Nora
I finger the necklace Angela gave me as a going away present and smile. It’s a rose gold solid circle with the word ‘logophile’ arched in cursive around it. I might have squealed when I opened it. Opening the door to my room, I take a moment and stand on the front porch. The only sounds are wind rustling mid-June leaves and some clanging from the main part of the house. A hushed voice commands something but I remind myself that I am a guest here and whatever it is, it’s none of my business. The air is heavy with humidity. I pull a packet of baby wipes from my toiletry bag and wipe myself down and grab the books for Lotte before heading into the cabin.
“There she is,” Holden says, when I enter the living area. He licks his lips and beams at me. In my ever-demure fashion, I give a gentle smile in return and cast my eyes downward. I don’t know what to do with blatant flirting. “Come on in.”
Lotte sits on an old, ripped couch, hands clutched in her lap, legs dangling. I make my way to the couch and sit next to her. “I brought these for you,” I say, handing her the small stack of books. She lets out a muted gasp and takes a moment to pick each book up, turn it over and stack it neatly back on her lap.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“You’re welcome.” While she stares at the books, I stare at her. Gone is the lively girl from a mere hour ago.
“Lotte, set the table, will you?” Holden asks.
Lotte jumps to attention. She sets the books on an end table. I stand as well. “What can I do to help?”
Holden pauses, takes me in from my toes up to my eyes, and curls his lips. “You’re doing it.”
I blush at his words. “Okay. Well, where should I sit?”
Holden uses the ladle to point to the chair closest to the bedroom doors. I follow his direction and sit as Lotte carries one bowl at a time to the table, followed by spoons. I watch Holden move around the kitchen. His athletic body moves gracefully.
He brings the pot to the table and sets it down before ladling soup into each of the three bowls. Lotte patiently and quietly sits between us. I wait patiently for my cue to eat. The last thing I had was a warm, squished, peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the bus ride.
Holden looks at Lotte and raises an eyebrow. She moves her hand away from her spoon.
“We’re working on etiquette,” he says. The word rolls off his tongue like honey. I grin.
“Oh, good to know. Do you know what the rule is, Lotte? Or should I call you Charlotte?”
She clears her throat. “Lotte. No one picks up their silverware to eat until the head of the table does.”
“You’re very smart. I didn’t know that when I was eleven.” Lotte grins at me. Holden lifts his spoon and dips it into his bowl. Lotte follows suit and I join in as well.
The first spoonful goes down and blows my mind. “Oh, my God, this is so good. What is it?”
Holden lets his spoon rest on the side of his bowl. “We don’t use the Lord’s name in vain here.” His tone is matter-of-fact, just a bit inimical. I stiffen, embarrassed. Lotte’s spoon clanks against her bowl and she freezes.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Nora, I’m just kidding,” he laughs out. Embarrassment creeps up my spine. “It’s rabbit stew.”
Before I have time to blanch at the word “rabbit” and stew together, Lotte says, “What’s a logo-pah-hile?” She leans toward my neck.
“It’s logophile,” I say. “It means I love words.”
“That’s a weird thing to love,” Lotte says.
I laugh. “It is. But I love them anyway.”
“What kinds of words?” Holden asks.
“Old, big words, mostly.” He strikes a match, holds the flame steady and lights a gas lamp on the table.
“Like what?” Lotte tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and puts her elbows on the table to lean forward.
“Lotte.” Holden’s voice is firm and loud. She immediately slides her elbows off the table.
“Like, ebullient. You, Lotte, were ebullient when I got here.”
Her eyes are full of curiosity and warmth. I smile knowing, that it’s a sign she likes learning, which will make my job easier. “What does it mean?” she asks.
Holden catches my gaze. His green eyes sparkle in the lamplight. I blink and focus on Lotte again. “Extremely lively, or enthusiastic.”
Holden lets out a belly laugh. I’m mesmerized at the sound of it. Deep, throaty and full. There is something captivating about it.
“That’s one word for her.” Lotte’s shoulders relax a smidge and she resumes eating.
The rest of dinner is silent. A couple of times I opened my mouth to start a conversation but closed it again before doing so. Lotte’s eyes, every so often, slide to Holden, then dart back to her bowl. When we’re done, I watch as Holden supervises Lotte’s attempt at clearing the table and doing the dishes. She runs outside, grabs a pail, pumps the well to fill it and hauls it back in to fill up the sink.
“I don’t mind helping out,” I say. I can’t bear to watch the twig-like girl do so much manual labor, while I just sit and watch.
Holden looks at me over his shoulder. “Nope. This is one of her chores.”
“Okay.” I look around the cabin. A few plaid blankets thrown over the couch. No family pictures. Books—nature books—line a small shelf. There are some games under the coffee table.
“But part of your job will be putting her to bed. I figure that’s a good time to read together.”
I smile and nod. “Lotte, have you read any of the books I brought?”
She shakes her head, while scrubbing the pot vigorously.
“Is there a book you already have that you’d like to read or should we start a new one?” I move so that I’m closer to her. She sets the pot down, dries her hands on her skirt and faces me.
“I’d really like to read A Wrinkle in Time.”
I lean in close to her ear. “That’s an excellent choice.” A small hand reaches up before I can right myself and two fingers push against my neck. I freeze. She smiles and pulls her fingers from my pulse point.
“You done yet?” Holden asks from the couch. Lotte rinses the pot, sets it on the countertop upside down and nods at him. “Go wash up then,” he says and Lotte trots off to her room without a word.
“I need to use the restroom.” I say.
Holden runs a hand through his hair. “Go right ahead.”
I clasp my hands together in front of me and look around. “Um, where is it?”
He stands and walks up to me. He is tall. So much taller than I am. He places a hand at the small of my back, sending goosebumps up my spine and putting an extra speed in my step as he ushers me to the front door. He swings it open. I step onto the porch. He points. “See that outhouse?” My face whips around to his in surprise. My chin is practically resting on his chest. He grins at me. “No running water. Remember?” My shoulders drop. Right. I nod at him. Holden leans against a support post on the porch and I start walking to the outhouse, while his gaze bores a hole into the back of my head.
“Tell me why you chose this book,” I ask Lotte. We’re in her room, which has nothing but necessities in it. No toys. No clothes strewn about. No pictures. Nothing but a bed, a dresser, a gas lamp and a bowl and pitcher of water to wash up with.
“I liked the cover. Have you read it?” she asks.
I smile and nod at her. “Yes. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Why?”
“Because, it’s a story about a girl who feels awkward and out of place, but has to learn to embrace her uniqueness. It’s a story about good and evil and love.” I stop and look at Lotte. She’s fingering my necklace. She seems younger than eleven. Or maybe I just had to grow up too fast. “I guess I felt like a lot of the story applied to me when I read it.”
“Don’t leave me,” she whispers.
“What?” I ask and roll onto my side to face her.
“Nothing. The book sounds good. We should read.” Frustrated and stumped, I agree with her and begin reading out loud. By nine, Lotte is fast asleep. I turn back two pages and dog ear it so that tomorrow we’ll be at a spot she was still awake to remember.
When I quietly tiptoe from her room, Holden is sitting on the couch near the woodstove with a mug. He looks rough but not too rough. Like a lumberjack. He has that lumbersexual thing going for him. Aubry would definitely call it that. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, which sets me at ease.
“Would you like tea?”
I shake my head. “I’m pretty beat. I think I might just hit the sack.”
“Have a cup of tea with me first. It’ll keep you warm for the night.” I nod and make my way to the kitchen, but he stands and motions for me to sit instead. “I’ll get it.”
Now that it’s just the two of us my nerves begin to kick in. My hands tremble and I will myself to calm down. He won’t hurt me. This is your boss, I remind myself. The couch creaks when I sit down. I rub my arms. The heat of the day has dropped off. I’m not used to it cooling down so much so fast.
“It gets chilly here at night, no matter how hot the day was,” Holden says, handing me a mug. I clutch it between my palms and let the warmth heat my fingers.
“I’ve never been this far out into the mountains before.”
He raises his brows. “No?”
“Nope.” I tuck my feet up under me.
“Tomorrow you and Lotte should go explore after chores are done.”
“What does she need to do? And what schedule should I plan on for tutoring her?”
Holden sips from his mug. His full lips glisten when he pulls away. “I need you to shadow her while she feeds the animals, pumps enough water for the house for the day—that type of stuff. I know it’s only June, but there’s a lot of prep work I need to get done before winter hits. While you’re with her, if you see any teachable moments, teach. Later, after lunch until dinner, you two are free to sit and work on lessons.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“She likes you,” he says and smiles. “That’s good. Important.”
I gulp my tea because I don’t know how to respond to that. Holden watches me while I finish my tea. It sets my body on fire. Makes me antsy and insecure. “I’m going to head to bed.” I stand and walk my mug to the sink. When I turn toward the door, Holden is only a foot from me. I stiffen—startled.
“You’ll need this.” He holds a gas lamp. I blink.
“Right. Of course,” I say. I take the lantern from him and wait. He hovers a moment longer before moving aside so I can pass by.
“Night,” I squeak out before closing the door behind me.
“Sweet dreams.”
I shudder on the porch and quickly enter my room. I pull the door closed and look for the lock but there isn’t one. I open it and poke my head outside—the lock is on the outside of the door. I set the lantern on the nightstand and sigh. I’m overwhelmed by the area, the remoteness of it. I’m nervous about doing my job well and about the domineering presence Holden exudes. I slip off my clothes and slip into pajama shorts and a tank. I wish I had brought sweatpants. I had no idea it would be this chilly at night. Then again, I don’t really have any experience with the mountains or anywhere for that matter. Before this, I’d never ventured more than two towns away from home in any direction.
I run two fingers over the faces of my parents and wish them a good night before settling under the covers with a paperback. The floorboards in the cabin creak every so often. I can see light through the boards that connect the cabin to my room. I sit up, dog ear my page and pull my long hair into a ponytail. I turn the dial on the lantern off around eleven. I stare at the ceiling, into the blackness. Only silence surrounds me. The wind rustles trees. Sticks break and echo far from the cabin. Fresh night air wafts in from between the boards of the room. The stillness of the night is cathartic. I close my eyes and let myself drift to sleep.