by Kate Morris
“John told me once that one of his friends killed himself when he discharged out of the military and went home. He said it was really hard on him, too. I never thought I’d have to deal with something like that.”
“Yes, veteran suicide was a real problem for our soldiers,” he tells her. “My father did a lot of work to improve our veteran hospitals and tried to get them the psychiatric care and counseling they needed so that they could find another way, see that there were other options out there.”
“Now there’s nothing like that, not for anyone. Reese just couldn’t deal with her grief, what happened to her, and losing Bruce. It was just all too much. I wish I would’ve seen it coming.”
He sighs and nods. “Yes, I know. Perhaps I should be studying psychology a lot harder so that I can offer help someday with issues like this.”
“I think we all should,” she says. “Just to take care of our friends.”
They sit in the bed of the truck for a while just listening to the rain and not talking. He wants to give her space, but at the same time, Simon would like nothing better than to pull her into his arms and hold her close, tell her that everything will be all right, and that he’ll take care of her from now on. This is another fantasy dimension of reality that he has created that he likes to visit sometimes where things are different, and he has the right to live out his life with her.
“Simon,” she asks after a long time of silence.
“Yes?”
She looks at him again with bloodshot eyes that have dark circles underneath. To Simon, she has never been lovelier. Sam could be on her deathbed with the plague, and he’d still find her lovely and not wanting.
“Why did you kiss me again?”
This floors him. Simon wasn’t expecting this question at all. He swallows hard and pushes his glasses higher on his nose. The night air which had just a moment ago felt cool, a gentle breeze blowing through the open shed, suddenly feels stifling as if the air has grown thin and humid.
“I…I’m…”
His answer is idiotic, and he sounds like a stuttering imbecile. He wants to explain everything to her, tell her how he feels about her, lean in and kiss her again like he had that evening before the tornado struck the farm. He hadn’t even been able to see her off or say goodbye. He’d been in the far pasture catching a horse he’d seen wandering into the woods. Nobody else saw it. He knew he had to capture it before it ended up lost to them.
“I don’t understand why you did it,” she repeats, her dark brow crinkling.
“I…I’m sorry about that, Sam. It was inexcusable behavior,” he apologizes, which sounds stupid. She wants an actual explanation, but he can’t give her one that makes sense. It doesn’t even make sense to him. He finds her irresistible? Of course, he does, but he can’t just tell her that.
She considers him a moment, looks like she is chewing on the inside of her cheek, and nods. Then she swiftly rises, grabs her bag and flees the barn without another word. Simon is left sitting there feeling like the fool he is.
Chapter Five
Sam
A few days after Simon and Cory arrive on Henry’s farm, Sam attempts to sneak away like she does most mornings but is detained by Cory in the barnyard.
“Hey, kiddo,” he says in greeting with a big, wide smile.
Some of her bunkmates have already been pestering her about Cory. Sam usually politely smiles and walks away. Poor Cory, to be so devastatingly handsome that women everywhere pine after him. She wonders if he has formed an attachment to someone in town, though, because he does not seem particularly interested in any of the women- of which there are plenty- on Dave’s compound.
“Good morning,” she says, wishing she could’ve gotten away unnoticed. She just wants to be alone. She is sleep deprived and exhausted and sad.
“We’re going to the new clinic today. Wanna’ come and give your input? We’d sure appreciate it.”
“Um…I was just gonna go help in the barn,” she lies badly.
Cory frowns and looks at her art bag, “With pencils and erasers? Is that the way they muck stalls around here?”
She laughs, something Cory is always able to make her do. She is certainly not immune to his charm and wit.
“Come with us,” he implores. “It’ll be good to get away from here for a while.”
“I’m fine, Cory,” she says.
“Do it for me, kid,” he teases with a ruffling of her hair on top of her head. “I miss my little buddy.”
Sam grins and nods. “Let me get ready. When are you guys leaving?”
“Soon, as soon as the Professor gets out here,” he says and adds, “Lazy bastard.”
Sam chuckles and shakes her head. Then she heads back to the bunkhouse and pulls on shorts instead of her long pants, which she’d put on in order to sit in the hay and not get scratched by it. She’ll wear the same t-shirt she already had on since she’s probably going to get dirty and sweaty. They’d decided the same night that the guys had arrived to make the log home in the woods their clinic. Her uncle had also gone out there to check it out and had agreed that it would work just fine. Some of Dave’s men have already started clearing a path to make the driveway more accessible. It’s a good, safe location hidden away in the woods and one that they’ll be able to defend if anyone were to attack.
When she goes back outside to the truck, Cory is there with Henry and three of Dave’s men. Simon is also standing there.
“Good morning, Sam,” he is the first to say.
She doesn’t want to be rude, so she returns the greeting.
“Ready, Sam?” Henry asks and touches her arm lightly.
She turns to him and offers a greeting and a smile, even if she has to fake one.
“Mount up!” Dave’s man yells and gets in to drive.
She takes Henry’s outstretched hand and climbs into the bed of the truck. Sam doesn’t acknowledge Simon, who is also standing there.
“We’re short-staffed today,” Henry tells his men. “So, keep your guard up, boys.”
“Why are we short-staffed?” Sam asks.
Henry turns to her and says, “Because Sergeant Winters took a group for supplies and to work on the damaged buildings and homes in our town. Another group is going…looking for other things.”
Sam smiles at him and says, “You can just say that they’re looking for the highwaymen. You don’t have to protect me.”
Cory laughs bawdily. “No, Sam’s no wilting flower, Gunny. That’s for sure. Plus, she’ll cut out your gizzard without you even knowing it. She’s pretty handy with a knife. Isn’t that right, little sister?”
“Humans don’t have gizzards,” Simon corrects and gets punched in the arm by Cory.
“She’ll still cut yours out,” Cory says.
Simon scoffs and remarks tightly, “I have no doubt.”
Sam chooses to ignore him and not engage in this conversation of mutilation by dagger. It is a morbid topic. Cory brings up security at the compound instead, and the men discuss it while she stares at the surrounding forest. They arrive at the cabin, having made it down the rutted drive. She can tell how much work the men put into the driveway so far. At least there is one now, even if it is overgrown with long grass, pricker weeds, and filled with potholes.
Sam uses a broom to clean the floors and dust cobwebs while the men start laying out exam rooms and hauling in the lumber to build them. Simon insisted that she wear a face mask to protect her sinuses from the dust. She sneered at him but took it just the same. They labor for hours until Dave’s wife and a few others bring lunch since most everyone missed breakfast in their haste to begin the workday. Sam grabs a seat on the covered porch, her legs dangling over the side, as she eats her food. They have brought them hardboiled eggs, bread, and roasted beef that is left over from the other day when they’d cooked a large pot of meat for the whole compound. There are also fresh raw vegetables from the garden, sliced into chunks. She is thankful that Cory brought her a few herb
starts for their greenhouse. They still need so much more.
Simon stands in the surrounding yard, leaning against a tree while eating. Cory is sitting on a stump beside him. She tries to ignore Simon but finds her eyes sliding toward him more than once. Henry chooses to sit next to her on the porch floor.
“We’ve got two rooms framed up already,” he reports in. “A third is almost done. We’re just closing them in with tongue and groove wood. It’s the best we can do and will take the shortest amount of time. Most sheetrock is not good anymore, too wet from water damage to the building supply stores. This should work, though.”
“I think it’ll be fine,” she offers considerately. “People will just be glad to receive medical attention again.”
They converse as they eat while some of the others return to work more quickly. Cory’s laughter at something Simon has said to him draws her attention. Simon is not wearing his glasses today, but his signature ball cap is on and pulled low over his forehead. She can still see his blue eyes, though. He seems sullen and angry and is not at all laughing along with his best friend. When she is finished, Henry helps her to her feet, and they return to the job. She just wants to be back on the compound, engrossed in her art, and not interacting with people. Everything is forced and false, every smile, every comment. The despair she feels over the loss of her friend and what she saw in the barn has haunted her this last week. She’d much rather be alone.
“Sam,” Simon says behind her, startling Sam.
She is in the second-floor bedroom that houses two sets of bunk beds. If she and her uncle are going to live here full-time, then she’d much rather sleep on clean bedding and with less dust, mildew, and spiders. Especially the spiders.
“Yes?”
“I was just checking to make sure you’re ok,” he says, looking around the small bedroom.
“Uh…yes, other than my new spider friends, I’m fine.”
He nods and says, “Good. That’s good.”
For some reason, Simon seems on edge, even nervous. “What is it, Simon?”
He grimaces and replies, “Can we…can we talk later?”
“About what?” she asks immediately. Being around Simon is painful enough without seeking out his company for conversation.
He pulls a piece of folded up paper from the back pocket of his jeans and extends it to her. Sam opens it and finds the drawing she’d been working on the other day, the ghostly apparition of what she’d seen in the barn, her good friend.
“How did you get this?” she asks with flat-out accusation.
“I was worried about you,” he says.
No wonder he was nervous.
“You got into my stuff? When? Did you go in the bunkhouse and rummage my things?”
Sam is angry and feels as if her privacy has been invaded. This isn’t Grandpa’s house.
“No, no. I wouldn’t do that. Why? Do you have similar ones there?”
“What? No. Maybe. It’s not any of your business.”
“It is. You know it is.”
“Where’d you get this then?”
He snatches it away from her, quickly folds it and places the drawing back into his pants pocket. “You left it in the truck the other night. In that equipment shed where we were talking, remember?”
“Yes, but I don’t remember leaving this there.”
He shrugs. “You did. That’s where I got it. I didn’t break into your bunkhouse and rummage your items. But after looking at this, maybe I should.”
Sam glares at him. “Mind your own business, Simon.”
He boldly steps toward her and takes her upper arms into his hands, holding there firmly. “It is my business. You know you can’t do this. It’s not good for you.”
“Yes, I can. It’s therapeutic. I’ve been told that it’s perfectly fine for me to do.”
“Whoever told you that doesn’t know you as well as I do,” he points out with superiority. Sam turns her head to look at the wall instead of him. “This is not healthy. You can’t do this again.”
“Don’t even start, Simon.”
Footsteps in the hall alert them both, and Simon steps away from her.
“Sam,” Henry says and stops when he sees Simon. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t know you two were talking. We just had a question for you, Sam.”
“About what?” she asks, her feathers thoroughly ruffled, her cheeks likely a dark pink from anger.
“They want to know how you’d lay out the sick bay room. Do you want bunks in there or cots side by side?”
“I’m coming,” she says, dismissing Henry, who pauses and looks for a moment at Simon before leaving. Once he does, Sam turns her attention back to Simon. “As for you…”
She starts but is cut off by the sound of a loud explosion. Sam instinctively ducks, although the noise seemed likely far off in the distance.
“Are we under attack?” she asks.
He doesn’t answer. Simon immediately takes her hand and pulls her after him through the door. They run down the stairs and meet the other men in the living room.
“What the hell was that?” one of Dave’s men questions.
Another asks, “Was it outside? One of us?”
Cory rejects this idea with, “No, way. That wasn’t us.”
“Let’s go,” Henry demands.
“That actually sounded like some sort of heavy round,” Cory says as he jumps over the side of the truck into the bed.
This time, Sam takes Simon’s help climbing in. She sits next to Cory, who is perched on the wheel well.
“Possibly heavy artillery, mortar,” Henry remarks as they speed away.
They drive back to the compound only to find nothing afoot there. Everyone is safe, and the guards are still standing at their posts at the front gate. Cory insists that Simon stay with her while he takes off with Henry and more men. She paces back and forth near the horse barn.
“I don’t need you to hang out with me, Simon,” she tells him.
He says, “I don’t mind.”
“How can you be so calm?” she asks as he just sits there on a bucket near the door to the barn. His long rifle is casually perched between his feet on the ground and resting against his shoulder.
“They’re fine. I’d be more worried about who they might run into who could’ve fired off whatever that thing was.”
“I’m still worried for them.”
“For Henry?”
She shoots him a sneer. “Of course. And for his friends and most of all for Cory.”
He chuffs, “Cory’s the one you should worry about the least.”
There is a park bench near the other door, and Sam forces herself to sit and try to relax. Simon joins her a moment later.
“Sam, can I get your opinion on something?”
“I suppose so,” she says, although if it is about her macabre artwork, she’d rather he didn’t.
“Do you think Cory and Paige could be…a thing?”
Sam thinks for a moment. “Maybe. I don’t know. They aren’t fighting all the time anymore. That’s a relief.”
“That’s not really a relief to me.”
“She’s your sister, how can you not tell?”
Simon sends her a comical look and says, “You have to ask that? I don’t understand any of the women on the farm. My sister coming to live there has not improved my insight into the female mind any, and I certainly don’t understand her, either.”
Sam smiles patiently, “Do you get the impression that she likes him?”
“Sometimes. Then other times she acts like he just gets on her nerves.”
“That’s something all men do to women,” she teases.
He smiles and nods. “Yes, I’m sure we do.”
“Some more than others,” she hints. “If you’re worried about it, Simon, just ask her.”
“I have. She’s always evasive or outraged that I’ve even asked.”
“Then, there’s your answer.”
He laughs, “Oh, right. Beca
use women are so forthcoming?”
“And you are?” she reminds him and gets a quick frown. “Besides, they’re both adults. They can be together if they want to be.”
“Not with Cory she can’t,” he says. “You don’t know Cory as well as I do. He’s not the kind of man to commit to a woman. It would purely be…physical on his part.”
“I’m also an adult, Simon,” she says with irritation. “You don’t need to tell me that Cory is a rakish fiend when it comes to women. In his defense, it’s not all his fault. Women do tend to throw themselves at him.”
“I know. It took all of ten seconds since we hit the ground here before the women started checking him out.”
“He could charge a stud fee,” she jokes, getting a short laugh out of him. “I saw a few looking at you, too. You’re just too naïve to notice.”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
It’s true. A couple of the younger women in her bunkhouse noticed Simon because she heard them talking about him, how cute he was, his jawline and hair color, how they’d like to have him examine them, play doctor. The conversation deteriorated from there, and Sam had tuned them out. She knows they were just teasing around, but it had still bothered her. Plus, she understood that they were actually sexually attracted to him. That bothered her more.
“As far as Cory goes, reformed rakes make the best husbands,” she says jokingly.
“Where’d you hear that bunch of nonsense?”
“Not sure. Somewhere. It’s probably true.”
“Rakes are just rakes. They don’t reform. People don’t change.”
“People can change if they want to change. That’s where you get confused, Simon.”
He shakes his head as if he doesn’t agree with her. He looks down at his hands instead. They are dirty from work, and she knows it is probably bothering him. Simon is a neat freak.
“That would be funny if they got married someday,” she remarks.
“No, no part of that would be funny at all,” he snaps.
She laughs at his distress. “Oh, Simon. If they’re happy, then let it be. It’s hard enough to be happy and find happiness. We should know. Life’s too short to be so serious all the time. Lighten up a little.”
