Page 9 of The Hermit on the Hill

Someone who hadn't memorized every inch of her body might think she'd just put on a couple pounds or eaten a heavy meal. I rubbed my chest. She wouldn't have told them before she told me, would she?

"None of my business," I declared to my empty house.

A loud bang made me jump and sent my heart racing. I searched the house and found the culprit in the den. The paddle my great-grandfather had carved in such intricate detail no longer hung on the wall but lay on the floor.

"Damn it, Nana. It's likely not my baby. If she even is pregnant." I swear I could hear Nana's voice chiding me for treating any lady so rudely. She'd have paddled me for that kind of behavior when I was a kid.

"Why are you still haunting me?" I grumbled as I crossed the room. "Your stupid charms aren't working for shit to keep you out."

I picked up the paddle only to see cherry blossoms on the floor under it. Cherry blossoms in the middle of July. Cherry blossoms which were an ingredient in my grandmother's most sought after and requested love potion.

"She's not meant to be mine," I said. "And I'm not looking to tie myself down to anybody until I make things right with this town."

I scooped up the cherry blossoms and hung the paddle back on the wall, pausing for a moment to admire my grandfather's craftsmanship.

It was gorgeous work. An oak tree carved into the wood, with details throughout - a squirrel on a branch, a butterfly swooping toward the top branches, and if you looked closely, familiar faces in the trunk. Faces of family. I stroked a finger over the smooth carving.

I should probably hate the damn paddle for all the pain it had caused me. Of course, I'd deserved every whooping I'd received from it. My Nana had been a just woman, and I'd been a troublesome kid. In any case, I could never hate a piece of art created by the hands of family.

I carried the cherry blossoms out of the room. "Should've never built on the site of Nana's house. Her damn ghost'll haunt me until I'm too old to enjoy the company of a woman without her watching." I stomped. "Hear that, Nana? You want grandbabies, you best stop haunting me. I'm not fucking anyone when you might be watching."

Behind me, the paddle hit the floor again.

I ignored it, carried the blossoms to my office, and placed them on the shelf in front of the framed photo of my Nana.

"No idea where you found cherry blossoms this time of year." I pressed two fingers to my lips and then to her picture. "I love you, Nana, but you need to trust me. I'm a grown man who knows the difference between right and wrong. I'll find your treasure and I'll make sure the whole town pays for what they did to you. But I need sleep, and I need privacy. Can't you give me a break?"

Wind gusted the front door open with a loud bang. I sighed and dropped my chin to my chest. "What more do you want from me, Nana?"

I shut the door and headed for the second floor to finally put some fucking clothes on.

Fluffy waited behind the baby gate at the top of the stairs. She peered out at me, her bunny chest thumping something fierce, her brown fur standing on end.

"The storm scare you, girl?"

As I opened the gate, she hopped out of the way. I dropped to the floor next to her and petted her velvety fur until her heart calmed. She laid her big Flemish Giant bunny head on my knee and it took up most of my lap.

"I'll bring you back some treats from town. How about that?" I asked as I stood.

Fluffy hopped around my feet and followed me to my room. I dressed quickly and was halfway back down the stairs when someone knocked.

Not sure if I wanted it to be Jenna, I froze. I definitely didn't want it to be her brothers back with maple syrup and feathers.

"I know you're in there," Marcus yelled through the door.

I let out a sigh that might have been relief or disappointment. I wasn't in the mood to be introspective.

I trotted down the stairs and flung the front door open to my business partner and best friend. He had on his typical work day attire of jeans and a button-down - business casual for a small town like Catalpa Creek. He'd been growing out his dark hair and had developed a decent-sized afro, far different from the way I'd always known him to keep it, buzzed close to his head. The new look suited him.

"'Lo." I gestured him inside. "What's today's shit show?"

"Hey, boss," Marcus said. "I'm doing well. Thanks for asking."

"Keep trying to make a gentleman out of me, Marcus. It lets me know you care."

"What happened?"

I'd known the man since my college days, but it was more than just years of friendship that allowed him to read me so well. Marcus was empathic as fuck, and the only person on the planet I trusted implicitly. He was also a damn bull shark when he got a hint of a problem, one of the many reasons he was the perfect person to manage our properties.

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