Everleigh…

I slept harder than I could have imagined despite the oppressive heat of the cabin. I was finally jarred awake by the sound of an engine trying to turn over. It was disorienting at first, not knowing where the sound was coming from, but finally I realized it was below me.

I stood up and tossed my jacket down over the arm of the loveseat. I wanted to take my boots off so badly, but I didn’t know what I would find by accident with bare feet around this place. It was a tetanus shot waiting to happen… I looked down at my hands, at the healing marks both front and back and thought to myself, I’d already had one of those. Still, I didn’t want a matching set of holes through my feet, so the boots stayed on.

I went to the back door and opened it out onto the porch. I wished it was just a screen, but the porch itself, though it should be screened-in, was open-air. If it had been screened, it could be so much cooler in the cabin, but the windows didn’t have screens and I wasn’t a fan of bugs, as much as I loved nature.

There was another door at the back corner of the porch, just a screen, and I opened it to find a landing and square twist of stairs. I heard a bang, the clang of metal as a tool skittered across cement, and a curse.

I couldn’t help but smile, but I quickly wiped it off my face as I quietly descended the stairs.

Most men didn’t like it if you smiled or laughed at their expense. Bikers were even worse about it. I swear, it was some kind of complex the men I’d encountered had. I believe Margaret Atwood expressed it best when she said she’d asked a group of men what the worst thing a woman could do to them was. They’d answered ‘Laugh at them.’ When she posed the same question to women about men, their answer was stark. ‘I’m afraid he will kill me.’

I found it best, with my background, to not provoke any man in any way that I could think of and I was always thinking about it. Of course, there were some things that couldn’t be avoided… like things I hadn’t done but got blamed for, anyway.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked around. The barn-like doors of the garage under the stilted cabin were flung wide. Inside, an ancient pickup truck, more rust than faded tan paint, sat with its hood up, and Whiskey - I mean Narcos ‒ half-hanging out from under it. I didn’t know how to approach without startling him, so I stood back, and kind of just waited for him to notice me.

I didn’t have to worry about it, though, because he glanced at me from under one arm and asked, “Don’t suppose you know anything about cars, do you?”

I shook my head and he smiled and sighed.

“I think it’s the starter; I’m not real sure. I guess I’m going to have to take the bike into town and have it tested.”

I made a kicking motion with my foot, and he choked back a laugh.

“Have I tried kicking it?”

I nodded.

“Don’t think that’s how it works, honey.”

I gave a shrug. That was about the extent of my expertise when it came to the subject.

“You’re funny,” he said, nodding approvingly. “You got jokes.”

I smiled faintly and shrugged again, looking around. There was a lot of random junk in the garage behind and around the truck, same as I’d spied in the loft inside. This place needed a lot of work.

“You good if I head into town, do some shopping?” he asked.

I kind of frowned and looked around, giving a weak gesture with my hands, not sure how to express my question if it was all right if I were here on my own. He seemed to get it anyway, though.

“Just stay in the cabin or on the property. Don’t go in the river past your feet, the current is strong and there ain’t no one around to help you if you get dragged under.”

He had straightened up and was wiping his grease-stained hands on an old red rag. He looked me over and said, “I think its best you stay out of town, but if there’s anything you want, make a list. I’ll grab it for you.”

I chewed my bottom lip. There were some things I wanted, but nothing I was willing to ask for. I gave a weak shrug and his keen green eyes, so unlike my own, swept over me.

“You good?”

I nodded, a bit too quickly.

He said, “Power’s out in the cabin; I need to get some fuses. Place is super old-school. That’s why I was trying to get the truck running, so I could make a proper supply run. Nothing ever really goes as planned out here. Usually you gotta adapt and make do. That’s half the fun of life out here.”

I looked around and he smiled.

“Have a look around. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He left me standing there, taken aback that he trusted me not to run or disappear… Well, it was that, or he knew there was literally nowhere for me to go. I shivered despite the too-warm afternoon sunlight and ducked into the garage to look around. I hated not being busy, and if I was lucky, this place might provide me something to do.

As I suspected, the pile of junk in the back was a gold mine of home improvement things that just had yet to be utilized. Including a giant box with a mammoth roll of screen! There were other things back there too, things I could use to make things a little cozier upstairs, like pots for plants; there were plenty of things around the woods and river that were edible, I was sure of it…

I went upstairs to check the loft which was where I found, buried behind boxes and pots and pans, the true treasure – at least to me.

I smiled to myself. I could do a lot with this place, a little at a time. I mean, if I was allowed, but to be honest… I didn’t exactly have the ability to ask permission. But, beg forgiveness? That, I could do. That, I was an old hand at. It all came down to how brave was I willing to be?