Orphan Maker (7 page)

“I’ll tell you what happened.” Gwen pointed a finger at Loomis. “They weren’t as lucky as you. They didn’t have the better breaks. Maybe they got sick and died. Maybe their stupid gardens didn’t make enough food to feed them all. Or maybe they killed each other off over territory. Whatever. But don’t you ever look down your nose at me again, and judge how we lived in the city. You don’t know shit about that and never will. You feel me?”

They stared at one another for long moments. The only sound was birdsong in the woodlot, the crackle of flames in the outdoor fireplace, and the gurgle of the nearby creek. In the silence, Gwen wondered if she had pushed too hard. Where would she go if Loomis turned her out?

“I feel you.” Loomis still appeared angry, but at least the snotty expression had left her face. “I apologize for being rude. We’re a family and need to treat each other with courtesy.”

Gwen blinked.
We’re a family?
Her mind reeled with the impact of that statement. She almost didn’t realize Loomis had  proceeded to talk.

“What I said was mean-spirited. And you’re right. I don’t know anything about what you’ve gone through. We’ve had our own share of power struggles here, but those were early on.” Her eyes flickered to Rick and Cara, a wealth of emotion seeming to cross her face. Pain, disgust, loathing and an odd wistfulness ran in quick succession across her features. “So I’ll just shut my mouth on the matter, okay? Let that be an end to it.”

Gwen had a sudden hunger to find out what had happened to make this intense woman hurt. She stared at the offered hand.
I challenge her and she concedes? Just like that?
There had to be something else going on here, and she vowed to discover what it was. In the meantime, she shook hands with Loomis, quickly transferring from the traditional handshake of her ’rents to the handclasp accepted on the streets. Loomis fumbled the unfamiliar action. Gwen grinned. “That’s the end of it.”

The tension dissolved in the summer kitchen, and life resumed its normal pace with Cara asking, “Lucky, would you help me with the vegetables? Heather can take Oscar; give you a bit of a break.”

Lucky nodded, and transferred her baby to Heather, who was sitting in the chair beside Cara. Megan and Delia drifted off to the picnic table and their toys. Rick left to put the shears away.

Loomis and Gwen had held each other’s hand far longer than was appropriate, and Gwen felt a measure of interest.
Is Loomis gay? Do I really have a shot here?

Blushing, Loomis released Gwen’s hand. She glanced at the boys who still watched from the curtain. “Son, you’d better finish cleaning up, or dry off and get dressed before you catch a cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kevin ducked back behind the sheet while Terry remained where he was.

“Gwen,” Cara said, “I could use your help, too.”

She heeded Cara’s request, pleased that her defiance hadn’t immediately put her back on the road. Sitting at the table, she mused over Loomis’s reaction as she learned how to slice celery.

Gwen sat on the floor, wrapped in a blanket, her back against the couch. Once the sun had gone down, the coolness of spring had reasserted itself, reminding her she was at a higher altitude compared to the low-lying valley of the city. The fire blazing on the hearth kept back the chill of evening. Her body ached gently from the day’s activities, but she was clean and warm. As a result she could barely keep awake. Around her sat the Loomis clan and their new members. Cara sat in a rocking chair on the other side of the fireplace, knitting. Loomis lounged in a ratty loveseat near Gwen, sandwiched between the two little girls. Two oil lamps hung from an overhead beam, illuminating the book she read from as well as the rest of the seating area. At Loomis’s feet, Kevin and Terry sprawled on the floor, the coffee table pushed back to allow them room. Kevin had rolled onto his side and looked like he was asleep.

Lucky sat on the couch behind Gwen, nursing Oscar from a bottle of sheep’s milk. That had surprised Gwen; whoever heard of milking sheep? Cows, yes, and she thought she remembered seeing goat cheese in the grocery stores as a child, but sheep? It had been so long since she’d had any milk, she hadn’t been able to tell if it tasted any different from that of a cow. In any case, she was glad for Oscar’s added nourishment. She had been with the Gatos long enough to feel some level of responsibility for them. At least Oscar had a better chance of surviving to see his first birthday now, something few babies in the city achieved.

Also on the couch was Heather. She said she was doing needlepoint. It looked like sewing to Gwen, but what did she know? Whatever Heather was doing, it involved lots of colored threads, a needle and a wooden hoop. Rick sat on a stool at the breakfast bar behind Cara, smoking a pipe. Whatever it was didn’t smell like pipe smoke. Gwen idly wondered where he had gotten the tobacco. Her eyes drifted shut as Loomis’s voice droned. In her mind’s eye, she saw the action unfold as the child-hero took on a dragon, succeeding where his opponents had failed. The huge black lizard thrashed as it tried to capture him, but missed as the crowd roared in approval. Teasing her from high overhead, whizzing around on his broom, he abruptly swooped low, and retrieved the golden egg.

“And that’s it. Time for bed.”

The younger kids groaned in simultaneous protest as Gwen opened her eyes. Most of them did, anyway. Kevin didn’t move.

“Just a little more? Please?” Megan peered up at Loomis.

“No, baby. It’s time for bed, and our new friends are pretty tired. They need to get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired!” Terry said.

“Too bad, so sad, Little Big Man.” Rick stood and went to the fireplace, knocking the ash from his pipe into the fire. He carefully laid the pipe in a rack on the mantel before turning to the boys still at his feet. “Help me get Kevin up to your room.”

Terry grumbled but conceded. While they woke Kevin enough to get him on his feet, Megan slid from the loveseat, pouting as Loomis did the same and put the book on the mantel. Delia stayed where she was, blue eyes wide.

“What if there’s a dragon in our room?” she asked.

Megan’s mouth dropped open. She looked at Loomis for reassurance. “It’s too big. Isn’t it?”

Delia’s burgeoning fear was quickly replaced with irritation. “It could be a small one!”

Gwen watched with amusement as the two little girls glowered at each other.

Cara placed her knitting project in a basket beside her rocker and stood. “I doubt it.” She reached for one of the candles on the mantel. “Dragons horde gold and treasure. Neither of you have any of that in your room.” She lit the candle, and handed it to Rick who had finally pulled Kevin to his feet.

“I’ve got treasure,” Megan said.

“Stupid rocks,” Delia muttered, finally leaving the love seat.

“It is so treasure!” Megan looked around for support.

Terry snorted. “Rocks in a box. And not even proper arrowheads or anything.”

Loomis lit another candle, handing it to Delia before scooping Megan up in her arms. “Some people’s trash is other people’s treasure. Don’t know that a dragon would be interested in your collection, though, baby.” She gave the girl an apologetic hug. “Now let’s get you two to bed.”

Delia led the way to the far corner of the living room. Despite holding a candle, she deftly climbed the ladder that led to their room. Loomis followed, still holding Megan. Rick and the boys disappeared into the kitchen where a similar ladder awaited them.

“Lucky, you’re rooming with me,” Cara said. “Tonight we’ll put Oscar in a drawer. I know we’ve got a crib somewhere in one of the barns. We’ll dig it out tomorrow for him.”

“Where am I sleeping?” Gwen forced her sore muscles to bring her to her feet. Damn, she still hurt from that horse ride. Now that she had been off them for a time, the soles of her feet ached from the week’s forced march.

“You’re in Marissa’s room. Heather can show you the way. There’s only the one bed, so either you share or one of you sleeps on the floor. We’ll talk about getting more furniture from somewhere tomorrow.”

It took a moment for Gwen to recognize the name. Walker had used it to introduce Loomis at the church. “Why does everybody call her Loomis except you?”

“Not everybody. Rick sometimes calls her by her first name.” Cara shrugged. “She just prefers to be called Loomis, I guess. Always has.”

But you don’t care, Gwen thought. Was it a subtle power play between the cousins? Did Cara do it to call attention to the fact that she wouldn’t do what Loomis wanted? Or was it something more, a way to connect with a little more intimacy than everybody else?

Heather smiled and held out her hand. “I’ll show you your room.”

Gwen, still wrapped in her blanket, was led through the doorway behind the loveseat, then to a door immediately to her left along a short hall.

“This is your room now. Rick and I are right next door, and Cara and Lucky are at the other end of the hall,” Heather said. She opened the door, handing Gwen a candle. “Go on in. Loomis will be here when she’s done tucking in the kids.”

Clutching the candle, Gwen stepped into the darkened room. As an afterthought, she put her hand out to stop the closing of the door. “Thank you.”

Heather nodded. “Of course. Welcome to the family.” She softly shut the door.

Gwen looked around in curiosity. A comfortable looking queen bed stood in the far corner from the door, a wooden nightstand keeping it company. At the foot of the bed was a polished chest that picked up the candlelight and gleamed back at her. To her left hulked a floor-to-ceiling piece of furniture with two small drawers underneath and cabinet doors above. To her right were a chest of drawers, and a vanity with a mirror. A large porcelain pitcher and bowl stood on the vanity, as well as a brush and comb. Hanging above the dresser were two shotguns, and a combination bow with a quiver of arrows.

She ignored the archaic weapons for something more important—the inviting bed. Gwen hoped Loomis wouldn’t be so uptight as to make her sleep on the floor. She moved across the room, stumbling as her toes met a braided rug that lay in the middle of the floor. A hurricane lamp stood on the nightstand. She lifted the glass chimney and used the candle to light it, the glow from the wick considerably brightening the room. Also on the nightstand were a book and a framed photograph.

She picked up the frame to get a better look. It was a picture of a large family, taken in front of the cabin. There was no greenhouse in evidence and she wondered if that was something added after the plague. Peering at the photo, she saw a crowd of redheads of all ages. The older man and woman had to be their ’rents; she saw their resemblance in almost all the children. There were four boys and one girl. Loomis looked to be about thirteen years old, just on the verge of maturity, all gawky and gangly. Her grin was mischievous as she held the little boy, Rick, in a headlock. The three other boys were older than she, ranging in age from sixteen to twenty, and all had the trademark auburn hair of their mother. Gwen felt tears sting her eyes. She didn’t have any pictures of her ’rents. When she had left home to hang with her surviving school friends, she’d been too angry with her parents for leaving her, wanting nothing to do with them.

The door opened, and she hastily set the frame down, forcing her tears back. “Nice looking family.”

Loomis nodded and closed the door behind her. She stood at the door for a moment, and Gwen wondered if she were going to be sleeping on the couch instead.

“Which side do you want?”

The bed was against the wall. Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. No floor and no couch; things were looking up. “I don’t care.”

Loomis frowned. “I like to read before sleep.”

“Then I’ll take the inside so you can have the lamp.”

“Okay.”

This was the first time they had been alone since Gwen had jumped Loomis’s shit in the summer kitchen. Loomis hadn’t exactly been avoiding her, but Gwen could tell she wanted to be somewhere else. Maybe she thought Gwen was a renegade, somebody who didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything. Gwen decided it was good that Loomis was wary of her. For now she had gotten her point across that she was someone to be reckoned with, not a nobody to order around. She would work to get Loomis to trust her next, show her that she could be a productive member of the family, an equal. After that, she could work on the seduction.

She folded the blanket she carried, laying it on the chest at the foot of the bed. Since she had no pajamas and she knew Loomis’s sense of modesty would be sorely tested, Gwen left her clothes on and climbed under the blankets on the bed. Her body shivered with pleasure at the sensation of clean sheets, and she inhaled the smell of soap from the cloth. The mattress was firm, yet it cradled her worn body like a lover. How long had it been since she had slept in a bed with no odor of mildew?

Loomis still stood by the door, uncertainty in every line of her body. Gwen grinned to herself and rolled over, facing the wall. She cuddled with her pillow. “Good night.”

There was a long pause before Loomis answered. “Good night.”

Gwen closed her eyes, listening as the other woman began to undress, teasing herself with the imagined view. There was a creak from the cabinet at the foot of the bed, then the sound of a drawer opening and shutting. Soon the bed shifted, and Gwen snuggled further down under the covers.

“You sure the light doesn’t bother you?” Loomis whispered.

Despite a desire to know more about her roommate in every sense of the word, Gwen’s answer was blurry with exhaustion. “I’m sure.”

There was more shifting as Loomis got comfortable. Gwen fell asleep to the sound of pages turning and the gentle breathing of another person in the room with her.

With the reflexes of a battle-hardened veteran, Gwen came instantly awake. Before she knew what was happening, she scooted to the head of the bed where she curled into a protective ball. Loomis thrashed again under the covers, barely visible in the gray light coming through the window. She moaned, a guttural sound of fury and agony that raised the hackles on Gwen’s neck. She peered over her arms at the woman. Loomis panted as if she had been running for miles, her face contorted. Gwen realized her roommate suffered a nightmare and unkinked her own body. Her heart beat fast along the path of adrenaline. She glanced about the darkened room, searching for enemies she knew weren’t there—second nature after living in the city. She had survived more than her share of ambushes.