Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
ARLOW
It’s too hot to be in the barn today. No more than half an hour after entering, I close it all up, stopping to double check that the locks are secure. There’s other work waiting for me.
I pause to wet my head with the hose, chug some water, then grab my tools and start through the tombstones. Along the north side where the thin woods separate the graveyard from the road, some of the dirt has already been tilled up—as far as I got yesterday before my intended break for dinner was interrupted by the sight of her entering the forest.
Calli.
With an empty bag in hand, it was an easy assumption she was heading to the orchard. The argument with myself was brief, and despite knowing I should leave her alone, I took a more direct route to the peach trees. My intention was only to watch her like the times before. To capture her in memory and later in my work.
Once she was so close, I couldn’t resist. I needed to meet her. The first time I saw her by that creek, she exuded peace and a calm sort of joy, but I’ve come to realize that may be rare for her. She often wears a pinched frown that doesn’t always fade once she’s seated by the creek or on the bridge.
I didn’t mean to scare her or expect her to run away like she did. If I talk to her again, it won’t be in the middle of the woods where she doesn’t feel safe. Hopefully, the peaches and note will reassure her that I’m not angry about her being on my property. There’s a ton of land around me and I’m not selfish.
Why am I thinking about her again? It shouldn’t matter to me what she’s doing or how she feels. She’s just a neighbor. A temporary person nearby, the same as the two women who stayed there before. The renters don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them. I’m not a social person by nature, but her…I can’t seem to look away.
Focus. Holes don’t dig themselves.
Grabbing my shovel, I get started on the job that was interrupted by my fascination with her yesterday. My wet hair and sweaty skin become a dirt magnet as I dig and shift the heavy soil around. By the time the ground is prepared, I’m coated in grass and dust. The sky has clouded up, blocking the fierce sun but making the air thick enough to scoop with a spoon. The only thing I’m thinking about is a cold drink as I gather my tools and turn to start back toward the barn. My forehead slaps into a low hanging branch, halting me. It wasn’t hard but the sting tells me the rough bark probably took a little skin off. At my height, it’s not an uncommon occurrence. I’ve hit my head on more things than I can list.
As I walk to where my ATV is parked behind the barn, I pull my shirt up by the bottom to drag it across my forehead, not surprised to see it comes away with a little smear of blood. The ATV starts up easily and it only takes a minute to get the steel trailer attached.
My phone buzzes in my pocket while I’m pulling the large burlap wrapped bundles out to the trailer.
“Yeah,” I answer, winded.
My friend, Lee, snorts on the other end of the line. “Don’t answer the phone if you’re beating off.”
“I’m doing yard work, asshole.”
“Yard work not inch work, got it. Lacey is here and I’m grilling steaks if you want to come over for dinner and some beers tonight.”
As he’s talking, I look up to see Calli walking up my driveway. She spots me between the barn and the house, veering in my direction.
“Thanks, but I can’t today,” I reply, my gaze glued to her.
“You have something better to do?” Lee taunts.
I do now .
Calli approaches with a tentative little smile and a cake pan in her hands. Her hair is tied up, displaying her long neck. My fingertips itch to trace down it. To plot out the perfect line of it where it softens and curves into her shoulders.
“I have to go. Next time,” I tell Lee, hanging up.
“Hey, Peach Bandit,” I tease, happy to see her grin in response.
“That’s Ms. Peach Bandit to you. I didn’t mean to interrupt but I brought you a cobbler. It’s half peach and half apple. I bought some apples after I…you know…left the peaches and then once you gave them to me, I had too much fruit so I made both.”
Her nervous babbling is fucking adorable. “Thank you. You’re welcome to help yourself anytime. Most of them went to waste this year.” There have been times I’ve taken them to the farmers market, and once I tried to give them to the food bank, but they wouldn’t take anything fresh, only shelf stable.
I’m not sure if she heard me. Her eyes widen as she looks at me, at the nearby bundles, then back to me again. Thrusting the pan into my hands, she stammers, “I’ll let you…um…get back to…whatever. Thanks again for the peaches.”
It strikes me what she’s seeing. Blood on my forehead and my shirt. A shovel nearby, between two bulky wrapped bundles, both big enough to be a person. And me standing in the middle, covered in dirt, getting ready to load them onto a trailer.
She takes a couple of steps back as I try unsuccessfully to choke back a laugh. “Wait. You don’t—don’t take off. Look.” How many times am I going to terrify her by accident?
Her teeth sink into her lower lip, and she keeps increasing the distance between us while I set the pan on the seat of the ATV, untie the string around the bundle, and jerk back the cloth.
“Trees?” she mumbles, taking a closer look.
“Forsythia bushes. I’m planting them in the graveyard to help with the soil erosion.” Tying it closed, I glance at her and see the indecision in her expression. “Do you want to see the other one?”
She shakes her head, and her shoulders drop a little. “No, I see them.” Eyes the pale blue color of the cloudy sky travel up to my face. “You’re bleeding.”
“Yeah, I scraped my head on a tree branch.”
A slow grin curls her lips. She glances down, running her hand over her forehead before peeking back up at me. “In my defense, you know what this looked like, right?”
“Like I killed someone, wrapped them in burlap, and you caught me mid burial?”
“Two someones.”
“In this heat? That’d be crazy.”
Amusement widens her smile and creases her eyes as she shrugs. “Murder’s definitely more of a fall or winter activity.” Both of us turn when a car pulls into our shared driveway and parks at her place. “I have to go. It was nice meeting you again, Arlow.” She walks toward the driveway, glancing back with a grin when I call after her.
“See you later, Peach.”
I call Lee back and he answers his phone right away. “What time?”
“Food will be done in two hours,” he replies, not bothering to give me shit about hanging up.
“I’ll be there.”
“Arlow!” Lacey calls, rushing up to give me a hug as soon as I step into Lee’s backyard. “Lee didn’t say you were coming!” With the pan of cobbler in one hand and the six pack of beer in the other, I’m trapped until she lets go. “What did you bring?” Before I can answer, she peels back the cover on the pan. “Ooh, cobbler. Did you make it?”
“Let him get to the deck for hell’s sake,” Lee calls out to her, earning him a quick middle finger in return.
“No, I didn’t make it.”
Unbothered by her brother’s admonishment, Lacey takes the pan and falls in step beside me as we cross the yard. At twenty-two, she’s fifteen years younger than Lee, with all the optimism of that age and enough energy for four people. No matter how annoyed he may get, it’s hard to be mad at someone who is so incessantly happy.
The reason Lee invited me at the last minute becomes clear when a short redhead steps through his back door as I climb the stairs to the deck. To his frustration, Lacey is always trying to play matchmaker to her brother. With me here, she can’t keep leaving them alone with the hope they’ll suddenly realize they’re perfect for each other.
“This is my friend, Madison,” Lacey says.
“Arlow.” I nod at Madison as she steps back and stares at me for a moment.
“Good god, you’re tall.”
It’s amazing how often people feel the need to tell me that, like my six foot seven inch height might have escaped my notice. She spends another few seconds studying my face. I’ve never minded if people ask about the vitiligo. If it were someone else, I’d be curious too, but they rarely do at the risk of sounding rude.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell her, then glance at Lee and hold up the beer. “Kitchen or bar fridge?”
“There should be room in the bar.”
Lee has a great outdoor setup. His large wooden deck overlooks the lake, with a bar running along one end and patio furniture on the other. A firepit sits in his backyard, surrounded by chairs. On the other side of it, the ground slopes down to the water and a small dock where his boat is tethered.
“I’ll take this inside,” Lacey volunteers, carrying the pan of cobbler into the kitchen with her friend behind her.
I tuck the beer into the fridge under the bar, grab two and hand one to Lee. “Sneak attack?”
“I should really see it coming by now,” he scoffs.
“She’s pretty,” I offer, leaning back against the railing.
“So was the last one. Do you think if I start fucking them then not calling, she’ll give up?”
“You’re not that much of an asshole.”
“I can learn.” The sound of the sliding door silences our conversation as they return.
Despite Lee’s annoyance, the evening isn’t a bad one. After a few beers, we sit around his kitchen table to eat. Lee tells me about some of the repairs that need to be done and accepts my offer to help him with a few projects that require an extra set of hands. His job as a caretaker for the surrounding cabins and lake houses isn’t usually a very demanding one, but his busy season is coming up. Lacey talks excitedly about her promotion to manager at the formal clothing store where she works, along with Madison.
All evening, Madison keeps sneaking looks at me. Every time I glance in her direction, her gaze veers away. I’m not sure if she’s staring because she finds me odd looking or if she’s trying to flirt but it doesn’t matter. At this point, I prefer the former. What people think stopped affecting me a long time ago. If you have body differences, it just comes with the territory. I’d rather be left alone than explain that I don’t date. Though our reasons are different, it’s one thing Lee and I have in common.
“This is delicious!” Lacey exclaims, when we get to dessert. “Who did you say made it?”
It is good. So good I almost regret bringing it and not hoarding it for myself. “My neighbor.”
Lee shovels in another mouthful. “The woman who rented the cabin?”
My only response is a silent nod, but Lacey is not one to give up before she knows every detail. “You have a neighbor baking for you?” she teases. “What does she look like?”
My mind flashes to the sight of her by the creek, her hair slicked back, water dripping from her breasts.
“Oh wow, the look on your face,” Lacey says before I can manage a reply. “She must be hot. Are you seeing her?”
It’s been pointed out to me multiple times that I could never be a good poker player. My expression displays far too much no matter how hard I try to suppress it. “No. I caught her in my orchard, picking peaches. She didn’t realize she was on private property and brought the cobbler as an apology. That’s all.”
“She’s pretty though, isn’t she?” Lacey pursues.
She’s fucking beautiful . “I suppose.”
Lee grabs my empty dessert plate and his, getting to his feet to put them in the sink. “Help me grab some logs and we’ll get a fire started.”
“Sure.”
Lee offers me a shot of whiskey, which gets declined. The food has soaked up the few beers, but I’m not staying much longer, and I don’t drive buzzed. He leads the way down to the firepit while Lacey and Madison finish eating. By the time we have a fire going, they’ve moved out to sit on the patio again with a pitcher of margarita between them. Maybe it’s the effects of the alcohol making them unaware that they aren’t dropping their voices as low as they think, or maybe they don’t care, but we can hear their conversation clearly when Madison leans over to Lacey.
“No offense, your brother is hot and everything with that stern, grumpy thing he has going on, but tell me about Daddy Long Legs over there.”
Christ . Lee’s chest shakes with stifled laughter while he forces down his shot of whiskey.
“Arlow’s a good guy. Quiet, but he’s always been kind to me,” Lacey replies.
“I love the broody ones. How old is he?”
“I don’t know.” She raises her voice and calls out. “Arlow! How old are you?”
She rolls her eyes when I shake my head at her.
Lee makes a show of holding his hands to his mouth to amplify his voice. “Thirty-three!”
Bastard.
Lacey slaps her arm and stands up, grabbing the pitcher. “I’m getting eaten alive by mosquitos. Let’s go back inside.”
“Dick,” I mumble, after they’ve gone.
Lee chuckles and takes another shot. “Broody Daddy Long Legs.” We’re quiet for a few minutes until he looks over at me. “Do you still call her?”
There’s no need for him to explain who. He knows my past just as I know too well what he’s been through.
“I try not to.” Silence ticks away long seconds. “Not as often, but yeah, I still call.” His nod holds no judgement, only understanding. “Are you still going to therapy?”
He gestures to the water. “No, this is all the therapy I need.”
I get it. Nature helps me more than talking ever has. “Did you get the shingles you need to patch the Nolan’s place?”
Happy for the change to a lighter subject, Lee nods. “I did. Just waiting on the downspout that I had to order. Might as well get that replaced while I’m on the roof.”
We hang out and talk for another half hour or so before I thank him for dinner and go inside to grab Calli’s pan. Lacey is loading the dishwasher in the kitchen, and I spot the empty cobbler pan sitting at the edge of the sink, already washed.
“Hey, thanks.”
“No problem.” Her little side eyed grin is teasing. “I thought you’d want to get it back to her quickly.”
“I’m heading out. Stay out of trouble, you little instigator.”
I’m about three steps away from the door when Madison catches up with me. “Arlow, would you want to go out sometime? I can give you my number.”
Damn, so close to escape. She was straight and to the point, at least, instead of flirting and hinting. “I’m flattered, thank you. But I don’t date.”
“Well, if you change your mind, Lacey has my number.”
It’s not often I get asked out, mainly because I don’t go anywhere to meet new people, but it doesn’t matter. Dating isn’t a possibility for me. It’s just not right. That’s something I accepted years ago.
It’s late when I climb into my truck to go home, but I know I won’t be going to bed. During the entire drive, all I can see is Calli’s smile as she joked about murder being a cold weather activity. Her cabin is dark, and her car is gone when I return.
I head straight to my studio. Calliope’s eyes are on me from a handful of different directions as she smiles back from the sketches taped to the walls. Different poses and expressions, none of which quite capture her luminant beauty.
I’m certainly not done trying.