Page 8

LEXI

I was enjoying the bright sunshine of a spring morning by pouring clothes into the washing machine to do a load of washing, when a chill crossed over the room.

The light dimmed. My eyes drew to the window.

Weird. A dark storm cloud had drawn over the sun and the wind had risen, whipping the trees outside once again — as if from nowhere.

What was going on with this weather?

Dude walked into the kitchen, trilling his head off.

Likely the porch door was open, I needed to batten down the house. I peered out again and then dumped detergent into the machine, cranked the dial and pushed go. I stalked over to the door as the screen door smacked against the house again.

I needed to remember to latch it with so many storms, but I liked to leave it because Dude could come and go as he pleased. I grasped the screen door to close it again and my eyes caught a sight — a body, lying in the field again.

I froze, oh no, oh no, that was not… no.

I slammed the door closed, locked it, and then rushed to the window, kneeling on the couch, peering out. The storm seemed to be dissipating but it was unmistakable — there was that man, the same man, Torin, wearing the same clothes, lying in the same place in my back lawn.

Not even a different part of my lawn, the exact same place.

He sat up.

I shrieked and locked the window, yanked the curtains closed, and backed away.

He had been facing away, so he didn’t know I was here, but what if he came to the house?

I rushed around, closing all the curtains on the ground floor and checking the doors were locked. Then I rushed up the stairs two at a time for Cooper’s gun in the bedside table.

I pulled it from the drawer and then went to the guest room to look out the upper window.

He was sitting up with his head in his hand.

Then he was moving his shoulder, gingerly, carefully, and from his body movements he looked to be in a great deal of pain. What the hell was he doing here?

I watched him for a few moments. He wasn’t in a hurry. He just sat out there as the sky cleared, as if the storm had never happened. He shook his head and looked dazed.

Though he was big and armed he looked kind of lost and helpless.

Cooper’s voice played in my head: You are such a pushover, Lexi.

Oh yeah? Well, he’s not asking for my help, if I’m offering then that’s fine…

Then I added out loud, “I will carry the gun though, I’m not crazy.”

I walked down the stairs to the main floor.

Little crazy, not calling the cops… why you not calling the cops, Lexi?

My only explanation was that it felt like that would cause trouble for Torin and that was likely the dumbest reason in the world to not call the cops on a trespasser.

When I crossed the porch he turned to look.

I said, loudly, “I’m armed!”

“Och aye, ye ken, Mistress, tis tae be expected.” He started to stand up.

“Don’t get up! I’m armed, Torin, you stay down!” I crossed the lawn with the gun pointed at him, my hands shaking. I got within about fifteen feet and said, “Why the hell are you on my land again?”

“Mistress… och I hae forgotten yer name, Mistress—” He was squinting and his expression looked like he was in a great deal of pain.

“Lexi.”

“Mistress Lexi, I daena ken why I am on yer land again, tis an unfortunate mistake for which I am deeply distressed.”

“What does any of that mean? Where is your car, how did you get here? Did you walk from the hospital? Did you sleep out here last night?”

He rubbed his temple. “Och nae, if I understand yer meanin’... nae, none of that.”

He was wearing the fur-trimmed cloak that now in the light I could see was dark blue wool, the grey fur was thick and wild looking, over his pale yellow linen shirt.

He had embroidered green knot-patterns at his cuffs and down the front of his shirt, and he was wearing a blue, green, and red tartan kilt.

A hot and sexy kilt. In his position, I could see his knees.

At his shoulder was a round silver brooch, engraved with more Celtic knots and in the center there was a small, raised stag.

Finally, notably, he was armed with a knife and a sword that each had leather wrapped hilts and jewels on the handle. He seemed rich, but in a very older version of rich.

And he had that weird metal object leaning against his thigh.

I gestured with the gun. “What is that thing?”

“I honestly canna tell ye, Mistress Lexi, tis called a vessel. Tis the only one in the world and I daena ken how tae explain what it does — dost ye hae any food and drink? I am desperately hungry.”

I said, “You must think I’m crazy , Torin, if you think I’m inviting you into my house and offering you food and drink.”

“I am nae a scoundrel. I am a gentleman of honor. I find m’self on foreign lands and I am desperately hungry.

I need a bite tae eat so I can think through m’predicament.

Send yer guard tae surround me. I will remain outside yer walls, away from yer private chambers.

” He raised his hand and wiped the sweat from his brow.

I narrowed my eyes.

Then I lowered the gun. “If you promise not to move I will go inside and get you a drink and some food, but if you try to follow me, Torin, I will shoot first and ask questions later.”

He nodded. “Aye, Mistress Lexi. Though if I could remove the cloak, tis swelterin’.”

I said, “Okay, fine.”

He winced as he undid the fine silver stag brooch with one hand and let his cloak fall to the ground. He deposited the brooch into the round leather bag on the front of his belt.

“What kind of fur is that?”

“Tis wolf fur.”

“Oh, interesting, I never saw wolf fur up close before — do you want a soda and a sandwich, do you like mayonnaise or mustard?”

His brow drew down. He looked like he didn’t understand the choices, then he answered, again, “Aye, Mistress Lexi.”

I turned and stalked back to the house, thinking to myself, What the hell is wrong with me? Now I have a big hulking, strange, homeless trespasser on my property, and I just offered to make him a sandwich.

I locked the door behind me, went through to the kitchen, and looked out the window. Torin was sitting in the same spot, rubbing his shoulder.

I got a bottle of Tylenol from the pantry and poured a couple of pills out onto a plate.

Then I built him a ham and cheddar sandwich with lettuce and both mayo and mustard.

Then I got a bottle of Diet Coke from the fridge.

I put it all on a tray and the gun beside the plate, doing this weird calculation as I carried the food out: If things went south, as they say, I’d have to put down the tray to grab the gun.

That wouldn’t be easy. But also, if things were fine, I would still have to deposit the tray and get the gun at the same time.

I couldn’t let Torin get my gun.

He was huge.

He was also already armed.

A rivulet of sweat rolled down my face.

This all sucked.

On my way across the lawn, I yelled, “Don’t move, Torin, I mean it!”

“Dost ye need my assistance, Mistress Lexi?”

“Nope, I don’t want any help!” The coke bottle tipped over just then, making it seem like I was lying.

I yelled, “I’m still armed by the way!”

He nodded. “Tis a good thing.”

I placed the tray down on the grass about six feet from him, grabbed the gun, and jogged a safe distance away. I turned around with my gun pointing at him. I blew the hair off my forehead.

He didn’t move.

I said, “There, you can eat.”

He knee-walked to the tray and then sat on his heels and looked down on my offerings. “Och, this is verra good, Mistress Lexi, I thank ye.”

He continued tae look at it, blinking.

I said, “The pills are Tylenol for the pain. I assume you didn’t get any from the hospital?”

He looked around and under the rim of the plate then picked up the two pills. “Tis this?”

“Yes, those pills, Tylenol, for pain.”

He nodded looking down on them in his palm, kneeling in front of the tray.

I said, helpfully, “You can use the Diet Coke to wash them down.”

He cocked his head.

“Have you never tasted Diet Coke before?”

He put his finger on the lid of the Coke. “Tis similar tae a cider?”

“Kinda, maybe?”

He picked it up and looked it over. “There is a cork?”

I pantomimed unscrewing the lid. “Unscrew the top.” Then I realized it would probably be hard to do it with one uninjured arm.

He put the pills in his mouth and chewed.

I grimaced. “It would be better to just swallow those, they taste terrible .”

He grimaced. “Och, tis disgusting.” He put his tongue out with an ick sound, then put the bottle between his knees, clamped his hand on the top, and twisted.

He looked the lid over, then placed it down carefully on the tray, and lifted the bottle to his lips. He swigged and then spit-sprayed Diet Coke while trying to put the bottle down. He choked and coughed with tears welling up?—

“Are you okay?”

The bottle tipped, pouring all over the grass, making a puddle that quickly rolled down to his kilt and leg.

He tried to get away from the puddle, but used his injured shoulder — he winced as his arm crumpled and he spasmed to hold it, moaning, “Och nae, twas…” He spit trying to get it out of his mouth. “Och nae, that is not…”

“You don’t like Diet Coke?”

He frowned, saying, “Nae, tis verra good, I thank ye.” He grimaced and tried to cover it with a fake smile.

“Will you stay there and eat your sandwich? I will go get you water, does that sound good?”

He nodded. And swallowed, then spit again, his face looking positively green.

I jogged up the lawn to my porch and returned to the kitchen. I got a large water bottle from the fridge and because I felt guilty for having given him a drink that somehow — how was it possible he never tasted a Diet Coke before? — I got a little bag of chocolate chip cookies for him.

I returned to the door, went out, and got all the way down the lawn to about seven feet away before I realized I had left the gun up on the kitchen counter. Dumb ass.

But at least now I had my hands free to open the lid of the water bottle so I wouldn’t have to explain that part, again — why in the world did I need to explain how to open a soda bottle? And wouldn’t that suck on my gravestone:

Here lies Lexi, she didn’t have a gun but at least her hands were free.

I passed him the opened water bottle and he guzzled a quarter of it.

Then he held the bottle up and admired it in the light.

He poured a bit on his head and brushed his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, pushing it back from his face.

He drank a bit more then put the bottle between his knees, picked up half the sandwich and took a bite.

He closed his eyes, a smile spreading across his face as he chewed.

I asked, “I made it right?”

“This is the best thing that has happened tae me in days.” He took another big bite.

“Aw, that’s a nice thing to say, for that you get a cookie.

” I placed the cookies down on the tray.

He took another bite of sandwich, finishing off the half and picking up the other half, and a moment later he was done with the whole sandwich, brushing off his fingers.

His eyes settled on the cookie bag. “What is it?”

“You have to open it.”

He picked up the bag, turned it over, dropped it onto the tray, yanked a knife from his belt. He held the bag still with two fingers of his injured arm, and started to stab it?—

I interrupted, “Let me help.”

I crouched beside him and ripped the bag open.

We were very close.

He raised his brow. “What kind of weapon was it ye carried, Mistress Lexi? Ye daena hae it on ye anymore?”

“Oh, what? Oh.” I scrambled up and away. “What are you… is that a threat?’

“Nae—”

“Because it’s a gun, Torin, a very good, dangerous gun. And I practice with it all the time. I’m a really good shot.”

“Och, I dinna mean tae frighten ye, Mistress Lexi, I just wondered about it and now ye are unarmed. Ye ought tae carry it with?—”

“I left it up at the…” I took a step back and another and another, then turned and ran to the house.

My heart raced.

I slammed and locked the door and picked up the gun and stood, breathing heavily, watching him through the window.

He hadn’t followed, he was just staring up at the house, his head cocked, inquisitively. Not at all menacingly.

I built up my nerve.

Finally I went back out onto the porch and yelled down the lawn, “Why are you here, Torin, what do you want? I’ll have you know, I called the police!”

He stood up. “Mistress Lexi, my most earnest apologies tae ye, I mean ye nae harm! Ye hae fed me this fine meal and when ye came out I admired yer courage and wanted tae ken more about yer weapon. When ye dinna hae it, I wondered why… I traveled here by accident, now twice. I canna explain it, but I will be on my way, I winna bother ye anymore.”

I said, “Good, leave!”

I stood watching him.

He leaned over, picked up that strange metal object, and stuffed it into that round bag.

I waited, then yelled, “What are you doing? I said it was time to go!”

He said, “I am tryin’ tae, Mistress Lexi.” With another wince he pulled the cloak up and draped it over his arm and then lumbered up and glanced at the food, but looked like he was going to walk away from it.

I yelled, “Take the water, if you want the cookies you can have them. They’re open now, anyway.”

I saw him mumble, “Aye, Mistress Lexi,” though I couldn’t actually hear it.

He picked up the bottle, screwed the lid back on it, shoved it in his belt, picked up the bag of cookies, and placed them carefully in his bag.

He began walking and as he passed he bowed. “Thank ye, Mistress Lexi, my apologies for taking yer time.”

With his head high, he left my property.

Dude opened the screen door to come out and meowed and rubbed against my calves. I said, “The handsome yet weird, hot guy in the kilt is finally gone, Dude, we got rid of him.”

I realized I was still holding my pistol, so I carried it back up and took in the wider view from the window at the top of the stairs. I could see him way down the road, trudging south.

I felt relief — he was headed out of town. The next town over was Rosman. There would be a store and a bus, he would be fine.

I put the pistol back in Coop’s drawer and returned downstairs to finish what I had been doing. Laundry?

Yeah, washing clothes.

Normally I might have clicked on the TV, but my nerves were jangled, so I kept watching the windows, trying to figure out what was going on.

It took hours to calm down.