by A. O. Peart
“She most likely will but not to hurt you. To play.”
I sighed in frustration and rolled my eyes. That was a weird dog; and probably not very smart. But I didn’t want a smart dog here now. I was glad this one wouldn’t make a hamburger out of me.
“Okay, but it’ll be your fault if she bites me,” I told him. “I’m going there, so if you won’t see me in a few minutes, you better come to the rescue.” I hung up and put the phone back in its cradle.
“This is insane,” I said to myself and opened the door just a crack, ready to slam it shut in Pasha’s face.
She opened her mouth, and her long tongue rolled out. She looked as if she was grinning at me. Slowly, with my heart beating like some insane drum, I reached my hand toward the massive black muzzle. “I’m not going to hurt you, Pasha,” I said, my voice shaky.
The dog sniffed me, and it’s wet nose pushed onto my palm. I carefully ran my hand to the spot between Pasha’s ears. Her fur was soft and slick, and she felt pleasantly warm.
“You’re so friendly,” I whispered. “My name is Gloria… well, I will tell you the truth: it’s actually Lisbeth.”
Pasha licked my wrist as if to show that she appreciated the trust and would keep my secret.
“Ethan is waiting for me out there,” I tipped my chin toward the woods in the back, “you know Ethan, right?”
Pasha squealed quietly.
“You do!” Wow, she understood everything I was saying. Maybe she was smart after all. “Okay, so I’m gonna walk to that gate there in the back. Will you let me go?”
Pasha nudged me with her muzzle again. I guessed it was her way of saying “yes”.
The cat appeared from nowhere again and went around my legs, rubbing himself—or maybe herself—on my pants.
I bent down and patted the animal’s soft head. He looked at me and meowed quietly.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” I said quietly to the cat. “But now I need to go.” I slowly stood up, careful not to make any sudden moves. After all, I couldn’t be sure of Pasha’s reaction, no matter what Ethan said about her being unusually friendly.
I locked the door behind me. Should I leave Chris’s key something around here? Maybe behind that large flowerpot. She didn’t mention anything about it, and with Pasha letting everyone into the house I didn’t feel comfortable leaving the key here. So I put it in the pants pocket. Chris said Juno would get her anyway. And Juno must’ve had another key.
I walked fast toward the back fence. Both animals trotted next to me, like my own private escort party. It was kind of funny. And cute. And reassuring. I felt like they cared about my wellbeing, and I was amazed, since I’ve never owned an animal. I didn’t know how affectionate and clever they could be.
I also realized something else: from the moment Ethan dropped me off in front of Chris’s house, I didn’t think even for a split second about my difficult situation, the gang, poor Helen, or the FBI. This puzzled and amazed me—in a good way. All I was concerned about until now was to follow the plan.
As soon as I got to the gate leading into the woods, I turned to my furry escorts. “Thank you for everything. You two are something else. Maybe one day I will see you again?”
The kitty meowed. Pasha looked at me with sad eyes. Her mouth was closed, unsmiling. I touched the side of her head.
“Don’t worry about me. Go play,” I said, looking into those gentle, brown eyes. They were fixed on me, making me warm inside. I squatted down and put my hand out for the cat to sniff. He let me rub his head and then scratch behind the ears. He purred softly, half-closing his eyes.
“Happy home, happy residents.” I sighed, stood up, and pushed the gate open. I made sure it was firmly closed behind me. Resting my hands on the metal spikes, I looked at my furry companions one more time. And then I turned around and raced through the woods.
The canopy of trees was thick. It blocked the sun, providing a much-needed shade. The woods seemed to emanate some special force. It made me happy, careless almost. I grinned to myself while running on the skinny path, the ferns brushing the bottoms of my pants.
The path meandered, turning right, and then left, and right again. I spread my arms out, smiling and ran, feeling as upbeat and care-free as I haven’t felt since my friend’s horrific death. Nothing negative existed at this moment; nothing could make me sad or scared. I felt free and connected to whatever strong energy ruled over this place.
I stopped at the large boulder with two handprints in gold paint. I put my palms on the cold surface of the boulder, fitting them over the markings. The stone felt smooth to the touch. Reluctantly, I pulled away from it and went around it, toward the road where Ethan’s truck was already idling.
The passenger window was rolled down, so I could see him. He was watching me, one hand on the steering wheel, the other arm draped on the back of the passenger seat.
“Hey,” he said when I got close. “No bite marks?”
He meant Pasha. I rolled my eyes. “That dog is really sweet, but she scared the living crap out of me at first.” I got into the truck.
One corner of Ethan’s mouth lifted up. He found the whole situation with Pasha humorous! I wanted to punch him. He put the truck in drive, and we took off.
“Chris just texted me. Everything is going as planned, so far,” he said.
“She’s safe. Thank God.” I exhaled with relief. “Did she say anything else? Where is she now?”
“No, but she will contact me soon. I’ll let you know.”
I pondered upon that for a minute or two. I wanted to know more details, but getting anything out of Ethan was like pulling teeth. So I decided to wait.
“Why didn’t Chris warn me about the dog? If I was prepared, I wouldn’t have gotten so scared,” I said.
Ethan glanced at me. “Maybe Pasha was supposed to be at the neighbors’ as she often is when Chris and Juno are away at work. Chris was doing the night rotation shift. I’m not sure about Juno, but maybe she was away too. It happens often.”
“So why Pasha was in their yard and not at the neighbors?” I was more curious than mad. Remembering the dog’s cute face with her tongue lolling, and the kitty’s affection, I couldn’t help but smile.
“Beats me.” He shrugged. “They have a small gate between their and the neighbors’ property, and maybe it was left open.”
“Wow, they must be good friends with the neighbors to have a gate for such an easy access,” I mused.
“It’s Juno’s sister and brother-in-law. They are all very close.”
Sister—that beautiful word didn’t exist in my life. But I pushed that thought away. The positive energy from Chris and Juno’s place still kept me upbeat, and I sure as hell wanted to hold on to that feeling for as long as I could.
Chapter Nine
GLORIA/LISBETH
Ethan said it will take us about two hours to get to Lincoln City where his cabin was. Once he referred to it as his family’s cabin.
I longingly thought about how wonderful it would actually be to have a family, not even as large as Ethan’s, but any, even two-person family. He mentioned to have four brothers and several cousins, most living within a driving distance from one another. Their Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations must have been huge.
I wanted to talk about his relatives. I didn’t really know why I suddenly had such an urge to hear about people I’ve never even met before. Maybe it was just to keep my mind off my own sad and lonely existence. I didn’t want to think about that now. I also didn’t want to think about the FBI, the gang, and the murder because if I did, I would, most likely, have a panic attack again.
So I quickly asked, “Tell me about your brothers. There are five of you, right? What’s your family like?”
Ethan looked at me, and his face relaxed. His dark eyes seemed to lighten, and there was a ghost of a smile on his full lips. I gaped at him, which allowed me to take in his features.
He was a really good looking, in the predatory
kind of way. His confident pose and speech defined certain dominance. Strength of character emanated from him in waves, putting me at ease and then making me uncomfortable in turns. Being around Ethan was so confusing—he came across as a man highly capable to help someone in need, like myself, but at the same time his personality seemed to loom over me, making me feel like some silly damsel in distress.
“We’ve grown up in Portland, and most of us still live in the area. I guess it’s because the whole family, including the cousins and all their parents seem to make one another stay,” he said. “My parents have a house in the suburbs. A beast of a house really, that can easily sleep twenty or more people.” He laughed.
It was the first time I’ve ever seen him laugh. And when he did, his face changed from that of a strong, unwavering male to a more approachable guy. Well, definitely not sweet or anything, but at least less intimidating guy. It was as if some dark, heavy curtain lifted, unveiling his gentler side. Or maybe I was just seeing things that didn’t exist.
“Are your brothers younger? Older?” I prompted.
“Three are older and one—Colton—is younger. Brooklyn and Ryley are twins. Then there is Nash, then me, and finally, Colton. Nash is only thirteen months younger than the twins, and I am exactly fourteen months younger than Nash. Seems like our parents didn’t rush that much with Colton though.”
“You must be close with your brothers,” I said, hearing so much longing in my voice. I felt hot scarlet slide over my face and I pressed my palms to my cheeks.
Thankfully, Ethan wasn’t looking at me, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. The traffic wasn’t too bad, and we were driving fast.
After a moment of silence, he said, “We are close. All of us: the brothers and the cousins. Sometimes it’s just too much, you know, because some of them get in trouble. So then the rest of us have to get those idiots rescued.”
“How about what you’re getting into now? With me? Isn’t that a very possible trouble?” I asked.
He glanced up at me and shrugged. “The possibility is always there. But don’t worry; I’m one of the most responsible ones in the family. Besides, if I tell them I need help, they will come. Most of them owe me for one thing or another.” He chuckled.
It was so foreign to me to actually hear about such a close-knit family. I’ve never experienced anything like it. I started to wonder, how wonderful it would be to start fresh, completely untarnished by my past. Why did my father have to leave us before I was even born? Why did my mother have to die? Even my grandparents were gone too soon. Everyone who was supposed to love me has disappeared from my existence before I was even old enough to fully comprehend what it meant to be loved.
I inhaled deeply and turned my head to look at the passenger window. The sun shone brightly in the clear, blue sky. It reminded me of Florida, where I grew up and always lived. Pacific Northwest was so different from what I knew. It was much greener and cooler, even now, in summer. The air was dryer, which I welcomed with relief. I didn’t miss Florida’s humidity.
“Are you okay?” I heard Ethan’s voice. I looked at him.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You went very quiet all of a sudden.”
“I’m not much of a talker. Unless you know me well.”
He nodded. “I’m not either,” he said and then added, “unless you know me well.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It just came out funny. I guess that was his intention. Ethan reached behind his seat and produced a gigantic bag of potato chips. Uoh, my mouth watered immediately.
He dropped it in my lap. “Open it.”
He wasn’t used to saying “please” and “thank you”, but now that didn’t matter. I was hungry, so hungry that I started to fantasize about stuffing the whole bag in my mouth. I quickly ripped the seal, licking my lips in anticipation. I dug in, lifting a handful of chips out. I tilted the bag to Ethan. He put his hand in and withdrew with his fist clenched around a bunch of crispy, covered with salt chips.
I was already done with my first batch, so I quickly grabbed more. Worrying about the fact that I ate like a pig in front of him was the last thing on my mind now. The last meal I had consisted of a small dinner in the warehouse hideout last night. I wasn’t hungry then, so I just nibbled on some chicken pasta. I ended up leaving most of it in my bowl.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and dug in for more. “God, I’m starving. Didn’t even realize until you took this bag out.”
“We’ll stop by a grocery store soon. There is one about ten miles from here. I usually pick up stuff there on the way to the cabin,” Ethan said.
I stuffed more chips in my mouth.
“There should be a bottle of water in the glove compartment.” He tipped his chin toward the spot in front of my knees.
I opened it. There was one plastic bottle of water, lying on top of what looked like the truck manual and one of those multiuse Swiss Army knives. The manual wobbled a little when I removed the water bottle from the top of it, so I suspected there was something under it.
I shouldn’t have snooped, but the curiosity took a better of me, and I peeked very quickly, before Ethan realized what I was doing. It was a walkie talkie of sorts, but it looked more solid than just a kids’ toy. Maybe it was a two-way radio? I didn’t see anything else in that glove compartment. It looked very neat. The whole truck was immaculate, and so I started to wonder if that’s how Ethan kept everything around him.
“Is there more, or just this one?” I took the bottle out.
“Just one. We’ll share,” he informed me.
I unscrewed the plastic cap and took a long, slow swig. The water was lukewarm, but I didn’t care. I could’ve drunk the whole thing, I was so thirsty, but that would be totally selfish. So I put the bottle down and wiped my lips with my fingers. There was salt from the chips on them, and I so ended up spreading it on my mouth. I licked it off and caught Ethan watching me. A blush blossomed on my cheeks as if I was a schoolgirl. He was so incredibly intimidating.
I offered him the bottle. He took it without saying anything and brought it to his lips. His bicep bulged when he bent his arm. Thick vein pulsed under his taut, tan skin, and I had a strange urge to run my fingers over it. I mentally slapped myself, bringing my senses back to normal. I tried to reason that I was just terribly confused.
Ethan passed the water back to me, but I knew he only drank a little. I declined and said that he should have the rest. He shrugged indifferently and did as I suggested.
We stayed silent for a long while; me, watching the quickly passing trees and buildings on the side of the road; Ethan, keeping his eyes straight ahead, occasionally glancing in the rearview mirror.
I caught one of those glances and asked, “Do you think someone might be actually following us?” My heart did a flip in my chest and started to race again. What if we were followed? What if we didn’t escape unnoticed as we hoped?
“I don’t think so. Since we left, I didn’t see a single vehicle or a motorcycle follow us. But I’m keeping an eye on the road,” he said quietly.
Was he really so sure, or did he simply try not to freak me out? My breath got shallow and ragged. I knew what was coming—I’ve developed anxiety as the aftermath of all the latest occurrences. I dug in my backpack, searching for my pills. I hated taking meds, but sometimes it was the only way to calm down. And now I didn’t want to have the full-blown anxiety attack.
Ethan squinted at me, but didn’t say anything. By now my hands trembled uncontrollably. My panic attacks were usually mild, but this one was approaching fast. Too fast. The vial fell down from between my fingers and rolled onto the floor. I tried to bend in my waist to retrieve it, but the seatbelt restrained me, so I unfastened it and quickly grabbed my pills.
“What’s that?” Ethan inquired. His eyes moving from the vial to my face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m… uh, not really. I have anxiety now… from all those terrible things… you know, all I told you
about. I need to take my pill.” I shook out a few white tablets onto my palm, put one in my mouth, and tilted my head back. We didn’t have any water left, so I had to swallow the medicine without it.
“What are you taking?”
“Buspirone.”
Ethan asked, “How often?”
“Usually once a day, sometimes less. It depends on how I feel.”
“Do you have a prescription refill?”
I looked at him, not comprehending why he was asking me all these questions.
“I’m trained as a paramedic too, remember?” He seemed to read my mind. “If you need the meds, I have to know what pharmacy carries your refills.”
Wow, that was smart.
“Oh, it makes sense. Thanks for thinking of that,” I mumbled, openly staring at this bewildering man. “But I just got it refilled, so there is a month worth of the meds in here.” I lifted the orange-colored plastic container to show him.
He nodded. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes, trying to breathe deeply and slowly. A few moments later I turned my head toward Ethan and looked at him. He was chewing on his lower lip, deep in thought, driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other arm draped across his leg.
My medication probably started to kick in, because I became feeling more relaxed. I slumped even more in my seat, still watching Ethan. He wore washed-off jeans with a few small holes around the knees and one on his thigh. The black t-shirt with a small silver raven on the left side of his chest definitely wasn’t the Fire Department issued, so I assumed he changed when he went to grab his backpack from the firehouse. I thought about my own clothes which I swapped with Chris.
“What?” He raised his eye brows. “You’re staring at me.”
“Sorry.” I shrugged. “This is the first time in weeks that I’m actually not scared out of my wits. It feels really good.”
His eyes lingered on me. I was wondering what went through his mind now. But then he changed the subject, “That grocery store I mentioned is not far from here. When we get there, we’ll need to be swift and act inconspicuous so nobody remembers us.”
