“I’m here because I brought you a little something as a ‘thank you’ for helping me last week. Where I come from, that doesn’t happen often. You’re a hero. That was nice of you, and uh, well,” she hugged herself as the cold air left her chilled from her head to her toes, “I just wanted to let you know that I appreciated it is all.”
He stood frozen, as if he’d turned into a mannequin. Either he was strange as hell, or paranoid. Maybe both? He designed awkward silences and placed the contraptions at her feet, perhaps to see how she’d react. I must be the one who’s paranoid now.
His gaze shifted to the basket, then back to her. Picking it up, she handed it to him. He looked not at her, but through her, the kind of stare that melted the chill inside. And then, the strangest thing happened—sweat actually dripped down the side of her neck.
Martha was right. He just might be crazy. I should’ve just mailed him a ‘Thank You’ card, and kept it moving…
“A phone call would’ve sufficed.”
“I don’t have your number.”
“You didn’t have my address initially either, but you managed to get it now, didn’t you?”
She remained quiet, certain he wasn’t really interested in a response, or back-and-forth dialogue. A part of her felt like a child, being reprimanded by some colossal giant who’d caught her climbing up his beanstalk—only this giant wasn’t hideous with a humpback and ate people. He was a beautiful mountain man with a well-trimmed beard, and a deep, soothing voice.
He flipped the cover back, and with an expression that looked much like disapproval, he thumbed through the items, haphazardly knocking cookie boxes and whatnot onto their sides.
“I made rolls.” She pointed at the cheesecloth wrapped pastries as he continued his examination. “There are sugar cookies in there, homemade orange marmalade, and pretzels with honey mustard. I also put a few hot cocoa packets inside of it, too.”
“Don’t leave somethin’ like this on a front stoop out this way,” he said with an attitude after tossing the cover back over everything, then grunted.
You ungrateful son of a…
“I thought I would’ve at least heard a ‘thank you,’ before a complaint, but all right. Why not leave it here?”
“Foxes, wolves, and especially bears. That’s why. They’ll get a whiff of this and come by. Pay me a visit. I don’t want to have to shoot a wolf because he won’t leave my property, or finds something else interesting over here, and keeps returning, bringin’ his pack friends back with him. That sort of thing happens more often than you’d believe. The scent would be too strong for them to ignore, and if they are low on food, it can snowball into other issues. Like I said.” His nostrils flared as he brought the basket to his face and sniffed it. “It smells good…” he mumbled then, as if paying the compliment was low key killing him.
“Well, I guess I know now to not leave a basket of food on a porch out this way.”
“Yeah. Thank you all the same. It was a nice gesture, but like I said, you could’ve just called.”
The taste of fried eggs repeated in her mouth, followed by the flavor of her coffee as her stomach tossed and turned. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned this visit to go at all. It was going downhill fast, like a skier down a slope.
“I guess I didn’t think this through.” She offered a watery, tilted smile which got her nothing in return. He cocked his head to the side, and that gave her a glimpse of the tattoo on his neck—Roman numerals.
“Well, I won’t keep you, Jack. I hope you have a good day and—”
“It’s cold. Do you want to step inside for a couple minutes? Warm up before you set off again?”
She looked into his intense gray eyes, at a loss for words. This was what she wanted—to sit and chat with the man, quelch her nosiness and look inside his home, then run back and tell Martha all about it. Yet, another part of her felt as if he wasn’t exactly the type to engage in meaningful conversations. One-word answers coming her way. She swallowed as she realized she had ulterior motives… This wasn’t no joy ride or just a friendly visit.
She was attracted to him, and being the assertive woman that she was, but always downplaying how she made her moves, she felt some sort of connection to Jack after he’d come to her rescue. This here was a way for her to look him in the eye and see if it had all been in her head, a one-sided feeling.
“Come on in.” He motioned for her to come close, as if sensing her reservations, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. “No need for you to have come all this way to only be here for a minute or two.”