Everlyn
I watched Zephyr ride away. I stood there until he was out of sight.
Once he was, I returned to my crew and the inspection.
I refused to stand and do nothing. I jumped down to help hand-dig a spot and place a containment tank we were using to suck up as much waste as possible.
It stank and made my nose run and eyes water, even with the respirator and goggles I wore.
As the rest of my day passed, I kept finding myself thinking of Zephyr and the conversations we had.
His initial defense of me, while heartwarming, wasn’t necessary.
I’d told him that after everyone else left.
Zephyr told me it was, and it wasn’t a reflection on my ability to fight my own battles and protect myself. It was who he was as a person.
When we got into the specifics of what my team was doing, he asked insightful, smart questions.
When he explained some of the things he did at his place, I was more than mildly intrigued.
I found myself dying to see it in person.
And it was that, along with my ongoing, though inappropriate desire for him, that led me to accept his invitation this coming weekend to come to the Prowlers’ compound to see what he’d done.
I knew I should’ve declined politely, but I didn’t. God, what was I going to do? I knew spending more time with him would only increase my attraction to him. But it was as if I couldn’t resist.
?
I’d arrived at the road that was next to the funeral home and led into the old cemetery, where I saw Zephyr ride out of that one day.
He was sitting there waiting for me on his bike.
He explained on Tuesday that it would be easier to show me where to go rather than give me directions.
When he saw me, he gave me a chin lift. I waved back like a doofus.
First, we passed the funeral home and went through a gate that took us through the middle of the cemetery.
Behind the graves were two buildings, one on either side of the road we were on.
Directly past them, we passed through another gate.
This one was taller and more sinister-looking.
The fencing enclosing this section was different from what surrounded the cemetery.
This second one had plants growing all up it, screening what was on the other side.
As I passed through the Gothic gate, I noticed a huge multi-stalled garage to the right.
Directly ahead was a row of houses. Zephyr turned left, and then we turned right onto a street, then right again.
We wove through rows of houses. He stopped in the driveway of the first house on the left after making the last right-hand turn.
He motioned for me to park in the driveway, so I did.
I was staring out at it, trying to take in everything. I was caught up in it so much that I jumped when Zephyr opened my car door.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I fumbled for a moment, unbuckling my seatbelt, then I scooted out.
“Sorry, I was gawking and forgot to get out. Wow, I never imagined this was back here.”
As I turned in a circle, I paused and pointed. “Is that a mausoleum in the middle of your houses?”
“Yeah, it is, with a barbecue and an outdoor kitchen behind it. What can I say, we’re quirky. I mean, come on, our club is called the Grave Prowlers. What else would you expect?”
I laughed. “You’re right—good one. Here I thought the cemetery was a nice touch, but that second gate, the fence, and now that. Wow. Color me surprised and a bit spooked. Zephyr, all these homes. They’re different, which I love. There’s no cookie-cutter planned houses here.”
“That’s for damn sure. Where would you like to start?” he asked.
“Tell me about the outside and your framing,” I asked.
The outside was made of wood and stone, with tons of windows. You could look inside the house and, without blinds, shutters, or curtains, see into almost every room. It had a Scandinavian feel.
Zephyr took me around the entire thing. In the back, in one corner, was the attached garage. In the opposite rear corner, there was a pool, with a wet bar off the back of the garage wall and, off the house, a covered porch.
“The outside is made of reclaimed wood, cork, and river stones. For framing, reclaimed steel and glasscrete, which is concrete made with recycled glass. To insulate, it’s a combination of cellulose made from old newspaper and straw bales,” he explained.
“What are the walls themselves made of?” I asked.
“Hempcrete covered in cork makes up the walls. The countertops, inside, are made of terrazzo. Have you heard of it?”
I shrugged. “I’ve heard the name, but I’m not sure what it is made of.”
“They take concrete or an epoxy and embed chips of glass, granite, marble, or quartz, then polish it smooth. It makes for some beautiful, unique colors. The floors are made of bamboo, and you can see on the roof that solar panels sit on top of composite shingles.”
I knew my astonishment was evident, but it was far more than I expected.
“This house is incredible just from the sustainability standpoint, but when you add in how beautiful it is, it makes it even better. I think most people believe that if you go with reclaimed or sustainable materials, it’ll look terrible.
Your house is a clear example of what it looks like when it’s done right. ”
Zephyr smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, please don’t think I’m rude, but can we go inside? I have to see what it’s like in there.” I pleaded.
He laughed, then took my hand, placed it on his arm, and walked me to the front door.
“It’s thirty-three hundred square feet in total with four bedrooms and four and a half bathrooms. The floor plan is open, which allows for tons of natural light to enter when the privacy blinds aren’t down,” he explained.
The entryway opened directly into the dining room and kitchen areas.
The kitchen had a sleek design, a large walk-in pantry, ample counter space, and a standalone island.
Connected to them was a great room with a built-in fireplace and shelving, plus access to the rear covered patio and the front covered porch.
Off the back side of the kitchen was a mudroom with built-in benches and
cabinets for plenty of coat and shoe storage, a half bath, and an additional covered porch that led directly into the three-car garage.
The master bedroom was on the opposite side of the home. It contained a large walk-in closet and a private bathroom with a stand-alone shower, dual sinks, and a soaking tub. On that side of the house was the laundry room and access to the second floor.
Upstairs, three additional bedrooms had their own walk-in closets. Two of the bedrooms shared a hall bathroom, while the last bedroom shared a bathroom next to it with the loft when you crossed the catwalk. The catwalk gave a view of the great room below.
Zephyr took me to the kitchen island after we finished the tour. I took the seat he pulled out for me as he went to a cabinet.
“What would you like to drink? You have to be thirsty after the tour. I know I am. I can make coffee, or I have plain water, Sprite, beer, though I warn you, it’s strong, or saft.
Saft is a concentrated fruit syrup mixed with water.
The flavor I have is blackcurrant. It’s from back home.
If it were winter, there would be more to offer. ”
“The saft sounds intriguing. I’d like to try that, please.”
“Good choice. Two safts coming up. So, what do you think of the inside? The terrazzo counters are a favorite of mine,” he said as he got out glasses, filled them with ice, and then the dark concoction.
“First, the layout is incredible. The openness and light are amazing. Then, I have to say I do love the countertops and the walls. Though the main bathroom off your bedroom is nothing to turn your nose up at.”
He handed me my glass and then sat next to me as I thanked him. I took a sip. I moaned.
“You have to tell me where you get this! Oh my.”
“I have to order it online, but I’ll give you the site name.”
“I appreciate it. You said it’s from back home. Where is that?” I asked.
“In Norway, near the city of Bergen, in the Nordland area on the West Coast. The West Coast is the part that has steep mountains, fishing villages, and what is considered the most dramatic fjords.”
“You grew up there? Because if you did, you have no accent. Are you the one who came up with the Viking names for the casket business and the funeral home? Although I have to admit, I could see Raider and Pirate as Vikings with those names and their looks.”
Zephyr didn’t answer me right away. I got the impression he was deciding how to answer.
“Zephyr, if I’m prying, you don’t have to tell me. I won’t be offended,” I said softly.
“You’re not prying. It’s complicated. To be honest, all of us in the club are of Scandinavian heritage, so Pirate and Raider reflect their heritage.
We all had a hand in naming the businesses.
The club is our family for various reasons.
We left our homeland so long ago that any accents we had are gone. ”
“May I ask what the other businesses’ names are?” I was slightly hesitant to ask in case it made him uncomfortable.
“You may. Our scrapyard is called Battlefield Scrap. Raven’s Target is our shooting range.
Ravens are very central to Norse mythology.
Two of them were the sacred messengers of the All-Father, Odin, and were battlefield omens.
They were called Huginn, which means thought.
The other was Muninn, meaning memory. Then our bladesmithing business is called Blades of War. ”
“Very creative names. What exactly is bladesmithing?”
“Creating knives, daggers, and swords by forging the metal and shaping it with a hammer and an anvil like a blacksmith. You heat, hammer, harden, and then temper the metal repeatedly to make it sharp and durable. If you do it well, it’s a lucrative business.
We sell all over the world. Okay, it’s my turn to ask questions. ”
“Go ahead,” I said.