Chapter Five
Jo
I t’s been raining nonstop since yesterday, and the drive into SCS is thick with mud.
When I pull into my usual parking spot in front of the old farmhouse and step out of my car, my foot pauses, floating in the air.
There is a large square paving stone directly under my foot that wasn’t there yesterday.
There are multiple, making a path from my car to the porch steps that is completely mud-free.
Did he do this for me?
When I go into the kitchen, there isn’t any sign of him, but there’s a new sticky note attached to the table.
Working fences all day.
Call if you need me.
Okay, I get it.
Don’t go looking for him, just call his dinosaur cell phone.
Lochlan is hardly a conversationalist, but sitting in here alone for hours at a time is getting old.
I don’t have many friends or many reasons to socialize that aren’t politics related, and these sticky notes are stagnant to stare at.
Still, I’d rather be here than at my parents’ house when I’m not at school.
I walk on eggshells around my family, not wanting to do anything that could be critiqued.
The way I dress, what I’m eating, or if I say the wrong thing.
God forbid I have an opinion on anything.
It’s easier to be invisible.
I could never live up to my older brother anyway.
Conrad is running for Governor this year and has been deemed the most eligible bachelor in the state.
If only they knew how unappealing he truly is.
He is my father’s mini-me, and I’ve always been the black sheep.
No matter how hard I tried, I was never good enough for any of them.
The only reason I entered the beauty pageant world as a teen was because I thought if I started winning, they’d be proud, but it only drew harsher opinions.
My father was concerned about his image, my brother always told me that I looked hideous, and my mother made sure to point out every dress that didn’t fit me in excruciating detail.
“What’s wrong?”
I jump out of my skin hearing a voice from behind.
“Jesus, Lochlan. How are you so big and so quiet at the same time?” I bury my head back into my hands, not expecting an answer from him.
“I thought you’d be out all day,” I mumble into my palms.
I hear him open the fridge and rummage through it before closing the door.
He starts making a sandwich, silently answering why he’s here.
His back is to me, and I take my chance to look at him uninhibited.
His shoulder blades flex as he’s making his food, his muscles visible even through the fabric of his shirt.
He wears nearly the same thing every day.
Carhartt pants, Carhartt shirt or hooded sweatshirt, and his hair is always slightly unkempt as if he lets it air dry after his shower and doesn’t touch it again.
Seeing his socked feet on the kitchen linoleum makes him less intimidating, knowing that he took the time to remove his dirty work boots before coming into his home.
I have no idea what it would be like to live in a place that’s been in my family for so long.
Lochlan clearly lives in the house that his grandfather lived in; it’s homey and full of memories from the past.
I’ve snooped around some and seen the photographs on the mantle in the living room.
His grandparents’ wedding photo sits in the center, surrounded by old family photos of even older generations.
The TV is dusty and as old as the kitchen appliances, and there are a few large paintings, but no other decor.
I’m so lost in thought I forget to avert my gaze when he turns around.
“Did you want something?” He asks with a mouth full of food.
“No, I had a salad for lunch.” He visibly cringes and continues over to the table to sit down.
I’m hyper-aware of him being so near me.
It’s a kitchen table meant for six people, but his legs are so long that they take up more space than the average person.
I continue working on my computer, trying to ignore his presence just as he’s ignoring mine.
“Thank you for the paving stones,” I mention quickly, before I lose my nerve.
He grunts in response.
Typical.
“Would it be okay if I stayed an hour late? I have a paper to finish and I’m afraid I’ll run out of time before it’s due if I wait until I’m back home.”
“Sure. ”
“Thanks.”
We go back to sitting in silence, and I conclude that it will be the extent of my social interaction for the day.
I had class this morning, but I was in and out without talking to any of the other students.
Once they figured out who I was, they all avoided me like the plague.
A known conservative father and a liberal college don’t exactly mix.
Not that I could convince them that I despise my father for far more reasons than they ever could.
“What does ‘School Field Trip’ mean?” He asks suddenly, looking at one of the sticky notes I left for him on the counter.
“I was brainstorming ways that you could earn more money. I thought maybe partnering with schools to do educational visits might help generate a little profit, but a lot of good publicity.”
“No.”
“What, why?”
“This isn’t a petting zoo.”
“Well, I know. I knew not to suggest opening it to the public.” He throws daggers in my direction as if I suggested it anyway.
“But education is so important. Helping new generations of kids learn the importance of conservation and wildlife management could be helpful in the long run.”
“Who would willingly let their kids around a bunch of ex-cons and wild bears?”
“The bears are in an enclosure. The ex-cons… Well, that might be something we’d have to work around.”
“No. One brat sticking their hand through the fence, and this whole place could get shut down. These bears aren’t typically aggressive, but they’re animals, and this is their home. They aren’t here to be gawked at,” he argues.
He’s not yelling at me, but he’s passionate enough in his inflection that I know this isn’t a fight I’ll win.
“So, no private parties, then?” I cringe even saying the words, but it was my last idea.
He harrumphs and stalks out the back door.
Back to the drawing board, I guess.
* * *
Another week goes by, and I still don’t have any more profit-inducing ideas, but today I’ve ventured out onto the porch to enjoy the weather.
It’s getting warmer in the mountains, and the sun’s been out more, drying up most of the mud puddles.
Hayes walks by and does a double-take when he sees me.
“Everything alright, Jo?”
“Yeah, I was just getting a little cabin fever being stuck inside.”
“Hmm. Must be contagious in that house.”
He doesn’t elaborate before he joins me on the porch.
I don’t remember if Lochlan’s rules included not talking to Hayes, but he initiated the conversation, not me.
“This is Loch’s favorite chair, don’t tell him I’m sitting in it,” he says after he plops down in a sturdy rocking chair.
“I’ve never seen him sit in it.”
“He sits out here at night after all the work is done.”
“What work exactly? He’s always pretty vague about what he’s doing.”
“Mostly securing the fences and fixing everything that’s broken. We check the entire property every day to make sure there aren’t any holes or damage. We also try to get a visual on all the bears every couple of days to make sure they’re doing alright. They like to hide, so it can get tricky, but with what’s been going on, Lochlan insists on having eyes on them as often as possible.”
“The harassment, you mean?”
“The fence has been cut intentionally a couple of times. It seems like someone is trying to encourage the bears to get loose, but we keep them comfortable enough here that they aren’t eager to run. Normally, human intervention is discouraged, but none of these bears have any business going back out to the wild.”
“I read about that online. You have a couple that have been hit by cars, right?”
“Three. Dodie is missing his front leg because of it. Rocko and Minnie had enough internal damage that they were hospitalized, and then the vets didn’t think they’d survive being reintegrated back to where they came from.”
“I’m glad they could come here.”
“Mr. Dane always had a soft spot for the bears, but they were Mrs. Dane’s favorite animal.”
“Did you know him well? Mr. Dane?”
“I did. I was here a couple of years before he died. I felt like I knew him before I ever met him, though. Loch always talked highly of him before he got out of prison.”
“You and Lochlan were in prison, together?”
He looks at me thoughtfully, probably deciding how much he wants to tell me.
“He was my cellmate for two years before he got out. I stayed in a couple more years, but we stayed in contact. He insisted I come work with him here.”
“Why haven’t you left?” He smiles slyly at my question.
“ I’m sorry, was that rude to ask?”
“No, it’s okay. I get it.” He shrugs.
“I’ve got it good here. It’s given me a chance to get back on my feet and then some. Lochlan saved my life, though, and I haven’t had it in me to abandon ship, yet.” He looks somber after answering, staring off into the distance.
“Hayes, get back to fucking work,” Lochlan shouts from the other side of the porch.
Hayes just smiles and jumps to his feet dramatically.
“Yeah, yeah. I guess I will. See you later, Jo. Don’t let the mean old bear boss you around,” he whispers loud enough for Lochlan to hear.
The bear flips Hayes off as he walks away.
“I came out to get some fresh air. Hayes just happened to walk by,” I explain, even though Lochlan didn’t ask.
“It is a nice day.” He sits down in the rocking chair that Hayes abandoned.
He motions, offering for me to sit down, but I wave him off.
“I’ve been sitting all day.”
He nods and continues looking out over the property.
“Hayes doesn’t seem afraid of you like some of the others.”
“They seem afraid of me?” He tilts his head, watching me closely.
“Well, yeah, kind of.”
“Good.” There’s a long pregnant pause.
“Are you afraid of me, Jo?”
“Afraid, no. Intimidated, yes,” I answer honestly.
“Good.”
I roll my eyes at his response, and he smirks.
“You must not be that intimidated,” he adds.
I don’t know why, but his amusement makes me blush.
I have to turn away from him so he doesn’t notice.
Miraculously, he starts speaking again unprovoked.
“Hayes and I go back a long way. He has no reason to be afraid of me.”
“He mentioned that you were cellmates,” I admit cautiously.
“I had been in prison a long time already when he got locked up.” I hold my breath while he continues, urging his admission.
“He was young, pissed off. Despite how different our situations were, I completely understood him. He’s the only person here with a violent background. I should have told you that from the beginning, in case you looked up his record, but I trust him.”
“What kind of violence?”
“He beat someone nearly to death.” A small gasp escapes me, but Lochlan continues.
“It was a grown man, and he deserved it. He’s never hurt a woman, just like I haven’t.”
There it is.
The elephant in the room since the very first day I came here.
Lochlan Dane’s notorious past.
18 years ago he was convicted of First-Degree Forcible Rape.