The Alpha's Mate (8 page)

Elizabeth suppressed a shudder and headed for
the bedroom at the back of the house. This room wasn’t part of the
original cabin. The clapboard siding and large picture window
confirmed the fact they were later additions. A bathroom was off to
the side and through its window she could see that the bathroom and
kitchen walls formed two sides to the small covered and screened
porch which served as a home for an old wringer washer and a fairly
new drier.

The bathroom itself was a surprise. It was
small and she’d have to be careful she didn’t bend over when she
sat on the john or she’d smack her head on the sink, but other than
the grime of long disuse, it was in good shape. The extra-deep tub
was even equipped with a shower. Her eyes filled with tears at this
small blessing. She’d been picturing trips to the outhouse in the
middle of the night.

“Stove works!” Max called from the kitchen.
She’d found a bucket and some rags and an assortment of cleaning
products that had never been opened. No surprise there. “Where do
you want to begin?”

Elizabeth took a deep breath and noisily blew
it out. “I’ll tackle the bathroom if you’ll start on the bedroom.
Then I’ll at least have a clean place to sleep.”

She was dumping her first bucket of dirty
water off the back porch when she heard approaching vehicles coming
up the dirt track that lead to the back of the house. Two cars and
a bright red pickup truck pulled in side by side.

“The cavalry has arrived,” Max said of the
four women and two men who emerged. “Gwenna, Brie, Vickie, Lara.”
She introduced the women as they entered the house. The men were
pulling equipment from the back of the truck. “That’s Morgan and
the big handsome one is GW.”

“Hey!” one of the women, Elizabeth thought it
was Lara, yelled. She had her hands on her hips.

Max laughed. “Okay, okay. The handsome guy is
Lara’s Morgan,” she clarified, “And the big handsome redhead is
mine.”

“That’s better,” Lara laughed, “Where do you
want us to start?”

GW walked by with a chainsaw and rake. He
poked his chin at Morgan. “Marshall sent us over. He says you’ve
got us for two days to do whatever you need done.”

“It seems to me, he should have taken care of
this before his tenant arrived, not after,” Elizabeth said crisply.
He was the landlord, after all and she hadn’t yet gotten over the
condition of the place.

Morgan’s eyes widened and his eyes shifted
from side to side as if to see if she’d been overheard. GW simply
shrugged.

“That’s not for me to say, ma’am. Marshall’s
the boss and we do what we’re told. He says to tell you George will
be up about noon with your things and some paint for the walls. I
figure we’ll clean up today and tomorrow we’ll scrape and paint the
windows and porches and fill any chinks between the logs. You got
anything else needs doing, you just make a list and we’ll see what
we can do.”

Elizabeth blew air up to fluff her bangs.
“I’m sorry. I’ve no right to take my frustrations out on you. This
is more than kind and I really appreciate it.”

GW winked. “No offence taken, but I don’t
want you thinking poorly of Marshall either. He didn’t know what
Eugene done until you told him. It’s been a while since Eugene sent
anyone up the mountain and he usually makes arrangements for them
to stay in town.”

Elizabeth started crossing items off her list
of Things To Say To My Landlord Next Time I See Him. Eugene Begley
had defrauded them both. It was a kindness that Marshall had let
her stay.

By eleven-thirty, almost everything that
could be washed, repaired or thrown out was. As if someone flipped
a switch, work stopped as quickly as it began. The women went out
to the cars, brought boxes and plasticware bowls to the newly
exposed porch and set out sandwiches and salads for lunch. GW and
his silent friend carried a cooler filled with drinks.

Max was right. With the vines cut away and
the windows sparkling, the cabin regained some of its charm. An old
wooden rocker and three salvaged kitchen chairs provided seating
for the women while the men sat on the wooden steps.

“I feel awful about this,” Elizabeth
confessed when one of the women passed her a sandwich. “You’ve all
worked so hard and I couldn’t even offer you lunch. I can’t thank
you enough.”

“We should be thanking you,” Gwenna started
to say, but Brie interrupted.

“What she means is, we’re real glad you
decided to come and we hope you’ll stay.”

“Yeah,” Vicky added, looking wide eyed at
Gwenna, “It’s nice to have someone new move in and we felt real bad
about Eugene not telling Marshall he’d rented out the Home
Place.”

“Why would Marshall put up with it? He’s
Chief of Police and I should think what Mr. Begley did was
illegal.”

“Because more often than not, Mr. Begley does
more good than harm. He’s a good at what he does. Why that man
could sell water in a rainforest.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Elizabeth
sighed.

The conversation turned to other things and
during the course, Elizabeth learned that none of the women were
born on the mountain. She thought that might be the underlying
reason for their generous help. They knew, first hand, what it felt
like to be new.

They were all married and none had children
though they all sounded as if they wanted them as soon as
possible.

“What about you?” Max asked, “You ever think
about having kids?”

Elizabeth had thought about it and concluded
that her chances were slim to none. She’d never had a strong, long
term relationship with a man and she couldn’t use a casual
encounter as a donor. For her, having a child should be a shared
joy between two people who loved one another.

“I think I’m happy just the way things are,”
she said and hoped she sounded convinced. She began to gather the
plates and glasses.

“But…?” Gwenna began. The others quickly
hushed her.

“George is here,” GW informed them though how
he knew was a mystery to Elizabeth. She couldn’t hear anything but
the wind.

She’d no sooner completed the thought than
she heard the truck. Big and burly, George looked like he could
hold a car up with one hand while he changed the tire with the
other. Elizabeth recognized him as one of the men who’d led the
horses out of the burning barn. Gwenna ran ahead to meet him as he
climbed down from the cab.

She greeted him by jumping into his arms and
giggled girlishly when he whispered something in her ear.

“They’re well mated,” Max laughed. “They’ve
been married for five years and still act like newlyweds.” Then her
smile faded. “The only thing that could make them happier would be
a child.”

“No luck?” Elizabeth asked sympathetically.
It seemed a shame such a loving couple should be denied.

“No luck for any of us.” Max pressed her lips
together and took a deep breath. “No child has been born on this
mountain for six years.” She ran with the others to help unload the
truck.

Elizabeth wanted to ask why, but infertility
was such a private matter and obviously a painful one. These women
were all so open and friendly. Still, they didn’t know her well
enough to call her friend.

The truck was loaded with more than her
belongings. The two tall and comfortable looking wingback chairs
would be perfect before the fire and the dinette set with four
matching chairs and a lovely corner cabinet would fit perfectly in
the corner by the kitchen. Her metal framed computer desk-in-a-box
looked incongruous against the antiques, but when blocked off from
the rest of the room by two glass fronted bookcases, it formed a
nice little office in one corner of the living area.

She was most excited to see the bed. She’d
only been camping once in her life, from which she returned sore
and covered with poison ivy. The thought of sleeping on the floor
held no nostalgic appeal.

It wasn’t until it was set up with the
headboard in place that she realized she was already familiar with
its comfort. It was the bed she’d slept in at Marshall’s and it
made her wonder if all these lovely things came from his home. She
was glad he held no grudge for the way she’d treated him last
night.

With the living area walls painted a soft
buttery yellow and the furniture in place throughout the room, the
Home Place lost its dismal look and began to look like, well, a
home.

There was still work to be done. The bedroom
needed a second coat and kitchen painting hadn’t been started. The
men would take care of the porches and she’d chosen a rosy red for
the doors and the shutters GW unearthed beneath the porch.

The others had gone home with promises to
return in the morning and after she’d finished the leftovers from
lunch, Elizabeth decided a shower was in order.

“I’m the only thing left to be washed.”

Chapter
8

No matter how late it was, no matter how
tired you were, sleeping alone in a new place in the middle of the
woods with no comforting normal house sounds and no curtains at the
windows wasn’t easy. Sure, she’d slept alone in her apartment, but
there were fifty-seven other tenants sleeping under that industrial
roof and she always had the comfort of knowing that if she
screamed, Mrs. Bee across the hall, who never slept and opened her
door at the slightest noise, would certainly hear her and call
911.

Elizabeth lay in bed staring at the
ceiling.

“Who would hear me scream out here?” she
asked the hole in the ceiling where a light bulb was supposed to
be. “Who would dial 911? Oh, wait a minute, there is no 911, only
Harmony, who’ll call everyone with the news before she calls the
cops.” She sighed and shrugged. “Oh well, at least she’s there if I
need her.”

“Oh yeah? And what will you call Harmony
with, Ms. Smar T. Pants? There’s no phone in this cabin and your
cell phone wouldn’t work even if it wasn’t dead because you can’t
remember where you stuffed the damn charger.” Shit. She’d crossed
the invisible line and was answering herself.

“Oh shut up and go make a cup of tea.”

Elizabeth used her flashlight to make her way
to the kitchen. The silky feel of the floors, worn smooth by
hundreds of years of bare feet before hers, eased her distress. Her
doors were barred and there were no horses here to attract the
wolves. A helpless old man lived here before her and according to
Max, he died of old age. She was perfectly safe.

She flipped the switch for the single forty
watt bulb that hung from the kitchen ceiling, took a mug from the
upper cupboard, filled it with water and laughed out loud. How much
of civilization we take for granted. No microwave. She’d have to do
this the old fashioned way.

The freshly washed pots were stored one
inside the other in the lower cupboard. She reached in and
something moved against her hand. She squealed, pulled back and
threw the cupboard door closed. She slammed the mug on the counter
and swore when the water sloshed. Damned mice!

They’d taken care of a dozen or more while
cleaning out the kitchen and after Max and the others laughed at
her timidity she sucked it up and took matters into her own hands.
She was becoming an accomplished mouse killer. She was a different
woman from the one who crossed paths with that furry rodent on the
porch this morning. She was brave. She was strong. She grabbed the
broom from the corner. She was going to kill the little
bastard.

She started at one end, pulling out the pots
and pans and attacking with her broom. She moved to the next
cupboard and the next, driving her foe before her. When it was
trapped in the corner with nowhere to run, she’d drive home the
killing blow. This was her home and she would not be driven out of
it by fear of the unknown. Or a shitty little mouse.

She threw open the final door, shifted the
broom and struck. She felt the impact and it was too large for a
mouse. A rat? She cringed and then straightened her shoulders. No
matter. Large or small, a rodent was a rodent and she wouldn’t
tolerate the creepy creatures in her kitchen. She leaned down to
get a better look at the enemy. It slithered right at her and fell
to the floor.

“Aaaaack!”

Elizabeth backpeddled and was still
backpeddling as she threw the broom to the floor. She grabbed the
flashlight and almost threw it, too. The snake crawled over the
broom and headed right for her or at least she thought it did. She
really didn’t stop to look. She was too busy running for the exit.
She threw the bar off the front door and headed for the path.

Across the overgrown yard she flew. She had
no shoes and wore only her nightgown. She didn’t care. She was sure
that thing was following her. It had to be five, six, eight feet
long!

She couldn’t get the stride she needed with
her legs restricted by the skirt of her gown. She reached with one
hand to draw it up over her knees, caught her toe on something and
stumbled. The flashlight went rolling down through the opening
between the roses. She scrambled after it and grabbed it. Still
running head down, she lurched into the path ahead.

And rammed into something resembling a brick
wall.

“Oh!” Her flashlight shone on heavy leather
work boots.

“Oooph!” Marshall’s large hands gripped her
shoulders as he doubled over. “What is it? What’s happened?” he
coughed out as he tried to straighten from her head-butt.

“Sna, s-s-sna, s-s-sna…” The word wouldn’t
come out. She wove her hand back and forth, snapping her thumb and
fingers together. “Sssss. Big!”

“Snake? Where? What kind?”

Kind? It was a snake. It was big. That’s all
she needed to know. Didn’t matter what kind of snake it was. The
important thing was to put as much distance between you and it as
quickly as possible. Marshall was violating the number one rule on
her list of What To Do If You Meet A Snake. He moved past her
toward the house.