Chapter Seven
Luke
The woman was absolutely infuriating. All I was trying to be was a good neighbor. I just wanted her to know that I was available to help her get settled into the new area if I could and maybe tell her about the local things I knew about. According to Ryan, she was a tree hugger, so I assumed that meant she also like locally sourced produce. Milk and eggs were fairly easy to come by right now, and the farmers market would be opening in the next few weeks. I only wanted to be friendly. After all, I have to live next door to her for the foreseeable future. Why wouldn’t I be?
I grabbed the mail after my run and found a letter for her, so I carried it to the house. I wasn't expecting her to be sitting on the porch, so I just sat the letter down and walked away.
I spent the next few hours working on some partially done small projects that I needed to completed, and then I watched a few videos of guys I would be competing against in the small room at the back of my shop that Ryan had dubbed “Luke’s Cage.” He read too many comics growing up.
By the time I was done, I checked the time and realized people would be arriving soon for the cookout Ryan and I had planned a few weeks before. Well, truth is, Ryan had planned it. I didn’t have much say in the matter.
As I walked to my back door, I found my plate sitting there, cleaned as she had promised. I picked it up as I walked in the house. Ryan was already in the kitchen stocking the fridge with his favorite adult beverage.
“Hey man,” he said as I walked in.
“Hey,” I replied.
“Well, that was unenthusiastic. We need to turn that frown upside down!” he said in a chipper tone.
“I’m good. Just been a long day.”
“You need a beer, my friend.” He reached in the cooler next to him and pulled out a bottle, handing it to me.
“Thanks,” I replied, popping the top.
He went back to arranging things in the fridge. “Oh, I invited Emmy over for the cookout,” his voice echoed.
“She won’t come,” I stated coldly.
Ryan popped his head out of the fridge and shot me a curious look. “Why do you say that?” he asked.
“Because I’m fairly certain she can’t stand me. So, there’s that.”
“Hmm... I don’t think that’s the case. She might think you’re a jerkface for keeping her awake at night with all of your chainsawing and manly machine noises, but she can probably stand you. At least a little.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“Well, I think she’ll come over. At least for a little bit. I told her there were some people I wanted to introduce her to.”
“We’ll see,” I stated and took a long swig of my beer.
***
Nearly twenty people had shown up for the cookout, and things were getting a little loud. I kept glancing at the door, secretly wishing Emmy would show up, but she didn't. I couldn’t tell you why I was hoping she would; like I’d told Ryan, it was pretty clear she wasn’t too fond of me. I wasn’t used to that. People generally liked me unless I’d really given them reason not to; maybe that was why it bothered me: I didn’t think I’d really given her a reason.
As the evening got later and later, I found myself wondering if she was trying to get to sleep and just getting madder at me for the noise even, though she surely had to know the cookout was all Ryan’s doing. The same guy who was currently stumbling up my stairs toward the guest room with some chick. I just leaned back on the couch, shaking my head.
“I really hate that guy,” the brunette said as she sat plopped down beside me. When I looked over, I knew her name was Sandy or Sharon or something close to that. “He is all over the place, all the time.”
“He’s just having fun.” I lifted a bottle of water to my lips. I stopped after the fourth beer and switched to water. I’d never been one to drink until I was trashed.
“Yeah. Fun,” she chided. “At the expense of every girl in town.”
“He doesn’t make any promises as far as I know. If you fall into that bed, then you already know what you're getting.” I was uncomfortable talking about Ryan and his sexual escapades.
“At least you aren't like that.” She smiled and leaned in a little closer.
She was right. I was definitely not like that, and I was definitely not going there with her. I have always been a firm believer in the bro code, and I wasn't going anywhere near anyone that Ryan had slept with. We learned the hard way in high school that girls are territorial and that even going on a date with one girl’s friend basically started World War Three. Through the years, Ryan has managed to sleep with most of the girls in town at one point or another—it’s a small town—and they always thought they would be the one that tamed him. While he has had a few relationships, they were never long lasting.
The brunette traced her finger over the ridge on my forearm and pressed her chest against my arm. I should have stood then, but nothing she did was going to get me sleep with her. Ryan had told me about her and, even if it was exaggerated, there wasn't a chance in hell that this chick was getting any part of me.
“Nope, I'm not like that, and I don't sleep with anyone Ryan has been with. You should know that, Sharon,” I said, focused on the bottle in my hands.
“That was years ago,” she stated and leaned in a little closer. “And my name is Sheree. I just thought we could have a little fun.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested.” I pushed away and stood before walking out of the room and through the screen door into the backyard. There was a game of cornhole going on, so I watched for a while and talked with the others standing around.
An hour later, people started to trickle out. I cleaned up what I could outside and then made my way into the house. Ryan’s voice echoed through the walls as I stood in the bathroom, brushing my teeth. I couldn't make out what he said, but the mumbling turned into loud moans and then an occasional scream. I was used to it, but I was also used to it coming through the walls from his side of the house and not necessarily from my guest room. Unfortunately, I had heard his lady friends and their noises so often that sometimes I could tell who he was with. I doubted there was a place on the property that he hadn't bagged one of them. Once, when the screams had come from my shop, I put my foot down. I thought back to the conversation.
“No more in the shop, dude. I don't want my stuff getting messed up.”
“Man, she was hot! And then she bent over your tool bench, ass in the air.”
“Don't do it again,” I’d commanded.
“It was almost primal, man. It smelled like fresh cut wood out there, and I tried to convince her to take it against a tree but she wanted to do it in there... so we did. What was I going to tell her? No?”
“Yeah, that's exactly what you were supposed to tell her. No! That's my office, dude.”
“Okay, okay, sorry. Did I tell you how hot she was?” Ryan laughed and slapped me on the shoulder.
I shook my head remembering that conversation. I knew I was the stick in the mud in our tandem. I was the wing man, and he was the pilot. And everyone knows the pilot gets all the girls. I halfway expected he’d have the girl next door before it was all said and done.
***
An entire week passed without any interaction between Emmy and me. I rarely saw her, and when I did, it was only for a brief moment as she passed by the window of my shop heading out into the woods as she did every day. She was normally gone about an hour or so at roughly the same time every day. I considered telling her to be on the lookout for bears and mountain lions since there had been a few spotted in the area over the last few years, but after the response I got sharing information regarding other local stuff, I wasn’t about to make that mistake again. Besides, she seemed to be a pretty smart girl. I figured she probably already knew and would take precautions, but I kept an eye out for her return each day just in case.
One afternoon as I was washing out one of my stain trays by the side of the shop, she came walking quickly from the woods. She didn't look frightened, but she was moving as fast as she could without actually running. She sped past me never slowing or acknowledging me and headed straight to the house.
I finished what I was doing and made my way back into the house. There was a knock on my front door, but by the time I made my way there, the only thing I found was my mail in a pile on the porch. I wanted to thank her, but I wasn't going to go over just for that reason. Besides, I had some place to be, so I cleaned up and left a little after three to drive over to Ryan’s family’s business to pick up the scrap lumber I needed for my next project. Ryan was standing in the office looking over some paperwork with his dad when I arrived.
I stepped into the office. “Can you help me load that pile out there?” I asked.
“I can't right at the moment, but John should be able to help, or if you’re not in a rush, you can hang out for a few until we finish.” I sat down on a bench by the door and listened as they talked about the next shipment of raw wood set to be arriving. Their conversation was easy and friendly even though the stress in his father’s tone was evident. Their small, family-owned business had taken a hit after the large wildfires had ripped a hole in the logging community several months back. Shortages of wood was an issue, and unfortunately it hit the smaller businesses the hardest.
“It'll be fine, Pops, we have enough inventory in the buildings to fill all the orders placed through next month. And I’ve already arranged to get a shipment of raw wood in from a new supplier in Oregon.” He cupped his father’s shoulder and then looked up at me. “Ya ready?”
“Yup.” I stood, saying hi and bye to his father, and then hopped down the stairs.
“How’s Emmy?”
“Oh, so, it's Emmy now? What happened to Emerson?” I said sarcastically, referring to all the times he’d led me to believe a male would be my new neighbor.
“It's always been Emmy.” He grinned up at me.
“Good to know.” I kicked at the gravel as I walked.
“Well?”
“I haven't said a word to her in days. She walks around like I don't even exist and, well, I guess I've grown accustomed to it.” I leaned down and grabbed a couple of pieces of small timber and dropped them in the bed of my truck. He walked over to a large trunk that would be the centerpiece of my next table. I followed, and we lifted it into the bed with a good bit of effort then paused to take a few breaths.
“Well, I’d suggest trying to talk to her, but I know you,” he jabbed.
“Clearly, she doesn’t want to talk to me, so... what would be the point?”
“She’ll come around. I mean, you’re so lovable and all,” he said and reached out to pinch my cheek like I was a three-year-old.
I dodged his attempt. “And you’re a jackass.”
“It’s part of my charm,” he grinned then changed the subject. “There are some pieces for our next round of workouts over by the mill. Wanna drive over there?”
“I sure as hell don't want to carry them this far,” I laughed and walked around the truck, hopping in and laughing as Ryan stood on the lowered tailgate. He acted like he was surfing as I drove slowly around the lumber yard to the cutting mill on the right side of the property. We loaded the remaining pieces, and I headed back home.
***
Emmy’s truck was gone when I arrived. I found myself wondering where she might have gone to and realizing how very little I really knew about her and her life. Not that I was going to get to find out, ya know, since she had no desire to even acknowledge my existence.
I pulled my truck around to the shop and backed the truck up, pushing all but the large trunk to the ground and stacking the pieces for use later under the shelter so they’d stay dry. Ryan said he’d swing by with John tomorrow to help me unload the large piece and place it in my shop. It had to be handled a little bit differently because any cracks could ruin it.
When I was done unloading, I backed the truck under the shelter and worked in the shop until the sun faded. I’d been listening for Emmy’s truck, and I sighed when I heard it coming down the long drive as I was cleaning up. It silenced, and then I heard the sound of her screen door open then slam shut. It seemed as though it was going to be one more day of silence with my neighbor.
I finished up in the shop then headed into the backyard and laid down in the grass. It was something I often did at the end of a day. Looking up at the stars always relaxed me and put life into perspective a little. I liked laying there in the silence of the night. There were no lights for miles, and it was as though it was just me and the stars and nothing to interfere with the view. Pitch darkness.
The sound of a door opening and then the flip of a blanket a few feet from me as it was waved through the air signaled I was no longer alone. After a bit of rustling, a dim light landed over the blanket. I looked toward the sounds and found her lying on her back with a tablet in her hands reading.
“You’re missing the best part,” I said softly, knowing she hadn’t seen me.
I heard a short shriek and then a laugh. “Jesus, you scared me.”
“Sorry,” I chuckled. “I just wanted you to know I was out here.”
“Noted,” she said a little breathless.
“How was your day?” I asked.
A tiny moan escaped her throat and then silence. “Not too bad, I suppose. I signed the final paperwork for my grant today, so it looks like I'll be here for a while, a year at least.”
“That's great.” I sat up looking over at her. She was looking in my direction, but I wasn’t sure she could see me very well. Still, there was a spark of something in the way she was looking toward me. And as much as I felt like she couldn’t stand me due to her avoidance, every time I was near her, an unexplainable feeling stretched through my chest. I took in the softness of her features and the arc to her lips as the light from the device illuminated her face, and I resisted the impulse to reach over and trace the curve of her cheek. She smiled softly and blinked hard, looking away as if she had realized we were having a moment and she couldn’t allow it. She laid her head back down, placing the tablet on her chest and extinguishing the light, leaving us both in darkness once more.
“Hopefully, I can find some answers,” she said. I assumed she was referring to her grant, but the tone of her voice suggested there might be more to her words. I waited for her to speak again, but as the sounds of the night grew louder, I figured she was done talking.
I lay back down for a bit, enjoying the moment with her, listening to the sounds around us, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her hand or connect with her in some way. It was a ridiculous urge, considering our relationship—or lack thereof. Still, it was there.
After what felt like an hour of restraint, but was probably only fifteen minutes, I stood to head to the house.
“Be safe out here,” I said looking down at her. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, and I could easily make out her form laying there. “Goodnight, Emmy.”
“Goodnight, Luke,” she replied lazily as though she were so relaxed she was already half asleep. It was a soothing, beautiful sound.
I walked away, leaving her to the night.