Dee rolled over and sniffed back tears. The darkness paled as a silver glow of moonlight flowed through the window. The light feathered across the wall. She watched the designs that shifted against the wallpaper. Silence engulfed her in an invisible cloak. Except for the occasional crack and creak of the old house, the stillness settled. In the city, the quiet was laced with horns blaring, police sirens and music. Someone always had music playing.
Her thoughts went to Abe, to his bedroom down the hall. She listened for sounds that he was still awake. She was deeply aware that he was close, yet so far. Was he lying in bed, plotting to get rid of her? She hoped he realized she planned to stay. She wanted to make her home here. Maybe even start a business. She wanted to feel whole again, and this was a start. She had nowhere else to go, no family.
She drifted to sleep with Abe on her mind.
The sun came up bright the next morning. Unfortunately, earlier than Dee wanted. It flooded her room with its warm light, as if telling her the day started early on a farm. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Nine o’clock. She’d guess Abe had been up for a few hours.
She stretched beneath the covers and yawned. A pretty cardinal stopped by her windowsill, tweeting in greeting. “Good morning to you too.” She pushed off the blanket and climbed from bed. The wooden floor was cold on her toes.
Dee hurried to the adjoining bathroom and glared at her reflection in the mirror. She’d tossed and turned most of the night. Her frizzy hair resembled a poodle’s do, and she didn’t think even a good brushing could tame the mane.
Her boots clunked against the rungs and echoed off the white walls as she headed downstairs. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten much yesterday, and her greasy burger had long vacated her system. She meandered into the kitchen, expecting to find Mrs. Graves, but she was nowhere in sight. Dee rummaged through the cabinet and settled on a blueberry muffin and a cup of strong coffee. Feeling a bit like a thief in the kitchen, Dee quickly snuck out before she was caught.
Nostalgia washed over her as she roamed the empty house, looking at the family photos lining the walls. It evoked a feeling of loss and curiosity at what might have been.
Making her way into the living room, she skimmed a fingernail over the stiff bindings of rows of shelved books. Restlessness kept her from finding one of interest. She sat down at the antique piano and pressed the keys. The notes squealed under her unskilled fingers.
Sighing, Dee glanced out the bay window, into the lovely morning. She caught movement in the vegetable garden and peered. A flash of silver hair glinted in the sun: Mrs. Graves.
Heading out the French doors onto the patio, Dee walked across the dew-covered yard to the edge of the garden. Mrs. Graves knelt elbow-deep in the lettuce.
Mrs. Graves smoothed her blue smock over her full curves and patted her silver, football-shaped bob. Dee started to say something, and thought better of it. She turned on her heel. Mrs. Graves cleared her throat, stopping her in her tracks.
Plastering on a smile, Dee looked over her shoulder, bracing herself. “I was just coming to ask if you knew where Abe is. I’m amazed at how nice the garden looks. Have you taken care of it all by yourself?”
Mrs. Graves held up a large lettuce head, gently lifting the outer leaves, examining it closely with a skilled eye. Apparently satisfied, she dropped it into her basket, expression grim.
“Ms. Crawford, I’m not Abe’s keeper. He doesn’t tell me where he goes.” The tight set of her jaw relaxed a bit. “Gardening is a hobby I enjoy. Some of it gets canned, some frozen. I take the extra over to the farmer’s market.”
Dee tightened her grip on her coffee mug, soaking up the warmth from the ceramic after the bitter woman’s arctic chill.
Mrs. Graves nodded at the cup. “You would have been welcome to eggs and ham, but late sleepers miss out.”
Dee squirmed. Why did the old woman unsettle her so? “I’ll keep that in mind.” Scanning the groves, she wished an encouraging thought would pop up from the waves of purple. She used to sit for hours staring out into the tranquil scenery. “Do you at least know when Abe left?”
“He left early.” Mrs. Graves stood from her crouch and tucked the full basket under her arm. As she took a handkerchief from her pocket, she studied Dee while dabbing beads of sweat off her upper lip. “If you ask me, he seemed in an awful rush to get away.”
Mrs. Graves left and Dee crossed the yard, headed in the direction of the barn. The day would be a hot one, she thought. The wash of humidity warmed her skin. The smell of wildflowers mixed with fresh-cut grass filled her nostrils. She breathed in deeply and turned her head. She caught a glimpse of Mitch walking into the red barn.
As she entered, she studied the planes of his back. “Hey there.”
He turned, tilting his cowboy hat in greeting. “Mornin’, Ms. Crawford,” he said, his slow drawl thicker than ever.
She chuckled. “Please, do me a favor and call me Dee.”
“I can do that.” He closed up the bucket of dry oats and shoved it under a wooden table. “Nice mornin’ isn’t it?” He seemed in good spirits toward her. Maybe she did have a friend here.
She needed one.
“Yes, I believe it is.” She hooked her thumbs into her pockets and shifted her feet. She was like a fish out of water. “Can I help?” He hesitated. “Unless you think Abe will get mad at you for socializing with me.”
He stopped and turned his full attention on her. “Abe’s my boss and a damn good friend, but he doesn’t tell me who I can talk to. Have you ever worked in a horse barn before?”
“No,” she admitted. She’d leave out her insane fear of horses. If she wanted to earn people’s respect, she needed to step up. “But I can learn. Where are the horses and what needs to be done?” She glanced at the empty stalls.
“I’m getting ready to muck out the stalls. We do this every morning, while the horses are out grazing. Abe is usually down here helping, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him this morning.”
“He left early. At least that’s what Mrs. Graves told me.” Dee sighed. Abe could hide now, but eventually he’d have to face her. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I wasn’t suggesting that he owns or controls you.” She lowered her eyes to the spot where Abe had been sitting last night. “I just don’t want to put you in an awkward position.”
Mitch stepped over clumps of hay and took something from a top shelf. He tossed the bundle her way. She caught it against her chest with one hand and looked down at the pair of heavy gloves. A strong odor of horse manure singed her nose. She put her empty coffee cup on a nearby bench.
“You’re not allergic to hay, are you?” he asked.
Shrugging, she pulled on the gloves. “I guess we’ll find out.”
They worked well together. After heaping piles of used hay into the wheelbarrow, vigorously scrubbing the floor, putting down new bedding and cleaning out food bins, Mitch offered a cold bottle of water. Dee gladly accepted it and drank thirstily. She hadn’t been so sweaty and dirty in years, but she felt good.
“Well, you’ve earned my respect,” Mitch said, after chugging half of his water.
“I’m glad to hear that. First impressions are important. I’d bet mine wasn’t the best.” One corner of his mouth lifted. Friendly, kind eyes made him appear less rugged. “It takes me at least two or three impressions before I make my decision.”
She could handle that.
After a brief silence, she asked, “Are you married?”
“Uhh...” He dropped the leather strap he was busily unknotting. “No, not now. I’ve been divorced