Serial Love: Saints Protection & Investigation (7 page)

“Come on, Ann. We’re heading to cabin four now,” Sally said. Ann smiled and followed the woman to the golf cart they used to drive around the area. Sally buckled Ann in, not sure if she would stay on her own.

“Oh, I remember cabin four,” Ann exclaimed, joy written on her face. “We finished this one in 1963. Martin fell off the roof when trying to put the shingles on. I was pregnant at the time and as soon as I heard him yell, I skedaddled right up here.”

“Was he hurt bad?” Sally asked.

“Oh no. Mostly his pride, I expect,” Ann answered, still chuckling at the memory. “I haven’t seen him today.”

Sally, knowing that Martin had passed away three years ago, just said, “I saw him earlier. He’ll be around later.” It seemed strange to lie to the older woman, but Bethany had attended a seminar on Alzheimer’s and Dementia and it was emphasized that instead of insisting the person was wrong, it was better to give them a simple answer that would placate them.

The two women passed Bethany as she was heading to the dock. Giving a wave to the young woman, they continued on to the cabins. Ann’s clarity returned as she said wistfully, “I wish my granddaughter could find someone to take care of her. She works too hard.”

Sally glanced to the side, saying nothing but agreeing with her friend.

Bethany finished tying the paddle boats to the dock, making sure the rules were clearly posted. Stubbing her shoe on a raised nail, she pulled out the hammer she kept in the tool chest that she carried around with her. A few pounds and the nail was once again flush with the wood. Glancing around, she found a few more that needed to be hammered into place.
Maybe next year we can replace the dock and use screws instead of nails.

The summer storm that had passed by a couple of days ago left a few tree branches hanging down over the path. She strolled along the trail toward the lodge to get a saw when she saw Horace pulling up in his old car.

Changing directions she walked over, meeting him at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door. He looked the same as always—pale skin and light grey eyes that darted around. His hair was thin on top and his glasses slid down his nose. He always stayed in his cabin when visiting, never participating in any of the activities. She had visions of him as a vampire only coming out at night. Stifling a grin she greeted him.

“Mr. Malinski, good to see you again.”

He nodded nervously, bobbing his head. “Ms. Bridwell.” He followed her up the steps and over to the counter. She checked him in, then printed off the rental agreement. He did not read it, having been there many times.

“I’ve got you in cabin nine, same as you had last time if that’s okay,” she commented.

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed. “I like things to be the same.”

“I know you prefer to not be too close to the other cabins and a group just checked into cabin two.”

He smiled, nervously fiddling with the papers she handed him before reaching out to take the key from her hand.

“Sally has already been there, so the clean linens will be on the bed and in the bathroom. You know the drill so let me know if you need anything.”

Bobbing his head once again, he turned and headed back to his car. She followed him as far as the front porch and watched him drive down the gravel road toward the cabins on the farther side of the small lake.
What does he do?
The vampire thought flashed through her mind again, this time allowing the giggle to erupt.
He must sleep all day and then fly around at night.

Jerking herself out of her musings, she stepped off the porch and headed to the right toward the shed at the back of the lodge to get the saw.

Using the sharp tool, she managed to get the tree limbs down but with some difficulty. She grasped them in her gloved hands and dragged them to the edge of the woods. By the time she finished, she was sweating and her arms ached from the strenuous activity. Spying her depleted pile of winter wood, she decided she would chop some of it after lunch.

Since Gram was with Sally, she fixed a sandwich upstairs in their apartment over the lodge. Eating quickly, she gulped some water before heading back out. Retracing her earlier steps to the shed, she retrieved the axe. As she locked the door, she turned, running into a body.

“Oh my goodness, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Mr. Taylor exclaimed, grabbing her arms as she stumbled.

“No, it’s my fault,” she said, smiling at the friendly guest. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Well, with a weapon like that,” he said nodding to the axe, “you’d better be careful.”

Laughing, she agreed. Looking down the path, she sighted his wife and two sons walking to the dock.

He followed her line of vision and said, “We’re heading out on the paddle boats, but I saw you down on the dock earlier so I told my wife that we’d better check with you first.”

“Oh, yes, you can use them. I was just making sure they were tied up. You can keep them out as long as you like since I haven’t had anyone else asking for them today. The rules are posted and remember, it’s at your own risk.”

He smiled but made no effort to follow his wife right away. His gaze came back to the young woman running the small resort. “You’re doing a good job here, you know. Running this place can’t be easy but the help you’re giving your grandmother…well, anyway I just wanted to say that I think you’re doing a wonderful thing.”

She returned his smile and shrugged. “I love living here and helping with Gram until…” her voice trailed off, sadness filling her expression.

He placed his hand on her shoulder, giving a little squeeze. “I understand. Well, I’d better join the family or they’ll think I got lost along the way.” With a nod, he moved toward the dock leaving Bethany standing outside the shed. Forcing the depressing thoughts from her mind, she swung the axe onto her shoulder and made her way to the woodpile at the edge of the woods.

*

Jack sat in
his truck for ten minutes trying to decide what he was going to do. Earlier it had seemed so easy.
Saturday morning and I’ll go over to the cabins next door to check on Bethany and Ann.
Simple. Easy. A neighborly act.
So why the hell am I still sitting in my truck in my driveway?
The answer was staring him in the face, but he did not want to have to admit it.
Because I fucking felt something when I was in her presence.

I don’t have time for this,
he chastised himself. Running his hand over his beard, he thought of all of the reasons why he should not be considering seeing Bethany again.
Too complicated. My work. My privacy. Don’t have the time that it takes for a woman to decide what they want.
Then her face came into his mind—her blonde hair blowing about her face as she fought to protect her grandmother.

Forcing that line of thinking from his mind, he backed out of the driveway.
Nope, she and Ann were hurt on my property, even though they were trespassing, and I’m just going to go check on them.

Driving the short distance to the turn by the old wooden sign to Mountville, he controlled his thoughts. Barely. But by the time he made his way to the lodge, he knew;
Fuck that. I want to see her.

Climbing down from his truck, he started toward the front steps when he heard voices coming from the side. A middle-aged woman with a pleasant smile was walking toward him with Ann in tow. He stopped, carefully observing that Ann seemed to be recovered from her ordeal, her facial scratches barely visible.

“Hi, I’m Sally. May I help you?”

“Morning ma’am,” he replied. His eyes cut over to Ann, who was staring at him. “I was looking for Ms. Bridwell.”

“I remember you,” Ann pronounced, her face breaking into a wide smile. “You’re courtin’ my granddaughter.”

Sally jerked her gaze to her friend then back again to Jack’s. He saw her confusion and quickly said, “I own the property next door and was checking on—”

“Oh, yes!” Sally exclaimed, “Bethany told me what happened. Nice to meet you.” She eyed him from head to toe and must have liked what she saw because she immediately said, “Bethany was over at the dock, but I think I saw her at the edge of the woods a few minutes ago. I’m taking Ann in for a bite of lunch or I’d show you myself.”

Jack nodded and said, “Thank you, but I’m sure I can find it.”

The two women walked into the lodge, leaving Jack striding determinedly toward the woods near the lake. The sounds of whacking and cursing soon met his ears.

*

Bethany stood next
to a large stump where she had placed a smaller piece of wood that she was attempting to split. She had watched her grandfather split wood for years. He would always make her stand back for safety but with one swift slice he would have the pieces ready for her to scramble to gather for the woodpile.

Oh, Gramps. You made this seem so easy.
She managed to slam the axe into the bottom stump, completely missing the wood she was trying to hit. Jerking hard to get the axe loose took all of her strength. “Damnit!” she huffed.

Finally dislodging the axe, she stumbled back a few steps. Pushing her hair away from her eyes, she stood in place once more, determined to chop the wood. With another swing, she was able to land the axe in the right place but without enough force to completely split the wood. Pleased that she had managed to improve her aim, she attempted to keep slamming the wood onto the stump to finish the task. Unfortunately, the effort of lifting the entire tool attached to the chunk only resulted in her slinging the axe around wildly.

“Aughhhh!” she screamed as she lifted the handle once more over her head, almost toppling backward in her efforts when suddenly the tool was snatched from her hands. Whirling around, she stared into the face of a large, visibly furious man.
Jack?

“What the fuck are you trying to do?” he growled, moving around her while completing the chop with one swift hack. The two pieces of wood fell to the side.

Lifting her gaze to his as he turned back around, she placed her hands on her hips, saying, “Obviously I was chopping wood.”

“Waving a sharp axe around wildly, not able to hit the side of a barn, is hardly chopping wood,” he retorted. “You could’ve hurt yourself.”

“It was heavy!” she shouted.

“All the more reason to not attempt something you can’t handle,” he argued back, taking two steps closer to her, forcing her to lean back to maintain eye contact. “The way you were swinging it around if that block fell off on the descent you could have chopped your leg off!”

“Who says I can’t handle the axe? I was getting it if you hadn’t jumped in to rescue the poor, little woman,” she said sarcastically. Her hair had fallen toward her face again and as she pushed it out of the way, the realization that she was hot, sweaty, dirty, and disheveled once more when in his presence shot through her. She tried to tamp down those feelings but seeing him standing at the edge of the woods, his blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his thick forearms and jeans that showed off his massive legs and…
Nope, not looking there.
She lifted her gaze once more, this time seeing him smile at having caught her ogling.

“Oh, never mind,” she bit out, pulling her long hair back into a messy ponytail. “What are you here for anyway?” she asked as she turned to walk back up the path.

“I wanted to see you again,” he pronounced with candor.

She stopped in her tracks before turning to peer into his face. What she saw was honesty staring back at her. Licking her lips nervously, she cocked her head to the side, waiting for his explanation.

Instead of answering, he placed another piece of wood on the stump and within a few minutes he had chopped several more before tossing them onto the woodpile. She watched his body as it moved in perfect harmony with the task. His muscles as they corded with strength and power.
What would it be like to have that power over me? His body moving into mine? His—blah, stop!

Schooling her expression, she smiled as he turned back to her. “Thank you…again. It seems as though you have a habit of rescuing me. I’m sorry that I was so…um…unaccommodating.”

He reared his head back in laughter, the muscles in his neck working as the sound reached her ears. Meeting her gaze again, he said, “Unaccommodating? Try downright angry, darlin’.”