Page 4 of Serenity & the Hermit
“S’pose I should actually find out what broke in you, huh?” I say to the box I picked up at the post office earlier. Obviously, I don’t expect it to talk back, but when you’re a thirty-seven-year-old man who’s lived on his own for a dozen of those years, you develop a habit of talking to inanimate objects. And no, I’m not lonely. Just…chatty.
Setting the burger aside, I brush off my hands and pull the pocketknife from my jeans, flipping it open and slicing through the tape on top of the box. When I open it, there’s a bunch of packing peanuts inside and that sweet floral scent is even stronger than before. I scoop the peanuts to the side and find a whole bunch of glass-jarred candles of varying scents. A couple are broken after their fall, of course. But that’s not the issue. The issue here is, why the hell did someone send these to me? Do I stink?
Lifting my arm, I take a couple of sniffs. While a shower wouldn’t go amiss, the smell isn’t so overpowering that I balk—just normal body smell for a busy man at this time of the day. Then why the candles?
After digging through the box a little more, I find the invoice that accompanied all this and find the answer to my question. It’s addressed to ‘Bendy Bodies’, which I’m assuming is a new shop in town or something based on the address.
“How the hell did I even get this?” I mutter to myself, shoving everything back in the box and closing it up again. I hadn’t even checked the address label earlier, but it isn’t even addressed to me. That can only mean the post office clerk messed up, and I’ll have to takeanother tripinto town to return this.Fucking great.
Rummaging through my junk drawer in the kitchen, I come out with some tape and put the box right again, the sound of a car door closing pulling my attention as I snap the tape with my teeth. “The fuck?”
I dump the tape and move to the window, grabbing my shotgun before I take a peek outside. But it’s too dark to see anything and the vehicle’s headlights are pointed right at me. I’m practically blind.
“Assholes.” Pulling a couple of shells from the drawer, I slide them into the barrel and take a deep breath.
No one comes up here without calling me first. Not even my family. So if anyone is on my land—especially at this time of day—they are either well and truly lost or up to no good. Generally, it’s the latter.
Whisper Valley and the mountains around it have long since attracted the attention of logging companies who are willing to pay more than market value for the land my family and I occupy. Between the two sides of the Valentine family, we own enough of the mountain that the loggers can do diddly squat with what they can get a hold of, and the rest of it is classed as state forest. But that doesn’t stop them continually trying to change our minds with bigger offers and attempts at intimidation—hence my shotgun welcome party.
“Get the fuck back in your truck and get off my land,” I call out, the loud click of me loading the chamber ringing out through the quiet as a stark warning. “I don’t want what you’re offering and I don’t want any trouble either. Turn around and leave.”
“Oh…um…OK,” a female voice forces out, causing me to immediately stand and pull the curtain aside.
“Who’s there?” I hold a hand up and squint, trying to see her.
“No…no-one. I’m sorry!” The words sound like they’re receding, and I catch sight of a woman running away from me, heading to the car just as the automatic headlights turn off. “Argh!” She squeals, and then I hear a thud followed by a cry.
“Shit.” Popping the safety on the gun, I set it down and grab a torch instead, hurrying outside to where I can see the shadowy figure still on the ground. I shine the torch in her direction. “Are you OK?”
“No! I’ve hurt my shoulder,” she moans, sitting up and clutching her arm from behind a curtain of dark, debris-laden hair.
“Want me to take a look?”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“No.”
Lifting her head, she shoots me a scowl. “Do you still have your gun?”
Familiarity hits me like a ton of bricks to the chest. It’s the woman from outside the post office—the clumsy one…the one who made my body react and my soul…wink.Holy fuck.
“No. No weapons.”
“Thank god for that. What the hell are you doing pulling a gun on people who call on you anyway?”
“I kinda thought you were someone else,” I say, setting the torch down at an angle so I can see her shoulder a bit better.
“The postal worker?”
“No. Ain’t got anything against those dickheads.”
“He says you don’t like visitors so they don’t come up here.”
“Hmm.” I press my lips together. “It’s all a long story.” I run my hand down her arm and she winces. “I think you’ve dislocated it.”
“Oh great. Just wonderful. Fuck my life. Fuck this place, and fuck you too, you giant…oaf.” Her blue eyes flash with disappointment and anger, and I have to say I feel bad for my part in making her feel that way.
“I can fix it if you’ll let me,” I say, already moving her forearm into position.
