She didn’t know what to say, but she appreciated him for his kindness. Perhaps that thought alone would suffice?
“Thank you.”
He massaged her feet a few seconds longer, then stood up, gathering her belongings.
“I’m going to put your things in one of the spare bedrooms. I’ll give you the one with the attached bathroom and the best view.” He smiled at her, and she couldn’t resist smiling back.
“Thank you. Again.”
He disappeared up the steps with her bag full of stuff she didn’t need. Moments later, as she sat on that same couch she’d been on earlier, she decided to slip her purse off her arm and venture closer to the flames. She moseyed to the living room fireplace and lowered herself onto the rug. Eye transfixed on the beauty of the jumping flames, the softness of the bearskin beneath her palms, she went into some sort of trance which melted her problems away.
It wasn’t long before Jack reemerged, now dressed in another long-john shirt, and jeans. No socks. No shoes. He padded past her, then disappeared into another area of the big house that appeared to be the kitchen. It was hard to see clearly from her vantage point.
A short while later, he called out to her.
“It’s dinner time. Are you hungry?”
She scratched her arm, then her scalp, and cleared her throat.
“Yes, I’m hungry. I owe you, Jack. I am ridiculous, aren’t I? See how I put you out? I bet you wish you’d never seen me in Gus’s that day. Should’ve walked in and walked right back out,” she teased, laughing at herself.
“You’re not putting me out. I was going to make some rainbow trout, baked sweet potato, and string beans. Nothin’ too fancy.”
“Let me help you.” She stood and dusted off her pants.
“No. Stay where you’re at. I told you I wanted to cook for you. Looks like it’s happening sooner rather than later is all.”
“It looks that way, now doesn’t it?”
Everything went quiet again with the exception of the clanging of pots and pans. Soon enough, the house began to fill up with mouth-watering aromas. She kept her eyes on that fire, and damn near wanted to cry. She hadn’t felt this kind of peace in such a long time…
Chris Isaak’s, ‘Wicked Game’ started to play. The sound was crisp and clean, pouring from various points in the room.
He’s got surround sound…
She smiled as she closed her eyes and swayed back and forth to the soft, sultry voice belting heart wrenching lyrics over the musical riffs. She began to sing along with the lyrics, swaying and dancing on the rug, left to right, right to left…
When she opened her eyes, her heart jumped.
Jack was standing there, right beside her, holding two glasses of white wine.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You move like an angel.” Her face heated, and so did her soul. “You can dance, woman. Like, not ordinary dancing, but the type of dancin’ they show on TV. What were you doing up there in New York, Kim?”
“Dancing on Broadway.”
“Well, isn’t this something. I got me a star, my personal Northern Lights …”
Chapter Six
This wasn’t the evening Jack was expecting.
It differed from his usual night of mindlessly watching television, sharpening pieces of wood into smooth sculptures of ducks, fish, and random wedges he didn’t give a crap about, all in an effort to somehow hold on to a slippery grip of humanity. People bought them from the local shops and he got a percentage of sales. He didn’t care much about that, either. His thoughts were consumed by family matters, mainly his dead son, and on occasion, when he was lucky, work-related difficulties that called for his attention. Official work hours were between nine and four except on holidays and during bad storms, but he was the one they summoned when shit hit the fan, and it happened far too often for his liking.
He was often out in the woods by himself, checking the vegetation, tracking various animals, or keeping a watchful eye on groups wandering about. His job was tailor-made for him, as far as he was concerned. He had solitude when needed, and was only required to make appearances when asked to aid in a tour, such as school field trips where he answered questions related to venomous snakes, the perilous terrain, or the right paths to reach specific landmarks such as the Savage River.
Jack enjoyed people keeping away. Out of his way. Out of his business. Out of his world.
Then the hot Black waitress from up North, who sometimes talked too much, dropped by unannounced with goodies in hand. His attraction to her grew fast, surpassing the physical. He appreciated her sense of humor and personality. Her voice. Her smile. Her style—small diamond earrings, and the two long braids that draped down her back. The way she moved…