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What I sketched and will draw in more detail later isn’t about her body, but the beguiling adoration that washed over me without explanation. While objects and nature often cryout, demanding to be drawn, this is the first time I’ve felt that from a person. The only portraits I’ve ever drawn have been commissioned, and those are few.
With my previous project of the fallen tree forgotten, I start back toward home, excited to work for the first time in a long time.
CHAPTER 3
CALLIOPE
My sudden panicin the woods doesn’t keep me from going back out there. At the time, my skin prickled with the sensation of being watched, but by the time I made it back to the safety of my cabin, my thoughts were more rational. It was probably just an animal. The forest isn’t quiet, I know that. My anxiety got the best of me again, that’s all. The memory of calling out like my imagined serial killer in the woods might reply makes me roll my eyes at myself.
Other than that one moment, it’s been a great week. Making so many types of donuts for Lucky’s Diner turns out to be more complicated than I expected but after my third shift ends on Saturday morning, I think I have the hang of everything. The recipes are always there if I need them, but I’ve learned sticking to the schedule that Silver showed me is most important. That way a lot of other work can be done while certain doughs are proofing, and no time is wasted.
The diner closes at nine—the same time my shift starts—so there are no customers, but the grill cook, Gary, stays until eleven to help close up. They have a young guy, Ethan, who comes in when he leaves. He’s responsible for prepping all theproduce, making sandwiches for premade box lunches, refilling, restocking, and some nighttime cleaning.
Working alongside Silver and sometimes Misty—who I’ll be filling in for occasionally since she’s juggling a job and being a single mom to a newborn—is enjoyable. A speaker sits on one of the shelves and we take turns choosing the music. With the restaurant empty, it’s a very laidback atmosphere no matter who else is working at the time. Mona and Silver are both happy to have me stay on, and I’m added to the schedule for the next week.
I may still look for a volunteer opportunity since the job is only three nights a week, but for now, I’m happy to spend my time exploring the woods, catching up on books I’ve been meaning to read, and discovering some new hobbies.
Being in the woods has made me eager to learn more about the nature around me. I want to know the names of the trees and which birds are singing so beautifully every day.
Sunday turns out to be rainy, and rather than stay indoors, I drive to a big home improvement store in the next town to buy some bird feeders. It took a little research for me to learn exactly what kind of bird seed to get and which feeders work with the different types, but they had a huge selection to choose from. I’m lured in by a pretty birdbath made of sea glass that must go home with me, along with a couple of lawn chairs, and a small portable firepit.
It's pouring down and lightning streaks across the sky when I get home so everything gets left in the car while I make a mad dash for the house. I roll a joint, grab myself a glass of iced tea, and sit out on the porch.
I’m surprised to find a voicemail on my phone from the private investigator I hired a few weeks ago. I didn’t expect to hear from him on a weekend, but maybe PI’s don’t keep businesshours. It’s not a field I’m very familiar with. I wish I didn’t have to be now.
Dread fills my chest while I stare at the screen. Less than a minute duration. It must not be big news. Probably just a request to call back. If I don’t check it now, I’ll think about it all night. My finger trembles a little as I press play.
“Ms. Barnes, I just wanted to let you know that I received your payment, and my partner has started looking into your missing person’s case. It may take a few weeks for us to have an update, but you’re welcome to check in with us any time or contact me if you remember any further information that may help. Thank you.”
No news but not bad news is a relief. With a sigh, I light the joint and sit back in my chair.
The storm has passed, leaving a steady rain in its wake. It’s a lovely sound. Drawing the smoke into my lungs, I relax, letting the feeling wash over me while darkness paints the landscape. A vague memory surfaces of how my dad used to refer to the pitch dark as country dark. At the time, I didn’t think anything about it, but it makes sense now. Especially with the cloud cover and no moon.
The rain lets up about an hour later, and mosquitos start to recognize me as an all you can eat buffet. As I get up to go inside, a light catches my eye across the driveway. Arlow stands in the open doorway of his barn, the backlight displaying him as a long shadow. He leans against one side, and I wonder what he’s doing.
That familiar eerie feeling of being watched creeps in again. Is he watching me while I look at him? Surely not. It’s too dark over here for him to even make out that a person is on the porch, isn’t it? I couldn’t see him if it weren’t for the light coming from inside the barn.
A snorting laugh leaps out of me when I realize if anyone should feel watched right now, it’s him. It’s time to take my high ass to bed.
I fall into a satisfying routine over the next week. My bird feeders are all set up and filled. It only takes a day for the birds to locate it, and my mornings—or afternoons if I worked the night before—are spent watching them while I have coffee on my back deck. After running any errands that need to be done, I hike down the trail again.
My time in the woods has become my favorite part of the day. Sometimes I take a book or a notebook to journal. Sometimes I sit and watch the water flow past, or hunt for pretty rocks while I listen to the birds. I’m sure my routine would bore the hell out of some people, but I’m loving every second of the peaceful lazy days.
In the evenings, I read, listen to music, and sometimes take a walk along the road while it’s still light out. From the road, the graveyard doesn’t seem as scary during the daylight, but the charred remains of the church that’s visible through the tree line has an ominous feel. Only a few feet of two walls stand, intersecting, a black scar against the blue background of the sky.
I’m not interested in walking down the road today. I’ve had the urge to bake lately and with all those fresh peaches available, a cobbler sounds like just the thing. I have to work tonight, so there isn’t time to bake right now, but I can go get the peaches and make it tomorrow.
Usually, my walks in the woods are leisurely, but this time my strides are quick and purposeful. It doesn’t take me long to follow the trail back to the bridge and over into the orchard. Theedginess I’ve been feeling fades. The calming influence of the woods is in full effect. Wandering through the trees, I pause here and there to pick the healthiest looking fruit, humming a song that’s been stuck in my head.
My hand is halfway to plucking another when I catch a slight movement out of the corner of my eye. Expecting to see a branch bobbing in the wind or maybe a bird, I glance over. It takes me half a second to register the tall looming figure, and my entire body jerks like I stepped on a live wire.
A man steps out from under the tree.
Instead of the scream that almost made it up my throat, his name escapes in a whisper. “Arlow.” It must’ve been audible because his eyes widen on a blink. “Silver told me your name,” I explain quickly. “She’s the owner of the cabin. I’m living there. Renting it. Just for a year.” I’m rambling while he stares at me like I’m an unfamiliar bug. It would be intimidating even if he wasn’t towering over me like a skyscraper. “I’m Calliope Barnes…um…Calli.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice is soft and deep, almost rattly, but I’m so struck by his appearance when he steps into the sunlight, I barely register the sound of it.
Silver said he had a unique look, and he does look different. He has the most interesting face with an angular quality that sharpens his jaw and chin. His dark scruff and moustache are segmented by a pure white stripe that dyes a streak through both.
