by Susanne Beck
I looked to Ice, who nodded her acquiescence, and together we followed Tom into the shadowed confines of Pop’s office. Reaching into the cold case, he pulled out three cans of Coke, handing us our drinks before leaning back against the counter and pressing the cold can against his sweaty forehead and sighing with relief.
Ice left her soda unopened until Tom pop the top of his can and guzzled the cold liquid down in one healthy gulp, then let out a healthy belch. "Ahh. Hits the spot." He tossed the empty can into the wastebasket, then looked over at Ice, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Those idiots you took care of today are a little bit more than your average, run-of-the-mill thug. Or, at least, they like to think they are."
"What are they, then?" I asked, my curiosity peaked.
"They like to think of themselves as some great extortionist clique." He laughed lightly. "Problem is, they’re not very good at it. They came down here a few times and tried to get ‘protection’ money from some of the businesses around here." He laughed again, shaking his head. "In a backwater town like this. Protection money. Protection from what?"
"Them," Ice replied with the wisdom of one who knew exactly what she was talking about. "You give them money, they don’t beat the crap outta you. I take it Pop didn’t accept their kind offer?"
Tom snorted. "None of us did. I ran ‘em out myself a few months back. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of ‘em since. Till now."
"So what happened?" I asked.
"Pop’s pretty stubborn. The Rusted Root’s their hangout, and I warned him not to go back there." He blushed to the roots of his hair. "I guess I should have been harder on him. I knew he wouldn’t listen." He sighed, looking down at his hands. "It almost got him killed."
"You can’t blame yourself, Tom." Reaching out, I laid a hand on his arm. "Pop’s a grown man. He knew what the consequences could be. He chose to take the risk anyway. That’s not your fault." Turning to Ice, I smiled ruefully. "I’ve been known to do the same thing myself, on occasion."
She tipped her head in acknowledgement before turning back to Tom. "My guess is they’ll be a little too busy licking their wounds to make a return visit just yet. When they do come back, we’ll just have to make sure we’re ready for them."
"Sounds like a plan." He rubbed his large, callused hands together, grinning. "I’d like a chance at ‘em myself."
"Let’s not tempt the Fates, alright?"
He blushed again, giving Ice a ‘caught in the cookie jar’ grin. "Yes’m."
Nodding, Ice finished off her own drink, then crushed the can and tossed it into the waste-bin. "Alright, then. Seems I’ve got a station to run for longer than I intended. Best get to it."
"My brother and I will help as much as we can." He gestured out the open door. "Would you let Richard stay and help? He feels pretty bad about not being there to stop what happened."
"He wouldn’t have been able to do anything," I protested.
"Yeah, I know that, but he doesn’t. He’s just a kid, still, you know? Kid in a man’s body. He wants to make up for things somehow. This would probably be the best thing for him."
After a moment, Ice tilted her head in acquiescence. "Fine. Let’s go, then."
And so we did.
* * *
It was done. Finally.
After what seemed like eons of working, planning, sweating and dreaming, our home was finally completed and waiting for us to move in.
The last of the details had fallen into place the night before, and I had spent the evening in happy anticipation, only to have my hopes dashed the next morning when Ice met me in the hallway, brushed a gentle kiss upon my waiting lips, and told me she’d be back later in the evening after finishing up her work at Pop’s garage, before continuing on her way.
"But ...I thought ... ."
She turned, long hair fanning over one shoulder like a matador’s cape. "What?" Her expression showed polite interest, but nothing more.
I sighed, then looked down at my feet. "Nothing," I mumbled.
The sound of her approach was strangely muted in the long, dim hallway, and I only looked up when a gentle hand beneath my chin urged my head to tilt in that direction. "What is it, Angel?"
I sighed, realizing how juvenile my request would likely sound, even to my own ears. I’m sure I was blushing, but with the intense heat Ice always radiated bathing and burning through me, it was difficult to be positive on it. "I ...um ...thought," I cleared my throat to ease the sudden ‘Stevie Nicks’ quality in my voice, "since the house is ready and all, we could start moving our things in?"
I didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but there it was, my timidity laid bare for the world to see, as it were.
My lover smiled; that soft, loving one she gifted me with on occasion; the one that turned my insides into warm mush. "Why don’t you go on ahead? I’ll move my stuff in when I get back."
I shook my head. "I kinda wanted us to do this together, as incredibly sappy as that sounds."
Her smile deepened, reaching all the way up to her eyes. "It doesn’t sound sappy."
I threw one of her own hiked eyebrows right back at her, something I’d become rather proficient at, if I do say so myself.
She chuckled, a low, deep rumbling in her chest. "Alright, it’s pretty sappy." She gathered me close and hugged me gently in her strong arms, before pulling away again and pinning me with her gaze. "Tell ya what. I promised Pop I’d help him out with a few things he’s working on. If I promise to make an early day of it, will you wait for me? We’ll move our stuff in as soon as I come back."
As compromises went, it was a fair one, but that didn’t stop me from seriously considering petulance as my next course of action. Only the realization that it would have exactly the opposite reaction from Ice as the one I’d hoped to achieve stayed my hand. "Alright," I said, pretending a long-suffering attitude that had more than a grain of truth in it. "I suppose I can do that. Just know that it’ll be killing me."
She shook her head, then kissed me once again, then left me dazzled in the hallway thanking god that the walls holding me up in lieu of my suddenly turned-to-jelly legs were solid.
So there I sat, in my bedroom, on my bed, staring out the window at the very top of the roof of our home. I felt like a child on Christmas morning, up before the dawn and staring at a pile of presents she can’t touch until her parents wake up. Each minute took its own sweet time strolling by, smirking at me as it passed. Even the sun seemed to partake in the conspiracy, deciding for the first time in its long life to take a much needed siesta before continuing on its westward journey.
As a way to pass the time, I thought back over the last few weeks, when everything seemed to fall into place and we were finally able to turn four walls and a roof into a home fit for living.
The house was almost fully furnished, and while not, perhaps, with objects we would have chosen had we been independently wealthy, the items in question were well made, sturdy, and, to me at least, aesthetically pleasing.
Since money was an object, I had to fall back on a skill I’d learned when becoming the ‘get it’ girl in the Bog. Barter. And it was pretty pleasing to see that I hadn’t lost my touch in the intervening months.
The couch, chairs, tables and rugs were actually the easiest to obtain in this manner, especially since I wasn’t really bartering for them at all. Pop, a man who it was said could squeeze a penny until it begged for mercy, had come by the furniture quite honestly, relieving as he did the burden of the unfortunate soul who’d been bullied into removing it from Millicent’s sight during her gargantuan—not to mention tasteless—redecoration phase. The items were stored in the large shed attached to his home, keeping company with various and sundry other objects, prosaic and non, which had struck his fancy over the years.
I didn’t know that, however, when I approached him on the day he returned home from the hospital after a two night stay with his arm in a cast and his face topographic map from the beating he’d
received. I had only come to offer my help in performing the basic domestic duties which his injuries would make difficult for him to do on his own.
Being the person he was, Pop wouldn’t take no for an answer until he had me swear a practical blood oath that I’d take the furniture in question off his hands at a very reasonable price.
In other words, for free.
Like its predecessor, this cabin had a huge expanse of windows which needed covering of some form or other. Mrs. Symmonds, she of the broken plumbing, was an outstanding seamstress, even though legally blind. As payment for wonderfully rendered curtains, as well as a truly spectacular quilt which lies atop our bed to this day, I agreed to read to her during her daily labors. Unfortunately for me, her reading tastes equaled my mother’s. Which is to say, she enjoyed torrid romance novels of the type which can be found in the cashier’s rack of any discount department chain around the world.
Several times during the reading of such novels, if they can truly be called such, I was sure I was just a degree or two away from setting off the heat detector with my blushing as I articulated such phrases as ‘towering manhood’ and ‘gates of Venus’ and ‘pleasure pearl’.
Still, a little emotional discomfort was a small price to pay for such beautiful work, and so I set about my appointed task with determination, though not much relish, to be sure.
Pots, pans and assorted other kitchen objects came at the cost of two week’s labor as a waitress in the café while one of the others took a well-deserved vacation.
And so it went, slowly, until the cabin came to be filled with objects we were both pleased to own.
The sudden closing of the downstairs door roused me from my musings and fluttered my heart in happy anticipation. The soft sound of conversation muted by my own closed door, and then I was able to track Ice’s progress through the house by the distinctive, if rather soft, sound of her tread.
A moment later, and another door closed, followed close behind by the sound of the shower being turned on full blast. Scarcely three minutes later—so timed by the clock on my bedside table—the shower was silent once again and I pictured my lover wiping down that glorious body of hers.
A body which, by night’s end, I would know in intimate detail once again.
That thought sent an ocean of blood speeding for parts south and I rode the wave, feeling a happy grin stretch the muscles of my face. I was ready.
Oh boy was I ready.
A few moments later, and I was treated to the sight of a freshly bathed Ice, her still damp hair glistening in the afternoon’s slowly waning light and her cheeks still flushed from the heat of the water she’d bathed in.
Did I mention I was ready?
She smirked at me. "You all packed?"
I smirked right back. "Only since this morning. After all, what else did I have to do with my time while you were lollygagging around doing God knows what with yours?"
Rolling her eyes, she shook her head and held out her hand, helping me to my feet. "Let’s get this show on the road, then, shall we?"
"You won’t hear any complaints from me!"
After a quick stop in Ice’s room to pick up her box of meticulously packed belongings, and a slightly longer pause to thank Ruby for her kindness yet again, we finally made it outside before the early Autumn sun had sunk completely behind the lake.
I felt a sense of déjà vu rush through me as I heard, faintly, the sounds of voices at the bottom of the small hill where our cabin stood. Unlike last time, however, Ice seemed at her ease, content to walk along side me without displaying even one iota of curiosity over the sounds I well knew she could hear even better than I.
Which, of course, made me even more nervous.
Several more steps and we were at the breast of the hill and looking down at what seemed fully half the town gathered around our newly built home. A garish purple ribbon was tied up in a neat bow and strung across the doorway of the cabin, apparently waiting to be cut by the both of us, as if we were some famous figures and our simple cabin was a brand new office building or hotel or something equally as grandiose.
Several portable grills had been hauled onto our property and the smells of slowly cooking meat and vegetables caused my mouth to water and my stomach to announce its sudden need to be part of the action.
A large bonfire blazed merrily in a carefully cleared space to the west of the house, and the silver beer-kegs stored somewhat nearby winked in its flickering light.
Pop, his long cast reduced now to one that ended below the elbow, gave us both a cheery, and I’m sure half drunk, grin, beckoning us wildly with his good arm.
The party had, apparently, been going on for some time, if the somewhat slurred greetings we received were any indication. Plastic cups of foaming beer were raised, and spilled, in salute to us as we stood at the top of the hill, taking in the scene below.
"You knew about this, didn’t you," I muttered to my oh-so-smug partner, chancing a soft elbow to her muscled side.
"Only when I came back to the house."
"And you didn’t think to mention it?"
The smirk deepened. "I was sworn to secrecy."
"I’ll just bet you were." Still, I couldn’t help but laugh. I’d always enjoyed parties as a young girl, and something told me I wouldn’t mind them so much as an adult either. "Shall we join them, seeing as we’re the guests of honor?"
A long arm pointed the way down the hill with an open hand. "After you."
* * *
The party lasted a good long time and though I’ve never had much of a taste for liquor of any sort, I must admit that after a few cups of Pop’s special beer, I had a hard time remembering just why it was that I didn’t like the stuff.
Of course, after a few more cups, I would have had trouble remembering my own name, so I chose, for me, the wisest course of action, which was to abstain after just two.
Or maybe it was three.
As I’ve said, Pop’s brew was a potent concoction.
The man in question finally came forth near the end of the evening, handing me a pair of scissors and Ice a set of door keys. Cheering loudly, the crowd urged us over to the beribboned door for the final act in the night’s play.
Taking the scissors to hand, I made some insipid speech which, mercifully, escapes my mind to this day (I told you about Pop’s beer, remember) and, with a silly grin, cut the ribbon, making clear the path to the door.
With her usual no-nonsense style, Ice simply walked up to the door, inserted the key into the lock, turned, and opened it wide.
The crowd cheered, then fell quiet as the scent of cedar and fresh paint wafted out to greet me, elevating my already giddy mood even more. After a moment, I became aware of the silence behind me, and slowly turned to see the crowd eyeing us somewhat expectantly. With a brain not quite operating on all cylinders, I stared out at the gathered group of my neighbors, wondering if someone would be kind enough to tell me what came next, since it was obviously something of no small import.
With no answers immediately forthcoming, I turned back to the door where my partner stood, the question plain, I’m sure, in my eyes.
The world spun then, and not from the alcohol, as I was lifted like a new bride into the strong arms of my intended and carried cross the threshold in the most wonderful of ways.
That seemed to be the action the crowd was waiting for, because they erupted into a spontaneous cheer that I was sure could be easily heard across the lake, and perhaps even further than that. The cheering muted somewhat as Ice closed the door with her heel, then set me down gently on the varnished boards of our floor, steadying me with one hand to my shoulder.
You couldn’t have wiped the grin off of my face with a jackhammer and some TNT.
I snuggled into the length of her lean body, resting my head against her shoulder as we watched the crowd cheerfully disperse through the small window by the side of the door.
"That was really sweet of them," I said finally as the la
st of the grills and half-empty kegs were loaded aboard several pick-up trucks which littered our driveway.
"It wasn’t bad."
A tanned hand came into my field of vision and gently closed the blinds, shutting us off, for the moment, from the outside world. That same hand then flipped the switch near the door and the small alcove we were standing in became bathed in a soft, white light.
Breaking away from Ice, I turned and took in the fresh, gleaming beauty that was our home. "I can’t believe it," I whispered, as much to myself as to my lover. "After all this time, it’s finally here. Finally."
I just wanted to stand there for long hours and take it all in, which was impossible from where I was standing, but even that small alcove was the most precious thing I’d ever seen, unless one counted as I did the quiet presence standing beside me.
"How about if I build a fire?" Ice asked. "It’s gonna get chilly tonight."
I nodded a bit absently, too wrapped up in this blanket of warmth I’d pulled over myself to notice much of anything at that moment. I knew when she left me though, the absence of her warm body allowing the faint chill in the house to seep in, raising goosebumps on my skin.
The chill gave me the impetus needed to stop playing statue and move away from the door, which, though labeled as the ‘front’ door, was really in the rear of the house. It, as I’ve already written, opened into a small alcove, which in turned opened into a huge glassed in porch of sorts which ran along the back and one side of the house in an "L" shape. To the left of the door, as I faced away from it, were the usual porch accoutrements, a swinging lounger and some wooden chairs Pop had pressed upon me as well as two small glass-topped tables and a small reading lamp. To the right, and along the same wall as the alcove, was another door which led to the stand-alone kitchen which, though bearing little more than a stove, refrigerator, some pots and pans and a few dishes and glasses, was a room I was looking forward to getting to know a little more.
