Nameless 16 – Seeds

Dennis looked into a pair of the darkest eyes he’d ever seen. The hair on his arms and back of his neck stood on end. It felt as if electrically charged ants were crawling up his arms and down his spine. He had a cold, hard, ball in the pit of his stomach. Still, he held his ground. “What are you?” Dennis asked the tall shadowed form.

An exasperated snickering sound came from the shadows. “I am disappointed, Major.” He paused and studied Dennis’ face. He had expected surprise to show up there at hearing himself addressed as ‘Major’. He narrowed his dark eyes studiously, his irritation with Dennis the Brave was growing. “Really,” he continued, “I go to the bother of allowing you this little face-to-face meeting and that’s the best you can come up with? What am I?” The shadows shifted around him as he turned rueing that he had even considered giving this idiot Dennis a moment of his precious time. He was so surprised, dark eyes widened and jaw actually dropping, he almost forgot his growing aggravation. Dennis actually moved to block his exit.

“What is she to you?” Dennis asked, carefully enunciating each word.

“Ahhh,” the tall shadow replied, drifting back a pace and regarding Dennis thoughtfully. “Now that is a far more productive inquiry.”

Joey, a pile of tabby fur, was curled up next to the fireplace. He watched her pace back to the kitchen window and look out again. She was looking for the Dennis. Joey was not fond of the Other Man, he could be scary sometimes. But then, the one called Dennis could yell real loud when Joey played with a no-no, which made him a little scary sometimes too. Joey was convinced that, if they wanted to, either of them would eat him. He balled up a little tighter and purred away the frightening thought. His ears twitched and he lifted his head to look toward the back door. He thought he had heard something from outside back there.

She knew the cat had seen something. She watched the shadows shift along the side of the barn. Wind was causing their movement. Still, she thought she saw something, someone, further back just past the barn. She twisted her wedding band around its place on her finger, closed her eyes, and with all she could muster, willed Dennis to come back, to come inside, now.

It reminded her of when Dennis had the stroke. The night she sat by his hospital bed. The doctors had told her she needed to use the time to tell him goodbye. But she could not do that. She loved him. She wanted to be with him and for them to go home. She held his hand and focused all her energy, even her heartbeat, on Dennis. It felt like she went down some sort of rabbit hole. She clung to him as tightly as she could, until she felt him holding too, onto her. When she opened her eyes, his arm was around her shoulders and he was smiling at her. The doctors were amazed and two days later, they went home, together.

This time, she opened her eyes and saw a tall form coming along the side of the barn, toward the house. She went out the back door and onto the porch. As soon as he stepped onto the steps, her arms were around Dennis’ neck. He hugged her tightly to him, and let her lead him inside. He smiled when she pressed the glass of whiskey into his hand.

Normal. Routine. Keep it all calm, don’t let her panic. Now was not the time for her to schizo away from him. Routine. The deal was, he’d tell her what happened after she cooked some supper. Dennis wasn’t really hungry, but he’d eat. He’d stand on his head if that would keep her close to him, where he could keep her safe. Dennis would tell her most of what had happened. Most. He would even explained that the gold cufflink had disappeared from his hand, reclaimed by its owner. He listened to the sounds coming from the kitchen, her pots and pans rattling, her feeding Joey. He smiled at her chatting with the meowing cat.

Dennis studied the computer screen carefully picking a link response to his search. He’d not tell her about this. When the page loaded, he began reading:

Persephone was titled Kore (the Maiden) as the goddess of spring’s bounty. Once upon a time when she was playing in a flowery meadow with her Nymph companions, Kore was seized by Haides and carried off to the underworld as his bride. Her mother Demeter despaired at her disappearance and searched for her throughout the world accompanied by the goddess Hekate bearing torches. When she learned that Zeus had conspired in her daughter’s abduction she was furious, and refused to let the earth fruit until Persephone was returned. Zeus consented, but because the girl had tasted of the food of Haides–a handful of pomegranate seeds–she was forced to forever spend a part of the year with her husband in the underworld. Her annual return to the earth in spring was marked by the flowering of the meadows and the sudden growth of the new grain. Her return to the underworld in winter, conversely, saw the dying down of plants and the halting of growth.

Dennis looked over at the pile of seeds that had replaced the gold cufflink in his hand. Pomegranate seeds. He thought, again, about the answer Dark Eyes had given to his question, what is she to you?

“She is my Persephone, and I her Haides.”

Nameless 15 – The First Time

Dr. Anderson had finally left. His son-in-law might be a Deputy Sheriff, but he was a sloppy one. He had left Anderson’s office not even noticing Anderson had kept the cigar butt “evidence.” Closing his fist around it with a glare and a deep snarl, convinced Dr. Anderson he wasn’t getting it back from Dennis. If he had known the butts were going to be that popular, he’d of started charging for them. He sighed, shifted his lean form against the barn wall, and swatted absentmindedly at the little breeze that kept tumbling about his legs. His dark eyes narrowed as he peered through the gathering night at them, sitting on the back steps. Her head rested on Dennis’ shoulder and she held their plump tabby, Joey, cradled in her arms like a snoozing baby. Dennis sat with one arm draped protectively across her, his stroking of Joey’s fur having eroded to a sort of vague plucking at it. With his other hand, he turned the purloined cigar butt over and over, as if examining it from every angle, as if there might still be some hidden aspect he’d not yet discovered.

“I need to go start dinner,” she said and started to get up.

Dennis’ arm across her stayed firm, “Sit,” he said softly. With a sigh, she remained, but Joey rolled over to begin his own examination of the cigar butt. Dennis dropped it down onto the step at his feet and watched Joey begin to delicately nudge it around with one big fuzzy paw. Dennis turned so that he could see more of her next to him, and said, “So, the first time you saw him was when you started writing, back when we made the giant dreamcatcher.”

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she focused on stroking his fingers curled around her thigh.

Dennis sighed, gently squeezed her leg, “Okay. So you saw him before then.”

She looked up to Dennis’ face, then made one very small slow nod, yes. She put her closed hand over his empty hand. Dennis swallowed. He felt something small and hard drop into his hand. When she pulled her hand back. A shiny gold cufflink rested in the same hand that had held the cigar butt for examination.

Dennis closed his hand and studied her face. He saw the lost look form in her eyes, then watched them focus back on him. He took a deep breath, “Do you know when you first saw him?”

When she nodded, Dennis just knew he wasn’t going to be throwing a party over the answer. He frowned some as he noticed her glance quickly over toward the barn, again. He looked, again, and saw nothing – no one – over there. He looked back at her and waited patiently.

She reached up and pulled Dennis down so that she could whisper into his ear, “I first saw him after the first time I died.”

Dennis reached his arm around her and pulled her up and into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. He knew she had actually died, flatlined, three times. The first time though was when she was 17 and her brother, in a drunken rage, had hit her in the head with a baseball bat. Almost ten minutes after the ER doctor had pronounced her dead, the Priest who had given her last rites, held her wrist to fold her hands and was shocked when he felt a pulse. She and Dennis were dating back then. He’d just decided he wanted to ask her to marry him.

“After,” Dennis repeated. “You saw him the first time, after, you recovered. Right?” As he waited for her to answer, he gazed unfocused into the shadows along the barn. He froze and his eyes focused on one dark area. Something, someone, was there – he knew it – he’d seen their movement. He kept his eyes on the spot, and whispered for her to take Joey and go inside. A chill ran down Dennis’ spine when she turned her head and looked directly to where he’d seen the movement before picking up Joey and moving up the steps.

She half turned at the top step, “Please, Den, come in with me.”

Dennis stayed focused on that one spot, “Go on in now, Honey. I’ll be along in just a minute.” A pause, then he heard the screen door softly close behind him. Keeping his eyes steady on the shadowy dark area, Dennis got up and began walking toward it. The night was still, yet as he approached the barn, a little puff of a whirlwind began swirling around his ankles and up to his knees. Without losing sight of his goal, and without thinking about it, Dennis reached down to his knees and flipped his hand around in a shooing away gesture, saying, “Not now. Go play.”

The little breeze puffed about in a small tumble then romped over to wind through the pile of spent garden, yard and farm bits and pieces.

Without a pause, Dennis stepped into the darkness toward the back of the barn. Once there, he stopped and looked around. Before him was an old tump and short section of patched rock wall. Both had stood there off that back corner of the barn for ages. Past it, the surrounding forest came up near to the tump, then edged on around forming the original clearing for the farm. To his left were the few remaining feet of an old picket-style fence that once must have skirted along part of the tump. To his right, a path continued on over it to their back pasture.

He stood completely still and listened. Dennis was only a few feet away from him. His dark eyes shined in the night, mixing in with the other pinpricks of light amid the trees and bushes in the dark. He could hear Dennis breathing, not stressed, steady. He watched Dennis’ eyes work their way methodically around, toward him. He narrowed his eyes. Dennis, head turned, had stopped his search and was watching intently within inches of where he hid his tall shadow among those of the trees.

After a few moments, Dennis made a slow sigh and made to turn and head back to the house. Then, for reasons he’d never be able explain, Dennis turned back quickly. Suddenly, they were looking, directly, eye-to-dark-eye, at each other.

Nameless 14 – Arrival

He had soaked it four times now and rebuilt it twice. Still the carburetor stuck. Aggravated, Dennis dropped it onto his work table. He paused and listened. Deciding it was a car he heard, and that it was approaching, he went over to the open barn door. He glanced through the space created by the heavy hinges between the door and it’s frame.

Dennis stopped and backed up till he could again see through the gap. He frowned and turned his head sideways so he could see better. She was sitting on the back porch steps. He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and looked again. It looked like she was talking with someone. She was looking off toward Dennis’ left. But if he shifted to see in that direction, the doorframe cut off his view. “Damn it,” Dennis swore softly and stepped quickly out of the barn. He immediately turned to the back porch. There she sat, iPad in her lap, wide eyes staring at him as if she could not figure him out. With an exasperated sigh, Dennis turned his attention to their drive and the approaching car.

His tall lean form disappeared into the shadows along the side of the barn. A pair of dark eyes closed as he forced himself to relax, despite how close he’d come to running right through Dennis. He reached up to brush his hair back from his face and felt a looseness at one of his cuffs. He smiled recalling it was the one she had been fidgeting with. Thinking she must have loosened it, he turned his arm to refasten the link in his shirt cuff. Shock mixed with a large dose of fear percolated through him when he realized the whole cuff link was missing. He turned his head sharply back toward her and he saw it. It was there. His eyes met her steady gaze straight at him. Involuntarily, he pressed back deeper into the shadows and side of the barn. Only his dark eyes moved, watching her slip his missing gold cufflink between her fingers and into her skirt pocket. Inwardly he groaned, ‘What is she going to do with it?’ he asked himself.

To his surprise, it was a recent model BMW that pulled from the drive and stopped toward the back of the house. Dennis frowned, there was no way this could be good. The man that exited the car looked familiar to Dennis, but he was unable to place him. The man nodded toward Dennis, “Major Moran.”

Dennis’ surprise was so sharp it nearly hurt. It was the fink shrink, Dr. Anderson. Dennis approached Anderson’s BMW, not giving him time to move any closer to the house, back porch, or her. “Whatever damned reason you think you are here for, I don’t give a crap about.” Dennis gestured toward Anderson’s car, “You just climb back into your auto, and get the hell off my property.”

Dr. Anderson held his hands up in mock surrender. “Dennis, now, I know I’m not your favorite person.”

Dennis answered with a combination of evil grin, maniacal laugh, disparaging snort and a growl.

Dr. Anderson did his best to hold his ground, “Five minutes, Major, just five minutes, please. I think you are going to want to hear what I have to say.”

Seconds ticked off as Dennis glared at Anderson, considered everywhere the man’s body could be hidden and how much he hated the psychiatrist.

A pair of alert dark eyes watched the standoff with keen interest from the shadows. Their owner absently fingering a cigar in his suit coat pocket, wishing he could lite it.

She had put down her iPad and picked up their plumb moggy, Joey. Dennis felt her close at his side and heard Joey’s soft mew. The tabby turned to see this new visitor, maybe they had come bearing treats. Anderson’s eyes shifted to her and the cat. Joey’s eyes narrowed followed by a deep menacing growl.

Dennis smiled as the cat erupted with a loud hissing growl. Softly he agreed with the cat’s opinion of Dr. Anderson, “I completely agree, Joey, completely.” Dennis shrugged, “Even animals know you’re bad news, Doctor.” He paused long enough to enjoy Anderson’s discomfort. “Look, here’s the deal, Doc. Whatever you’ve come to try and say she did, or whoever she’s supposed to have upset, she didn’t. This stops right here, right now.”

Anderson shook his head quickly, “No, no, you don’t understand.”

The tall shadowy form shifted and relaxed against the barn. He was actually impressed. It seemed Dennis had stronger stuffing than he’d originally thought. He was certainly protective of her. Dark eyes studied Dennis up and down. He was tall, well built, was probably once more physically strong than now. But, he figured, Dennis could probably still come out on the winning end of whoever crossed him. He closed his dark eyes in thought as he stroked the bridge of his nose with a long finger. He was not sure, yet, if this new assessment of Dennis helped or not.

Dennis shifted to keep more of himself between Dr. Anderson and her, and Joey. “You’ve got four minutes fifty seconds left, Doc.”

Anderson spoke quickly. “You know my son-in-law is a deputy with the County Sheriff’s Department,” then paused.

Dennis shrugged, “Don’t care, Doc.”

Anderson dipped his head and spread his hands, “Okay.” He cleared his throat and continued. “He told me about a call he responded to last night over in Trass End.” He looked at Dennis and was met with an expressionless gaze. So Anderson continued, “The woman there said a man somehow appeared – her word – appeared, in her house. He scared her really bad.”

“I’m so sorry,” Dennis mumbled, then more loudly, “Three minutes, Doc.”

“Okay,” Anderson answered, “This man told her he knew she still heard from her father. And, she was to tell him to stay away from Trass Falls Farm.”

Dennis froze, and stared hard at Dr. Anderson. Trass Falls Farm was here, where they were standing, their home.

Seeing he now really had Dennis’ attention, Anderson continued. “The thing is, the real reason I’m here,” Anderson took a deep breath to steady himself. Dennis arched an eyebrow in question and a pair of dark eyes narrowed in the shadows. “The thing is,” Anderson said, “the description of this man is all over one of the files in my office.”

Dennis felt pain in his chest and realized he’d been holding his breath.

“Her file,” Anderson confirmed with a gesture to where she mostly hid behind Dennis, clutching the cat in here arms. “I mean exactly. The description given to my son-in-law matches her description of this…visitor she sees.”

Dennis groaned, then cut it off, “That does not mean anything, not in itself. And besides, why would he tell you this?”

“Because,” Anderson said, “he was asking me if the description matched anyone I knew around town. You know, I know a lot of people here.”

“Uh-huh,” Dennis said. He turned, put his arm around her shoulder and began walking them back toward the house. “Have a nice day, Doctor, and get off my land.”

“Wait!” Anderson cried.

Surprised, Dennis turned to look.

Anderson pulled a paper bag from his car and approached Dennis holding it out before him. He grabbed Dennis’ hand and twisted it up. He then shook out the contents of the small sack. A very distinctive cigar butt fell into Dennis’ open palm.

Dennis stared at it. “I’ve already disposed of several of these, Doc. That was my point when I dumped them out on your desk.” He looked up at Anderson even as he was feeling her arms tighten around his waist. “Big deal, Doc.”

“Yes,” Anderson agreed keeping his eyes even with Dennis’, “the father the woman is supposed to still be in contact with, that she’s supposed to warn off, died unexplainably 17 years ago. And this one,” he glanced down at the butt in Dennis’ hand then back up to Dennis, “this one was found in Trass End outside her house.”

Nameless 13 – Remember

She was sitting on the back porch steps, intently studying something on her iPad. Intrigued, he moved closer.

In her periphery vision, she saw a man’s well tended Oxford shoe step onto the step next to her feet. Her eyes shifted from the image on her iPad screen to study it. It was laced and tied as perfectly as it was polished and was pointing in the opposite direction from her feet. She noted that it’s owner was facing her. Her eyes traveled up the long, tailored, black pant leg. A hand, followed by a French cuff with a gold cufflink that disappeared into an equally tailored black suit coat sleeve, rested on the long leg’s thigh. She tipped her head to the side as if looking at him on a slant made a difference. Her eyes were considering the pearled buttons on his hand-sewn shirt when his other hand reached toward her. Long fingers, strong, grasped her iPad and flipped it around to rest on his arm, palm side up. He examined what had so held her attention.

A rather satisfied sigh rumbled up from his chest. His voice had its ubiquitous British accent and felt like a liquid flowing to her and around her. He softly commented, “The Café Terrace on the Place du Forum at Night, painted in Arles, France, September 1888. It hangs now in the Kröller-Müller Museum in Otterlo, The Netherlands. An oil on canvas painted by Vincent Van Gogh.” He paused in thought, then continued, “You know, I’m not entirely surprised to find you appreciating Van Gogh’s work.”

“Why did he put shadow people in the painting?” she asked him.

Dark eyes quickly flicked up from the image resting on his arm to focus on her. Their gaze deepened as they leaned in closer to each other. The tip of his nose brushed her hair. As she looked down at the iPad in his hand and the image of the painting, he breathed in the lavender scent of her hair. As she studied it, he studied her.

She lifted her hand and pointed, “See?” and glanced back up to his face.

His eyes met hers. He raised his eyebrows in question, “Hm?”

Her brows creased in a small frown and she looked back down at the image. “Here,” she said with a small tap on the screen, “and here, and here.”

His lips were close enough he could have so easily pressed them to her temple. There, where the strands of gray were still out numbered by the blond ones. Having gotten no response from him, she looked back up at his face. He felt like he was sliding. This was not how things went for him. He was the one that charmed and enchanted. They got lost in meeting his gaze, not the other way around. He tried to clear his throat but failed.

She frowned again. With a touch as delicate as a feather, she caressed his cheek and peered at him intently, “Are you okay?”

A smile curled the corners of his lips. “Yes,” he said dropping is eyes to the image of the Van Gogh painting, “yes, Love, I’m quite well.”

Her eyes stayed focused on his face, “You see them. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” he pointed with his free hand to the iPad screen, “here and here.”

“And here,” she whispered into his ear.

For a moment he froze, then turned his head to look at her. He could feel her breath on his cheek and lips. He slowly blinked his dark eyes and swallowed. He looked away and mumbled, “yes.”

She grasped his shoulder and pushed him upright while bending to see his face, his eyes. “What? What did you say?”

He sighed and dropped his shoulders in mock surrender then looked at her. “Yes. I said yes. I see them, and yes, I see them here. Hell, I see them all over the damned place.”

She straightened, and looked at him as one might would a bug under a glass. “I do too.”

With an exasperated snort, he shoved the iPad back to her. He moved his foot from next to hers and straightened. Standing upright, he towered over her. He glanced around, then looked down at her head bowed over her iPad again studying the painting. It flashed through his mind that she’d just returned to where he’d found her. A short growl-like snarl expressed his frustration. He thrust his hands into his pant pockets and returned to his studious gaze of her.

After a moment, he withdrew his hands and stepped his other foot up next to her. This time past the step where her feet rested, to the step where she was seated. He was even careful to not tread upon the end of her sweater. Resting his arm across his bent knee and lacing his fingers together, he bent forward till his lips were close to her ear. He whispered, “I know what you see. I know what you hear. I listen to the things you don’t tell him.” He paused to glance at her face. She made no response, but he knew she heard him. He leaned in very close, using the tip of his nose, he untucked the hair from behind her ear. He smiled at her aggravation and the way she tucked it back. Using a long index finger, he traced the edge of her ear and again released the hair behind it.

Still acting annoyed, she emoted as much aggravation as she could into her gestures. Was it intentional, the way the bridge of his nose caressed against her cheek as she turned to him? He was so close that when he smiled, his mustache tickled her lips. She giggled, and his smile widened. His dark eyes danced with a once extinct glisten. He leaned his forehead against hers and drew his fingertips along her cheek and jaw in a tender caress. He watched her small fingers explore across his long ones. For a moment, time stood still for him.

The sound of a car on the drive jerked him back to reality. Alarmed, she watched him step away for a better view of the drive. He also made a cursory glance toward where the barn door was propped open, yet still blocked the view from the back porch to inside the barn – and from inside the barn to the back porch. On the other side, Dennis worked on rebuilding one of his contraptions. Quickly he returned and knelt down in front of her. He reached his arms out in an embrace and curled his fingers to grip her sides. He felt her fidget with one of his cufflinks.

“Quickly,” he said urgently, “how did he explain the dents to you?”

She stared at him for a moment, searching his dark eyes. They looked so suddenly anxious.

He gave her a small shake, “Quickly, Love!” He glanced toward the drive then back to her, “how did he explain it?”

“Hail.”

He gave a small start and formed a small frown. “Hail?”

She nodded her head up and down, “He said we must have had a sudden-like bit of hail.”

The dark eyes just stared at her as if he were not comprehending.

“He says, you know, we have weird weather up here in the mountains. Like it caused that crazy fog that night, it must have also done some hail…” her voice trailed off as she saw the shadow in his dark eyes deepen and concern etch into his face. She whispered to him, “That’s what he says.”

He glanced in the direction of the drive again, the car was getting near enough for Dennis to hear it’s approach. Quickly, he cupped her face in one hand, “Listen to me.” She nodded yes. He continued, “Don’t judge me for what this man who comes now tells you.” She frowned. Her hands grasped fistfuls of his suit coat. He studied her face a moment then added, “Remember,” but then paused as if unsure what he wanted her to remember. She tugged on his coat. The car was arriving, Dennis was coming. His dark eyes darted about watching for both. She tugged again and he returned his focus to her. He stroked her face tenderly, his expression echoing sadness. “I love you.”

Nameless 12 – All the Sounds of Life

Dennis handed the iPad back to her, “Go ahead and just put this up.” He weighed options as she slid it into her backpack. A swirl of black fog caressed across the windshield of their Suburban. ‘No,’ Dennis thought, ‘we do not want to get out in that.’ He checked his watch and began counting the hours to sunrise. Could they just stay put till day? A gust of wind buffeted the Suburban. It was strong enough to rock the car back and forth.

Initially, Dennis was immediately relieved. The wind should clear the fog. Then he heard her wail. She covered her ears with her hands and wailed again. Dennis’ heart began to race, all the hairs on his arms and back of his neck stood on end. He threw the Suburban into park and pulled her over against him. The wind grew in intensity. He put both feet on the brake. Still, the Suburban was scooted about by the strong wind.

“Do you hear them?” she cried out to Dennis.

He looked at her, tried to wipe away the tears, hair and fear from her face. “I hear the wind, Baby. That’s all there is, Honey, the wind.” He was not sure which of them he was trying to convince.

“Nooooooo,” she wailed again to him. “Their voices! I can hear them! Dennis! Make them stop! Make them stop!”

He cupped her face in his hands. Her eyes were wild with the Fear. Her fingers dug into his arms and shoulders, clinging so tightly to him that her nails drew blood. He ignored that, even the black fog and the raging wind. “Look at me!” he commanded her. His fingers knotted through her hair. “Look at me, damn it!” he barked much louder. Her eyes shifted to lock onto his.

As suddenly as it had started, the wind stopped. Cautiously, they looked around. Yes, the wind had cleared away the black fog. The Suburban was now angled across the road. But that was not as startling as the landscape. It was bare. The few trees were bare, twisted and contorted trunks and branches. She just stared at their surroundings. Dennis turned around in his seat, trying to figure out what his mind was telling him could not be real.

She heard a bang at the back of the Suburban’s roof as if someone had hit it. Dennis’ expression told her he’d not heard it. Another bang, then two, three. She studied Dennis’ face. He was not hearing it. Then a sudden wave of what sounded like a hundred fists banging on their Suburban engulfed the car from the back up to the front. She heard what sounded like the cacophony of a crowd, yelling as they beat on their car.

Dennis saw her eyes go wide but stay fixed on his. She began a wavering moan-like cry. ‘God help us’, he silently prayed. ‘What hell does she hear that makes her this terrified?’ he silently demanded from God, himself, or any angel or demon that might would answer. As in all the other times he’d demanded this answer, it never came. All he could hear was the thick silence outside and her terrified wail inside. He held her. Her face buried into his chest, his pressed his face down into her hair, shoulder and neck.

The rain of fists passed over the Suburban, down the hood, and then were silent. She waited for a moment then peered out from over his shoulder. “Look,” she whispered to him.

Reluctantly, Dennis lifted his head and looked around. Nothing was out of place. Other than their car’s diagonal position across the road, it was as if it had never happened. There were the stars, the trees, the road. A very short distance from where they were parked, was the turn to their gate.

Dennis did not say a word, he just put the car into gear, and made for their gate as fast as he could. When they got to the house, he did not even consider putting the car away. He left it in the grass near the backdoor, and they made for the house without even looking back.

As he swallowed his second tumbler of Whisky, Dennis watched her feeding Joey. When they first came in, the plump little tabby’s fur had been all fluffed out. Dennis wondered what spooked the poor moggy. Visions of their drive home flashed through his mind. Along with what she’d told him, after they were inside and after his first drink, about the yelling and fists banging on their car. He poured another drink and shook off the thoughts.

Thankfully, rest and sleep came easy to all three.

They awoke to a sunny new day. Ham fried in the pan as she pulled biscuits from the oven. Joey played cute as he mimed for some ham. With a smile, Dennis stepped out the backdoor, with a cup of coffee, headed toward the hen house for fresh eggs. He inhaled the morning’s fresh air deeply, listened to the birds, the horses, dogs, all the sounds of life. Last night was just a bad memory. Although, he decided as he stepped off the porch, he’d need to look at the Suburban later. On his way by he glanced over at it, parked in a crazy angle, and shook his head. ‘Probably a fuel pump problem’ he told himself, deliberately ignoring thoughts of the black fog that tried to resurface.

Two more steps then he stopped. For a moment he just stood there staring ahead, trying to decide he did not really need to look back at the car. That what he’d seen was just a trick of the light. Yes, that was it. The morning light, as it came through the trees, the leaves, they were causing some optical illusion. Right? Dennis swallowed the last of his coffee, now ignoring the slight tremble of his hand. Slowly he turned and stared at the Suburban. Dents, dips, divots, all over it from one end to the other.

. . .

Deep in the shadows that ran down the side of the barn, a pair of dark eyes watched Dennis try not to break hastily collected eggs as he hurried back to her. Then they drifted back over to the Suburban. He wondered if Dennis would tell her.

Nameless 11 – Darker Than the Darkness

Dennis was thankful for their relaxed mood. After his almost-tantrum at Dr. Anderson’s office, he was afraid they’d be stressed and arguing. Instead, he was again reminded at how much she trusts him. With a smile and a kiss, they just moved on.

Dinner had been at their favorite Italian restaurant in “the big city” as they called it. They had even stopped for ice cream when they’d gotten back to their little town. Well, the town closest to home anyway. Dennis was a sucker for ice cream, especially if it had nuts in it. He turned their old Suburban off the main highway and onto the county road that would take them to their gravel road to home.

He glanced over at her and smiled. She had his right arm tucked under her left and her fingers twined through his. She also held her iPad on her lap with the GPS app open and running. A couple of his fingers helped steady it on her lap. Watching their progress on the GPS map as he drove was a habit she had started a while back. One day when they had been trying to find the home where a horse they were interested was for sale, they used the GPS on her iPad to get there. Dennis noticed how focusing on the map and following the little blip of their existence in the world, or at least on the map, helped her a lot. She did not get so distracted, stressed, or upset by their being “out there” and away from her safe-zone home. Of course, he didn’t fool himself either. He knew his presence made the difference. Without him, he doubted she’d ever leave the house. He glanced over at her again. Her face looked calm, happy even, in the glow from the iPad. He wanted to protect her, to always keep it this way. Gently he squeezed her fingers woven between his. The little smile, squeeze and quick look she returned made him feel his life was complete.

Dennis began paying more attention to the sides of the county road as he drove. Maybe the food and wine had made him more bleary than he thought. He shook his head to clear it. No, he slowed the Suburban and looked closer off to his left. He blinked, thinking maybe it was just his eyes getting tired. No. He was sure now, it was darker, a lot darker actually. He glanced at his watch. It was way darker than it usually was at this time. It was a clear night, he thought, it should not be this dark. He leaned to his left, till his shoulder pressed against the window, and looked up. No stars. He craned his neck seeing as much of the sky as he could. “Where are the damned stars?” Dennis mumbled. He sat back in his seat and tried to be nonchalant as, in his periphery vision, he noticed she was looking at him. He was not sure if she had said anything or not.

“Dennis!” she repeated, a bit louder. He looked back over at her and raised his eyebrows. She knew what that meant. It meant he was stressing over something about the current situation; but, was determined to be cool about it and act like he wasn’t, even though he was, worried. “Are we lost?” she repeated slowly this time.

His eyebrows reversed direction to a frown. He glanced about and eased his foot further off the accelerator till the car was barely rolling. “No,” he glanced around again and returned to studying her frown, “why, Honey?”

In response, she tipped the iPad toward him.

Dennis leaned over toward her. He pressed his fingers, that had been resting on the edge of her iPad, down, adjusting it’s position so that he could see it clearly. Dennis stared at the screen and moved his foot to the brake, stoping the Suburban. He curled his right hand up, and brought her fingers to his lips. Releasing her hand, he gently squeezed her thigh then took the iPad and sat back with it. He did not understand what he was seeing. Quickly, he checked it’s settings and WiFi feed. Everything told him it was working fine. So why then was the GPS map blank? His frown deepened. It was not exactly blank. There was the little line showing, presumably, where they had been, and the little triangle blip that represented where they were now. But that was it. The roads were gone and the terrain was gone – just not there. All of a sudden, Dennis wanted to be home. His eyes already back on the road and his foot mashing on the accelerator, he handed the iPad off to her and put both hands on the steering wheel.

Long shadows now seemed to arc across the road. ‘How do shadows come out of such darkness?’ he asked himself. It wasn’t so much seeing shadows cast from a lit area. These were dark shapes darker than the darkness they were in.

He felt the pressure of her hand on his leg and her fingers curl, holding onto him, her security. With a glance, he saw her hugging the iPad to her with her other arm.

“Maybe you are going a different way to home?” he heard the tremble in her voice as she quietly asked. Her eyes were big as she peered out the windows.

Dennis cleared his throat then answered with a studied calm, “No, Honey, remember we turned off the highway? This is the way we always come.”

“Why is it so different, Dennis?” Then hazarding a glance down at her iPad, “And what’s wrong with the map?” Her voice rose some in fear, “What is happening, Dennis?”

For just a moment, he let go of the steering wheel and reached over to stroke her hair and face. “It’s okay, Baby, just some weird weather. You know how it gets up here in the mountains sometimes.” The trust in her eyes as she focused on him nearly broke his heart.

Not too much further they realized the darkness had become a fog, a black mist. It was so dark and thick, they could not see past the Suburban’s windows. The headlights only shone for a few inches ahead of them.

Again, Dennis stopped and looked at the GPS. There was their blip and the curvy line of their travel, but nothing else. He shook his head, not understanding. He could not see six inches out from his window. But he knew, they’d traveled this road hundreds of times, they should be very near to the turn onto their gravel drive. But he couldn’t even see an indication of the turn or their gate. It could be right there, but in the black fog, they’d never see it. Instinct told him to stay in the car. Besides, he could not leave her here alone. That would snap what little bit of rational thought she did have. He knew, they’d been there before. Then too, without him there, she’d not stay in the car anyway, she’d bolt. Hopefully toward him and not away from him. It would only depend on which way the schizo in her mind flipped her.

Namless 10 – All In Her Head

Dennis sat quietly ignoring most of what was being said to him. He watched her, through the big window. She was sitting on one of the outdoor benches in the shade waiting for him, nervous, anxious. He watched her fidget, oblivious to the bright flowers she would have otherwise enjoyed. Dennis thought about just getting up and walking out. She’d calm down once Dennis was there.

But right now, Dennis was more concerned about the argument he was having with her psychiatrist about her medication. The paper sack he had stuck between his hip and the chair arm crinkled as he tried to find a position more comfortable to his back.

“Look, Mr. Moran, we’ve been over this dozens of times,” Dr. Anderson did not bother to hide the exasperation in his voice from Dennis.

Neither did Dennis, “Well, then I guess we’re going over it one more time; just add it to the list, why don’t you?”

Dr. Anderson sighed, sounding as tired and bored as possible. “Mr. Moran, we can’t see progress unless she takes her medication – as prescribed!” he emphasized the last by rapping on his desk.

“Have you ever taken any of those medications, doctor?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” suspicion crept into Anderson’s voice.

“It’s a simple question, Doc.” Dennis said with a shrug of his shoulders. The paper sack crinkled. “Have you ever taken any of those medications? Any of the antipsychotics?”

“No,” he replied flatly, “I’ve never had a need to.”

“You dole them out as the answer to all our problems-”

“There are always side effects with all medications, Mr. Moran,” Dr. Anderson cut in quickly, “again, we’ve been through this dozens of times…” allowing his voice to trail off.

“I know!” Dennis thundered, leaning forward and causing the sack to shift more into his lap. He’d been more loud than he had really intended, accidentally allowing himself to show more of his anger and frustration than he had meant to share. Anderson sat back in his chair and regarded Dennis cooly. Dennis took a deep breath, stuffed the sack back into it’s place, and continued more calmly, “The medication does make ‘it’ go away. The problem being the ‘it’ that goes away is her, not the ‘Fear’, not the voices and not the hallucinations. It makes a zombie out of her, who still sees and hears things, but just can’t care. And I do mean ‘cannot care’ as in is unable to because she’s a zombie.” Dennis stopped and looked intently at Dr. Anderson, waiting for a response and hoping this time it would be a productive one.

Dr. Anderson studied Dennis. That he loved his wife was very evident. It was also evident that he was worried for her. Instinct and years of practice hinted to Anderson he was not getting the whole story here. The additional gray hair that populated Dennis’ somewhat brown and sun-bleached hair, along with the lines that illustrated worry on his face, confirmed it. Anderson also knew it was pointless to ask. He’d “dealt with” Mr. Moran while trying to treat his wife for several years now. Until Dennis was ready to tell something, attempts to pry it out of him were useless. He wondered, just to wonder, if his stroke a while back had some impact on Dennis’ perspective. The sack crinkled as Dennis shifted in his chair, again drawing Dr. Anderson’s attention to it. He waved his hand in it’s general direction, “What is in the sack, Mr. Moran?”

“You tell me it’s all in her head, the voices, what she sees that I don’t see, the Fear, everything that’s,” Dennis sighed and looked around the doctor’s office, “brought us to here.”

Anderson waited, holding any response, this was a new tack and he was not yet sure where Dennis was going with it.

Seeing he was not going to reply, Dennis stood and approached Anderson’s desk, bringing the paper sack with him. He held it in one hand, and unfurled the open end of it with the other. Holding it over Anderson’s desk, Dennis asked, “All in her mind, right, Doc?”

Dr. Anderson sat in quiet, curious anticipation, and waited. His only thought being that if it was something alive, especially poisonous, he was going to have Dennis Moran arrested and his wife put back into the damned hospital.

Dennis tipped the sack over and dumped out the contents. They bounced and flopped into a scattered collection of about a dozen spent cigar butts. Not understanding, Dr. Anderson stared at them. “I already knew you smoked cigars, Mr. Moran-” he began, but Dennis interrupted him.

“These aren’t my brand, Doc.” Dennis paused, “These are a much more expensive brand than what I can afford.” He motioned with the sack, “You could get almost a half dozen of mine with what you’d spend on just one of these.” With a sense of satisfaction, Dennis watched the psychiatrist try and parse out their meaning.

“Just to save you the effort of making the suggestion, Doc, no, she did not smoke them.” Dennis continued, “I’ve been close enough to her enough times. I can assure you, it was not her.”

Dr. Anderson leaned back, thoughtfully, in his chair. He considered the cigar butts, and Dennis.

Dennis waived his hand over the desk and butts, “I’ve buried at least this many more at home.”

That got Dr. Anderson’s attention. “Buried?” he inquired.

“Yes,” Dennis replied defensively, “I don’t want her finding them, do I?”

‘More to the story,’ Dr. Anderson thought to himself as he studied Dennis standing there and pictured him burying cigar butts in a backyard.

Dr. Anderson sat forward and picked up his prescription pad, shaking cigar butts and stray pieces of tobacco and ash off of it. As he wrote, he spoke to Dennis, “Okay, Mr. Moran, now I want you to take one of these in the morning, and one at night – starting tonight. Then I want to see you back here in one month.” He tore the prescription off the pad and held it out to Dennis. He then began making his note in Mrs. Moran’s file, thinking they’d need to open one on him now too…the insurance would be the same…Tricare…yes, Dr. Anderson was thinking, that’s right, ‘Mr.’ Moran was actually ‘Major’ Moran in…some branch of U.S. Military… somewhere…

At the sound of the paper sack being wadded up, Dr. Anderson stopped writing. He realized Dennis had not yet taken the prescription from his hand. The doctor sighed, laid his pen down and straightened up in his chair. The dark-eyed gaze from Dennis that met Anderson’s look was level and cold. Dr. Anderson recalled immediately, an Army Ranger, a Major, served in Vietnam.

“I’m not taking that crap,” Dennis said quietly. He dropped the wadded up sack into Dr. Anderson’s deck. It landed on a couple of the cigar butts causing them to sprinkle more dried ash and tobacco onto the desktop.

Dennis turned and began walking toward the door to leave. Dr. Anderson, more unnerved than he cared to admit, shifted agitatedly in his chair. “Where are you going?” He demanded.

Without slowing or turning, Dennis answered, “Home. I’m taking my wife out to dinner. Then we are going home.”

With the pen in his hand, Dr. Anderson gestured toward the mess of ash, tobacco, and spent butts on his desk, “What am I supposed to do with these?”

Dennis grinned a rather wicked grin as he turned the doorknob, “Doc,” he paused halfway out the door, “I’m thinking you’ve probably got a pretty good idea what I’d suggest you do with those.”

Nameless 9 – A Recap

I am sitting here, staring at a blank screen. I cannot think how to write this.

Dennis comes in with his cup of coffee and settles down in the chair to the right, across from the desk. He lifts his legs and stretches them out, crossing his ankles, till the heels of his boots rest on the corner of the desk. He peers at me over the rim as he gingerly sips from the steaming cup. "So," he begins, "exactly how are you stuck?"

"A recap," I answer him a little aggravated. I would have thought my grousing about it for the past several days would have made the problem clear to him by now.

"Oh." He takes another sip of his coffee.

I twist my face into a further clue of aggravation for him, "a summary, a what’s-happened-up-to-this-point, kind of thing. You know?"

"Yeeeees," Dennis draws it out slowly, "I understand what you are doing, or trying to do."

I interrupt him, "I just cannot figure out how to do it without changing the whole tone of the story. Breaking the rhythm, you know?"

Dennis just sits there, looking at me from over his coffee cup. I think he’s thinking. At least that’s usually what it means when he stares like that. "Riiiiiight," he finally drawls out.

My turn to stare and think. I’ll let you imagine exactly how uncomplimentary were the thoughts I was thinking.

Finally, Dennis adds, "The rhythm…hmmm…okay…"

To myself I think, ‘This is hopeless.’ My gaze goes from the deep-thinking Dennis to the window seat beyond him. Joey, our plump little tabby cat, has decided to join the meeting. He rolls around trying to find the best position for his tummy in the sun puddle on the cushion. Vaguely, I hear Dennis mumbling something about the story and having a beat to it. I gaze out the window. It looks out toward the back, toward the barn and garden. I can see the right side of the giant dream catcher against the back fence. Beyond that, the mountains climb up into the afternoon sky. I notice the snow line is beginning to fall further down from the peak. The weeks will pass quickly, then there will be another winter. I hear a soft padding against the window followed by a stronger response. The little breeze brushes against the window, tossing small leaves and spent flower petals up against the glass as it does. Joey answers it, banging his paws on the glass chasing the little breeze’s collection of tiny but colorful items. I would open the window and let it in for a while. But the last time I did, it got way too excited. It knocked stuff off of several shelves and tables. A week later, we were still finding stuff that had gotten blown as far as a room away or up underneath something else. Oh, wait, I think Dennis just said something important. "I’m sorry, what? What did you say?"

"I said," Dennis pauses chewing a donut – a donut? Where did he get the donut from? – then continues, "why? Why do you have to write a recap-summary-thing?"

"I don’t have to. It just came up. You know, in the comments? Well, in someone else’s comments. I mean, in comments someone else left regarding something another person had written." I look back at Dennis and get the blank stare I was expecting.

"Well," Dennis finally says, "you need to start from where you stopped last time, right?  I mean, first, you have explain how you came racing upstairs to wake me so I could see the house all ancient and decaying. But when I woke to you shaking me, the house looked normal, like now."

"Okay." I nod my head and watch the fish in the screen saver swim around on the screen. "Then what?"

"Well," Dennis pulls his feet down from the desk and sits forward in his chair, "okay look, here’s the deal, okay?" I look over at him as he continues, "I really need to use the computer to find this part for that engine if I’m going to get that truck running before winter. So how about you let me sit there and do that while we work on this summary-recap-what’s-going-on-happening thing."

"Ugh!" I drag myself up from the desk and declare "This is hopeless!"  Dennis quickly gets to his feet and pulls me to him, hugging me close. It’s easy, to let my mind go, to find my solace in his arms. I forget about summaries and plots as he strokes my hair. He mumbles things to me I don’t really hear. It’s just the sound of his voice and his heartbeat in my ears, filling my head and driving away the worry – driving away all the bad stuff.

Dennis.  Dennis could do that.   Dennis could even make the Fear go away.

Dennis sat at the desk researching engine parts, their price and availability on the Internet. Joey snoozed in the last sliver of sun in the window seat. She stepped out the back door on her way to the porch swing. Enjoying the sounds of the coming night, she stepped off the porch and into the sunset. The little breeze raced over and swirled about her ankles. With a small laugh, she reached down to it. She could feel it through her fingers. It reached up, tickling her knees and tugging at her skirt tail. It trailed behind her as she wandered toward the barn to cast an eye across the garden next to it. As she turned back toward the house, a shadow sharp as a knife suddenly formed across her path. The voices, the Fear quickly closed around her, isolating her.  She could not see.  In the darkness now, there was no house. The little breeze, ice cold, clung about her ankles. She clasped her hands over her ears and cried out, "Dennis!" Finding strength in her lungs, she screamed out to him, "Dennis! Dennis!"

He simply scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to the house.  All the way, speaking to her softly, gently assuring her it was okay.  At the back door, Dennis paused and looked back. His eye caught some movement in the shadows along the side of the barn. He yanked the door open and carried her inside.

They gathered on the couch. With one arm Dennis held onto her, stroking her hair. With his other hand, he stroked Joey. Calmly, he tried to convince all of them, especially himself, that everything was okay, that there was no reason to be afraid.

Outside, leaned against the side of the barn, a tall shadow coalesced in a man’s form watching them with eyes as dark and chilled as the night. Other shadows closed around him. For a moment he seemed to tolerate them, to listen. In a flash of rage, he snarled at them, "Get away from me," and swept his arm in an arc, slashing through them. The words barely out of his mouth, they fled, leaving the ground clear for yards even back into the trees. With a sigh, he resumed his reclined position against the barn. From the darkness, he drew out a cigar. No flash of a lighter broke the darkness. A red glowing ember simply formed at its end identifying it as lit. The little breeze came and spiraled up his body. It then began chasing his cigar smoke. Proud of itself, it twirled the smoke into spirals. Slowly, he closed his dark eyes and found a place to store his anger. The little breeze puffed across his brow a cool caress. "It’s okay," he softly told it, "I’ll make them pay for it."

Nameless 8–Through a Glass Darkly

They were sleeping now. She more fitfully than the undisturbed rest of Dennis next to her. Her mind held a life of it’s own and was ever conjuring new creations and refreshing the old.

The frown on his face matched the one on hers. He wished she could at lest have peace in her dreams and sleep. Gently, so as not to wake her, he touched her cheek. His long, cool, fingers stroked across her brow. Carefully, he caressed away the creases of her frown. She made a small sigh as the tension left her body and, for a while at least, calm formed the expression on her face.

He smiled, straightened, and watched them sleeping. The plump Tabby, Joey, lay sprawled as if in a hammock between their legs. A furry statement of ignorance truly being bliss. He watched their slow, relaxed breathing. Dennis stretched some and shifted a little. Even in his sleep, with his body next to hers, his hand sought contact. When it found her leg, his fingers made little circles before his arm came to rest protectively across her.

He stood there a moment longer, his dark eyes considering them. Vaguely, he thought perhaps he remembered once sleeping like that. He turned from them. As he crossed their bedroom toward the stairs, the old mirror caught his attention. He went over to it and studied what should have been his reflection. He straightened his collar, ran his fingers through his salt and pepper colored hair and mustache, smoothed the expensive fabric of his tailored suit, and even checked the shine on his handmade, black leather, Oxford shoes. Satisfied his image would have met his approval, he granted a nod to the darkened mirror and left for the stairs.

As he descended from their loft-style bedroom, he remembered when the house was new. Back then, it wasn’t a loft but a complete upper floor. Grudgingly he admitted to himself he did actually like the openness of the loft better. Back then though it was unheard of, they were after all building a house, not another barn. He paused near the bottom step, remembering to himself, he shook his head, ‘God, that barn had been a pain in the ass to build.’

When his first step off the stairs met the floor, the worn wood shone as if it were new. As he crossed to his chair by the fireplace, the rejuvenation spread out from him. Like a house fire, it expanded out, past the worn wood flooring, across the stone tiles, up the walls, and even across the ceiling. As he settled himself in his chair next to the now blazing fire, he smiled, enjoying even the faint scent of fresh paint and wallpaper. He lit his cigar and reclined back, stretching his long legs out before the fire, and considered how nice it was to be home again. His home, when it was new, the way he remembered it, when he shared it with her.

The little breeze circled around outside the house. It was confused and excited by what it saw happening inside on the ground floor. His dark eyes glanced over to the window where the little breeze pressed against the glass, peering in. "Go play," he told it tiredly. "Leave me, please, to what peace I may find!" he added more sharply. At that, being slightly offended, the little puff of wind blew away to explore elsewhere.

‘Aggravating thing,’ he thought to himself as he rested his head back and closed his eyes. He wanted to keep this moment forever. Only one thing, she, he could not force into his existence. He sighed, and concentrated on maintaining what he had created, submerging himself into it, and ignoring the part that was missing.

He did not know how long he had sat there. And at first he was not even sure he had felt it. In trying to be sure, he first noticed the sounds and scents were that of an old building. His created vision of home long past was gone. He had been returned to his present. He opened his eyes. There was the cold and crumbling hearth, the cracked aged paint and wallpaper. Debris from years of ruin littered the floor. With a slight start, though, he realized he had in fact felt it. Slowly, carefully, so as not to dislodge it, he turned in his chair till he could see. Standing there, one hand holding onto his shoulder, the other clutching a balled up wad of her nightgown, was his missing piece. Her lost look said she did not understand what had happened to her house. She did not understand all the age and ruin that now surrounded her. The old house, the "ancient" one where she had first seen him, first looked into his dark eyes, it was someplace else, not here where she and Dennis lived.  Right?

He felt her grip on his shoulder begin to tremble and weaken. He knew the fear was coming. His heart ached. Gently, as tenderly as he could, he placed his hand over hers on his shoulder. When her eyes focused onto his, softly, he said, "Don’t be scared, Darling."

Outside, the small bit of wind had abandoned it’s play in the grass. It was now headed straight back, straight back to the house.

 

Nameless 7 – Joey’s Toy

She was concentrating so much on deadheading the roses, she did not hear him approach. She turned and stepped right into him. “How long have you been standing there?” She studied his frowning face and tucked her hair behind her ears, leaving a bit of dirt in the strands.

Dennis reached out and gently fingered the dirt out of her hair, studying her face in the periphery of his vision. He wondered if he had surprised her, or if she was surprised it was him. “Only for a little bit.”

“Have you gotten all the posts mended then? Is it quitting time?”

Dennis smiled at her, turned slightly and looked back toward the fence line. “No, I still have two left to go.”

She noticed the rifle slung over his shoulder, something about that tugged at her awareness but failed to connect any significance to it.

He also had his trusted Browning 9mm on his side. That too was like any other day. Most of nature they got along with okay. Both sides noticed each other then went on their way. But sometimes nature needed a little encouragement to move on. Usually, a well placed shot a foot or two before the nose of an overly curious wolf clarified the situation enough for it to move on. Then, while he cleaned his rifle, she’d log the sighting of the wolf on the Ranger’s website for the repopulation program. Something ironic in that always made Dennis smile.

“Still,” Dennis continued as he pulled her into his arms, “I think I’m done for the day. The other two can wait till tomorrow.”

She hugged him, smiled, raised her nose and rubbed the tip of it along his jaw enjoying the scratch of his short whiskers. He hugged her tighter, looked down and kissed her.

“I’ve got to go back and get my gear, then I’ll be in.” With a nod toward the house, Dennis continued, “How about you and Joey go on in?”

“Okay, that will give me a head start on supper.” She stood on her toes, pulled him down some, and kisses him again.

Walking toward the backdoor, she called to the plump moggy, “Come on, Joey, let’s do din-dins.” He was busy mauling something over by the shed and was much to busy to come just yet. From the porch, she wondered what the mighty hunter had found to destroy as she watched Dennis get back on his four-wheeler and head back to where he’d been working on the fence line.

It was then it dawned on her, Dennis had the rifle over his shoulder. She frowned and studied where he was now loading his stuff onto the four-wheeler. Questions now quickly flooded her mind. ‘He knew he was going to stop for the day, but came up to the house so quickly he left his work stuff behind. Why? And why keep his rifle over his shoulder to come speak to me? Why not leave it on the four-wheeler?’ A quick, cold fear wrapped around her heart. She stepped back to the edge of the porch and looked toward the shed. ‘Did Dennis see him?’ she wondered. Her eyes studied the area around the shed till they blurred. All looked as it should be, there was only Joey still playing with his latest prize, whatever that was she could only guess. “Come on, Joey, I’m going in now,” she called to the cat. He looked up at her, answered a meow, and picked up some yucky something toy-prize as if to bring it with him. “No, oh no,” she called to the cat, “you are not bringing that, whatever it is, inside. No way, mister.” Joey, with his prize, laid down and stared at her. She sighed, looked back to see Dennis now heading back to the house, and went inside.

Dennis mostly left everything loaded up for tomorrow and the last two posts. He quickly checked on some bike and car parts he had soaking so he could finish their mending and put them back into use. As he headed to the back porch from the barn, he noticed Joey still out. ‘Odd,’ he thought, ‘usually he’s not far from her.’ He squinted his eyes trying to make out what the cat was playing with, but couldn’t. At the back steps, Dennis called him, “Come on now, Joey. Don’t make me come back looking for you so you don’t get eaten out here.”

The tabby looked at the one called Dennis and watched him say something, presumably meant for Joey. The cat didn’t really think the Dennis was talking to the Other Man, the one with the dark eyes. Only she talked to the Other Man, the Dennis never did. Joey wondered about that as he watched the Dennis throw his arms up in the air and then go into the house.

He bent down and retrieved the butt end of his cigar Joey had been playing with. The cat narrowed it’s eyes and glared at him for taking it’s toy. It tasted terrible to Joey, but he’d found it so it was his toy. Dark eyes considered the plump tabby, “Well, it was mine to start with, you know,” he retorted. A low growl came from the cat. Almost faster than Joey could see, the tall, dark eyed man bent forward till Joey’s whiskers brushed against the man’s face. “Ssssscat!” he hissed at Joey. He’d not even completed the command before Joey was already racing toward the backdoor and the safety of his humans. On the first loud meow she opened the door and he flew in. The smell of what they called chicken, along with some quality petting, and Joey knew all was right with the world again.

A deep, deliberate, savored breath as he slowly straightened with a stretch quite cat-like in it’s own right. He considered the tattered cigar butt in his hand. Then tossed it into a nearby burn barrel. His eyes scanned across the lengthening shadows of early evening. He could hear them. He could hear them in the house talking too. The smell the breeze brought to him was of chicken cooking. Chicken, he smiled faintly at some vague memory of how it tasted. Looking at the back windows he could see her in the kitchen. Dennis had turned on some lights and was leaned at the kitchen counter, talking with her, and petting the tabby.

He felt his pockets, the breeze danced around him, “Yes, yes, I know,” he told it softly. Drawing out a fresh cigar, he bit the end off, lit it and leaned deeper into the shadow against the wall. Tendrils of smoke curled about him till running off with the breeze. He watched them, there in the house – Their house, their house…now.