by Gerri Hill
“I’ll make time. We can go tomorrow, if you want.” Melanie placed the fish into a plastic bag and handed it to her. “Fridge. And if you want to change before lunch, you have time. I still have to make the tortillas.”
“You make your own tortillas?” she asked with amazement.
“It’s not hard. I used to buy them and freeze them, taking them out as I needed, but when Angela moved here, about a year after me, she taught me how to make them. She even goes so far as to use a rolling pin, but I find it much easier with a tortilla press.”
“No wonder they were so good.”
“Go clean up. You can help me press them if you like.”
Erin did as instructed, wondering at her sudden interest in cooking…and eating. Had she really been starving all these months? As she stared at herself in the mirror—naked—yes, she noted, she had been starving. Her breasts had shrunk to next to nothing. Not that she’d ever been well-endowed. She hadn’t worn a bra in more years than she could remember. Who could tell? And her ribs? She could count nearly every one of them. She ran her hand over them now, feeling a bit more flesh than before. How much weight had she lost? And just how much had she gained back since she’d been here?
She stepped into the tiny shower, soaping herself quickly. She felt good, she noted. Relaxed. Dare she say content? She’d resolved herself to three months in exile. Once she’d accepted that, it seemed, she’d lost the will to fight the inevitable. And she’d escaped Rachel’s house of horrors. She smiled, remembering that first dinner Rachel had fed her. God, that had been awful. And her head had been about to explode by morning. Now? No, her headaches had all but subsided. A couple—or three—cups of coffee each morning seemed to do the trick.
She’d lucked into Melanie, she decided. After hearing both Stella and Melanie describe the others, she’d probably have run screaming into the night by now had she been placed with someone else. Melanie was nice. She was normal. She was cute. Attractive. Why was she living out here with these…these misfits?
As she dried herself off, she wondered about their conversation last night. She’d been involved with someone…a man. The look in Melanie’s eyes indicated she didn’t want to discuss it any more than they had. She was curious, of course. Stella made it clear that everyone here was a lesbian, except for two, those both in their sixties. Melanie could have lied to Stella, she supposed, pretending to be lesbian so she could move out here. But why? If Stella now allowed any woman to move out here, why would she need to pretend she was a gay?
She shook her head. No. Melanie wasn’t a straight woman, she could see that. Then again, she’d been out here, living alone for how long? Seven years? She supposed she wasn’t a gay woman either. She nearly rolled her eyes. Since when was having sex a criteria for that label? After Sarah had left her, she hadn’t even considered having sex with someone else in…what? Six, eight months? Even then, it was half-hearted. They never stayed around long. Of course, she wasn’t really around either, was she? No. She was working. Keeping busy. Keeping her mind occupied to keep from wondering how long it would take her to get over the breakup.
She sometimes wondered if it wasn’t so much a broken heart she was trying to get over or a bruised ego. Yes, when Sarah had first told her, she’d been shocked. Shocked about Sarah’s affair, that is, not shocked that they’d drifted apart. She had felt that coming on for months. Despite that, she had no clue that Sarah had taken a lover two years prior. She remembered that day vividly—Sarah holding nothing back. The look in her eyes, the tone of her voice…it was a bit boastful. And condescending. And yes, arrogant. Perhaps Joyce had been right all along. Sarah had used her.
She remembered how empty she felt when Sarah had walked out. She thought she would shrivel up and die right then and there. There’d been no tears, though. She’d been too angry. Sarah had actually cheated on her. For two whole years and she’d had no clue.
She looked at herself in the mirror, giving a humorless smile to her reflection. She’d had a broken heart, sure. She’d loved Sarah. But she’d be lying if she said her ego hadn’t taken a major hit too. Six wasted years. No. Seven and a half now. These last eighteen months had nearly killed her. If Joyce and her father hadn’t intervened, how long would she have gone on like she was? She’d already hit rock bottom, hadn’t she? There wasn’t much farther to fall.
“Hey…you okay in there?”
Melanie’s voice brought her out of her musings, and she stuck her head out of the bathroom, looking at the closed bedroom door.
“Yeah. Be right out.”
“Okay. Lunch is ready.”
Chapter Seventeen
Melanie put the rocker in motion and closed her eyes, a smile curling up her lips as she pictured Erin’s face as she ate fresh trout for the first time. Melanie had fixed all four, baking two and frying two. She’d had a feeling that Erin would devour them and she had. That’s not to say that she didn’t get her share. It reminded her of how long it had been since she’d taken the time for fishing.
She cupped the mug of tea, savoring the fragrance of it before taking a sip. She looked up into the nighttime sky, the sliver of moon hanging above the bluff to the west. It wasn’t bright enough to be disruptive and the sky was still filled with stars. There were no clouds marring the sight and they were too far away from towns of any size for them to pollute the darkness.
It had been a nice couple of days, she noted. Different. Different from when she normally hosted guests. They were around for mealtimes but certainly not around to help with meal prep. And she’d never had a single one muck the goat stall before. Different. She would even go so far as to say she’d enjoyed Erin’s company. Who would have thought that possible after the first few days? First five days, actually. She’d been dreading the three-month sentence as much as Erin had been, no doubt. Today, though—it had been nice. Nice to share time with someone her own age, for one. Nice to…
The loud, shrill howl behind the shed literally made her jump. But then she smiled.
“There you are,” she murmured. “I’ve missed you.”
Their howls turned to barks and yips, the chorus sounding like there were ten or twelve when she knew it was most likely only the two of them—Goldie and Rick. No doubt the chickens and goats were awakened by the howls, and no doubt, too, Bandito would be patrolling the area, running the coyotes off in short order.
“What the hell was that?”
She turned, finding Erin standing by the door. She pushed it open, walking out onto the porch. She was wearing nothing more than a T-shirt and undies.
The pair started singing again, their chorus echoing against the bluff, making it sound louder than it was.
“Wolves?”
“No. Coyotes.”
“A pack? Should we be worried?”
“Probably just the two of them. A pair. They come frequently. Goldie and Rick.”
Erin walked beside her rocker. “You’ve named them? The coyotes?”
“Yes. I tend to do that.”
Then Erin stared at her. “Coffee?”
Melanie shook her head. “Tea, decaf.” She arched an eyebrow. “Would you like a cup?”
“A glass of wine would be nice.”
Melanie nodded. “Yeah…rules and all.”
“That would be an easy rule to break. What’s the real reason?”
“Does there have to be a reason?” She motioned to the chair. “Would you like to join me? I’ll make you a cup.”
“Will I be interrupting your quiet time?”
“No.” She got up. “Would you like honey? Or sugar?”
“Honestly, I’ve never had hot tea before. You choose.”
Erin followed her inside and went into her bedroom while Melanie filled another cup with hot water. Erin came back out wearing pants, but her feet were still bare. They took their tea back outside to the porch.
“It’s nice out here. Cool. Still.”
Melanie smiled when the coyotes started up again.
“Was still,” Erin corrected. “They sound so close.”
“Behind the shed. Bandito will chase them to the creek.”
“He roams?”
“Yes. Never far.”
“Aren’t you afraid something will…I don’t know, get him?”
“Donkeys are pretty fierce. A lot of ranchers keep donkeys with their herds for protection from predators. Especially for sheep and goats. He’s quite intimidating when he puts his head down and charges.”
Before long, the coyotes moved away, their chorus dwindling to nothing but a few barks now.
“And they’re off to go hunting.”
“You sit out here every night?”
“Pretty much, yes.”
“Your quiet time? To reflect on the day?”
She nodded. “Yes. Sometimes I do. Other times, I sit and think of nothing. Just watch the sky, listen to the night. It’s a good way to…to relax. No stress.”
“And have you been stressed?”
“Not in the last few days. Earlier, yes.”
“Because I was here?”
“Because you were here, but you weren’t really here. You weren’t talking. You were—”
“Hiding in my room,” Erin finished for her. “Yes, I was. I was lonely and depressed and really, really tired.” She turned to look at her. “I can only apologize so many times.”
“I wasn’t seeking another apology. I mean, you’re the paying customer here. If you want to sleep all day, that’s your business. If you want to participate in chores, that’s your choice. If you want to run naked along the creek, feel free,” she added with a smile.
Erin laughed. “That would be a first for me. Though I have run naked around my pool before. Would that count?”
“I’m just saying, don’t feel like you need to apologize for something you do. Or don’t do.”
“What brings most people here? I’m assuming they’re not like me.” She sipped from her tea. “This is very good.”
“Thank you. And no, they come for different reasons than you. Most come for the solitude. Most of our guests come by themselves. Some enjoy the interactions with their hosts, others don’t. Some go off at sunrise and don’t come back until dusk. Last summer, I hosted a young woman. She had graduated college but wasn’t enthused about her job offers. She stayed three days. She hiked up the bluff in the dark each morning to watch the sunrise. She’d stay out until noon, when she’d come back for lunch. Then she’d go out across the creek and climb the bluff there. She’d stay until the sunset colors had faded, then she’d come back at dusk.”
“Every day?”
“Yes. She was meditating. Looking within herself, hoping to find a path to take, I guess.”
“And?”
“By the time she left, she was at peace. She told me she knew which job she was going to take.” She set the rocker in motion. “Some come for reasons like that…to find themselves, as they say. And there are the few who look at this as a vacation. They hike and play in the creek and take photos and collect rocks and stuff. For a few years, we had an artist come each summer. She was in her seventies and always requested to stay with Stella. I think she came five years in a row, maybe six. She stopped coming and Stella didn’t know why.” She paused, remembering how Stella had cried when the package had come. “A painting was delivered one day last summer. It was of Stella, out in her garden.” She turned to look at Erin. “The woman had died. She’d been ill and hadn’t told Stella. She’d left instructions to have the painting sent upon her death. There was a lovely note and…”
“And?”
“And it was all so romantic. I picture these two women, in their seventies, gently flirting with each other for one week a year, for five or six years. I think they both fell a little bit in love. In fact, I’m sure of it.”
“Has Stella ever lived with someone?”
“Yes. She and her lover started this place. But it wasn’t for her, it turned out. She missed the city, missed the amenities. She stayed almost ten years. Stella was heartbroken, to hear her tell it.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
Erin started rocking beside her, and Melanie wondered if she’d reconsidered asking the question. Melanie knew what she was asking, of course.
“You always lived here alone?”
“Yes.”
Erin turned to her. “Why?”
Melanie shrugged. “Why not?”
She met her gaze, almost daring her to ask more. Erin didn’t look away and in the dim light of the porch, she could see the questions drifting around in her eyes. Then Erin finally did look away, taking a quick glance skyward as she drank her tea.
“The sky is amazing. I’ve lived in Houston my whole life. I never knew there were so many stars.”
Melanie relaxed, knowing there would be no more questions tonight. But Erin’s curiosity was obviously piqued. She’d known that when she’d mentioned Adam. It had slipped out. She’d never shared anything about her personal life with any of her guests. As far as she knew, Stella was the only one who knew about her childhood, but Melanie had not told her about Adam…or what had happened. When she’d first moved, the ladies had been curious—nosy—but she’d managed to get by with vague answers and a little fibbing now and then.
But Erin would be here for three months. They got along well enough. They talked. Actually, she could see them becoming friends. And friends talked. And friends asked questions.
Yes. But not tonight.
Chapter Eighteen
Erin stared up at the huge letters on the store, then turned to Melanie. “Walmart? I’m going clothes shopping at Walmart?”
Melanie nudged her arm playfully as they walked in. “Don’t be so snobbish. They have jeans. They have shorts. They have T-shirts. They have shoes.” Then she stopped. “Although, maybe we should go to a sports store for your shoes. You need a good pair of hiking boots too. And if you plan to get into the creek, you’ll need something for that. I wear sandals.”
“Like swimming?”
“Like playing. There aren’t any deep pools to really swim in. I’ve found a few spots that are chest deep, not much more. Big enough to splash around. Then there’s the hot springs, but that’s more soaking than swimming.”
“Wow. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? I wouldn’t mind soaking in a hot spring. That would be relaxing.”
Melanie led her to the clothes section, finding the racks of jeans. “Unfortunately, it’s a tough hike to get there.” She glanced at her. “But if you want to go, I’ll take you. I wouldn’t mind taking a break from work.” She studied her, then held up a pair. “What size? Four?”
“Four? Come on. I wear at least an eight.”
“Maybe in another life. You’re very thin, Erin.” Melanie stared at her. “Although, you look much better. Healthier, that’s for sure.”
“I know I looked like crap when I got here. I felt like crap too. And yes, I have gained some weight back.” She took the size four jeans and held them up to her waist. They did seem like the right size. She shook her head anyway. “Six. Let’s go with a six. The way I’m eating, I’ll grow out of the four in no time.”
“Okay. I’ll let you shop in peace then. I’ve got a few things I need.” Melanie squeezed her arm as she walked away. “I’ll meet you back over here.”
Erin watched her go, her eyes lighting on her tan legs. Then she smiled and nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’m supposed to buy shorts too.” Her gaze never wavered, though, until Melanie was out of sight.
I like her, she thought. She was…easy. Easy to be around, easy to talk to. Easy to look at, she added with another smile. It had been a while since she’d made a new friend. It had been a while since she’d had a friend, period. The old ones had disappeared, it seemed. Disappeared with Sarah. No. She was the one who had disappeared, not them. They’d finally stopped calling, stopped coming around. She’d hardly noticed, really.
She turned
her attention to the jeans in her hand, then looked back at the shelves that lined a wall. There were black ones, dark blue, faded blue, and really faded blue. Some were fancier than others and she dismissed those. She needed something suitable for a farm, not a night out on the town. She found a style that worked, then took one of each color. She was about to toss them into her cart, then decided she should probably try them on. As expected, they were too large. The size four would have probably fit perfectly, but as she’d said, the way she was eating, she would grow into them.
Her basket was filled with four jeans, three pairs of hiking shorts, some comfortable cotton shorts, an assortment of T-shirts and tanks, and even a couple of pullovers. All she needed was socks and shoes and she’d be set.
She was about to head out to see if she could find Melanie when she saw the other woman approach. She smiled when she saw her and Melanie did the same.
“Success?”
Erin nodded, motioning to her cart. Melanie inspected the clothes, holding some up to her and nodding.
“Good choices. I think this will get you through summer.” She met her gaze. “When does your jail sentence end?”
“September ninth.”
“The days will still be warm. And if the nighttime temps drop, I’ll let you borrow a sweatshirt.” She smiled again. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“What about shoes?”
“Yeah…we’ll go somewhere else.”
Erin pushed her cart along with Melanie’s, spying what she had inside hers. Staples, mainly. Flour, sugar, a box of whole wheat pasta, a large bag of brown rice, and two huge bags of dried beans. A few toiletry items—shaving cream and shower gel. There were also three blocks of tofu and several boxes of mushrooms.
“What do you have planned for the mushrooms?”
“You like them?”
Erin nodded. “Particularly sautéed in butter and placed on top of a medium rare steak.”
Melanie smiled at her. “I’ll allow fish in my kitchen. That’s as close as you’ll get to a steak. But the tomatoes are coming in. I thought I’d make a sauce for spaghetti. I like to can some each summer, enough to make it through the winter without having to buy any.” She arched an eyebrow. “You like spaghetti, right?”
