Page 24 of The Intruder

“A beard.”

“A gross bushy beard?”

“No, it’s, uh, well-groomed.”

Eleanor grabs another cookie from the tin. “What color are his eyes?”

“Blue.”

“Are they soulful?”

“Soulful?” I stifle a laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Is he smart?”

Smart? That’s hard to say. He’s well-spoken though. He seems educated, although we haven’t discussed his educational background. “I think so.”

“Is he nice or a jerk?”

“He’s nice,” I say. “He bought me the cookies, didn’t he?”

The cookies were part of a bigger gesture. It was my first birthday living out here, the first one since my father died and since losing my job. I was feeling low and let slip that the day was coming up. Lee invited me to his cabin, and even though I was extremely reluctant, I finally agreed. He cooked me a lovely meal of steak and potatoes. Totally a “man’s” dinner, but it was delicious. He even coaxed a bit of conversation out of me, although I managed to skirt any serious questions.

He looked really good that night—I still remember. He wore a nice checkered shirt, and his face had this openness when he smiled. It made me want to tell him everything. And his blue eyes were…well, soulful.

Then when we were nearly done eating, Lee ran to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine. I almost forgot about this, he said. Want to crack it open?

I almost said yes. If we opened that bottle of wine, that would open the floodgates. The evening would end with him kissing me, and while initially the possibility triggered a little jolt of excitement, the more I considered it, the more anxious I felt. So I made up an excuse and got out of there as quickly as I could. Lee barely had time to grab his present for me and make sure I took it home. It was our first and only meal together.

“So why don’t you want him to be your boyfriend?” Eleanor asks me.

“I don’t want a boyfriend right now,” I say. “I’m happier without one.”

“Why?”

I shoot her a look. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No, but you’re old.” She shakes the tin and picks out another cookie. She is so tiny; where is she putting all this food? Physically, this seems impossible. “Anyway, my mom wouldn’t let me.”

My ears perk up. Another tiny piece of personal information. “Is there someone you’d like to be your boyfriend…or girlfriend?”

It felt like we were having a nice, albeit slightly insulting conversation, but she shuts down quickly at the personal question. “No. Not anymore.” She shoves another cookie in her mouth.

“Not anymore? So there is someone you—”

A bolt of lightning from outside makes her face glow briefly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But you could tell me if—”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it,” she hisses as the entire house shakes with a crack of thunder, loud enough to make me jump. The storm must be very close.

She’s glaring at me now. I’m not going to get any more information out of her about her mother or this potential crush. I am desperate for any little nugget. Where she’s from, how old she is…anything she's willing to tell me.

“Maybe I can give you a ride then tomorrow,” I offer. “Is there someplace you would like me to drop you off?”

“No, thank you,” she says. “I’m almost there.”

That’s very strange. How could she be “almost there” when we’re in the middle of nowhere? It doesn’t even make sense that she’s out here. If she were hitchhiking, it’s not like they would drop her off here, so far off the main road.