Shelter Me Home

by T. S. Joyce

  He was a quiet man. When he spoke, she listened because it was important. He didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with small talk or chatter. Instead, he could just be. And after the noise of the city for so many years, she had to admit it was nice to share a comfortable silence with someone else.

  Pulling the four-wheeler into the lot at Briney’s, she parked and entered through the back door, shoved her toboggan and gloves into her jacket pockets, and hung her winter gear on a peg near the door. She focused on her work and the hours ticked by. Losing herself in a job had always been easy. She didn’t have to think about her troubles or the big decisions that were headed her way. The only important thing at that moment was the customers’ happiness.

  At nine o’clock, Briney waved her back to the office. “Phone call,” he said before bustling back up front to take care of the lingering patrons.

  She frowned and fingered the curled cord, then sank into the cushion of the plush chair behind the desk. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Aanon.”

  What those words and that voice did to her insides. Fluttering took her stomach, and she smiled before she could help it. “You checking on the homestead?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Everyone is still alive. We had a small kitchen fire but only the edges are a little singed.”

  Silence.

  “That was a joke,” she said, leaning back into Briney’s chair. “Really, everything is fine. Billy came over today and helped me out, and he’s coming by again tomorrow, too, to make sure I can manage everything…” The line had gone completely silent. “Aanon? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I’m still here. Just really tired is all.”

  “Are you okay? I mean, you sound pretty down.”

  “Look, I just wanted to let you know I’ll be coming back early. We’re finishing up the construction project tomorrow so I’ll be home by tomorrow evening.”

  “Okay. Is there anything else wrong? You just sound, I don’t know…bummed or something.”

  “I’m a little stressed about getting all the work done around the place. Especially now that you are there. Between working out here and trying to use these last couple of weeks of decent weather to my advantage, I guess I just feel like I’m running around like a chicken with my head cut off.”

  “Gross. Well, tell me what you need done and I can help. I might not know how to do everything right off the bat, but I’m a quick learn.” Suddenly, talking to him on the phone about things to do around their home felt very intimate, and heat crept up her neck. Thank the powers that be the man couldn’t actually see her blush through the old phone. His voice sounded raspy and tired and so sexy she ached to see a little more of that damned tattoo he kept so well hidden.

  “Nothing you can help with. I don’t want you straining yourself while you’re pregnant, Farrah.”

  “Hmm, well Billy’s mom might be coming over tomorrow to teach me how to preserve so you’ll be able to check that off the list. And we packed the rest of the vegetables from the greenhouse into the root cellar this afternoon. Also, I made ninety-four dollars tonight so I have half of next month’s rent saved up, so boom.”

  He chuckled, and the sound reverberated through the phone and set chills down her arms. “Yeah? What else did you do today?”

  She smiled as his voice relaxed. “Billy gave me tips on how to potty train a wolf, which haven’t worked so far, but I’m going to check out a book from the library this week so I can turn her into a proper doggy. Also, I’m pretty sure Wildman’s sells dog collars, so I’m going to get her one.”

  “Those dogs are working animals and don’t need collars.”

  “Snore. I’ve never had a pet before, and I want to get her one with a nametag and everything.”

  There was a smile in his voice when he said, “Fine, get her a danged collar if you want to.”

  “Are you at a motel right now?”

  “Yeah, I just got off about an hour ago. All right, I’m going to let you go before Briney fillets me for keeping you.”

  “Please. I don’t know if you know this, but Briney is actually a real softy.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Aanon?” she said before he could hang up.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m really sorry about your dad. He sounds like he was a good man.”

  There was a beat of silence before he sighed. “Thanks. He really was. Goodnight, Farrah.”

  “’Night,” she said before he hung up.

  There she sat, twisting slowly in the office chair and rubbing a light fingertip over her lips like she’d been kissed.

  He’d called just to let her know he was coming back early.

  Chapter Five

  Farrah stood on the gate to the cattle pen, watching the herd munch hay that littered their enclosure. Nine cows, one surly bull, and four spring calves.

  Luna barked at any of them that traveled too close to Farrah’s perch on the bottom of the gate, and her droopy ear flapped with the motion. Her yips were overpowered by the engine of a truck, and Farrah’s heart thumped against her chest. A red Ford pulled through the trees, and she tried not to let her disappointment show. She’d wished for another truck. Waving, she met the newcomers in front of the house.

  “I’m Marilynn,” Billy’s mother said, holding out a hand for a strong shake.

  “Farrah, nice to meet you.”

  “I hear you need some guidance on the ins and outs of preserving, and I came to help. I brought my own supplies so I can get the rest of mine done too while I’m here, and that way I don’t lose a day of work.”

  “Perfect,” Farrah said with a grin.

  Momma hadn’t ever had much use for preparation, and instead relied on food donations from a local church. Growing up, she’d never prepared for winter like all of the other families had done, and there was many a season she and Momma came out skinny as rails. She remembered the hunger of Alaskan winters, and as long as she lived, she didn’t want to be caught unprepared for one again.

  Marilynn was friendly. An easy talker and patient teacher, she found all of the supplies for preserving in the big house’s kitchen. The older woman even tracked down a battery operated radio and cranked a local station while they worked.

  Between sanitizing glass jars and lids, the endless cleaning and cutting of vegetables and fruit, and the thorough heating of each container of food before stacking them neatly in the root cellar, Farrah was exhausted by the time six o’clock rolled around. She needed to stop working on the homestead and get ready for her shift at Briney’s.

  There was no definite time that Aanon would be back, and the chance of a surprise appearance kept her searching the mouth of the driveway for his old Chevy. With no sign of him, she tied off the dogs and hopped the four-wheeler into town.

  Briney’s was bustling. Cooper Landing wasn’t a big town, but it seemed many of its residents liked to gather at the tavern to let off steam after a long day of work. Between Briney and herself, they kept the bar taken care of, sandwiches made for the hungry customers, and tackle sold to fishermen preparing for a winter of ice fishing on Kenai Lake.

  Ben showed up around ten, and his friends followed shortly. She was in the middle of serving an old regular a whiskey and coke when Aanon ducked through the door and took a seat at the bar.

  “Hey,” she said, leaning against the counter so he could hear her over the chatter of the busy room.

  His smile was slow and smooth. “Hey, yourself. Came by to see when you get off. Thought I’d load the four-wheeler in the back of my truck and give you a ride home.”

  Home. The word from his lips sounded so warm and inviting.

  “You have a ramp for it?”

  “Yeah, I have one in the back.”

  “I get off in about an hour. Is that too long to wait?”

  “Nah. I’ll hang out with Ben and the guys until you close up.”

  “Aanon!” Ben shouted across the bar with a bi
g, half-drunken grin.

  Aanon turned to leave but Farrah grabbed his hand. It was warm and calloused against the smoothness of her palm. The touch of his skin against hers made her body temperature rise just under the surface. Cheeks burning, she let go his hand and apologized. “I don’t know why I did that.”

  With a frown at his hand that lay open on the counter, he asked, “What do you need?”

  “I was just going to tell you that you could cut loose tonight. With your friends, I mean. I could drive you home, you know”—she pointed to her stomach—“because I’m default designated driver and all.”

  Clenching his hand and pulling it from the bar top, he asked, “You sure?”

  “Of course. You want a drink?”

  A frown warred with the smile on his face, as if she’d surprised him.

  “Aanon, come on man!” Ben yelled.

  Ben’s blond-haired friend, Mayva everyone called her, tugged at Aanon’s hand until he was off the stool and following behind her.

  “I’ll have a beer,” he called with an apologetic smile.

  “Sure,” she said, unable to take her gaze from Mayva’s fingers wrapped around his.

  ****

  Aanon wasn’t a big drinker, and while his friends were well on their way to being unable to see the shoes on their feet, he was irritatingly sober. The two beers he’d nursed only dulled the edges a little.

  “Dude,” Ben said, leaning heavily on a pool stick. “Hot New Bartender looks smokin’ tonight.”

  Aanon twitched his head and said, “Her name is Farrah.”

  “Farrah?” he asked, squinting at her.

  Audrey stopped mid slurp on a long island iced tea. “Whoa, Farrah Fennel?”

  “Who’s Farrah Fennel?” Mayva asked.

  Why did the name sound so familiar?

  “Holy crow,” Ben said, making his way to the bar.

  Aanon got up to follow with a sick feeling in his gut. It couldn’t be her. She looked absolutely nothing like the girl they used to make fun of in middle and high school. He hadn’t thought about that girl in years.

  “Farrah The Dweeb Fennel,” Ben crowed.

  Farrah had been talking to an older couple at the bar, but when Ben spoke up, the smile fell from her face.

  A few in the group chanted “The Dweeb” completely off-beat. Aanon couldn’t drag his gaze away from the hurt on Farrah’s face.

  Her mouth set in a pursed line, one at odds with her naturally happy expression. “You idiots picked the worst name.”

  “What?” Ben asked in a high pitched voice. “The Dweeb was classic. Say it. Come ooon. Just try it out. Dweeb is one of the greatest words in the English language.”

  “Yeah, well,” she drawled as she pulled a rag from her shoulder and wiped down the bar top. “The joke was on you guys because I was terrible at school. My grades were abysmal, and I’m pretty sure decent grades are a requirement for dweeb status.”

  “Huh,” Ben said with a look of utter confusion.

  “Ben, let’s go,” Aanon said, pulling at his elbow.

  “But, you were always studying. You never talked to anyone because you were always studying.”

  Farrah wouldn’t look at Aanon. In fact, she was looking everywhere but at him.

  “I didn’t talk to you guys because you always called me The Dweeb, Ben,” she said quietly. “If I raised my hand to answer a question in class, you said it. If I said hi to any of you, you said it. And I wasn’t studying. I was reading books.”

  “Aw man,” Ben said, “I feel like a dick.”

  “Come on, brother,” Aanon coerced, turning his friend toward the pool table. “You’re drunk and about to embarrass yourself big time.”

  Really, Ben’s admission was ringing true and clear inside of Aanon. He couldn’t get any lower in that moment. No wonder she’d been so put off with him when she saw him in the truck stop in Homer. He hadn’t even recognized her.

  Turning, he caught her watching him leave with the saddest expression. As he sank into a chair on the back wall, she said something to Briney and pulled her apron off. In a flash, she disappeared down the back hallway to the office.

  Shit.

  Leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees, he rubbed his hands through his hair and squeezed his eyes tightly closed. She’d been nothing but helpful around the homestead, and who knew what she’d gone through in her younger years that made her run away from Cooper Landing and into the maw of the big anonymous city. He’d come along and not even had the decency to remember her. And the girl hadn’t even called him out on it.

  Ben wasn’t the biggest jerk in the bar. He was.

  ****

  Farrah waited in the truck until Aanon wised up and figured out she wasn’t coming back in. Her shift was nearly over and Briney had already split up the tips, so she took her share and bolted for the safety of the Chevy. Thank goodness, nobody in this stupid town felt the need to lock their vehicles.

  The temptation to load the four-wheeler herself was strong, but she’d never driven one up a ramp, and the angle was way too steep for her to be comfortable with. That would be all the embarrassment she needed to top off the night—driving Aanon’s four-wheeler right through the back of his truck window.

  Why did she let those stupid townies get to her? They were grown adults, and they weren’t even being that cruel. Just letting her know they’d finally figured out who she was.

  Except for Mayva. She had looked like she was enjoying Farrah’s discomfort.

  Turning the engine, she put her bare fingertips up next to the vent in hopes that the engine was still warm from Aanon’s long drive in.

  No such luck.

  Cold air blasted out at her, and she turned off the heater completely to preserve what little warmth clung to the inside of her jacket.

  The four-wheeler roared to life and wood rattled across metal as Aanon pulled two sturdy plats of wood from the bed of the truck. When the ATV was loaded and secured and the ramp stacked between the tires, he closed the tailgate and hopped in the passenger seat.

  Her hand shook as she pulled the gear shift into drive, but Aanon’s rested on hers and pulled it back to park.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

  “Because it was embarrassing. And the longer you went without recognizing me, the more awkward it was. And then eventually, it didn’t matter anymore. It was actually kind of nice that I got to start over with you. That you didn’t remember me as The Dweeb.”

  His arm draped across the back of the bench seat, and his fingertips brushed the strands of dark hair that covered her shoulder.

  “You were blond when you were a kid. You look really different. Still, looking at you right now, I can’t put you together with my memories of you.”

  Sighing, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. It was so cold, she could see her breath as she talked. “I wasn’t naturally blond. My mom dyed my hair like that. We couldn’t afford to eat half the time, but she kept up with my roots.”

  Unwilling to look at his face for fear of the disgust she’d see there, she leaned her head against the window and stared at the eyelash moon.

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why would your mom do that?”

  “Because she said, ‘Don’t want no kid of mine with that devil black hair your daddy had.’” She rolled her head to the side and tried to smile. “Apparently, she didn’t like the guy.”

  “Did you know him?”

  “Never met the man.”

  “So it was just you and your mom?”

  “Until I was eighteen. I moved to New York and as far away from here as soon as I could. Haven’t been back since.”

  The seat squeaked as Aanon leaned back into the cushion. “I’m sorry. I was just a punk kid who thought I knew everything about everything. We shouldn’t have made fun of you back then. I should’ve known better.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Turning, he brushed the back of his fingers ac
ross her cheek. “It’s not.”

  Warmth as deep and red as volcanic fire touched her skin where they connected. His gaze, so blue and pale against the snowy backdrop outside, bored into her like he could see every thought she’d ever had. His breath came faster and his attention dropped to her throbbing lips. Trapped in the warmth of his caress, she silently begged for him to touch his lips to hers. When he didn’t move, she slowly unzipped his jacket and placed the palm of her hand against his pounding chest. His heartbeat tripped against her hand, and his muscular torso contracted under her touch. Nothing had ever felt so intimate in her entire life, not with his eyes swimming with such emotion.

  “What do you feel?” he whispered.

  “Everything.”

  “I’ve been told I don’t have a heart.”

  Inhaling sharply when he cupped the side of her face, she said, “You’ve been told wrong.”

  His hooded eyes dropped to her hand, surrounded by his open jacket, and he pulled away. Her hand was cold where his beating heart had been taken from her.

  “I’m with someone,” he murmured. “It’s complicated.”

  The words felt like daggers, as if each syllable wounded. “Mayva?”

  “No. Her name is Erin. She lives just north of Homer. She’s who I was visiting when I met you at the truck stop. You asked if I was bummed when I talked to you on the phone yesterday. I was upset because she cancelled plans we’d made. I shouldn’t have called you.”

  What could she say? What was there to say that would save her from this unwelcome pain? Miles had thrown her away, and she’d latched onto the first nice man she’d seen. Oh, she could blame it on the hormones, but she’d liked Aanon since they were children. Out of everyone she’d known growing up, she had thought about him the most.

  Of course, he was with someone. She was probably beautiful and kind and perfect because that’s what he deserved. A knocked up former dweeb with the inability to stand on her own wasn’t the type of woman he was looking for. She almost wanted to laugh at how silly she’d been.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know.” Shifting into drive, she tapped the gas and eased out of the parking lot. “Please don’t change your mind about me living at the homestead.” When she looked at him, he was facing away, watching the passing shops out the window. She was losing her home, one she’d grown so attached to over the past couple days.