“Either way. I’ve got nowhere to be. Happy to stay and keep watch.” I force a shrug, hoping she buys my couldn’t-care-less-either-way attitude. Without a doubt, Daphne would be fine under Gaia’s care, but I’m reluctant to walk away.
What can I do, other than watch her while she sleeps?
I might be a weirdo, but I’m not a creep.
The two women whisper to each other near the couch. Daphne’s eyes cut to me, and then she nods. Whatever their discussion, I’m certain I’m the topic.
“Yeah, I can go. Let me set a timer and after an hour, strain what’s in the pot into a jar. Add half a cup to the same amount of hot water. Sip as often as needed.”
“I want you to stay.” Daphne’s voice is determined.
“If you’re sure. I don’t …” I leave my sentence unfinished.
We stare at each other. Her hair is disheveled and she’s paler than normal, but her eyes are clear. Something passes between us.
“Well, then … I’ll text later.” Gaia stands and shifts her attention between the two of us.
I don’t realize she’s left until I hear the soft snick of the door closing.
“Soup?” I ask, because I don’t know what else to say.
Daphne nods and drags her blanket over her legs.
“One mug o’ chicken noodle coming up.”
I busy myself with heating water, unwilling to think too hard about what I’m doing here and why it’s important I stay.
The microwave dings at the same time someone knocks on the door, startling Daphne. It’s busier than a church on Sunday around here.
Cursing as I open it, I growl, “What is this? The state fucking fair?”
Ranger Daniels stands on the narrow porch, holding two glass jars of liquid.
“Oh.” He falters and takes a step back when he sees me. “Hey there, Odin.”
“Jay.” I lean my shoulder against the jamb like I’m security and I’m not allowing him into the club. “What’s in the jars?”
He holds up one and stares at it with curiosity. “Olive heard Daphne’s sick so she sent over some of my mom’s recipe for ramen.”
“Interesting. Homemade broth?” Would it be wrong to eat some myself? Daphne asked for rehydrated soup, so she might not even want ramen. She’d probably put saltines in it.
Handing over both containers, he tells me, “She swears it cures everything.”
Daphne sneezing behind me declares her presence. I step aside and she stands next to me, taking the jars from my hands.
“Thanks, Jay. And thank Olive for me, too.”
His eyes widen. “You look terrible.”
“Jeez, thanks. So many compliments from men today. My ego won’t know what to do with itself.” Hands full, she shuffles back inside the cabin.
“Has she been to the doctor?” Jay asks me.
“I have seasonal allergies and I can hear you,” she replies from somewhere near the open kitchen. “Why is everyone worried about me? I’m capable of sneezing without supervision.”
“Given I found you in the woods, wandering around in the rain, soaked to the bone, I’m not so sure about that.”
Jay’s brow furrows and his mouth opens like he’s going to ask a follow-up question.
I cut him off with a shake of my head. “Long story. Point is, she’s here, dry, and warm now.”
She declares, “I’m a grown-ass woman who is perfectly capable of taking care of herself.”
Quickly twisting around, I’m met with a dirty look. Facing Jay, I ask, “Did she flip me off behind my back?”
“Yep.” He grins. “Good luck with the caregiving. You’d probably have an easier time with a sick skunk.”
His mention of skunks reminds me of Daphne’s brush with the spray. Her uniform needs to be washed with baking soda, which she doesn’t have. Soaking in vinegar might work.
“I’m going to ignore that comparison because you brought me soup, Jay.”
“And I’m going to leave before I ruin my good deed. Let us know if you need anything.” With a quick wave, he bounds off the steps and jogs over to his vehicle.
“That was nice of him.” Daphne struggles to open the Ball jar’s metal lid.
“Step away from the ramen and go lie down.” I point at the couch and her abandoned nest of blankets.
Other than holding up her hands, she doesn’t move.
“Why are you so stubborn?” Exasperated, I cross the room, stopping when I’m on the far side of the kitchen island.
“Why are you so bossy? I appreciate you making sure I got home safely and bringing me groceries, which I will be paying for, but you’re under no obligation to play caregiver.”
She’s exasperating but if she thinks she’s going to get rid of me, she’s sorely mistaken. Her stubbornness is adorable. Mine is reinforced with steel.
“You’re alone and unwell. Since you don’t have kin nearby, I’m volunteering. You could be nicer about it.”
Using the blanket around her shoulders, she spreads her arms like bat wings. “As you can see, my coworkers are capable of checking in on me. They’re close by.”
Her point is fair, but I choose to ignore it.
“I’ve got nothing better to do,” I mumble. “So indulge me.”
As my confession lingers in an imaginary cartoon bubble above my head, I stare at her, willing her to accept my act of kindness without making it more awkward.
“Fine. Stay,” she whispers and then she adds, “My soup is probably cold.”
Distracted by Jay’s visit, I forgot about the mug in the microwave. After reheating it, I wrap a paper towel around the hot surface and carefully carry it to the coffee table.
“Anything else?”
Eyeing me over her cup, she doesn’t respond to my question.
“Okay. I’ll be in the kitchen, cooking. Mind if I play music?” I ask, opening the app on my phone.
“Go ahead. Bluetooth speaker is over there. I think I’m going to nap.” After taking a few sips, she wipes her mouth with the paper towel and sets the mostly full mug on the table.
“Okay, I’ll skip the death metal.” I flash a smile.
“Why? I love sleeping to thrashing guitars and screaming. So soothing.” Tucking herself in, she snuggles down into the cushions.
Selecting a playlist, I keep the volume low enough to not disturb her.
Cooking brings me peace, distracts me from my own burdens. Once I’m in the flow of prep, I lose track of time until everything is simmering on the stove or baking in the oven. Casting a glance between the stack of dirty dishes and Daphne softly snoring in the living area, I decide to wait until she’s awake to clean up.
Now what?
I could leave a note and go.
My good deed is done.
There’s really no reason for me to stay.
Chapter Sixteen
Daphne
My alarm didn’t go off this morning, and I’m late for a test. In a panic, I run out the door and don’t even change out of my pajamas.
Now I’m wandering around a building on campus I’ve never been inside, desperately trying to find the right classroom. Other students give me weird looks and move out of my way as I run down the halls.
“Crap, crap, crap,” I mutter to myself, feeling sweat break out on my forehead and skid down my back, my body shifting between hot and cold. I might even throw up.
I’ve never missed a final before. My breathing goes shallow and I struggle to inhale deeply. Slowing my pace, I attempt to calm my anxiety.
“Okay, okay. Think. Remember. What class is this for?” I’m speaking aloud to myself in public, but these are desperate times. People stare at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Are you all right?” someone asks in a soothing voice.
“It’s okay. I’m late for my final in …” As I’m talking, one of my front teeth falls out and skitters across the floor.
A hand rests on my arm. “Daphne?”
“Oh, thit,”
I lisp. My hand flies up to my mouth as my tongue probes the gap.
“Shh. It’s okay.” The kind man rubs circles on my shoulder. He called me by my name, but I don’t think I know him.
“I have to go. I’m late.” While I’m attempting to extract myself from this conversation, I realize I no longer know what I’m doing here.
“You’re dreaming. Wake up.” Rough fingers soothe my forehead.
“Stop hugging me.” I don’t even know this guy, so I try to push him away. He’s heavy and slippery like he’s oiled up. Maybe he’s a bodybuilder or really sweaty.
“Open your eyes for me, darlin’,” a familiar male voice whispers from nearby.
Of course Odin Hill has to show up while I’m wrestling a human eel.
Hold on a hot minute.
If I am dreaming of Odin calling me darlin’, I definitely don’t want to ruin it by waking myself up right now. “Shh, sleeping.”
“I know,” he murmurs, close.
Unwilling to let the fantasy go, I still haven’t opened my eyes. I reach for the spot where I think his wrist should be and only grab air.
“Come back, Odin,” I whisper, deciding I must be having crazy dreams from too many antihistamines.
Loud clattering noises snap me out of my haze. Sitting up too quickly, I pry my lids open into slits as the room rights itself. I feel like I’ve been drugged, which I guess I have.
There’s no one else in my living area or kitchen. A pile of pots, pans, and dishes covers my counter, though I don’t remember cooking anything. The room smells weird, a mix of citrus and vinegar along with rotisserie chicken, which I don’t remember buying. When did I go to the store?
How much Benadryl did I take?
Standing, I immediately regret listening to whichever part of my mind thought it would be a good idea to be more vertical. As I’m trying to get my bearings, a tall form lumbers down the dark hallway.
“Hey, you’re awake,” a male voice drawls like it’s no big deal he’s broken into my home and is robbing me.
I do the one logical thing I can think of: I scream.
Odin steps into the light.
I scream again.
The garbage bag he’s holding drops to the floor when he lifts his hands, palms forward. “Shh. You’ll wake the whole park.”
“What are you doing here?” Shocked, I press my hand to my chest, gripping my sweatshirt in an attempt to shove my heart back through my ribcage. If it were a horse, she’d win the Kentucky Derby with how fast she’s galloping.
“I’ve been here the entire time.”
“You have?” Now that he mentions it, I do have a vague memory of him showing up with groceries.
“I said I’d stay, and I kept my word.”
Odin Hill being a man of integrity is almost as surprising as him standing in my hallway. It’s too much to handle, so I focus on the bag at his feet.
“What’s that?”
“Your uniform.”
“Why are you stealing my clothes?”
He balks. “I’m not. You got skunk spray on it when you sat on the log.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Ew.”
“I was going to put them in the wash, but then you woke up.”
“How long was I out? What time is it?” All I know is it’s dark outside. Could be six, could be midnight.
Without checking the time on his phone, he answers, “Around eight. You’ve been asleep on and off for four hours.”
“I took a double dose of antihistamines. I think I’m okay now … maybe. Unless this is a hallucination.”
He stares at me a beat and then at the floor. “You were talking in your sleep.”
I cringe. “Please tell me I didn’t say anything embarrassing. Lie if you have to.”
“No, not while you were sleeping.” A glimpse of a smile tugs at his mouth. “Earlier you were kind of rambling and disoriented. I thought you were feverish.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“You were funny.” He chuckles.
“That’s not reassuring.” I close my eyes and try to remember anything from this afternoon. I come up blank. “Haven’t you ever taken antihistamines? They really knock you out.”
“I’m not really familiar with medications.”
“Lucky you. Never get a headache?”
“Sure, but I grew up using the old remedies.”
Now I remember the steaming pot on my stove and the cup of tart liquid. “Like the potion you made earlier?”
“Potion?” He laughs. “No magic, just some plant-based medicine.”
I eye him before turning to retreat to the kitchen. “I had a brief Wiccan phase, and that sure sounds like herbal magic to me.”
He follows behind. “Really? Did you dance around in your nightgown under a full moon?”
“No. Those are pagans. Easy to confuse the two,” I tell him dryly.
“Right, of course.” He cuts around me to get to the stove.
“Is it ready?” I ask as he removes the lid from the pot.
“Needs to cool a little, and then I’ll fill a mug for you.”
“What’s in it?” Inhaling, I sniff the air as best I can with a stuffed nose. “I promise to not steal the recipe.”
“Lots of good stuff.”
“Smells like Cletus’s coffee. I’m guessing there’s some molasses and apple cider vinegar.”
“What’s he doing drinking the bowel blaster?”
I snort and try to cover it with a cough. “That’s a terrible name.”
“Terrible, yet accurate. I didn’t invent it, and neither did he. The old-timers have been drinking similar brews for generations, long before we had over-the-counter relief. A lot of folks can’t afford health insurance or don’t trust modern medicine, so they still use the old ways.”
“How do you know all this stuff?” The adrenaline shock of finding Odin in my house is wearing off, and I’m tired down into my bones.
I shuffle over to my couch and rearrange the blankets over my lap, pulling them up to my chin as I slump down into the pillows. I don’t remember bringing either out to the living room and wonder how much snooping he’s done under the guise of being helpful.
“I learned from my mother, who learned from hers and so on back a few generations. My great-grandmother is still alive, and I’ve been able to study with her. Still perfecting the recipe.”
“Won’t she give it to you?”
“Nannie Ida doesn’t write anything down. It’s all in her head with adjustments made on the fly as she’s cooking.”
“What if she forgets?” Great-grandmother? The woman has to be old.
“Then we’re all screwed and the knowledge is gone forever. Hence why I’m working with her to collect all of her secrets. She learned from her mother, who was one of the original granny-women in these mountains. They knew how to do everything.”
“I’ve never heard of granny women. Isn’t that kind of …”
“Redundant?” He smirks. “Yes, I know, but that’s what folks called ’em. Some might say they’re healers who practiced herbal magic mixed with pragmatic Southern stubbornness. Throw in poverty and the fear of God, and you’ve got yourself a real Appalachian granny.”
I’m intrigued. “She kind of sounds like a witch.”
“Nannie Ida wouldn’t approve of that label. No matter how cool it might be to younger women, in her day, it was a slur. She’d tell you she’s only using what the mountains provide.”
“Fascinating.” Now I’m even more curious about the brew simmering away on my rarely used stove.
“Ready to try some?”
Enthusiastically, I nod.
He fixes me a cup and watches while I take my first sip. At first taste, it’s both bitter and sweet, sour enough to pucker my cheeks. A heat from the spices lingers in my mouth and burns going down my throat. As soon as it appears, some other ingredient numbs away the discomfort.
“I wouldn’t call it delicious, but it is good. I can
feel my sinuses clearing up already.” To prove my point, I inhale through my nose.
An expression I haven’t seen before flashes across his face: pride.
“Are you hungry? Jay dropped off his mom’s ramen, or I can make you another cup of noodles?”
“I’m good for now.” I continue drinking the magical liquid while trying not to stare at Odin. It is strongly possible that I am still asleep.
“You seem better now.” He stands behind the unoccupied arm chair. “I’ll get going.”
There’s no reason for him to stay. He’s been here for hours and hours. I can’t ask him to hang around.
“You probably need to get home and take care of your pets.”
Even so, I don’t want him to leave. As odd as it is to have him here, I feel comfortable with him in my house.
“Eh, they’ll be all right.” He lingers behind the chair.
“Thanks for cooking for me. What do I owe you for the groceries?”
Dismissing my question with a wave of his hand, he smiles. “Nothing. I enjoyed helping.”
I may still be dreaming.
Chapter Seventeen
Odin
I’m on my own today and decide to switch up my routine, and taking a trail that heads north from the loop road. This route leads me past the historic buildings clustered together in the open spaces of the park. None of them are original to this site, each has been relocated for optimum historic charm—a lie formed from pieces of truth.
This false narrative has always bugged me, turning a community into a zoo for tourists to come enjoy as a slice of real Appalachian charm.
Hundreds of families, thousands of people were displaced from this area when the park was formed. Structures deemed unworthy were torn down, dismantled and erased. Sure, there are plenty of period buildings still scattered around the mountains, some still in the same families that homesteaded the land where they sit. Like my place, these homes remain closed to the public.
Despite a successful foraging experience, I find myself crankier than when I set out on my hike. The whole reason I came out here was to gather more mushrooms for Ida and Lena to make a new batch of tinctures. Nannie asked and I wasn’t about to turn her down.
Stranger Ranger: An Opposites Attract Romance (Park Ranger Book 2) Page 12
