Wings of the Walker

by Coralee June

  “Me, too,” Josiah admitted. He licked his lips slowly, and the familiar flutter in my stomach tickled my heart and made my breathing grow shallow.

  We continued to chat until dinner time. I was reluctant to let Josiah go. It was a side of him that made me nervous and regretful. Did I make the right decision in coming here? Would he have changed? Could we have had a life together? He wouldn’t let me hang up without promising to call again, tomorrow.

  After the call ended, I changed into one of my more modest dresses from back in Galla. Although the new summer dresses that filled my closet were surprisingly comfortable, I needed to cling to something from my old life, to remind myself why I was here and what my purpose was.

  Dinner was a joyful affair, everyone spoke cheerfully to one another, and occasionally, someone would include me in the conversation. However, I remained polite and distant, sometimes throwing Huxley a glare.

  “I’m sad that you left before I could say goodbye, today!” Patrick complained. “Thanks again for lunch,” he said.

  “Wait, you brought him lunch?!” Jacob said in mock protest. His wide grin suggested that he simply enjoyed pestering me. “I’ll be sure to bring your lunch, tomorrow,” I cooed.

  “Well, how come he gets lunch brought to him? When is my turn?” Cyler asked. The memory of grinding against him while dancing flashed in my mind, and a healthy blush flared across my face.

  “Ah, whenever you’d like,” I replied while coughing away my lustful thoughts. “In that case, I’d like a three-course meal with chocolate cake for the dessert.” Cyler’s demands made me smile. “I said whenever, not whatever,” I scolded him with a cheeky grin. The others laughed and continued to eat the seared, deer meat and veggies I’d prepared for them.

  Kemper kept opening his mouth like he wanted to say something but would immediately shut it. “Is there something you want to say, Kemp?” I asked. A sweet and innocent blush covered him, and I found myself wanting to hug him. I shook my head at myself, willing those emotions to go away. I welcomed my familiar chant that kept me away from Josiah during times of weakness.

  Not yours. Not yours. Not yours.

  “Oh, uhm. I–” he started then coughed. “I . . . uh, was wondering if you could bring me lunch one day? There is an apple orchard, near my work building, I think you’d like.” His words seemed rushed and unsure.

  “I’d love that, Kemp,” I replied.

  “Well, I might as well request lunch, also,” Maverick joined in. My eyes flashed to his. He looked calm, and memories of our intimate time in the clinic flooded me. I wanted to spend time with him, but I wasn’t sure I could face the clinic just yet. I still felt too raw from my experience there. Maverick sensed my unease and quickly recovered. “Oh! But, since the clinic is so close to here, how about I come home for lunch?” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, that would be lovely.” Once again I found myself feeling thankful for Maverick’s perceptiveness. The rest of the dinner, they spent arguing over what they wanted to eat. I excused myself back to my room and politely declined their offer to participate in game night.

  The next day I spent the early morning in my room while they ate muffins I’d prepared ahead of time. Once everyone left, I started cleaning their home, similarly to what I did in the Stonewell Household. I mopped and scrubbed their floors, bleached the bathrooms, and washed their sheets. It took the entirety of my morning and almost left me running late for lunch with Jacob.

  It was important to me that I earned my place here. Cyler promised that everyone earned their keep in the Dormas Providence, and he wasn’t kidding. Every non-disabled person contributed to the running of this town. Children collected water from the well first thing in the morning. Even the few elderly we had, baked or knitted clothes. It was a small, but beautifully-functioning town.

  Jacob worked at the train station, handling imports and outports of supplies. He had a small team of men that dealt with the transactions and ensured that no one was entering Dormas without permission.

  The station was a good, hour-long walk away from the house, so I lightly jogged to be there on time. When I arrived, Jacob was shirtless and lifting large boxes onto the train. His defined chest and deep-set abs made my mouth water. Beads of sweat dripped down his caramel stomach with each movement. He was muscular in ways that made my head spin. Before I could gather myself, Jacob caught me staring at his swift, sharp movements. Although, I should feel embarrassed, instead I was rewarded with one of his mouth-watering smiles.

  “Hey, Ash. Like what you see?” he asked, playfully. I decided that placing more distance between us was necessary.

  “No, br-brother. I was just concerned that you aren’t drinking enough water. Come here and eat your lunch.” The term stuttered in my throat. Jacob jumped off the train in one swoop and jogged over to where I was standing. He grabbed the basket full of food from my hands and laughed. “Your hair is extra wild, today.” He’d noticed. My unruly curls seemed to grow more prominent in the Dormas humidity, and my jog to the train station didn’t help things.

  His comment made me feel self-conscious, and I placed my hand on top of my hair. Once he had the basket, I nodded my head and began walking back to the house. “Where are you going?” he called after me. I turned slightly with a fake smile. “Back to the manor. I have more chores to complete before everyone gets back home.” He chased after me. “What’s got you so distant, lately?” he asked.

  I sighed and turned to greet him fully,

  “I don’t mean to be distant. I’m . . . I’m just still trying to find my place here.” I shrugged.

  “Well, let me simplify things for you . . . .” he began while gripping my soft hand. “Right now, your place is beside me while we enjoy lunch together.”

  I smiled at his comment, and we both walked over to the train station, where he had his office. Once inside, he pulled up a crate to his mahogany desk for me to sit on. We then began eating the honey-lemon chicken I made.

  “What is your absolute favorite thing to do?” Jacob asked before taking a large gulp of water. I considered his question for a moment then answered. “I love to paint. To sketch.” Jacob looked at me curiously; it seemed that my answer caught him off guard. “Well, that would explain the new shipment I received today. Cyler ordered a ton of art supplies. Jacob licked his fingers of the lemony syrup from the chicken then stood.

  After motioning for me to follow, Jacob and I made our way over to the small warehouse where all inventory was taken then organized for distribution around the town. After rummaging through a few boxes, he cracked open a crate and removed the grass packaging. I peered over his shoulder and was shocked to find a seemingly endless supply of sketching materials, canvases, and paintbrushes. I gasped at the high quality of the supplies.

  My heart warmed instantly towards Cyler. Despite his gruff exterior, he was perceptive and thoughtful.

  Jacob was a sweaty mess, but I embraced him tightly. His thick arms wrapped around me, pulling us closer. I rested my cheek against his bare chest and reveled in the close contact.

  After a few moments, I released my hold on him and backed away. “I’m sorry, Jacob. I didn’t mean to . . . uh . . .” I tried explaining, but my words fell short. “You don’t have to explain yourself,” he said. But, I still wanted to explain myself. I needed to tell him why I was so eager for contact.

  "My parents passed when I was three. I guess my childhood lacked affection. Aside from Josiah . . . Master Stonewell . . . no one showed me any kindness. And now, I’m here surrounded by freedom and respect. I’m just not sure what to do. I don’t know who I am, ” I admitted quietly. The truth of it rang through the warehouse, and shame filled me.

  Jacob looked at me. I expected to find pity in his chocolate eyes. Instead, he peered at me with a look of awe.

  "You are a survivor. An artist. A giving, selfless, beautiful, woman with a big heart,” Jacob said.

  We both stood in silence for a moment. The tension between us was
palpable. Suffocating. How could I still feel so much love for Josiah, but be inexplicably drawn to Jacob?

  Jacob allowed me to take a sketchbook and some pencils home, saying he would bring the rest in the community transport, tonight, since it was too much to carry.

  I took a leisurely pace back to the Black Home. I spent each moment observing the Dormas community and scouting out images that caught my eye and demanded I sketch them. In taking my time, I was able to see the real beauty of what they’d built in this town. People were playful, happy, and genuine. The shops were dusty, yet full of life and promise. Men nodded at me with broad smiles as I walked.

  Once I got to the end of the street where the Black home sat, I decided to sit beneath a large tree and sketch the town. I drew a long road with buildings on either side, and I captured the dust that blew around with each passerby. I felt relaxed and completely at ease for the first time since leaving the Stonewells. Occasionally, my mind drifted back to thoughts of Josiah while I drew.

  He would sometimes bring me art supplies. I hid them under my mattress in the storage room, away from Mistress Stonewell. She didn’t approve of me cultivating any skills outside of what benefited her home.

  Late at night, Josiah would sneak into my room, and I spent hours quietly drawing his robust and symmetrical face. After years of companionship, I had each feature ingrained in my memory, and as if my muscles acted upon what they were accustomed to, I flipped the page and began sketching his face.

  However, instead of the usually polished and clean-shaven Josiah that I grew up with, I drew the Josiah I saw on my Tablet a few days ago. The Josiah that was heartbroken and suffering.

  His eyes were haunting and made my stomach clench, but I needed to draw this. I needed to see that he did, in fact, love me. That without me, he was struggling to exist. It made me feel equal parts compelling and guilty. It also made me question why I was playing with the idea that I felt anything for Jacob or any of the others. Realistically, they were a small candle in comparison to the lighthouse that was Josiah. He shone bright. He illuminated me in ways that no one else ever could.

  The sun began to set, and still, I drew. I wasn’t happy until the picture was complete. I wanted to cling to what it was we shared. I tried to hold on to the fact that Josiah Stonewell did, in fact, love me.

  As the sun set, the guys each walked up to the house. They were cheerful and giddy. Each was playfully goading one another about their day. The moment I saw Cyler, I stood and ran to him, ignoring the scowl Huxley threw my way.

  Once in front of Cyler, I looked up into his playful eyes and enveloped him in the most significant hug I could muster.

  “Thank you for my art supplies,” I whispered in his ear. He was sweaty from a long day of working, but I didn’t care. His thoughtful purchase meant so much more to me than he could ever truly understand. He had given me back a part of myself that I’d lost.

  He spun me around, which gathered cheers from the others. The sensation made me laugh. “You’re welcome, babe. It’s the least I could do since you nursed me back to health.” I rolled my eyes while he put me back down. While doing so, he slid me against his muscular body, causing those familiar flutters to invade my stomach.

  Huxley was looking over my sketch when my feet hit the ground. I rushed over to him to rip it out of his hands, but he was too quick and tall.

  “What do we have here?” he asked. “Does our little artist have a muse?” He waved my notebook side to side and my insistence to retrieve the drawing of Josiah back spurred on the others to see who it was I intently drew.

  “Let us see, Huxley!” Patrick pleaded. But, instead of handing it over to him, Huxley peered at me with a newfound understanding. After taking a second glance, he handed it back to me and abruptly walked back inside. Maybe, now, he understood why I wouldn’t betray his makeshift family as Jules did. I was still irrevocably in love with someone I could never have.

  Chapter 16

  The next day, my lunch with Cyler was quick and fun. He spent most of the time stuffing his face with my chocolate cake. His office moved where there was a need, so we ate and walked around town, stopping to discuss different problems with different people.

  I was amazed to see how everyone treated him with such respect. They liked their fearless leader, and by associating myself with him, they liked me, too. I was handed miscellaneous trinkets by the shopkeepers and many asked me about the new bakery I was starting at the General Store. Once again, I was amazed by the resilience and kindness of the people here.

  The next day, I made a special lunch for Kemper and walked it over to the dormitories where the Walkers stayed. Kemp spent his days teaching the new Walkers different skills that would be useful in the community as well as facilitating an apprentice program with the town folk needing assistance.

  The dormitories were large, and the building appeared newer than the other places in town. I assumed that they recently constructed it in preparation for the Walkers from Galla.

  When I walked inside, I was greeted warmly by the seamstress that had assisted me in patching up Cyler on the train. I’d never learned her name, or if she told it to me, I was too exhausted and concerned to remember it.

  Surprisingly, she welcomed me with a warm hug and smile. “Ah, I was wondering when I’d see you again,” she murmured. “You look much better now that you’re off that train.” She appeared a couple of years older than me, but her green eyes sparkled with youth and promise. She had long, blonde, hair and curves that put me to shame. Now that I could adequately assess her, I noticed that she was beautiful.

  She eagerly guided me over to Kemp’s office and chatted on about her new life here in the Dormas Providence. “The dorms here are so nice, and the food is much better than anything I had in the Walker Zones,” she gushed. “Have you already been assigned a residence? Master Kemper told us that eventually, we all would own our cabin. Isn’t that amazing?” She sighed. “I’m living in the Black home,” I answered truthfully. “I was hired to make their meals and clean for them, but I’m also working at the bakery.”

  The blonde’s eyes widened at me. “You’re in the Black Household. Oh, what an honor!!!” Her loud voice rang throughout the hall, causing me to flinch. “What I wouldn’t give to live under the same roof as Cyler.” She started fanning herself. “That man is a work of art. I have to stop myself from staring when he visits the Dormitories.”

  I grinned in agreement; he was very nice to look at. I might be forcing myself to feel sisterly towards them, but that didn’t mean I was blind to their attractiveness. “Almost every woman here has pursued him.” She giggled. That statement caused an uncomfortable sensation to drop in the pit of my stomach. I knew that being jealous was unreasonable, but it still made me angry.

  We knocked on the door, and Kemp’s light voice welcomed us inside. “Oh! Thank you, Becca, for bringing Ashleigh to me.” I looked over, and she beamed with appreciation at his kind compliment. “You are most welcome. Enjoy your lunch,” she cooed while practically drooling over Kemp’s desk. I fought a scowl that wanted to take up residence on my face permanently.

  “Well . . .,” I said while she closed the door. “This is amazing, Kemp. Did you design the dorms? Everyone seems so happy here.” He blushed at my compliment then stood up. “Would you like a quick tour? I can show you around, then we can have our picnic in the apple orchards.”

  I nodded my head yes, and we made our way around the building. Each room was carefully crafted to be comfortable and versatile. Walkers openly gawked at Kemp as we walked along, explaining the purpose of the different areas to me.

  “Eventually we plan to make this our schoolhouse, once populations increase, of course,” he said with pride.

  “That's amazing.” I looked around and appreciated all the work that went into it.

  “Did you design the building?” I asked, realizing he’d never answered when I had asked before.

  “Yep. Designed and helped build. It t
ook all of us to get it done before the rainy season.”

  We made our way outside, and the smell of apples filled my nose. It was sweet and fresh. I wanted to bottle it up and walk around with it forever. I pulled a blanket out of my basket and laid it down on the dirt. We both sat down, and I pulled out the various food items I made for us. Fruit, meats, and cheese covered every square inch of the blanket. For a moment, I wondered if I went overboard, but seeing Kemp’s appreciative gaze made my effort worth it.

  We ate and maintained a pleasant conversation. Kemp continued to tell me about his next building project, and then he surprised me by asking if I was interested in having a home to myself.

  “Oh. Uh, sure! I’ll be grateful for whatever I am given.” I tried not to let disappointment overcome me, but I couldn’t help but feel unwanted.

  “Okay! Well, when we get back to the office, you can look at the different plans and decide on a layout you’d like. The cabins we designate for everyone aren’t anything overly fancy. But, it’s a space for you.”

  “That's . . .that’s very, uh, nice of you.” Truthfully, it was nice. Most walkers couldn’t even dream of being given a permanent, sturdy, home. But still, in my short time here, I had grown accustomed to living at the Black residence. I enjoyed it. I remembered Becca’s revelation about the Walker women pursuing them, and it then made sense why they would want me out of the way. Soon, they all would have their wives to care for them.

  “Where are you building them?” I asked.

  “Close to the mines. Most Walkers will be working there once our male numbers increase. It makes more sense to build the development there.”

  “Oh. That's far from the town center.” Far from the Black Household.

  “Ah, well maybe we could build your home closer then?” Kemp asked shyly. “I’m assuming that frown on your face is because you want to live closer to your new bakery,” he quickly added.