Foundations 2/6

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Foundations
By T. L. Odell

Part 2/6
See Part 0 for Disclaimers


Duncan heard the jeep returning, and watched as Kelly came back
into the house, rubbing her hands together, her face ruddy from
the chill air.  "Would you like me to start a fire?" he asked.
"It's getting cold."

"If you want one," she said, barely looking in his direction.

"If it's not being too nosy, may I ask what you've been doing?"

"Running a trap line.  Part of what I do is determine what lives
out here.  I set a line of traps about three times a week.  I'll
check them in the morning.  We have to account for any
protected or endangered species that inhabit the area."

She seemed willing to talk about her work.  Maybe he could get
through to her that way.  "Doesn't trapping an endangered
animal kind of defeat the purpose?"

"These are Sherman live traps.  Nothing to hurt the animal; I'll
photograph and release anything I catch in the morning."

Well, that gave him more information than he'd gotten from her
all day.  Interesting work, too.  "If you want some help or
company, I'd be glad to go along some time."

"Thanks, but I can manage just fine on my own.  I've been
doing it for almost six months now."

"Okay, but if you change your mind, just let me know," he said.

"I'll probably be out while you're getting ready for your crew
tomorrow.  I take it you found your supplies?"

"Yes, thanks."

She disappeared into her room for a short while, then came out
and started cooking.  She answered his attempts at small talk
with monosyllabic replies, so Duncan returned to his reading.
Kelly ate, cleaned up, and went back to her room.  After a few
chapters, Duncan followed suit.  The camp bed, with its metal
springs and thin mattress, wasn't designed for someone his size,
but he had endured far worse sleeping conditions.  He poured
himself a nightcap from the bottle of Scotch he had brought and
read one more chapter before turning off the light.

The weekend passed quickly.  His crews showed up promptly
each morning, eager to work.  He had tried to include someone
with experience in each unit, but even so, his days were busy.
He ministered to banged thumbs, made sure nobody hit anyone
else with a two-by-four, and settled disputes about whose turn it
was to use a cordless drill.  Something about men and cordless
drills; nearly half the volunteers had brought their own, but they
didn't want to share. Those who lacked the requisite carpentry
skills worked at clearing the nature trails that Kelly had marked.
He made a mental note to put something out to identify the
poison oak.  There were a couple of people who would need
more than just a little calamine lotion when they got home.

By the time the last volunteers left Sunday evening, all the
cabins' exterior walls were repaired and ready for staining, and
he had even managed to clear the grounds around the fire pit.  If
anything, they were ahead of schedule, but he was relieved he'd
have a few days to himself before he had to deal with the next
crews.

He finished the last of the clean-up in preparation for the next
weekend and sank wearily into his narrow cot.  After two days
of physical labor in the fresh air, he barely noticed the lumpy
mattress and squeaky springs.  He didn't know how long he'd
been asleep before he rose slowly from the depths of a dream
about someone working in the kitchen.  Someone really was in
the kitchen.  He looked at his watch.  Three-thirty.  He slipped
into his sweats and walked quietly out to discover the cause of
the noise.  He found Kelly wiping down the cabinet shelves,
their contents removed and lined up on the counter.

"Getting a head start on spring cleaning?"

She turned with a start at the sound of his voice.  "Did I wake
you?  I'm sorry.  I'm not used to having anyone else in the
house.  When I can't sleep, I just get up and do something."

Duncan noted the red-rimmed eyes, and the dark circles beneath
them.  "Well, as long as we're both up, shall I make us some
tea?  A friend of mine swears that there's nothing better than
chamomile tea for insomnia."

Kelly lowered her head.  "No, thanks," she said softly.

Keeping his tone light, he said, "I trust you won't mind if I fix
some for myself?"  He filled the kettle and set it on the stove to
boil.  Reaching for the canister of tea bags, he accidentally
brushed against her arm.  He heard the soft intake of her breath
and felt her body stiffen as she quickly moved away from his
touch.  The girl was obviously distressed, but Duncan didn't
want to press matters.  Not yet.

"Won't you at least keep me company while I have my tea?  I
can even help you move things around if you'll tell me where
you'd like them.  I can be quite helpful if you'll give me a
chance."

When she looked up, Duncan saw the blush rise in her face.
The kettle whistled and he made two mugs of tea, setting one on
the table near her.  He stirred in some honey and went to the
refrigerator for milk.  "Humor me.  You'll like it."

Kelly cupped the mug in her fingers, but didn't drink.

"I think we got a lot done this weekend, don't you?" asked
Duncan, hoping to draw Kelly away from whatever haunted her.

She nodded, and took a sip of tea.  "Yes.  Thanks for all your
hard work."

"I'm glad to help; I've been supporting the Foundation for
years.  It's nice to see that the money's actually going to
produce some tangible results.  How long have you been
involved?"

"I guess about five years now."  She looked back into her mug.

Duncan attempted some one-sided small talk about the day's
work until they had finished their tea.  He stood and took the
mugs to the sink, but she didn't get up from the table.  "Look,
we've only just met, but there seems to be something bothering
you.  Sometimes talking to a stranger is easier than opening up
to someone close to you."

"There's really nothing to talk about."  Her voice quavered.  Her
head bowed, she pushed herself away from the table and nearly
ran to her room.

Duncan let her go.  He wasn't used to being rebuffed, especially
by mortal women, but she obviously wanted to be alone.  He
vowed to try harder to see if he could help her overcome
whatever troubled her so deeply.

***

Kelly sat trembling on the edge of her bed when she got to her
room.  Her nightmares, those whirlpools of unidentifiable terror,
had returned with the anticipation of MacLeod's arrival, and she
had to struggle to act normally in front of him.  He seemed to be a
nice enough guy; intellectually, she thought she could trust him.
But her brain just couldn't convince her gut to relax.  She
stretched out on her back and did deep breathing exercises to
help her calm down.  She concentrated on the familiar sounds of
leaves rustling in the breeze and insects humming.  Maybe the
tea would really work and she could get back to sleep.

She engrossed herself in her work for the next few days, and
gave MacLeod as wide a berth as possible.  She drove the
fifteen miles to the general store in town and picked up some
more food, the mail, and the package from the Foundation she'd
been waiting for.  When she got back to the house, she quickly
put the groceries away and opened the box.  Inside she found
the engraved identification signs for many of the trees and
shrubs around the property.  She picked up a hammer, put the
box in the back of the jeep, and drove to the head of the nature
trail she had marked.  The volunteers had done a good job of
clearing it, she noticed.

Kelly positioned the signs, taking some satisfaction in knowing
that people would be able to know they looked at.  The signs
would be even more meaningful in the spring, when the plants
displayed their flowers.  She had discovered that although most
people could identify basic animals, very few knew the names
of any of the plants.  Kids learned dogs, cats, birds, cows,
horses and so on at a very young age.  But most of them were
hard pressed to go much beyond "tree" "bush," or "flower."
Well, maybe this would help.  You couldn't really appreciate
something if you didn't know what to call it.

***

She came out of her room Tuesday evening to find Duncan busy
in the kitchen.

"I'm making pasta, and I think I just put in way too much.
Won't you please join me?" he asked.  "I make a pretty good
marinara sauce."

*Okay, Kelly.  You can do this.  It's just dinner, and you'll be
eating anyway; why not do it together?*  "That sounds fine.
Thank you."  She was pleased to notice that her voice didn't
quaver.  She paused for a minute, then continued.  "Can I help?
I can make a salad or set the table."

"The salad's already made.  But setting the table would be nice.
And you could get me a glass of wine--it's chilling in the fridge-
-or at least find the corkscrew."

Kelly went to the drawer and got out the corkscrew.  When she
went to the refrigerator to get the wine, she saw that the salad
bowl contained more than enough for two people.  He'd planned
this whole thing.  Relax.  He's "perfectly safe."  We're under the
same roof; why not share meals?

She set the table, poured his wine and offered him the glass.
"Here."

"Thanks.  And feel free to help yourself if you'd like."

She hesitated for a moment, then poured herself a glass and
took it to the far side of the table.

"I finished priming the window frames on the first three cabins.
I should get the rest done tomorrow.  What have you been up
to?" he asked.

She took a sip of her wine.  "I'm trying to get some decent
photos of the things that live here.  That way, when the campers
show up, we can show them what kind of wildlife to expect.
Some of these kids freak out at the sound of an owl.  Hard to
believe they can sleep through drive-bys.  The Foundation also
needs records of everything for its fund raising."

"That sounds very interesting.  I'd like to see them sometime.
Maybe after dinner?"

"Maybe.  But they're not really organized yet.  That's
tomorrow's job.  I'm still downloading the latest images from
the digital camera."

"I thought I saw you out taking pictures this afternoon.  And
now," he said as he deftly tossed the drained spaghetti with the
sauce, "dinner is served."

As he had promised, the marinara sauce tasted pretty good.
Actually, it was excellent, and Kelly found herself eating with
more appetite than she'd had in weeks.  Before she knew it, they
had emptied the wine bottle as well.  "That was delicious.
Please, let me do the dishes," she said as Duncan began to fill
the sink with soapy water.

"I'm going to be very un-gentlemanly and take you up on that
offer so I can start a fire.  Just be careful; I think the chef's knife
is already in the sink.  Don't cut yourself."

"You sound like you speak from experience."

"Definitely."

As she stood at the sink, Kelly, relaxed by the wine, considered
the evening.  Duncan was, she had to admit, a hard worker, and
he always had a friendly smile for her when their paths crossed.
She had managed to make some small talk during dinner.  He
had some funny stories to tell and seemed to know a lot about
history.  So far, he really had been the "perfect gentleman."  She
vowed to try harder to be civil, at the very least.

End of Part 2

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