“You’re impossible,” Brock told his father. Coming back to the table, he plopped down to look out the window. Instead of watching the guy drive away, his attention immediately drifted next door. Of all the days to get a new neighbor, he thought, but there was no point trying to blame her for his distraction. This was entirely his own fault, brought on by one careless slipof his tongue and cemented forever in his gut by the wide-eyed, unprotesting look she had given him directly afterward.
That look in the depths of her startled gaze had told him she wasn’t protesting because she didn’t object. She didn't protest because there was a Little hiding none too successfully inside of her. That Little had responded to his tone, his words, and most of all, the authority he had no business wielding over her.
He’d have to watch that in future.
Chapter 6
The electric company still hadn’t stopped by when Lily finally went down for a nap around four. That was later, much later, than she normally took her naps, but this was a new place, a new situation, and she supposed it was only natural that Lily be more interested in helping her unpack the glut of boxes taking up space in their new living room.
Having her underfoot during the unpacking was both good and bad. Good because it wasn’t hard to keep track of her when she stayed right by Stace’s side throughout, but bad because every time Stace moved she was constantly stepping over her. That meant avoiding stepping on her or hitting her with either empty or full boxes. It wasn’t a great hardship; just a mild annoyance that made waiting for the people destined to bring them heat that much harder.
The later the day grew, the more nervous she became at the thought she might just have to go the night without heat at all. Which meant she really did need wood and a fire in the fireplace. And that meant setting up their bedrooms in the living room so they could share that only source of warmth.
Her bed was easy. It was just a matter or spreading out her sleeping bag on every spare blanket she owned for cushion. The crib was harder, and she spent the first twenty minutes of that project searching every box she hadn’t yet unpacked for a screwdriver and pliers.
Eventually she found them. The crib was easy after that. But although she tried several times to put Lily down for her nap, but without a quiet room and a door to close, it was Stace’s own wandering around that kept the baby up and alert until four.
She unpacked her kitchen, which consisted of two frying pans, plastic silverware, cups and Styrofoam dishes, because the dishes were Jim’s purchases according to his mom, even though they’d bought them together and with money from their joint bank account. That same joint account where Jim's paychecks, as well as hers, were deposited.
. She was allowed to keep the toaster, but only because her father-in-law had come through the kitchen at just the right time to say, “Knock it off, Irene,” in a soft and serious tone that had instantly silenced her mother-in-law’s angry gold-digging accusations.
The toaster was all she got though, because her father-in-law had promptly left and as soon as he was out of the house, Irene had ordered her out of the kitchen, back to her room, and not to touch anything else or she would have Stace arrested for theft.
That had been a hard night, but it wasn’t the worst. From then on, it was Irene and her lawyer that accompanied Stace through the house, telling her what she could have and what she couldn’t, no matter if it was hers or not. And a lot of what she’d had to leave behind had been hers. Although she fought hard to keep from getting angry over what she was being forced to leave behind, the bitterness and sadness crept in anyway. She spent a lot of nights crying herself to sleep. Her life and her heartwere shattered, leaving her unable to comprehend how she was supposed to go on with Jim gone like this.
Just thinking about it as she spent ten good minutes trying to figure out which cupboard should belong to her two frying pans, and which cupboard should house her disposable dishes, made her want to cry. But if she did, so would Lily. So she bit the inside of her cheek until the urge had passed and the only breaking down she did was of the now empty cardboard box before she put it on the front porch.
Next were the groceries. It was as cold as a refrigerator in the cabin, so she left the perishables on the counter and put the rest in the pantry, which wasn’t more than a narrow closet with six bookcase type shelves in it.
There were two bedrooms, both roughly the same size. She stacked her pants, socks and underwear along one wall until she could find a used dresser, and hung the rest in the closet. Lily’s things she put in the other room, lined up against one wall in four multicolored tubs just big enough to hold the baby’s clothes. Pads, diapers and the diaper genie went near the closet, and the rest of the toys that didn’t need to stay in the living room went in neat stacks around the rest of the walls until she found a chest or dresser, or changing table, or any of the creature comforts she’d had in what she was coming to think of as her other life.
Returning to the living room, she noted the continuing absence of the power company and then that Lily had fallen asleep on her tummy next to Stace’s purse, which the baby had unpacked in a semi circle all around her. Putting her down in the crib and covering her with two thick baby quilts, Stace rubbed her arms against the cold and then made an executive decision. She couldn’t afford to wait much longer, or she’d be cutting wood in the dark. Or walking next door to ask Brock to do it for her, and that grated.
She could do this. She could make it on her own.
She wasn’t a gold-digger who had married Jim just so she could have someone to take care of her.
As quietly as she could, she ventured out onto the front porch and walked around the house, locating the wood bin—of course it was on the side that faced her neighbor’s home. There was even an axe out there. It felt dull when she flicked her thumb across the edge, but she supposed with enough force it would still cut. A huge block of what had once been a hell of a tree-stump stood as a chopping block on the ground near the side porch.
But the last thing she wanted to do was line herself up, with an axe in her hand, where D—Brock could see her.
Picking up the axe, she took it around the other side of the house, passing the stack of bigger logs at the back of the cabin. As she carried the axe, she used the cabin as a solid shield between herself and the watchful eyes next door. Eyes she couldn’t be sure were looking at her. Yeah, sure he’d threatened her pretty good in the car, but that didn’t mean anything. Not really.
Did it?
Leaning the axe against the side of the house, she wandered back around to the woodpile out back. She glanced first at Brock’s house, making sure no one could be seen from any of the windows before she dashed out to the pile, grabbed a two-foot chunk of log that once was a tree trunk before someone’s chainsaw had cut it down, and quickly lugged it back out of sight to the right of her cabin. She didn’t breathe right until she let it drop to the ground, and only half because she was nervous about getting caught.
Getting caught... as if she were a kid and not a grownup in charge of her own life. Capable of taking charge of her own life, she meant. Still, she was also winded, huffing and puffing by the time she was safe enough to just drop the log into the snow. Thatone chunk of log weighed at least forty pounds. Which she was embarrassed at not being able to lug even for the short, what... hundred feet of distance that separated her hiding spot from the log pile? It was dead weight too, and already her arms ached from carrying it.
Nudging the stump into what she hoped was a good chopping position on the snowy ground, Stace ducked over to the nearest living room window. She jumped a couple times, before catching a good enough glimpse of the crib to reassure her Lily was still asleep, then she picked up the axe.
Although far from a city girl, Stace was equally far from being any degree of country either. She’d never cut wood, or kindling, or anything remotely like this. She had been camping once, though. But even she knew that keeping a fire going in the living room hearth was going to involve more effort that simply picking up wet sticks in the forest surrounding the cabin. Plus, that would involve leaving Lily and she wasn’t about to do that, not this close to dark.
Trying to find a comfortable position in which to grip the axe handle, she shifted her weight and lay the chopping blade on the top of the log. Should she cut it from the top near the middle or at the edge? She moved the axe head back and forth, trying to feel out both positions.
Shifting her weight again, she decided it wasn’t going to feel right until she took a swing. This was a simple tool, a simple job, and for sure she’d be an expert at it in no time at all. She just had to take a swing.
Bringing the axe up about waist high, she half-heartedly chopped the top of the log. The impact made her jump and cringe. She knew she wasn’t doing it right when the axe head turned on her next chop, landing a thudding blow with the side of the axe instead of the blade. Even she wasn’t so citified thatshe didn’t know hitting a log broadside wasn’t a good way to cut anything.
