Coveted by the Bear

by T. S. Joyce

  “Evan?” Sadey asked.

  I nodded and looked miserably at the butter stain across my lap. Sadey disappeared and returned with a bottle of soda water and some cream-colored washcloths. She ran hot water and went to work to remove the stains. In an impressively short amount of time, only a wet spot remained, and Sadey turned her attentions to her own dress.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Sadey said over the scrubbing sound. “He and Caleb have always fought. I think it is a jealousy thing for Evan. He’s just trying to get to Caleb by messing with you.”

  “Well, he couldn’t be more wrong. Caleb doesn’t like me like that.”

  Sadey smiled to herself but didn’t answer. When we left the bathroom, lowered voices could be heard from the dining room. Sadey stopped me out of view to listen.

  “I think,” Evan drawled, “what our old man is trying to say is that you have a reputation to uphold, and you are gallivanting all over creation with the biggest liability in town. And it’s not just us who have noticed you are changing, Caleb. Ever since you met that girl, you’ve been a totally different person.”

  “I’d like to know what you are doing with her, Caleb,” Mr. McCreedy admitted quietly.

  “Nothing,” Caleb said. “She saved my life. She needs help so I’m repaying the debt.”

  “Please,” Evan sneered. “Don’t insult us with that bullshit. You have never brought a girl around the family, and now you bring Crazy Mira? There is no way she’s just a charity case for you.”

  “You don’t have to worry about my reputation, Dad,” Caleb said in a low, resigned voice, just loud enough for us to hear. “She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  The words stung like a slap to the face. We’d connected in the truck, and now I meant nothing? I’d completely misjudged Caleb’s interest in me. I don’t know why he had given into being physical with me if he had no feelings other than charity. Perhaps it was the bear inside of him that hurt his control. Or maybe that’s just how men were—only interested in messing around. Maybe they didn’t have to have feelings for a person to be intimate. I’d made a mistake giving anything to him.

  The air caught in my throat, and Sadey looked at me with such sadness. I’d drawn my hand in front of my mouth at the shock of it all, but she pulled it down and squeezed it gently. She led me around the corner where Caleb sat with his head lowered, completely uninterested in his dinner. I couldn’t quite take my eyes off the angry scars that curled out of the neck of his shirt. The men looked up at us with wide-eyed glances like they knew they had been caught.

  Sadey grabbed her purse. “Come on, Mira. I’ll take you home.”

  I nodded miserably. “Thanks for dinner, Mr. McCreedy. It was nice to meet you,” I said softly, then followed Sadey out the front door without a spare word for the McCreedy brothers.

  Hang them and their charity case. I didn’t need anyone. Never had, never would.

  I’d show them and make my own way.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mira

  The next morning I woke early and put on my best outfit. Not the green shirt Caleb had bought me. That, I tossed into the back corner of my closet on principle. I had to find a job, and there was no way I was using any kind of letter of recommendation or help from any member of the McCreedy family. I didn’t need anyone. It had been that way since I was a zygote. I was a natural born survivor, made to withstand trials that would bring others to their knees. I was a willow, fragile looking in its branches, but I could bend a hundred times over and not break. Or so I told myself.

  I was shocked and blocked by a familiar truck on my winding, one-lane dirt road that would lead me to the front gate. Caleb looked just as shaken as me. He opened his door as if he wanted to talk but I pulled around him through the trees. I wouldn’t stop him from paying whatever debt he thought he owed me, but I didn’t have to make nice with a man who gave insults as easily as compliments either. I had shit to do.

  I slammed my door after pulling into a parking spot on Main Street. I had thoroughly worked myself up on what I could have and should have said to Caleb after his flippant comments last night. My defensiveness wouldn’t have solved anything, but the conversation in my head made me feel better somehow.

  I hopped up on the curb and glared at Jake’s Quickstop with determination.

  “Hey Bernard,” I said after I had marched through the front door, directly ignoring the obnoxious ding of the bell that announced my arrival.

  Bernard looked up in shock, his hazel eyes widening at my direct greeting.

  “Hey, Mira. What can I do for you?”

  “Wanted to know if you were hiring. I can do anything, and whatever I don’t know, I can learn. I can even help Leona in the kitchen if you need it.”

  Bernard opened and closed his mouth and opened it again. He looked like a fish out of water. “Sorry Mira, but we ain’t hiring right now. It’s a small store, and we have it covered between Leona and me.”

  He must have seen my face drop because he looked around, leaned forward, and lowered his voice. “Look, I wish I could help you out. If we had a spot for you, the job would be yours. I heard about someone hiring around here. She’s new in town, but an odd bird, so I don’t know if you’ll even want to work for her. Name’s Nelson. Opal Nelson, and she’s opening up a pie shop at the end of the street. She’s been having trouble finding help, or at least that’s what I hear. Maybe go talk to her.”

  I smiled at his kindness and thanked him before I left.

  Main Street was undoubtedly charming. It was lined on both sides with small stores and buildings with front porches and rocking chairs for passersby. While most of the buildings were painted quaint and subdued colors that looked picture-perfect paired with white trim and hanging flower baskets, the house on the end of the street was quite different. It was red. Not a subtle red, but lady-of-the-night lipstick red. The white trim only served to make the color look bolder. A huge Grand Opening banner was draped across the front of it in the loudest and tackiest font I had ever seen, each letter drawn in a different neon color. Headache inducing, if one looked at it for too long. It was a small, two-story building with a front porch and a balcony off the second floor. Small, two-person tables were set up on both levels and across the top story were the words Main Street Pie & Candy Co. in white paint. I eyed the front door warily as I read Get Yer Buns in Here across the window pane. A tiny picture of two butt-like cinnamon rolls had been painted right beside the signage.

  I straightened my shirt and walked in. What else did I have to lose?

  “Hello?” I called out. The room was well lit but no one could be seen. It smelled devastatingly good. Like fresh baked fruit pies, chocolate, and homemade bread.

  “In here,” a feminine voice called. “Come through the kitchen.”

  A glass display case took up most of the length of the main room, and it was minimally filled with a couple of cakes and a basket of French rolls. I had never actually seen anything from France, but the tiny sign in front of the basket said so. To the side of the glass was a counter that could be lifted. It creaked loudly as I entered the kitchen area, the obvious source of the rich smells. I heard a rustling sound in the back and followed it until I came to a small storage room.

  The smallest woman I’d ever seen was standing precariously on a step ladder, reaching for a box of goods her too-short arms would never find purchase on.

  I rushed to help her and pulled a box of cake decorating utensils down.

  “Thanks, sugar tits. Put it in the kitchen, if you don’t mind.”

  The way she spoke was confident and shocking. I liked her.

  “If you’re here for the grand opening, I’m afraid you are a day too soon,” the older woman said, following behind me directly.

  “Oh, no, ma’am. I’m here to see if you’re hiring.”

  “You are? I mean, you are. Well, can you bake?”

  “I’ve been cooking for myself since I was a little kid. Haven’t done much bak
ing, but not for lack of wanting. I’m a quick learn, though.”

  The woman grinned up at me from ear to ear. Her smile was infectious and I laughed. “Name’s Opal,” she said.

  “Mira,” I offered.

  “When can you start?”

  “Whenever you need me.”

  “Good. Put on an apron. You don’t have anywhere to be today, do you?”

  I stiffened in shock. I was employed. A tiny pessimistic part of me thought it would never happen. My happiness was quickly stamped out by an inconvenient guilt.

  I sighed. “Ms. Opal. You are new in town and just starting your business. I don’t know if I would be the best fit for you.”

  “Well child, why ever not?”

  “People around here think I’m crazy. Or a witch.”

  “Are you?”

  “No. Not that I’m aware of.”

  The woman scrambled up onto a stepladder near a countertop strewn with flour. She squinted at me for a long moment. “I believe you, and besides, I’m more interested in your work ethic.” She poked my arm and then squeezed around the bony bits. “I’ll pay you minimum wage,” she said, taking on a professional tone. “It’s all I can do right now, but you’ll get a meal for lunch everyday on me. Ewey! Try this.”

  Opal shuffled to a large refrigerator, more quickly than I would have thought she was able. She pulled out a plate with a sandwich on top and handed it to me. I didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Well, don’t just stare at it. Eat it. I’m thinking about putting it on the menu.”

  I bit into it. Surely, angels served sandwiches like this one in heaven. It was made on one of Opal’s French rolls and had several different cuts of deli meat, some sort of cheese I couldn’t even guess at, bacon, avocado, and a sauce that I had never come close to tasting before.

  Opal watched me chew and lit up. “It’s good then?”

  I nodded earnestly. “Can I have the rest?” I asked around a giant bite.

  “Of course you can. What do you think about the spread? I made it myself.”

  “Ith glor-e-ous,” I said slowly. Hopefully, she understood food talk.

  “Grab that.” She pointed to a large menu sign that hung from the ceiling. It was written in colorful chalk, and when I had wrestled it off of its chains, Opal erased some of the writing under Sandwiches and rewrote the new one into it.

  “I will need you to come in at five in the morning,” she said. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  I shook my head and popped a piece of bacon that had slid out of the sandwich into my mouth.

  “Good. I hate early mornings so you’ll be opening up the shop to start baking every day. As soon as you are confident in the kitchen, I won’t be coming in until nine to help out with the breakfast rush. Apron,” she said, pointing to a row of hooks.

  I snatched off the largest one and tied it on before heading to the sink to wash my hands.

  I turned around to find Opal holding up a bag of flour. “Lesson one.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Caleb

  I couldn’t shake the awful feeling I had about what I’d said last night. I couldn’t decide if I felt worse about them being a lie, or about Mira having heard them. Of course, she meant more than nothing to me. Every time I changed into the damned grizzly, I crept up to her house like a stalker and watched her work outside just so I could feel connected to something from my old life. She was my most coveted anchor right now. It was in her best interest to stay naive of that, though.

  I spent the majority of the day working on her dilapidated roof. The other repairs would be worthless if it kept leaking everywhere and causing more wood rot every time the clouds opened up. I took my shirt off in the heat of the day. It was cool, but between the physical exertion and frustration with myself, I had worked myself into an inferno. I would be able to see her truck coming from my vantage point, so I’d just shimmy down the ladder and cover my scars back up before she arrived.

  I checked the road for the billionth time and shook my head. The more I told myself not to look for her, the more I did. And the longer she took in town, the more worried I became. What errand could she have that would take the entire morning and most of the afternoon?

  I slid my hammer into the tool belt draped around my waist. The wooden handle made a soft zipping sound as it fell into the leather loop made for it. I scooted over the weather-rotted shingles and cranked the radio I had hauled up here as loud as was comfortable to my oversensitive ears. Water to drown out thoughts of Mira.

  A Slipknot song blared. It wasn’t usually the type of music I enjoyed, but it created an unavoidable distraction and an intense beat to work to. I wiped my brow and made an unattainable goal for myself to finish half of the roof before the sinking sun robbed me of essential light for the job. I was good under pressure and liked a challenge.

  Hours of racing time did, indeed, keep my thoughts focused. The sun was a half circle that promised to disappear behind the horizon when I finally stood up and stretched my aching back. I watched it sink slowly behind the trees. The moment would have been profound if I hadn’t realized hours ago that I left the pain meds in my jacket pocket in Brian’s truck. The half-healed remnants of my fight for life screamed their existence.

  The music cut off mid-song, and I frowned at the old radio in confusion.

  “Roof is looking really good, Caleb,” Mira said from behind me.

  I turned and crouched to keep my balance. She stood on the ladder so only her face and shoulders were visible. She tossed the extension cord that had powered the radio to the ground below.

  “Hand me the radio, and I’ll take it down for you,” she offered.

  I looked around in panic. I felt naked without my shirt. Before the bear, I would have never thought twice about taking it off, but these days, my self-consciousness was a dark and unwelcome companion.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I just…can you give me a minute?” I crossed my arms over the biggest scar. It wasn’t enough to cover them all, though. Not by a long shot.

  She furrowed her brow and raked her eyes across my marred flesh. “Okay,” she said quietly.

  I didn’t miss the hurt in her tone, and it made me angry to care so much about it. I couldn’t seem to stop hurting her. Maybe if she wasn’t so fragile. I needed somewhere to place my blame, and I rubbed my face with the realization that I didn’t really like what I had become. Not just the bear part of me, but the man I was turning into. I cursed under my breath and left the radio on its perch by the chimney. The weather was steady, so the roofing supplies would hold until morning.

  The last rung of the ladder groaned as I hopped off and looked around for Mira. She must have gone inside. I hesitated. I should leave right now and let her be, but I’d never get to sleep tonight if the last thing I showed her was impatience. The gnawing ache inside of me begged to right the wrongs that had come from my mouth yesterday. After I threw my tool belt in the passenger seat of the work truck and pulled my cotton T-shirt firmly over my chest, I knocked softly on the frame of her door.

  She stuck her head out of her bedroom. “You leaving?”

  “Yeah, I’m gonna head out. I’ll be back tomorrow to finish the roof.”

  “Okay. I got you something.”

  She grabbed a brown paper bag off the kitchen counter as I stood in her doorway.

  “Figured you’d be starving,” she said as she handed it to me.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything, Mira.” The bag made a crinkling sound as I opened it, and a delicious smell wafted out of the inside. It was a gourmet sandwich with a bag of potato chips. “Where did you get the money for this?” I asked her, regretting the words as soon as they left my lips.

  Mira lifted her chin up. “I earned it.”

  I searched her face to see if she was joking. Sometimes I couldn’t tell with her. She seemed serious enough, and I was distracted by the line of white that graced one of her cheek
bones. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the white powder covered most of her. I resisted the urge to wipe the smear off with the pad of my thumb. How could I think of doing that after what I’d said last night?

  “You hurting?” she asked with a worried set to her full lips.

  I nodded. “Forgot my meds today.”

  “I found some Advil in my uncle’s medicine cabinet. It won’t help much, but maybe it’ll take the edge off.”

  I moved stiffly for the kitchen table. “Sounds good. Mira,” I said, grabbing her hand before I could stop myself. “I’m sorry.”

  She froze and looked at our touching palms with wide eyes. “Don’t,” she said, prying her hand from my grip. “You don’t have to do that, Caleb. I’m your charity case, remember? You were honest with your father, and I have no interest in ruining your reputation. Don’t confuse me now.”

  I waited long enough to make the silence between us awkward. “Probably best if I go.” Now, I definitely regretted the decision to come after her.

  “Probably best,” she agreed.

  I turned back at the door. “How did you earn the money? For the sandwich, I mean.”

  “I got a job,” she said with a proud tilt to her chin. “And without anyone’s help. I’ll be working mornings so you won’t have to see me most days.”

  I tried not to let the disappointment show on my face. Not about the job. I was so proud of her accomplishment. The idea of not seeing her anymore, however, curdled in my gut. “Congratulations. Where at?”

  “You’re looking at the newest baker at the Main Street Pie & Candy Co.,” she said with a smile and a little curtsy.

  “That’s great, Mira,” I said, holding up the sandwich bag. “I’ll tell the boys at the rig about it. Maybe drum you up some business. Goodnight.”

  “Night,” she said with a sad smile. “And Caleb?”

  I turned. “Yeah?”