“What about her?”
I couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to intentionally avoid looking at me then. Yes, we continued to walk and scan the landscape, but he didn’t even glance my way. I suspected he didn’t want my questions—and that made me all the more determined to ask. I could be sensitive about it, but I needed to know, now more than ever. “I lost my husband to illness. Just wondered why you and your wife aren’t together anymore.” I looked over at him again and he seemed to visibly tense up. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it.” But I wanted to—needed to.
“Yeah, I don’t.”
Well, I hadn’t expected that level of abruptness, but I would respect his wishes and not say anything else about it. We arrived at the creek and filled up all our containers in silence, having to break off some ice to get to the water as usual. It was a routine we’d mastered over the dozens of days we’d been here, and so we could do it without discussion.
It wasn’t until we were heading back up the mountain that he chose to speak. “I suppose it’s only fair to tell you about my past, though.” I felt a little hope lift my heart, but I didn’t dare grab hold—not till I heard his story. I nodded but kept my mouth shut.
We hiked a little longer before he started talking. “I didn’t get married for a long time. Never….” He was quiet again, and that was when I could tell this was harder on him than I would have imagined. I wanted to hear, but I wasn’t going to push. I looked down at the snow as we walked a path we’d trudged multiple times, but we usually made new footprints in the fallen snow. We’d found if we walked over our old path too many times without a lot of fresh snow on top that the path would grow slick and it would be manageable until we had to climb. Then it was treacherous and carrying water made it more difficult than it had to be.
“Anyway, her name is Kim. We got married pretty early on. She was pregnant. I probably would have married her anyway, but that just kind of sped stuff up.” Sounded way too fucking familiar. He was quiet again for a few yards, no doubt contemplating how to put the next few sentences together. “Our daughter, Alex—she’s an amazing girl. I’m not sure what I would have done without her. She’s gotten me through some tough times in life.”
I didn’t want to ask if he meant that she had literally been helping him or if it was like it had been with me and my children—they meant the world to me, and so I did everything in my power to stay alive for them, to keep going for them, even when it felt like I couldn’t take another step. I could tell Kevin was struggling with each word, each sentence…and I didn’t want to take away his momentum.
“Things were rough for a while. I’d done some construction, some roofing, all labor shit, but I never went off to school like you did. I’d thought about it but there was the question of money—and motivation. I wouldn’t have known what to do in college, so why waste time and money? It got even harder after Alex was born. Kim had some complications with her pregnancy, and our insurance sucked.” Sounded like another thing we had in common, but no way was I going to interrupt him to tell him that. “Alex had some issues, too, but once she pulled out of it, she was as healthy as could be.” He grew quiet again and I looked over at him. I could tell he was reliving moments in his mind, and he loved his daughter more than any words he spoke would communicate. “She was a beautiful baby. I loved watching her hit those milestones—first smile, first laugh, first word, first step, first spoonful of cereal.” He shook his head and actually looked over at me as we continued taking one slow step after another up the road to my aunt’s house. “I remember it like it was yesterday.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Like yesterday—only not. Even though the memories were sharp and vivid, I could feel the passage of time. It was massive, all those years I’d lived, and many of them felt heavy, thick. So…not long ago, but in some regards, like forever.
“Anyway, there was an oil boom in North Dakota about ten years ago—and huge money up for grabs. A buddy of mine told me it was the opportunity of a lifetime. I got a job, but Kim didn’t want to move there because her mom had just had open heart surgery and she wanted to be near her to care for her. We lived in Colorado Springs at the time.” Oh. So Kevin had been close by that whole time but I’d had no idea. Colorado Springs was less than an hour away from Winchester, but they were like night and day. The Springs was a metropolis—huge, frenetic (but friendly), and it hardly slept. Winchester was the quiet town nestled in the mountains—not much room to grow, based on the terrain, but it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.
Kevin continued. “The money was at least more than double what I was making at the time, and the way my buddy described it, there was nothing to blow cash on up there, so everyone worked insane hours and made serious bank. Most of it was sent to our wives. And we’d come home a couple of weeks every few months or so to decompress, then head back up and do it again.
“He was right. The money was incredible, and after the first year, Kim and I were buying our first home—really nice one, too, more than I’d ever thought I could afford. The year after that, I was buying us both new vehicles. And it kept up. It was a hell of a gravy train. But…”
His voice drifted off and, once more, we were trudging up the hill in silence. I was aware of the crunch of the snow under my boots, the whisper of the breeze through the tops of the evergreens. I wondered if maybe that was all Kevin was going to say, and I wasn’t going to push him. It sounded like his life had been difficult in its own way—separated from the ones he loved while he provided for them.
Actually, in that regard, his story continued to feel a lot like mine.
He took in a long, slow breath. “Kim…she got lonely, I guess.” I could hear something in his voice, some deep emotion making it hard for him to push out the words, and yet he persevered. “It was an old friend of mine.” I could see him swallow in spite of the beard, and I could tell his words hurt, even though he wasn’t visibly displaying the anguish. “Anyway, that eventually led to me coming home, but we missed the money. So…I got another job, here in Colorado. That’s when we moved to Greeley. I tried commuting for a while but it was a pain in the ass. We wound up moving Kim’s mom with us, too, so she could be close. Her mom wasn’t an invalid or helpless, but Kim had started doing more and more for her. Besides, she was close with Alex, too. I guess the rest is history.”
We were quiet for a long time as we finished carrying the water up the hill. It wasn’t until we could see the house that he said, “It’s stupid, you know. You stay with someone for lots of reasons, but it usually isn’t love.”
Once more, Kevin blew me away. How many times had he emphasized that he wasn’t college educated or had even called himself dumb? And yet he was turning out to be the wisest man I knew.
Chapter Ten
Time was swallowed up by the routine—and by things that used to take no time to do. Now, cooking a meal and cleaning up after took so much longer than it had in our modern world. Popping a burrito in the microwave could have a person eating in less than five minutes, but making everything from scratch took lots longer, especially without running water or a stove. Preparing vegetables alone could take three times as long.
After complaining a little, I managed to get everyone in on the effort. I thought it was ridiculous that I’d become the main meal maker, although Larry would have been, I think, quite happy had I remained in that position, but when I talked to everyone about it one evening, they all agreed to pitch in, even if it was just to peel some potatoes or wash a pot the next day.
But the days—the weeks—drifted by, and I had no way to track them, no idea of knowing where time fell on the calendar. I had lost all sense. In fact, the only thing I did know was that spring was coming. Even though the storms were getting colder, harsher, more severe, the days seemed to be getting longer. The sun appeared to be coming up a little sooner and lingering in the sky a little longer. I realized too that my mind, brimming with wishful thinking, might have had a little to
do with it as well, but I was certain spring was getting close.
And the weight on my shoulders seemed to lift some with that belief.
Kevin helped, too. Day by day, he felt more like a partner, more like a best friend, someone I could lean on—someone I could trust. And I did. I trusted him with everything, with it all. Had he asked me to follow him out of there, blindfolded, my arms tied behind my back, I would have, and I wouldn’t have asked a question about it.
Part of that trust might have been that he was juxtaposed against Larry. Larry, in my old life, had been a trusted neighbor, someone I’d more than once asked to keep an eye on my place when I’d be gone to my aunt’s for the weekend, someone who’d let me know when suspicious activities were going on in the neighborhood. And, reflecting on those memories, I wondered if I was blinded by the fact that we were living under the pretention of being civilized, and if being forced to live as we had been might have brought out the savage in each of us…or was it that Larry had been that way all along and I hadn’t seen it because I’d never known him very well?
I didn’t know now, but I did know that Kevin was the exact opposite of Larry. He was true, honest, and reliable. He was transparent and aboveboard. He worked his ass off and never complained. He was quiet and humble.
And he felt like he was mine…no matter the case, I was his.
Oh, there was no denying that. My heart had found that scarred over place where I’d once carved his initials. It had been an easy enough path to follow. Once more, I felt like the naïve teenager without a clue, and I’d again fallen headlong into something I didn’t quite understand.
Only this time, it felt mutual.
One reason? Kevin no longer came into the bedroom later at night after the conversation had died down along with the fire; instead, he came to bed when I did, making no pretense of the fact that we were together. That act alone made me feel more secure with him, made me feel like we were now in this together instead of as individuals forced to cooperate for their common good.
One night in particular, we said our good nights to the Dingels and headed away from the glow of the fire, aided by the flashlight. Kevin draped his arm over my shoulders, making me feel warm, loved, and secure.
Once we were snuggled in bed, letting our bodies heat up the area under the covers and the tiny spaces between our bodies, Kevin whispered, “I gotta tell you, Nina. Something about Larry’s not right.”
I knew I didn’t trust my neighbor anymore, but there wasn’t anything specific I could put my finger on, and that made me often feel like my doubts were illogical. Kevin had voiced this concern before, but I didn’t remember if we’d ever come to any kind of conclusion. I wanted to know if something more had set off his alarm bells. “Like?”
“Just little things—like the look in his eyes. He looks…he looks like a caged animal. You know? Have you seen the look I’m talking about?”
It was dark in the room but I still felt my shoulders shrug a little. “I think I know what you mean—but he’s always had that look. Kind of a glint in his eye, right?”
“Yeah…”
“I thought it was because he was like lower-tier law enforcement. Like he thought he was a bad ass and he needed to let everyone know that. You know, don’t fuck with me or I’ll make your life hell. I thought maybe it was one of those things where he had to put off those vibes so the inmates wouldn’t even go there.”
I could hear the doubt in his voice when he said, “Maybe.”
We were quiet for a few moments until I said, “What do you think we should do?”
“Nothing to do, really. Just—keep an eye on him. Be cautious. Maybe it’s just part of who he is…but I don’t know.” Then he added, “I’m thinking about…talking to him. Finding out what his game is.”
I thought about it for a few seconds. “Do what you have to do. Might set your mind at ease.”
Being close to Kevin and wrapped in his arms felt so right, and it seemed like something I’d been missing for years. After a while of not talking, I felt my body relaxing with the warmth, but I also couldn’t stop thinking about the man pressed up next to me, and I wanted to express my love in a way that didn’t require words.
My hands were already on his chest, so I moved them to the buttons on his flannel shirt and started to undo one at a time, moving down. This Nina, the more assertive one who went after what she wanted, was probably foreign to the man lying in bed with me, especially considering I hadn’t even had the presence of mind to return a simple hold as a teenager.
But it didn’t stop him from responding. I lifted my face up to his and, even in the dark, he sensed it and our lips joined.
The bed seemed even warmer then.
Parts of me responded as though cold, however—my nipples turned hard, with desire, yes, but they felt cold too, as I shifted under the covers, wanting and needing to be closer to him but also wanting to touch him more. I ran my fingers down his chest and then down to the bottom of my t-shirt, pulling on it while shifting my body to remove it. As soon as I’d done it, I felt cold again, a shiver rippling through my torso. I felt his hands move up my stomach to my breasts and he nestled them both in his cupped hands—they were hot, unlike the cold surrounding us.
My lips crashed into his again, demanding that he make love to me. My mouth was violent, devouring his kiss, relishing his taste, and, as though I were a desperate animal, my fingers began tearing at the button to his jeans. I sensed that he wanted to slow down, but I couldn’t, didn’t dare. He didn’t say a word—it was just a feeling I had. But as I moved my hand inside his pants, I knew his cock was ready, no matter how his mind felt, and as I gently squeezed, he responded, letting a soft sigh out of his mouth as he gave in to his basest desires, just as I already had.
In seconds, my pants were completely off so that I could take him, take all of him, wrapping myself around his body like a second skin. In that tight space under the heavy covers, we struggled, but we managed. I wanted to be free, though. Even in that wilderness, I’d felt somehow trapped, and the bed was becoming a physical manifestation of that thought. All my life, I’d been trapped by my circumstances, caged by the house I’d built unknowingly, and that sensation had followed me here. I needed to be free, wanted to be unshackled, and—as though this symbolic act could make it happen—I moved with that thought. Joined at the hips, we moved until I could straddle him. The cold air stung my skin but also made me feel alive. Every nerve felt the prick of the frigid air, but Kevin’s body heat radiated into me, gave me the strength to continue.
Warmed me when there was no warmth to be had.
I arched my back against the air, my hands splayed on his chest, feeling the heat of his hands on my back and ass, and I let it go, let it all go, unable to stop my primal cries, unable to think of anything but the freedom I experienced in that one shining moment.
Somehow, Kevin Savage had set me free.
Chapter Eleven
Feeling trapped by the snow and cold in a house that felt dark because the sun hadn’t been out in days was starting to get to me…so I knew it was also getting to my companions. Making my daily trip to the creek with Kevin wasn’t enough to shake that feeling. It was funny that, just as my soul was beginning to feel free, my mind and body were feeling hampered by walls.
We tried to alleviate the anxiousness by playing board games or reading books or even sleeping more, and I suppose those activities helped some. It made me realize how little I’d appreciated what I had before. I had taken having a car and a heater in that car for granted. It was easy enough (snow, cold, ice, rain, hail—bring it all on) to just get in the car and drive, weather be damned.
If I had to guess the time of year, it was late February. Outside was cold most of the time, and if I’d thought we had lots of snow before, I’d been clueless. The snow just wouldn’t stop coming, and the frigid temperatures ensured that what fell to the earth wasn’t going anywhere for a while.
We were all going a littl
e stir crazy, and Vera and Larry started snipping at each other off and on. I even caught myself snapping once in a while until I forced myself to cool off. Getting grouchy wouldn’t help anyone.
When the snow would let up for a day or so, Kevin and Larry would head back to the woodpile, splitting more logs for our fire. My hope, though, was that we wouldn’t have reason to need all of it. Something in my blood and bones told me warm weather was just around the corner…and we’d be able to leave, come hell or high water.
Vera was in a slump again—morose and withdrawn, curled up in the chair, and she refused to leave except to use the bathroom. She slept a lot, and her behavior reminded me of the way she’d been shortly after we’d arrived here. I could understand why she took medicine, because if it helped her function, if it saved her from moments like those, it was worth it. I wouldn’t want to live like that either.
As much as I hated cooking under those circumstances, I’d taken to doing more of it, because it was something to do on my own. I needed an excuse to be away from the group, and not just during bath time or bathroom time…and they usually left me alone when I was working in the kitchen unless I asked for help.
Of course, just as I’d thought that, they proved me wrong. Kevin asked me if I needed help, and I had to tell him no and shoo him off more than once.
I wanted to get creative with what little we had. I’d mostly made soups and stews and occasionally a pot of beans, because they were easy and they were a great way to use the things we had on hand. They also tended to be filling and warming, and my aunt’s Dutch oven was perfect for that kind of meal. We’d long ago used up anything that went well with a soup, like crackers or bread, but we’d grown used to it. Food wasn’t as big a deal as it had been in our more civilized previous existence; without variety, we found that we didn’t eat for pleasure anymore. We ate merely for sustenance and warmth.
Wilder (Savage #2) Page 8
