Chapter Seven #2
“I feel like I’m talking about it all the time.
It’s all I ever think about, dream about.
And if I have a moment of peace when I’m not thinking about it, someone is staring at my scars and reminding me all over again.
Talking about it doesn’t feel better. This doesn’t feel better.
The only thing that takes my mind off of everything is thinking about how to fix Mira’s place up for her and pay her back for what she did. ”
Mira was an addictive distraction.
Brian clapped me on the back, and I winced in pain. Everything still ached.
“Sorry, man,” he said. “You won’t hear any more complaints from me.” He grinned wickedly. “But if she cooks me for dinner you have to engrave I told you so on my gravestone.”
I ignored him and picked up the pace. We had come to an incline and carrying all of the gear was starting to wear on my legs. I was ready to get over the hill.
“How old is she?” Sadey asked breathlessly, changing the subject.
I had never worried about bringing my sister. She was sensitive and kind and a great buffer.
“She’s around your age. Just turned twenty.”
“Does she know I’m coming?” Sadey sounded nervous.
I almost felt bad for going through with my plan before telling anyone. “No. I didn’t want to stress her out any more than she is already.”
Brian cursed softly when the house came into view.
I tried to look at it from new eyes. Maybe I had just become used to its dilapidated appearance in all of my visits here, both human and bear.
In all fairness to my brother, it did look like one of the old abandoned shanties off the highway outside of town.
They weren’t fit to house livestock, much less serve as a home for someone.
Brian and Sadey followed me up the porch steps. The front door had been propped open with an old chair and the smell of bacon and eggs wafted out, reminding my stomach that my bagel breakfast that morning hadn’t been sufficient.
As I brought my hand up to the door frame to knock, I heard the soft cadence of an old record, more scratch than music, and something more. The sound of Mira’s voice stopped my fist mid-knock.
“I don’t know, Brady. What do you think we should do?” Mira asked in a faraway voice.
She stood over her stove, cooking breakfast and talking to her deceased uncle as if he were in the room, and the realization made my heart slink to my ankles.
She wasn’t right. Misfortune had wound itself into every strand of her life, and it had caught up to her.
No one could survive what Mira had and come through to the other side undamaged.
My siblings leaned over my shoulder to see what held me up.
“Electricity sure would make the winter more bearable up here,” she continued, unaware of our presence. “Maybe you’ll stick around this time, huh?”
The fine hairs on my body stood on end and made my skin feel prickled and raw. Watching madness wasn’t for the weak.
“Settle down,” she said. “No one’s here. You always think someone is watching us.”
Could old Brady Fletcher really see us from the grave? The thought made me fidgety and uncomfortable. “Mira?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
Mira jumped like a frightened jack rabbit and clutched her chest. A squeak escaped her parted lips and her eyebrows drew up in startled fear. A huge dog leaped up from its unseen position beside the stove and let out a menacing growl.
“Brady!” Mira said, recovering enough to wrap her hands through the collar at the dog’s throat.
“You named your dog after your deceased uncle?” I asked, shocked and a little angry, as if I’d been tricked.
The dog was scrabbling toward the door, teeth bared and ready for a fight. Mira was losing the battle. “It’s not my dog. I didn’t name him. It was my uncle’s harebrained idea to name him after himself.”
The relief I felt was tangible. I could almost pluck it out of the air like the tight string of a guitar. Talking to one’s dead relative like they were sitting at the breakfast table? Creepy. Talking to a dog like it could understand you? Not so bad.
I squatted down and offered my knuckles for the mutt to sniff. He growled again, but I lifted my lip and let out a low rumble too low for the others to hear. Brady-the-dog tucked his tail and bolted for the door, then disappeared into the woods out front.
“He doesn’t like strangers,” Mira said apologetically.
From the way she looked fearfully at my siblings who hovered in the doorway, she likely shared her dog’s sentiments.
“Mira, this is my brother, Brian, and my little sister, Sadey,” I said, introducing them.
Mira smiled shyly at Sadey and squinted at Brian. “I know you,” she said. “You were outside of the clinic.”
I looked at Brian questioningly.
“Mira came to visit you at the clinic,” he explained. “Your girlfriend wouldn’t let her through the front doors, though.”
If I hadn’t been turning to look at Mira for further explanation, I would have missed the fallen look on her face.
“Becca?” I guessed, and Mira nodded.
A tiny triumphant feeling ignited in my gut that I would have to think about later. I’d been wrong. Mira had come to visit me after all, the brave woman.
I set the bag I was carrying inside of the doorway and nodded for Sadey to do the same.
“How long have you been out of power up here?” Brian asked, taking on his taskmaster voice. He knelt down and opened his bag to check his equipment for the third time this morning. His thoroughness was part of what made him so good.
“We haven’t had electricity since I’ve lived here, but we had a generator that powered what we needed. That went out about nine months ago.”
Brian’s head shot up, and his mouth hung open. “You haven’t had any power for nine months?”
Mira’s cheeks turned the most appealing shade of pink, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the attractive color against the smooth porcelain of her skin.
“No, sir,” she said quietly. “I thought you guys could have some breakfast before you start working. I made some eggs and bacon and biscuits.”
“You didn’t have to spend your groceries on us,” I said.
“I wanted to. It’s the only way I can repay you right now.”
Sadey cut in. She understood proud people because she had been raised with them. “Smells good, Mira. Do you need any help?”
Mira looked relieved and let out a little puff of a sigh. “Maybe you could set the table?”
The girls got to work and, for lack of something to do, I took the two plastic bags Sadey had brought into Mira’s room.
I placed them by the door and looked around.
She had made her bed, and the green shirt I’d bought her was draped over a wooden chair in the corner of her room as if she were trying to keep the wrinkles from it.
The sight made me smile, and the stretch of my lips felt good.
It had been a long time since I had allowed a grin on my face.