All righty, I’ve got a twofer to make up for last week. Let’s see if I can work TA Leederman’s — Ignoring the storm that raged outside, we sat without furniture before the fire, toasted bread, made Welsh rare-bit, drank tea, and talked. There would be warmth between us, anyway. — as well as Parrish Baker’s I just feel uncomfortable leaving that half-done; I have to have everything ready first.
***
Josiah sloshed his way to the porch and sank wearily onto the peeling wooden stairs, cursing under his breath.
“You might as well come on in,” I offered. The door I’d paid him to fix last wee had opened silently, and he jumped at my words. “Better inside than sideways rain.”
“Beg pardon, Miss Penelope,” he said gruffly, twisted as he tried to wring out his plaid shirt. “I don’t mean to be slacking on the job.”
“You can’t work in a torrential downpour,” I answered, keeping laughter I dared not let loose hidden behind what I hoped was a humorous tone. I might not have known the lawyer’s recommended handyman more than a few days, but I knew Josiah wouldn’t appreciate a perceived slight to his work ethic. Perhaps when we’d gotten beyond more than a passing acquaintance.
I blinked. Now where had that idea come from? I fumbled to keep going, awkwardly holding the door open and gesturing wildly into the darkness. “Anyway, there’s tea.”
Tea, and a fire. Great-Aunt Cecelia had left an enormous stack of firewood along with the stuffed rooms. The hearth had clearly been frequently used, as it was in better condition than the rest of the house. Still, her “collections” were more than financing the repairs, and that was after keeping anything sentimental. Which hadn’t included the three stagecoaches we’d hauled out of the barn and over to the antique flea market before Josiah had enough room to work.
It was a strangely tidy and profitable assortment, considering she’d bordered on hoarding.
I’d found useable mugs four days after arriving; mugs that an average human might feel comfortable using rather than ones dating quite literally back to the the colonial era. The modern ceramics had been logically discovered amidst delicately blue-patterned china and tarnished silver, though their position might have been more obvious had they not been both in a closet and also behind several pieces of uranium glass and a hideously ugly metal statue. That single box had made the poker-faced auctioneer cough with excitement.
Mom always said this place knew what you needed. Considering all of her stories, it was strange I’d never been here until last month.
He was staring at the barn’s sagging roof — or what could be seen of the blur that was the barn, given the rain — when I handed him a steaming cup cheerfully announcing the holder was a dog lover.
“I just feel uncomfortable leaving that half-done; I have to have everything ready first.”
His words were soft over the fire’s crackle, so quiet I nearly missed them.
“I like order too,” I finally offered quietly. “It’s easier to get things done, and done right.”
“Roof’ll hold,” he finally proclaimed. “Slate here, and the barn’ll hold for now, even with the storm.”
I made a small noise, finally understanding he was worried about his tools. Before I could say anything else ridiculous, there was an odd groaning from outside that drowned even the rain, then a crashing that could have only been lighting.
The lights went out, leaving a gloamy miasma that cast a greenish-grey over the inside of the house. Josiah moved before I did, fast for such a big man. The north bay window told the story. “Didn’t get the truck.”
I stared, uncomprehending. “Um, that’s good.”
A corner of his lip might have moved into a hint of a smile. “Looks like that old oak finally went over, right across the drive.”
That time I did laugh. “I thought maybe Godzilla.”
“No, but I might be stuck here until the rain stops before I can take a proper look and cut my way out.” He looked hesitant now. “As long as that’s all right.”
I eyed Cecelia’s favorite chair, a spindly thing that I hadn’t dared to test. “Don’t think that’ll hold you, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you need. Let me see what I can find.”
The house answered with pillows, enormous ones that I could have sworn weren’t there an hour previously. Pillows, and a baguette I didn’t remember buying at the market. The cheese I had, and the kettle worked as well on the hook over the fire as it had on the stove.
Ignoring the storm that raged outside, we sat without furniture before the fire, toasted bread, made Welsh rare-bit, drank tea, and talked. There would be warmth between us, anyway.
Besides, the more my mind was occupied by exploring this connection with Josiah, the less I wondered what, exactly, was going on with this house.
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