34. Chapter 34
Chapter thirty-four
Shelby
“Shelby! Come eat,” Nora calls from the house but I need a minute to regroup and wave her off before slipping into the trees.
I’m not upset with Cason for being frustrated but for my inability to do anything but stand there with my heart in my throat, expecting the lashing and responding as I’ve been conditioned to do.
Swallowing past the frustrated lump in my throat, I approach the grave we created this morning to lay Lottie and Harry’s granddaughter to rest. By unspoken agreement, we didn’t mention it to them, but I feel better knowing we were able to give the young woman the compassion she once deserved.
As for the other two, the guys took them away somewhere and I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to ruin my good spirits with another callous end.
To my surprise, I find a newly created cross formed with two sticks and some cord now placed before her grave and even as I wonder who did it, I know it must have been Cason.
What set him off? Is he tired of being the one everyone turns to? Does it matter? He’s leaving, I see the intent written in every bone of his body.
After looping around an old majestic tree, I stop at the river beyond. The rustling water creates a soothing backdrop to my thoughts, and I remove my shoes before dipping my toes within.
Of course, it’s cold and with a shiver, I relax back, hoping to calm my thoughts before returning to the group.
I don’t get far though when a rustling breaks out on the other side of the water. Visions of one of them or even a coyote or bear that I can’t fight off dance before my vision as I grab for my shoes.
What I’m not expecting are visitors of the human, living variety and I pause as a man and woman appear between the trees.
“Greetings fair maiden,” the man says while I shove my shoe on my foot and stand. He’s lean and tall, with awkward limbs but a bright smile.
“Hello,” I say, pausing when he gives me a formal bow.
Charmed despite my caution, I step from the rock as he says, “We don’t wish to disturb you. Just passing through. Is that your land?”
He points beyond my shoulder, and I nod. For all intents and purposes, it is but regardless I wouldn’t speak the truth anyway. Fascinated or not, I know better than to trust a stranger, especially when I couldn’t even trust the one who came home to my bed every night.
“Very well then, we shall go around, eh, July?” he says and his companion nods, smoothing her hands down a dress best suited for the drapes usually adorning antique windows in a historic home.
Short, to his height, she passes me a soft smile as the man winks and says, “Fair thee well, special lady.”
He’s gone before I can comment and I head back to the house immediately, Cason’s warning about the couple grifting people bouncing around in my head.
Except I’m still leery of his reception and when I find Jason crossing the grass, I call out, “Jason!”
He looks up with a smile that fades as I approach and asks, “What's up?”
“Back there, I saw a couple. A man and a woman. They said they would go around, but . . . "
Jason looks over my shoulder as if they’re standing right there before saying, “We should tell Cason.”
“Oh, um, okay. I need to, ah,” I point to my stomach even though it’s a dirty tactic because I know he’s not going to question me.
“Okay,” he says, and I escape into the house, hoping Cason will get the information without me being involved. No such luck though because after using the restroom for real, I find him standing in the hall waiting for me.
Excellent.
“Shelby are you okay?” he asks, and I smile stiffly.
“Yeah. Jason told you?” Searching my gaze, he tips his head, and I explain the weird but oddly charming interaction.
“Yeah,” he says and unable to hold his gaze, I look away.
I know I’m acting like a bitch, but I can’t see how he would care anyway. I’m weak. Frail. He’s none of those things.
“Shelby?”
“Hm?” I say stepping toward the wall.
Zeroing in on a picture of a man standing next to his bride, I pause on the heart shaped broach on his chest. It’s the exact same broach the man who attacked me had in his pocket yesterday.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he says, and I turn back to him.
Despite the grimace painting his face, he’s still handsome and I admire his high cheekbones and strong jaw before saying, “You don’t have to apologize, Cason. It’s okay. I know this must be frustrating for you.”
I do. I get it. I just wish I could be more.
When I wave my hand, his eyes narrow and he says, “What do you mean?”
Why can’t he just accept my words? I sense his internal struggle, but I don’t understand the source and he’s not exactly forthcoming.
Either way, I give in to my instinct to soothe, pressing my palm to his chest as I say, “You can’t do everything all the time. You can’t save us. You need to go to your family. It’s okay.”
He glances down at my hand, his brows flickering before he says, “The fences–”
“There will always be something to do. Don’t you get it?”
“You want me to go?” he rasps.
“I want you to do what your heart is telling you to,” I say softly before stepping away.
“What if I don’t know what that is?”
“I think you do.”
The remainder of the day and the following are spent cataloguing what we have and what we need to keep this place going.
It’s a never-ending supply of stuff that makes me wonder if we have what it takes to manage it.
However, before there was technology, our ancestors seemed to figure it out so, I guess we will too.
After our conversation in the hall, Cason avoids the group, no surprise but I’ve come to understand that his still waters run deep and he’s the type that needs to process his shit alone.
In order to avoid the fact that I basically pushed him to go, I focus on that damn broach. Why would the dead guy have it in his pocket and how is he linked to Lottie and Harry? Were they friends?
Did something happen before we got here? With no way of knowing without asking, I find myself studying that picture all too often and I’m standing before it again when I hear a thunk from Harry’s room.
Harry spends a lot of time in that room, which I understand because we can’t babysit him while tending to things that could be dangerous in his addled mind, but it still doesn’t feel right. At a minimum, Zoey could watch him I reason, walking to the bedroom door and leaning my ear against it.
“Harry?” I say before backing away when the wood rumbles beneath my ear. “Are you okay?” I ask, glancing out the back door.
From here I can see Lottie showing Nora how to prune the vegetables in the garden. Her silver hair glints in the light of the sun as she waves her hand and Nora tips her head.
“Ahh,” Harry says, and I touch the knob, confirming that the door is locked.
Chewing my lip, I step into the kitchen and go through the drawers but I’m not an expert on picking locks and nothing within appears to be small or skinny enough to do the job.
After closing the last one with my hip, I glance up when Lottie says, “Need help, dear?”
“Oh, uh, no,” I mumble, grabbing the towel beside the sink. “Just wiping down the counters.”
“Good, good. Do you believe in God, Shelby?”
Huh? Confused, I meet her clear blue eyes, and say, “I don’t know.”
“Shame because I know he was thinking of us when he sent you here.” When she winks, I smile before another thunk sounds beyond their bedroom door and her brows crinkle as she glances that way.
A chill cascades down my spine when her eyes slide to mine and turning back to the counter, I gaze blindly out the window.
Thankfully, she turns away, producing the keys she carries with her at all times before unlocking the door and disappearing inside.
Once it’s closed, I walk over and press my ear to the wood, but I can’t hear anything but muffled voices and sounds I can’t identify.
She’s just checking on her husband. It’s fine.
Still, I back away and exit into the sunshine hoping whatever skittered down my spine was not a foreshadowing of what's to come.
Cason
Tonight is the night we meet with Bob. After careful consideration, we decided that the three of us who’ve already met Bob, and his son should go along with Nora.
The extra female will soften the meeting and show these other families that we’re not just a bunch of men, while also not revealing how many women and children we do have, just in case.
I’m uneasy about leaving Shelby and the two girls with Lance and Nate but her words from before remind me that I can’t prevent life from happening especially after I’m gone.
I’m not sure how I feel about her telling me I should just go. On the one hand, it should clear my conscience but the other side of me is pouting like a child because she didn’t insist that I stay.
It’s a stupid conundrum to be sure.
As soon as the sun begins its descent, we load into the truck.
When I look back at Shelby standing with Lottie, her golden blonde hair bent toward the other woman, my heart skips a beat.
With Zoey by her side and Bo cozied up to her leg, I consider leaving the dog behind when I leave to find my family.
So far, it’s given me a modicum of comfort to know that the massive dog will protect them if it comes down to it.
The orange red ball of fire lights the sky in golden hues as Jason waves from the bed of the truck. Shelby returns the gesture, her petite form backlit by the setting sun.
At the road, I turn my focus to the evening ahead. Our goal is to meet our neighbors and determine if they might make good allies. Selfishly I’m also hoping this will finally ease some of my discomfort over leaving.
Through Lottie, we learned that Bob’s farm is five miles down the road in the opposite direction of where we met the other day, although we passed it when we made that loop to avoid the horde.
Where before five miles felt like nothing, especially in a vehicle, I wonder how long gas will last when no one is pumping for oil and trucking it in for refueling. Once the vehicles no longer run, five miles could mean death in the wrong situation.
Setting aside my worries because I can’t control fucking everything, I follow the directions Lottie gave me, slowing before the fence when a vehicle comes into view.
Two men bearing rifles eye us as we approach and Nora murmurs beside me, “Prepared.”
For what though? Have they seen something to be wary of? These men aren’t out here to make sure a horde of the slavering assholes don’t invade. This is strictly to vet the folks coming to this meeting.
I recognize one of the young men as the guy we assumed to be Bob’s son and he tips his hat when I pull to a stop, saying, “We’re glad you could make it. Pull on up to the house and Pops will greet you at the door.”
“Thanks,” I say as his gaze roves over the men before stopping on Nora.
“Ma’am,” he says with a smile.
“Hey handsome,” she says with a wink and the second man guffaws, slapping his friend on the back.
Ignoring the color painting the younger man’s cheeks, I press my foot to the gas. As we drive away, though, a booming voice proclaims, “Aw Jimbo, looks like you got a new admirer.”
Nora’s laugh carries out the window and I shake my head as we roll up the dirt road. Similar to Lottie and Harry’s home, Bob’s two-story farmhouse has a wraparound porch with matching chairs out front.
The last time I sat on Lottie’s porch, Shelby confronted me about leaving them behind. Now I’m pursuing relationships with the people in the area to ensure the group will be as safe as possible when I go.
Beyond the house, I see two barns, one which I assume contains horses based upon the whinnying that assails my ears as we pull to a stop.
Freshly tilled fields paint a picturesque backdrop that brings me hope as Bob and a woman, I presume to be his wife, step onto the porch. The woman smiles and presses her palms together while Bob says, “Glad you’re here, son. This is my wife, Norma.”
The graceful tilt of her head reminds me of Rosanne’s mother, and I’m filled with a strange warmth as she wraps her hands around mine and says, “Welcome.”
After Jason and Larry emerge from the back of the truck, we exchange greetings and the easy smiles and lack of tension create a new burn of hope because with allies such as these, I won’t be leaving my new friends to fend for themselves.