding out here. I promised Silver if I discover some buried treasure, I’ll split it with her. You know, since it’s her land and all.”
“Of course. That’s only fair. If you unearth some stolen bags of money on my property, do I get the same deal?”
Her eyebrow rises. “Stolen bag of money is very specific. Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”
“There are rumors that Jesse James held up banks and stagecoaches in this area.”
She sits up, her eyes lighting up. “Really?”
“Among others.”
“Now I can’t wait to get started.”
Considering that a lot of this was pasture, she’s probably doomed to find mostly barbed wire or fencing pieces, but one spot would be a better choice. “The church that burned was there for nearly two hundred years and was also used as a schoolhouse at some point. It isn’t safe inside, but you could search the perimeter.”
“You don’t mind me digging on your land? I’ll refill the holes, of course.”
“Anywhere but the graveyard,” I tease.
“Graverobbing was not part of the plan.” The flames illuminate her pensive face as she pauses, then adds, “That reminds me. I still need to return your cooler that you brought the peaches in.” I’m baffled by how those two things are related and my silent contemplating stare makes her look up from the fire and ask, “What?”
“I’m trying to figure out why graverobbing would remind you of my cooler.”
Her eyes land on mine and she starts to speak, falters, then drags her teeth over her bottom lip. “I don’t know…I’m high.”
“You’re also full of shit.”
She looks me in the eye and her little embarrassed grin is fucking adorable. “Okay, fine. I kept seeing you go into the graveyard and then you left a cooler on my porch. I may have had a moment that I worried it could be, you know, an arm or something.”
Nothing can prevent the laughter from pouring out of me. Her lips twitch, fighting back a smile as she crosses her arms and stares at me. Her confession is so unexpected and unhinged, but it’s not only that. “Let me get this straight. You suspected that I may have left you a cooler full of scavenged body parts, and then you made me a cobbler.”
“Well, it wasn’t body parts!”
“And followed me into the graveyard days later.”
Her shoulders shake when she can’t fight her laughter anymore. “I’m a weirdo, Arlow. It’s better you find out now if we’re going to be friends.”
I want to find out everything about her. I want to know every angle and edge of her. What she thinks and how she feels, why she’s so fascinating to me, and most of all, why a few minutes near her fixed the worst artistic block of my life.
“That’s okay, I’ll be the normal one in the friendship.”
She snorts and takes the stick from me to poke at the fire. “Somehow, I doubt that. What do you like to do when you aren’t beekeeping or tending to the boneyard? Do you have other hobbies?”
“Sure, let’s see, there’s taxidermy, funeral photography, and my amateur tooth collecting group meets monthly.”
“Great, you can stuff the squirrel that won’t stay out of my bird feeders,” she chuckles.
“I fish and hike. I’m just getting the hang of gardening after a few years of trying.” Shrugging, I rest my foot on my knee and lean back. “I like to draw.”
“That’s cool. I have zero artistic talent. What do you draw?”
“Nature mostly, just sketches and scribbles. What do you do for fun?”
She sighs and props the stick against the firepit. “I’ve recently been looking for new hobbies. You saw my beginner crochet abomination, but I haven’t given up on that yet. I’d like to learn an instrument, but I can’t decide which one. I like to read, and I go to a lot of concerts.” Her expression fills with joy. “That’s my favorite thing. I have a group of friends that I met online years ago. We meet up at different music festivals and concerts. I saw Blue Orbit a couple of months ago.”
Blue Orbit is one of my favorites, though I haven’t seen them in concert. I haven’t been to a live show since I was in my early twenties. “Have you heard their latest album? They went in a different direction.”
“I have! I love it. I can’t wait to hear it live,” she says, beaming at me.
“Is that the genre you prefer? Rock?”
“Indie rock, some folk rock and blues. Some of the hard stuff is good, but I’m not really into metal. How about you?”
“I listen to a little bit of everything except country.”
We spend a good hour discussing our favorite bands and songs before the conversation switches to books we’ve read and shows we’ve watched. By the time we’ve relit and smoked the remainder of the joint she brought, it’s almost midnight. The evening hours that can often torture with the way they drag have moved by effortlessly. Too quickly.
I could spend forever here, listening to her laugh light up the night.
My day starts with a call I’ve been waiting for but always dread. “Mr. Shaw?”
“This is him.”
“I’m calling from Doctor McAllister’s office with your test results.”
I want to believe her peppy voice means good news, but I’ve been fooled before. She can give devastating news in that same tone. “I’m ready,” I sigh, and the seconds seem to stretch out as the sound of papers shuffling fills the brief silence.
“The ultrasound results look good. There’s some minimal regurgitation that the doctor said he talked to you about before, but it hasn’t progressed. We’ll continue to monitor but he isn’t concerned at this point. Everything looks the same as it did on your last visit.”
“That’s good,” I breathe, relieved.
“Yes, it is. I’ve called in your prescription refill. Continue it as usual. You know the routine by now. Moderate exercise is fine but nothing too strenuous, and if you have any symptoms or anything changes, let us know. Otherwise, we’ll see you in six months.”
After thanking her, I call my mom to set her mind at ease as well, then head outside into the bright afternoon sun. There’s nothing that needs to be done today that can’t be put off until tomorrow. I’m just going to enjoy the day.
My intention was to take a walk through the woods, but the sight of Calli turns my steps in her direction. She leans against the huge trunk of a tulip poplar tree behind her cabin, holding her metal detector. Shadows shift and dance across her face, courtesy of the sunlight filtering through the foliage as she holds a hand over her mouth. The sound of laughter leaks through her fingers and cloaks the soft crunch of my footsteps, allowing me to remain unnoticed.
The sight of her joy is as beautiful as she is. My opportunity to admire her discreetly is cut short by my laugh when I see what has her so amused. A few yards away, at one of her bird feeders, a squirrel desperately tries to climb the pole. Its tiny paws scrabble at the slick surface, but only halfway up, it begins to slide back down. Her head whips around, and she beams at me.
Christ, look at her. Tendrils of sun-streaked hair float on the slight breeze as pale blue eyes meet mine, gleaming the gray of burnished metal in the light. The way she makes me feel is almost indescribable. I’m so drawn to every inch of her. Her laugh lightens something inside of me, loosens my chest and brings a smile to my lips every time I hear it. She makes me long for things I’ve long ago given up.
“I greased the pole,” she snickers. “Watch.”
The squirrel tries again and after hitting that halfway mark, starts to slip again. Instead of scrabbling for purchase this time, it simply holds tight and makes a steady descent.
“I didn’t know a squirrel could look defeated,” I remark as it gives its bushy tail a swish and ambles away. “But that one looks devastated. I’m a little embarrassed for him.”
“He has a whole forest he can forage without terrorizing my birds.” She glances over at me. “What are you up to today?”
“I was going to take a walk. Have you found any treasure?”
“I don’t know who lived here before, but they must’ve thought planting bottle caps would grow more beer because those bastards are everywhere. I was heading back to the creek. Want to try it out?” she asks, holding the detector up.
“Let’s go.”
A smile bursts across her face, and she hands it over, then picks up the small shovel. We head down the trail, in silence for a bit until she asks, “What do you do in the barn all night?” She responds to the look of surprise on my face with a sheepish shrug. “I’m not spying on you. I see the light still on when I get off work sometimes.”
“Sweat mostly. I should get the air conditioner fixed.”
Her flash of a smile is half-hearted, but she doesn’t pursue it. I don’t like how her expression changes, her posture tensing up as we walk. In her silence, I can almost feel the anxious thoughts running scenarios in her head. She once suspected my cooler contained body parts so who knows what horror she’s dreaming up.
“Hey.” Her steps halt when I do. “It’s nothing nefarious. I told you I like to draw. I work on art projects in the barn. It’s just something I prefer to keep private.”
“I understand. I didn’t mean to be intrusive.”
“You weren’t. I didn’t mean to creep you out.”
“You don’t creep me out.” Squinting as a thin ray of sun sneaks through the canopy to hit her face, she looks up at me. “You have a really calming presence. Has anyone ever told you that?”
It might be the best compliment I’ve ever received. “I can’t say they have.”
“You do. My anxiety always seems to disappear when I’m around you.”
She has no idea the effect she’s had on me in the short month since she moved next door. It wasn’t just the creative block. She cured a loneliness I wasn’t even aware of.
The way she’s gazing up at me—her face so full of sincerity and vulnerability, a more beautiful muse has never existed. She’s my inspiration and my friend, but the urge to taste her parted lips is almost irresistible.
Almost. “I enjoy being with you too.”
A sweet, shy smile is her reply before we continue down the trail.