by Wesley Banks
Katie was momentarily relieved she hadn’t worn out her welcome, but then she realized she had another problem. It was nearly dark, and she was in a small town with nowhere to stay.
Chapter 6
By the time Doc and Katie made it back to the house, the sun was already fading below the tree line.
Katie looked down at her watch. It was nearly six o'clock. She tugged lightly on the hour-hand pin on the side of the watch and spun it around until it was exactly one hour later. She had forgotten to add an hour after she crossed the last time-zone change in Georgia. So, it was nearly seven o'clock and she had no place to stay, nor any real plans for what she might do next.
"Everything all right, Miss Price?" Doc interjected.
"Oh. Yes. I just need to get going, I think. I didn't really plan this trip out as much as I probably should have. Would it be all right if I came back again tomorrow morning? Maybe just to watch the dogs?"
"Well, unfortunately I've got some bad news."
"The dogs wouldn't even know I'm here," she began to explain.
Doc chuckled. "Don't be silly. You are more than welcome to watch and write about the dogs as much as you'd like. However, there is a problem that is a bit more practical. Mrs. Davis runs the only motel in town, which is more or less a bed and breakfast large enough for just a few people. Normally I'd tell you to take a left on your way out of here, a right on Calhoun after about half a mile, and you'd run right into her place after another couple miles. But you'd be out of luck if you did that because Mrs. Davis is currently on her way to her brother’s funeral in Sumter. Sad thing, really.”
Doc turned towards his house as if he was finished speaking. As he took the first step, without even turning around, he simply said, "Supper is in thirty minutes."
Katie started to protest. "Thank you, but..."
"You can drive about an hour to Camden or Florence and possibly find something there, or a couple hours to Columbia if you’d prefer. But you best get goin’ before it gets too dark. You don’t want to get lost in the middle of nowhere.”
The screen door clattered behind him as he stepped inside, and left Katie standing outside a stranger’s house in a small town in South Carolina.
Katie just stood there, looking down at the scuffs and stains on her favorite Burberry boots. The bottom of her jeans were spotted with dirt, but she was glad she had changed. Her eyes traced the worn lines below them along the porch floor, down the stairs, and onto the dirt road. She looked out towards the winding path that she knew led back to a paved road.
A pot or pan clanged against something metal and she turned back to the screen door. Her hand reached out towards the rusted iron handle and rested there for a minute. Then she pulled the door open.
When Katie entered the house, she could instantly hear the sizzle of something on the stove. The kitchen was only a few steps into the house, and directly to her left.
"Breakfast for dinner," Doc said with a grin as he used a pair of tongs to flip a couple strips of bacon over. "You can set your stuff down on the tansu.”
Katie guessed he was referring to the chest of drawers behind the dining room table. Her guess was confirmed as Doc nodded when she set her bag on it.
Just above the tansu was a large painting of a bonsai tree, hand stitched into what appeared to be some type of wool fabric. Below the tree was the image of a boy who had tripped over a large rock. He lay on his back looking up at the tree. Katie stood as motionless as the boy and stared at the mural.
Without looking up from the three frying pans on the stove Doc said, “Nana korobi, ya oki."
Katie glanced over at him. "What does that mean?"
"I never figured it out," Doc said, laughing aloud. "But when I was stationed in Japan, I used to sit and stare at that thing for days on end. I don't really know why. I guess partially because I didn't have much else to do, and partially because it was hung outside one of the only restaurants I could afford to eat at off base.
"One night after I had finished my dinner, a Japanese man—I still don't know his name to this day—walked up and handed me that thing, all rolled up with two ribbons tied around each end. Before I could say thank you he said, ‘Nana korobi, ya oki,’ and walked away."
Doc flipped the pancakes over one last time. “That should do it."
He put one pancake, a large spoonful of scrambled eggs, and two pieces of bacon on each plate. As he walked them over to the table, Katie noticed a third plate that still sat empty on the counter.
"Shall we eat?" he said.
She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until Doc set the plate down in front of her. The food smelled amazing, and she couldn't remember the last time she’d had a home-cooked meal. The eggs were like soft little yellow pillows, and the pancakes still hot enough to melt a small slice of butter that she spread on top of them. But the best part looked to be the strips of bacon. They looked so greasy they might slip out of her hands when she picked them up, but they were delicious. It was a nice change from her California diet of salad or sushi.
Doc walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a glass bottle of Aunt Jemima syrup. "Can't exactly eat pancakes without this, now can we?"
Katie forced a smile, suddenly less at ease. As Doc sat down across from her, she realized a somewhat alarming truth: she was eating dinner with a complete stranger.
Less than a week ago, she’d been alone on her porch on the coast of California getting in arguments with her agent about her impending story deadline. And now, well…now she was as far away from home as she had been in years, eating breakfast for dinner with a stranger.
Doc must have noticed something was wrong, because he stopped eating for a brief moment after shoving what seemed like half a pancake in his mouth in one bite. Or perhaps not. After a swig of some milk, he shoved the other half in.
They ate the rest of the meal in silence. Katie figured that food was the one thing that actually prevented Doc from being his usually talkative self. For a moment, the silence seemed to amplify the fact that she had found herself in a somewhat uncomfortable situation, but the more she ate the more she calmed down, until finally she was thankful for the silence.
Her mind had been so loud the entire day. Screaming, Find the story! Notice the details! Find the story! Dinner calmed her a bit. Perhaps because she knew there was a story here in this little town, on this little farm...or perhaps because for the first time in months there was not just silence around her, but silence forming within her. That was, until Doc finished his meal a few minutes later.
"There's a few things I've got to finish before I turn in. If you don't mind, Kyle will show you to the cottage."
"Kyle?” Katie questioned. “The cottage?"
"Ah, yes. Well, the cottage is technically the only house on this property. As I'm sure by now you've noticed, we're sitting in a double-wide trailer. The cottage however, is far from a trailer. Or at least I like to think so. It's not exactly finished, but I think it will do the trick. I meant to show you earlier, but my understanding was you wanted to spend the afternoon watching the dogs, so I had to cut our grand tour a little short."
Doc paused for a moment. He was only several feet from Katie, but to her his mind felt distant again. She heard the screen door clatter shut for the second time that night, which was enough to break Doc out of his momentary trance.
As Katie turned around, he said, "Miss Price, my nephew Kyle. Kyle, our guest, Miss Price."
This was the third time Katie had seen Kyle in the past few hours, but the first time she ever really saw him.
He was young; he couldn’t be more than a year or two older than her. He was slightly taller than average, maybe an inch shy of six foot. His hair was dark, but covered mostly by a baseball hat, the kind that Katie saw truckers wearing during her stops along the way to South Carolina. On the front, the words "One Pace" were inscribed. The stitching on the letters was starting to come undone, and it was evident they had been hand sewn, as she noticed s
everal knots indicating a start-stop point.
As Kyle stepped inside, he glanced at her for a moment and she noticed a few subtle brown freckles on his face, mixed in with a bit of dirt. His shoulders were broad and the top button of his rust-orange Henley shirt was unbuttoned. The sleeves were pushed up a few inches and she could see the muscles in his arms tighten as he wiped his hands on a white rag. But there was nothing more telling than his eyes. They were not a sharp blue, or a sea green, but rather a deep brown. And they were calm.
Katie went to extend her hand, but before she was able to do so, Kyle pinched the brim of his ball cap and greeted her.
"Miss," he said. He pulled down on his hat and nodded in her direction, his other hand stuffing the rag into his back pocket.
Katie smiled casually back at him. He seemed somewhat shy, she thought. It was unexpected after watching him command the dogs with such confidence earlier.
"Miss Price will be staying with us for..." Doc said, turning to Katie to answer his question.
Katie thought about his offer for a moment. It wasn't exactly every day that she drove across the country to some random town and bunked with locals. This wasn't the seventies. Today people locked their doors, didn't let their kids play outside alone, and above all didn't trust anyone.
She looked through the screen door towards her car, now covered in dust from the dirt roads. Then she thought about what her agent had said just a few days ago. You have three weeks to get me a draft. She didn't have much choice.
"Just a few days, if that's all right," Katie supplied.
"Miss Price will be staying with us for just a few days, then,” Doc finished. “I've got some things to finish up before it gets too dark. Dinner is on the stove after you show Miss Price to the cottage."
Kyle's expression changed to what Katie perceived as slightly irritated after Doc uttered those last words. But before he could protest or comment Doc added, "I just happened to check on the cottage a couple days ago so I know the water still runs, but you will need to grab some towels and sheets. Don’t forget to open the bedroom window for her. You know that latch sticks.”
Doc turned to Katie. "Breakfast is just before dawn at this table."
With that he smiled, winked, and walked out the backdoor, leaving Katie in an uncomfortable silence with yet another stranger.
She suspected she might be getting a barrage of questions from Kyle, wondering why there was some strange girl standing in his house. So, she started to think up answers.
I told Dr. Anderson I would drive to the nearest hotel, but he insisted I stay here.
I'm a writer from California.
Don't worry, I won't get in your way. I just want to watch the dogs. I think there’s a great story to tell about them.
But as she stood there waiting for all those questions, Kyle just turned around and walked back out the same door he’d come in, leaving Katie alone in the kitchen.
Katie scooped up her purse and hurried out after him.
"Dr. Anderson said you were going to show me where the cottage was?" she asked, trailing behind him.
Kyle continued walking.
"Excuse me...Kyle?" Katie said.
No response. He just kept walking until he had crossed the dirt path in front of the house and disappeared into the barn.
"Okay...I suppose I should have expected this much," she said to herself as she stood alone. The night breeze was cool, and it cut right through her sweater, giving her chills.
She started to make her way towards her car when she heard a voice behind her.
"That way leads off the property. This way leads to the cottage."
She turned around and saw Kyle walking out of the barn and away from her in the opposite direction. Behind him trotted the same black dog she’d seen earlier that day.
For a moment, Katie contemplated getting in the car and just driving off. Dr. Anderson had been nice and helpful, but it seemed very clear that Kyle didn't want her here for whatever reason. She was already standing near her car, and the fact that it was nearly dark made her even more nervous about the whole situation.
Does he know I’m here to write about the dogs? Does he not want me near them? Does he just not like people in general?
The more she thought about it, the more she heard the voice of her agent again.
One month, Katie. That's all the time I can buy you.
She reached into the backseat of her car and pulled out her suitcase. There was a problem immediately –plastic suitcase tires don't roll on dirt roads. She sighed to herself, then threw her purse over her shoulder, pushed the suitcase handle back down, picked it up by the side strap, and took off after Kyle and his dog. The suitcase banged against her leg with nearly every step.
The cottage wasn't exactly right around the corner, like Doc had implied. At least, it didn't feel that way to Katie after half carrying and half dragging her suitcase behind Kyle, who hardly appeared to notice.
Just the opposite was the black dog who trailed them by about fifty paces. Katie could hear his heavy panting with each step, and any time she turned to look at him, she found his jet-black eyes locked on her.
Figures that the dog wants more to do with me than the man.
Kyle pulled a key from his pocket and fit it into the brass door handle. She couldn't help but wonder why they even bothered locking the door. Looking around at nothing but empty land, she couldn't imagine there was another person living within a mile.
Katie followed Kyle into the house as the door creaked open, her suitcase finally finding flat wood floors to roll across.
She wasn't sure what to expect as she took several steps into the house, but after eating dinner in Doc’s double-wide she didn't expect much. Yet again, she found herself surprised.
She’d anticipated dusty countertops or unfinished rooms, possibly even cobwebs or some musty odor hanging around the house. What she saw was none of the above.
It was easy to see that no one was living here, but she couldn't understand why not. The first thing she noticed was the flooring. It was dark with lots of knots and twisted grain, but it was beautiful. The crease between each board was deep, almost as if every single piece had been cut to fit in that exact spot.
The living room was immediately to her right—the direction Kyle had gone. She started to follow, but the dining room table to her left caught her eye.
The table looked antique. It was round, solid, with no split down the middle to add a rectangular leaf for more guests. There were three chairs arranged around it on one side, but on the other side sat a hand-carved wooden bench that was connected to the wall and sat just below a single-pane window.
Kyle opened the large wooden trunk at the foot of the bed, as Katie walked in behind him.
The bed was empty, but it was huge. A large four-post frame nearly consumed the room, and Katie almost tripped as she tried to squeeze between Kyle and the dresser.
He pulled two sheets and several pillow cases out of the trunk and tossed them on the bed. He latched the trunk closed and walked out of the room. She assumed he was leaving her like before, without even a goodbye.
After testing the water in the bathroom she walked back into the bedroom to find Kyle neatly tucking the bed sheet around each corner of the bed. His movements were meticulous. He fanned open the top sheet and let it float down again, running his hands to each corner until there were no creases. She thought of her house back home—unpacked boxes scattered throughout the house, furniture randomly placed from room to room, and the only beds made were the ones no one slept in. Watching him work made her feel like a slob.
He walked over to the window as he finished putting the last pillowcase on.
“You don’t need to worry about the window,” she said rubbing her cold hands together.
Kyle looked over to her, his eyes resting on hers for a moment. "Miss," he said, again tipping his hat like earlier.
"You can call me Katie," she blurted as he turned to leave.
He stopped for a moment, his back already to her. "Yes ma'am," he replied, and walked out the door.
Chapter 7
When Katie woke up the next morning she almost forgot she wasn’t in her own bed back in San Diego. She stretched out against the cool white sheets and looked down at her watch.
9:54 a.m. That can’t be right.
She checked her cell phone, but it was dead.
She ran to the window, threw open the drapes, and lifted the window open—or tried to. It didn't budge. She tried again. And again. Nothing. Not even a creak.
Still in her pajamas—light blue pants and a long-sleeved button-up top with little images of baby bears—she headed for the front door.
When she got to the front door she looked down at her bare feet, ran back to her room, and slipped her boots on. The legs of her pajamas bunched up against them.
When she got to the front door again she swung it open and took the front steps one by one, walking about twenty feet from the house until she could clearly see the sun to the east. It was just already climbing the sky over the tree line. Her watch was right.
"I guess you're not much of a breakfast person," Katie heard from behind her.
A bit startled and not expecting anyone, she nearly screamed. She relaxed slightly when she turned and saw Doc leaning under the shade of a large oak tree, Biscuit sitting calmly by his side. He had a knife in his right hand and was carving the top of a long stick that he held braced against his left leg.
"I'm sorry. I meant to be up, but my phone died. And that was my only alarm."
Doc laughed heartily to himself. "Well, can't do much about breakfast, but if you're lookin' to see those dogs today you better get a move on. He only works them half a day on Sundays."
Doc pointed to a trail between two large trees about fifty yards away. "Follow that trail through the trees. Take a hard left when you see the opening and keep walking until you see ’em. They'll be out there about another two hours or so." Then he walked back down the dirt path towards his house, turning to Biscuit every few yards to say something that Katie couldn’t quite make out.
