I was never leaving.
The rose room turned out to be the most luxurious room I’d ever been in. I had to use a step stool to get up on the four-poster canopy bed. The entire room was decorated in shades of rose. The thin cotton coverlet was embroidered with hundreds of cabbage roses in different colors. It was very feminine and very inviting.
I had my own bathroom. There were rose-scented soaps and complimentary shampoo, just like in a hotel. I’d never been a guest in a house this big. I wondered if all rich people’s guest rooms were like this.
I poured bubble bath into the water streaming from the spigot. The tub started filling up with sweet floral-scented bubbles. I was dragging. I needed a nice hot bath.
I never got around to taking a nap. Gideon’s condensed tour turned out to be a circus event when Cort and Stewie joined us.
I moaned as I stepped into the steamy water. I laid my arm on a folded towel on top of the lip of the tub so I wouldn’t get my shoulder wet. I felt the scrapes and bruises melt away under the soapy hot water. I leaned back, resting my head on another rolled up towel and shut my eyes.
I woke with a start. The water was cool, and the bubbles all gone. The pads of my fingers were pruned. Someone was knocking on my door. As quickly as I could I climbed out of the tub.
“I’m coming,” I called out. There was a robe hanging on the back of the door. I grabbed it, gingerly pushing it over my wounded shoulder, and cinching it around my waist.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“It’s me,” Stewie said.
I unlocked the door, ushered him inside, and relocked the door. He’d had a bath too. Cort must’ve loaned him some clothes because the khaki pants gathered around his ankles and the shirt was a little too tight.
“Wow. Look at all the flowers,” he said, gawking at the three vases of red, pink, and white roses placed around the room.
“Where have you been?” I asked. I was a little concerned, but only because I knew how attached he was to Cort. I knew he’d be hard to convince when it came time to leave.
“Oh Cherry!” He breathed excitedly. “You should see the kitty cats!” I rolled my eyes. I was going to kill Cort.
“Don’t get too excited.” I had to nip this in the bud. “We don’t have a place to live, so we can’t take a kitten yet.”
“I know.” He dropped his chin to his chest. Great, here we go.
“When we get settled we can get a cat,” I reassured him. I was such a sucker.
“Really?” He looked up at me from under his lashes.
“You bet,” I promised.
“Great. I got a name all picked out. I like Snowball if it’s white. If it’s orange then I was thinking of Fireball.”
He rambled on and on. I went into the bathroom to change back into my clothes, giving him a few perfunctory ‘uh huh’ and ‘wow’ responses so I wouldn’t hurt his feelings.
I found a hair dryer in one of the drawers. I had too much hair to dry it all so I concentrated on the front and sides. I felt like a new person when I was finished. Even though my clothes, except for a borrowed T-shirt from Gideon, were the same that’d I’d worn for the last two days, I still felt a million times better being clean underneath them.
Someone else knocked on the door. Stewie automatically got up to answer it. I stopped him with one look.
“Who is it?” I said.
“Cort.”
I crossed the room, squishing my toes into the thick carpet.
“I came to collect ya’ll for dinner,” he said when I opened the door. By the looks of him there was no way I was going to fit in. He was dressed the same as Stewie, dress pants and a button down shirt.
“I don’t think I’m dressed for dinner.” I looked down at my dirty jeans.
“Stewie was supposed to bring you these.” He held out a garment bag and a shoe box.
“Sorry, Cort. I forgot.” Stewie looked horrified, as if he’d committed a sin of biblical proportion.
“Relax, man. It’s all good.” He patted Stewie’s shoulder.
“Who—” I started to ask as he shoved the items at me.
“They’re my cousin’s. She got married and moved out west years ago. Maw-Maw thinks they’ll fit or at least be pretty close.”
“Thanks,” I murmured.
“C’mon Stewie, let’s leave Cherry alone so she can get changed. I don’t know about you, but I could eat a cow.”
Stewie laughed, bouncing out the door without a second glance.
I cautiously unzipped the bag. Inside on a wooden hanger was a pretty light blue sundress with tiny white daisies trimmed around the hem of the skirt. The straps tied at the shoulders, which was a good thing because the cousin was much bustier than I was and I had to tie the straps tighter. The shoes, nice little white strappy flats, were a perfect fit.
I wanted to pull my hair up into a ponytail, but that wasn’t going to happen with my bum shoulder.
I took a couple deep cleansing breathes and headed downstairs. It took me a few extra minutes to locate the dining room. It was hidden down a short hall behind another set of pocket doors. I slid one of the doors open, and the cavernous dining room yawned before me. A long, dark, gleaming table, complete with elegantly carved padded chairs, stretched out in the center of the room. A glowing chandelier hung from the ceiling directly over the table. The glossy hardwood floors echoed my footsteps until the Audubon rug hushed them.
“It’s a little ostentatious, isn’t it?”
I whirled around to find myself face to face with Gideon. I was about to say how impressed I was with his big word, but bit my tongue. He was dressed as handsomely as Cort. I craned my neck to look up at him.
“It’s beautiful,” I said taking a step back.
“It’s all hand me down,” he said, offering me his arm. I felt like I was stepping back in time as I clasped my hand to his elbow. “My great-great-great granddaddy, John Henry Shepherd, came from Surrey, England and settled here in the early 1800’s. He rescued an Indian girl, Ahyoka, from being kidnapped by some rogue band of outlaws. Of course, they fell in love. Her father was a respected Cherokee medicine man. In a show of gratitude, her father gave Ahyoka to John Henry. They got married and this dining set was one of John Henry’s wedding gifts to her.”
I didn’t know if he was telling me the truth or not, but it was a romantic story either way.
“Quit blabbing old family tales and sit your keester down so we can eat,” Sissy commanded from her perch at the head of the table. Gone were the overalls, and in their place, Sissy wore a chic linen summer dress. A triple strand of pearls hung around her neck. Her hair was combed back off her face in a graceful chignon. Where was the wild haired hillbilly I’d met earlier?
Gideon pulled my chair out. I was startled for a second, but recovered with an awkward thank you and sat down. He sat to my left, between me and Sissy. Across from him was Cort, with Stewie opposite me. And there were two new faces at the table.
Next to Stewie was an older man with wild hair clubbed back into a ponytail.
Gideon made the introductions.
“Cherry, this is our onsite vet, JD Ross.”
JD gave me a quick smile and a friendly wink. That familiar blush crept over my cheeks.
Next to him sat a young girl shooting daggers at me. She was more than passing pretty. I guessed she was about my age, maybe a little older. Her golden blond hair fell in heavy waves over her bare, tanned shoulders.
“And the angry young lady beside him is his daughter, Maggie.”
I offered her a friendly smile. She secretively gave me the finger. Okay then...
I turned my gaze back to Sissy. She bowed her head. So did everyone else. She said grace in a solemn voice. When she finished, Cort and JD lifted the lids off two big soup tureens that had been placed in the center of the table.
It smelled heavenly, whatever it was. My stomach rumbled in anticipation. Gideon took the ladle and filled my bowl. Cort passed a basket of biscuits around.
I blew on a spoonful before stuffing it in my mouth. My taste buds revolted. I had to fight my gag reflexes from spitting it all back out. I swallowed it down without chewing, reaching for my glass of iced tea. I noticed everyone else was slowly chewing with looks of distaste.
“Dang it!” Sissy blurted out, spoon clattering in her bowl. “This tastes like salted flour.” She pushed her chair back, grabbing her bowl, and pouring the contents back into the tureen. “I’m makin’ a sandwich,” She announced as she marched toward the kitchen mumbling about worthless cookbooks.
Gideon and Cort kept eating. They must have cast iron stomachs. Stewie looked at me, unsure what to do. The blonde got up and sashayed out of the room without a word. JD just shook his head.
“I can fix this,” I whispered to Gideon. He and Cort jerked their heads to me.
“You can?” they said together.
“Yeah, bring these pots into the kitchen.” They didn’t hesitate. They followed me across the dining room, through the swinging door, and into the kitchen.
“Stupid, useless cookbooks!” Sissy ranted, pitching one in the trash. A carafe of iced tea and bottle of bourbon were on the counter, no sandwich in sight.
There was a large stockpot on the stove. I instructed Gideon and Cort to pour the stew back into the pot. I ignited the burner and adjusted the flame. Next, I rooted around the cupboards for spices and a can of beef broth and tomato sauce. I even thought of adding a few splashes of Sissy’s bourbon.
I stirred everything in with the ‘barf’ stew and covered it with a lid. When I turned around, Gideon, Cort, Sissy, Stewie, and JD were lined up at the island, watching me.
“Just a little something I learned from my mom,” I murmured, slightly embarrassed.
A half hour later we were all seated back the table, minus the moody blonde. Once again the bowls were filled and the biscuits were passed.
No one said anything as they raised their spoons. After the second and third bites I expected someone to comment, but they didn’t. They kept shoveling in the stew. Then JD spoke.
“Praise the Lord and pass my bowl for seconds,” his gravelly voice boomed.
Cort used his biscuit to wipe his bowl clean before he ladled another helping into it. Even Sissy had seconds. When all was said and done, both tureens were empty and the basket of biscuits only had crumbs left. The men pushed back their chairs and patted their rounded stomachs.
“Cherry, that was amazing.” Cort tilted his head back and sighed.
“Really good,” Gideon added.
Sissy pursed her lips and eyed me suspiciously. I held my breath and waited.
“Well, gal,” she said. “Let’s see how you scald a chicken. Tomorrow you’ll make supper.” She got up and left the room.
Openmouthed, I looked at Gideon. He had that muted grin on his face like he was holding back a good belly laugh.
“Hot dang, a real cook,” Cort hooted. “Looks like I won’t have to sneak those frozen pizzas anymore.”
“Wait.” I panicked. “I don’t know how to scald a chicken! I don’t even know how to pluck the feathers. Where I come from we buy our chicken in the grocery store. They’re already dead and de-feathered.” I didn’t realize I was wringing my napkin to death until Gideon covered his hand over mine, stilling them.
“The scald on a chicken is the degree of crispness when it’s fried,” he explained calmly. “Do you know how to fry chicken?”
“Sure,” I said. Who didn’t?
“Then you’re all set.” He gave my hands a pat then pushed out of his chair.
“Wait!” I said, halting them in various motions of cleaning up. “Stewie and I are supposed to leave in the morning.”
“What’s one more day?” Cort asked, stacking the dirty bowls. Stewie nodded his head. Gideon didn’t say anything as he carried dirty dishes to the kitchen.
“I guess so...”
“C’mon, Cherry, I’ll show you the kittens,” Stewie grinned.
* * * *
I pushed off with the toe of my borrowed sandal, sending the swing into motion. It was a comfortable evening, no humidity and a light breeze drifting in and out.
The veranda was shadowed, deserted except for me. I needed alone time so I could think. Things were moving too fast. That was the normal speed for me though, fast forward. Those people who complained that life was standing still and were bored, they would be more appreciative if they lived a day of my life.
The scrape of a shoe had me jumping from the swing ready to fight. It was pitch black out, no stars in the sky. I couldn’t see a thing.
“Easy does it.” Gideon walked out of the shadows, hands up in surrender.
“I’m gonna make you wear a bell,” I said, lowering my fists. My shoulder was throbbing in protest.
“Yeah, Maw-Maw says the same thing.” He chuckled.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I always come out here after dinner.” He moved with the slow deliberate grace of a cat as he settled himself on the swing.
“Sorry. I didn’t know.” I started to leave.
“You can stay.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want to intrude.” I took another step back.
“I wouldn’t have offered if that was the case.”
I hesitated. What was he up to?
“I won’t bite.” He patted the empty spot on the bench beside him.
I eased onto the swing because I didn’t want him to think I was intimidated. But I sat as far away from him as I could so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. We sat there, neither one of us talking. It wasn’t totally uncomfortable.
“How’s the arm?” he asked, his mellow tone oozing over me.
“It’s kicking and screaming for the most part.”
“I’ll see if I have anything a little stronger than Tylenol.”
“That’d be great.” I waited a beat then said, “I’d, uh, like to pay you for letting us stay.”
“Sissy won’t let you,” he said, shaking his head.
“But we’re using your water and the extra electric, not to mention the food—”
“We call it Southern hospitality.” He cracked a smile.
“I call it mooching,” I mumbled.
He stared out into the night, the swing swaying gently.
“How about we take it out in trade?” he suggested.
My body reacted instantly, tensing tighter than a string on a bow. Red lights blasted in my head. Here it is. The ever expected moves all men possess.
“What kind of trade?” I asked, my voice dripping with contempt, as I looked him in the eye. I wanted to make sure he saw I wasn’t going to take any of his crap.
“I was thinking a little light housekeeping and some cooking.”
My ready retort, complete with flaming verbiage, was doused. Cooking? Cleaning?
“Nothing too strenuous,” he said with a touch of sarcasm. I guess he was offended by my silence.
“No, I mean... that sounds great. That’s not what I expected...” My excuse trailed off. I looked at my good hand that rested on my lap, pretending to inspect my cuticles.
“Ah... I see,” he drawled out.
I felt another blush heating up. He didn’t say anything more. We sat in silence for a little while longer. I slid my eyes his way a few times, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and not because of the lack of light, but because he had a perfect poker face.
“Why did you bring us here?” I asked. I had to know. I couldn’t take it anymore. This guy would give a mime a run for his money.
“Did you have somewhere else to go?” It was a casual question. No sarcasm or cockiness.
“No,” I admitted.
He lazily shifted his head forward then back.
“Do you make a habit of bringing strangers home?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.
“Nope, just the ones with gunshot wounds.”
He said it so seriously that it took me a minute to realize he was kidding.
“Well, at least you have your priorities,” I said sternly, making him chuckle.
“So, do we have a deal?” he asked, crossing his long legs at the ankle.
“I guess. Sissy’ll probably give us the boot anyway after she tastes my fried chicken.”
“If it tastes anything like the Burgoo you doctored up tonight, I think she’ll hog tie you to the stove.”
“We’ll see.” I smiled at his compliment, which gave way to an involuntary yawn. “I better get to bed.”
He stood up when I did. I quickly stepped back.
“Why do you do that?” He quirked a brow.
“Do what?”
His eyes were steady and probing.
“Nothing,” he said. “Goodnight.”
I watched him saunter off the veranda and disappear into the starless night. Gideon Shepherd was an enigma. It was too bad I couldn’t stick around to figure him out. Probably for the best though, I reminded myself. After all, I was still on the run.