by Alta Hensley
“You saved me, Eden,” he said to me. “I was swallowed whole by something so powerful that it consumed me. What started as sadness turned to devastation. What started as vengeance toward evil only revolted and turned inward on me. I was so very dark. So very evil. I had become everything I had once wanted to give my life to destroy. But I had lost that battle. I had completely lost the battle to darkness. Until you. My very own sleeping beauty. You saved me.” He leaned down so close to my face that I could feel his breath against it. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
With the most gentle of touches, he placed his lips to mine with a kiss. Heat pumped through my veins and tiny jolts of pleasure sizzled through every nerve ending in my body. My eyes fluttered open as his mouth conquered mine. His kiss had woken me from my slumber. I returned the kiss with a tiny moan as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deeper to what had become my salvation. He said that I had saved him. But this man had saved me, as well. And this kiss was forever bonding us as one.
What was once a long, dark, epic story had now finally found its ending. A simple kiss and the hope of a forever happily ever after.
Fallen Daughter #3
13
Rem Langston pulled the collar of his woolen coat higher around his neck, trying his best to shield against the biting wind. Winter was bound to hold on longer than normal in the Sierras this year, keeping spring at bay. It wasn’t something he minded, but cold nonetheless. His boots crunched against the snow as he maneuvered beneath the pinion pines, hanging heavy with the morning’s snowfall. Timmy Collins had been down by the river fishing and noticed a beaver building a dam. Grateful for the bit of information, Rem made his way to clear the obstruction. He wasn’t going to let a beaver’s dam get in the way of his business.
Born and raised an ice harvester, Rem made a living making ice in the lower region of the Sierra mountains and floating it down the Truckee River to the miners in the city below. Not necessarily a glamorous life, but the harvesting of ice provided a roof over his head and allowed him the luxury to care for his aging ma who’d been widowed for years now. Rem Langston was not one for complaining as he battled the mountain temperatures and worked from sun up to sun down. And in cases like now, where the sun had already set, he’d no doubt be working under the night’s moon. Blocks of ice were due for delivery by midday tomorrow, and a beaver’s dam could stop that from happening. If anything, he was reliable, and he wasn’t about to change that reputation.
Approaching the dam, Rem gave a sigh of relief to see that the river still flowed steadily around it. The collection of small twigs was far from a dam, but he made haste to clear them before an issue arose. It would be an early night after all, and he was glad since the air temperature took a nosedive in the quick time it took him to walk from Boca Town to the northern riverbank of the Truckee River.
Clearing the last twig, a scurrying to his right caught his attention. It was high time he killed that beaver so this wouldn’t be an ongoing problem. Reaching for his pistol, he inched his way toward the noise. Rem wouldn’t consider himself much of a hunter, but rather preferred to buy his meat from the local mercantile. But his pa had made sure he was capable if need be. Not to mention, he could use the beaver fur to make a nice stole for his ma.
The moonlight reflecting off the snow lit his path as he scanned the area for any movement. His finger sat ready at the trigger, waiting for the varmint to show its face. It wasn’t until he walked around a large pine, that he saw the source of the noise. Up against a cluster of trees sat a makeshift shelter composed of broken twigs and pine needles. In front of it, warming herself with a pathetic fire that barely crackled against the chilly night air, sat Birdie Bluebell.
Rem wasn’t exactly surprised to see her there. He had heard the town gossip from the school marm and the church ladies. Birdie Bluebell’s pa, Jedson Bluebell, liked his whiskey and turned mean as the devil. Word was that when his fists started flailing, Birdie became the victim. Rem had also heard that Birdie would run away for days, living on the northern riverbank in a shelter she built herself. No place for a young lady, the church women would say. They’d pity the girl, but wouldn’t do much more than talk about her. And in the end, Birdie always went back to her pa once the whiskey ran dry.
The Bluebells lived further into the mountains, in an old shack Jedson’s pappy had built before he drank himself to death. They weren’t exactly members of Boca Town, but everyone knew who they were. Birdie’s ma had gone mad, and rumor had it, she killed her babies right after each were born. How Birdie remained alive, still remained a mystery. Then one day, Birdie’s ma just turned up missing. No word, no reasons, no questions. Many believed it was good riddance.
Rem was a man who minded his own business. Gossip had no place at his dinner table—even though his ma was one of the biggest offenders. What the Bluebells did was none of his concern. But hearing about it and actually seeing it, were two different things. Watching Birdie shiver against the cold in nothing more that a raggedy-old dress, barefoot, and clearly beaten, boiled the blood inside his body to an inferno. If Jedson Bluebell were anywhere near, Rem and he would be having a come to Jesus mighty fast.
The sound of his boot on the snow announced his presence, causing Birdie to jump up in fear. “Who goes there?” she called out, sounding much stronger than she appeared. Her tiny frame couldn’t even fight off a jackrabbit, but Rem had a feeling she would give it her all. Her stance proved it; she stood ready for a fight.
Placing his pistol back in its holster, Rem stepped out of the shadows and made his way toward the fire. “My name is Rem Langston. I’m an icer down in Boca Town.” He watched as Birdie relaxed her body and unclenched her fists. Her big blue eyes scanned him from head to toe, but she no longer appeared afraid.
“I know who you are. Your ma makes the best biscuits I’ve ever had. She brings them to me from time to time.”
Sounded like something his ma would do. Taking in strays was her calling or her curse, depending on how you looked at it. With a heart of gold and an ornery spirit, that woman was someone you were lucky to have on your side. Rem didn’t exactly like the idea of his ma trekking her way to the Bluebells’, especially with Jedson being there, but it didn’t shock him in the slightest that Ma would do good by them. Charity was part of her makeup.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, seeming a stupid question since he clearly knew her story and why, but small talk and conversation were not knacks he’d use to describe himself. He didn’t know exactly what to say to this woman, but he knew she was in no condition to weather the elements of the night. “It’s freezing out here.”
Birdie squatted down to stoke the fire. “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry none.” She didn’t look up as she spoke, seeming dismissive as if he had somehow invaded her space. Her nonchalance resembled a no trespassing sign bigger than he’d ever seen.
“Well, that’s just it, ma’am.” He walked toward her and began unbuttoning his jacket. “I am worried. You ain’t dressed for the cold, and that fire you got there ain’t going to keep you alive ‘til morning.” He removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, noticing how her body shook from the frigid air.
The simple grey dress she wore looked so threadbare that he could almost see right through it. She might as well have been naked for how little protected she was from the biting wind that gusted every so often. He half expected her to reject the coat, but she only pulled it shut tightly around her, self-perseverance overriding pride.
She looked up into his eyes with a sincerity he’d only seen in his ma’s. “Thank you.” One of her eyes had the makings of a good shiner, and her lip had been busted wide open. Her brown hair hung limply around her face and matted in different spots. Birdie looked as if she just flew out of a storm.
He looked down at her feet, both turning the color blue. “You ain’t got no shoes.”
She didn’t respond, simply pulled the coat tighter around her throat
. Her body still shook regardless of the jacket.
Rem wasn’t a man to be impulsive. Everything he did, he planned out from beginning to end. But staring at this young woman—half froze to death—Rem knew he needed to act. “You’re coming with me.” He didn’t ask—maybe he should have—but words weren’t easy, especially as he fought back the urge to hunt down her pa and put a bullet between his eyes.
“I’ll be all right,” she said softly. “But I do thank you for the coat. If you let me borrow it for the night, I promise to return it to you or your ma first thing tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to leave you out here.”
“That shelter,” she turned her head to look at the pile of old wood that barely stood, “has provided for me many a night.” She nodded and gave a weak smile, which looked like it hurt with the cut across it. “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me.”
The easy thing would have been to agree, turn around and mind his own business. But tonight wasn’t going to be easy for Rem, because this broken bird was coming home with him whether she liked it or not. If he were to leave her here, he might as well shoot her between the eyes—the end result being the same.
“You’re coming home with me tonight. My ma is there, and stew is waiting. She cooks plenty, and we can make the room.” Birdie opened her mouth to speak, but Rem stopped her by adding, “Ma would skin me alive if I left you out here to freeze to death.”
Birdie stood there a moment, looking as if she were pondering her options. The sky had started spitting out snow, and it was just a matter of time until her body would be drenched through and through. Her shelter wouldn’t have a chance holding up against the Sierra winds, and by the way she shook, even Rem’s coat wasn’t doing the job of keeping her warm.
Rem couldn’t help but release a small sigh of relief when a genuine smile spread across Birdie’s face. “I like your ma, and you’re right, she most likely would.” Birdie paused for a moment and then nodded. “One night. I don’t want to be a burden beyond that, and I’ll pay you back somehow. I can do some chores or whatever you need. I don’t want to be a charity.”
“We’ll settle your debt later.” Standing around and negotiating with this woman wasn’t an option. White puffs of air came from his mouth, and his own body began to shiver without the warmth of his coat. He glanced down at her feet once more and then without giving it a second thought, swooped her body into his arms. “You ain’t walking in the snow with no shoes.”
She surprised him when she didn’t offer up any resistance. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “Thank you.”
Transporting large blocks of ice made a man strong. His frame had to be as solid as the ice to succeed in being an icer, but Rem’s strength wasn’t needed to carry Birdie in the slightest. Hell, he had carried sacks of potatoes heavier than her. He wondered when was the last time she had a decent meal.
“I can walk if you get too tired,” she said in the softest of voices. It reminded him of a lullaby—soothing and calm. Something about her fragile nature made him want to handle her like his ma’s fine china.
“It ain’t much further,” he replied as they got closer to town.
His house sat on the outskirts of Boca Town overlooking the Truckee River. He and his pa had built it themselves, a pride he had never experienced until the day they hammered in the last nail. A grove of pines and aspens surrounded it, giving him the privacy he desired but still within walking distance to the town center. The house didn’t sit on much land, but there had been enough for him and his pa to create a proper garden for his ma, which over the years had become her pride and joy.
As he and Birdie emerged from the dense woods, his house came into view. The moon cast a light, assisted by the night’s stars. The stream of smoke coming from the chimney made his mouth water. Ma would have supper waiting and a warm fire to remove the chill that had found a home deep inside his bones. He wasn’t sure what his ma would think about their surprise visitor, but he knew enough to know she’d welcome Birdie with open arms.
Rem stole a glance at Birdie, trying to not make it obvious. Her face stared blankly ahead looking…sad. The close proximity of having her in his arms made it awkward, and they both just traveled in silence. He wondered what was running through her mind, what were her thoughts, her fears. Her pa had clearly done a number on her, and Rem wondered if she was in any pain. Was he holding her too tight? Being that she was so close to him, he could really take stock of her injuries. The shiner might very well swell by morning, to the point where she wouldn’t be able to open her eye. Her busted lip would heal but not without leaving a scar, he reckoned. But he also noticed old bruises that had barely healed before her son of a bitch father inflicted new ones.
It wasn’t uncommon in these parts for a man to use a little force to express his will. What happened under a man’s roof was no other man’s business. But to beat a woman, to make her bleed—well, Rem wasn’t about to stand for that. It was one thing to take charge by swatting a woman on the rear, and another to cause such harm as a split lip and a black eye. A little loving discipline, sure, but to beat a woman like Birdie…inexcusable. Jedson Bluebell better watch out. If he wanted to use his fists on someone, he better get ready for a fair fight.
14
Kicking the door open with his foot, Rem crossed the threshold with Birdie still in his arms. The heat of the cozy room washed over their frigid frames instantly. The smell of beef stew boiling in the cast iron pot over the fire attacked his grumbling stomach. He could only imagine what the fragrant aromas were doing to Birdie’s empty belly. Rem made eye contact with his ma as she stood next to the oak-wood kitchen table that sat next to the crackling fire.
With the aging lady’s mouth agape, her hands on her robust hips, she stood dumbfounded for several moments before snapping, “Well, shut the door before you let in the cold.” She quickly walked over to the rocking chair in the corner of the room and snatched the thick quilt that draped over it. Making her way back to them, she wrapped the blanket around Birdie’s shoulders as Rem placed her down gingerly, not sure how her feet would feel. “Welcome, Birdie girl. It’s about time you grace my supper table.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Langston,” Birdie said between chattering teeth.
“Anna Mae. You are a guest of our house, and I won’t hear of you calling me anything else,” she replied as she patted down her floral apron and smoothed the hair of her grey bun.
Birdie nodded as she placed her shaking hands in front of the fire. “Thank you, Anna Mae.”
Rem sat down on the wooden table chair, unlacing his snow-soaked boots. His toes stung, and he couldn’t help but worry what poor Birdie’s little feet felt like. “Ma, she’s going to need to borrow one of your dresses. Hers is soaked through and ain’t worth much to begin with.”
Ma was quick to run into her bedroom, not saying a single word. Birdie still stood before the fire, shaking more as the numbness wore off and no doubt the realization of truly how cold she was set in.
“I found an old dress I kept from when your pa was courting me,” Ma said as she rushed out of her room. “Always seemed silly keeping a dress that didn’t fit, but now it seems to be coming in handy.” She glanced at Birdie and then looked at Rem. “Go on in, and get out of your wet clothes. I’ll help Birdie change in front of the fire.”
He nodded, stood up and made his way to his room, giving them the privacy they needed. Grateful to get dry, but even more grateful to pass Birdie off to his ma, Rem shed his wet clothes but couldn’t shed the image of a broken girl huddled before a self-made fire trying to stay alive. For a man who minded his own, planned every step he took from the time he woke to sleep, Rem most certainly treaded unfamiliar waters. For the first time in a long time, Rem wasn’t sure what to do next. This Birdie Bluebell situation stood to be some trouble. A mighty mess it was indeed.
Eating like a lady was never something Birdie had to focus on up until now. Her hand shook as she br
ought the spoon to her lips, and she knew without looking that they both stared at her as she ate. She wanted to devour it. Hell, she was half tempted to toss the spoon down and grab the bowl with both hands and scoff the meal in large gulps. She hadn’t eaten in days, and even then it wasn’t substantial. Almost moaning when the first piece of meat hit her tongue, Birdie looked up and noticed Rem at the head of the table, studying her as he ate his own meal.
“This is really good, Anna Mae. Thank you,” she said as she swallowed her first bite. She’d never been taught proper manners but assumed she should at least compliment the food. And it was actually better than good. The flavors in the stew erupted in her mouth. A far cry from what she could boil up with whatever meager means she came by.
“There’s plenty, so eat up.” Anna Mae gave a warm smile and looked at Rem. “So do you want to tell me how you came upon our guest?”
Birdie looked down at her bowl as she ate, not wanting to hear Rem explain. She didn’t want to talk about her pa or what he did to her. It was bad enough that she sat—in another woman’s oversized dress, barefoot, hair dripping down her back—at someone else’s supper table; she didn’t want the shame of her family to add to it. How could she tell someone that her pa beats the tar out of her almost every other day of the week, not even sparing the holy day?
“Well,” he started as he finished his mouthful. “Let’s just say that Birdie picked a bad night for camping. And we’ll leave it at that.”
Birdie looked up, surprised that Rem didn’t say anything more. When their eyes met, he simply nodded at her and continued to eat. Anna Mae must have picked up on his intent, because she didn’t ask any further questions, but rather allowed everyone to eat in silence.
