The waitress set our plates in front of us. Pete’s cook was fast. My tea went to the side and my coffee cup was whisked away. I poured tea from the small pot and added cream and sugar as Ben and the waitress chatted about us needing more of anything. The tea was a little weak yet, but the warm mug felt good in my cold hands. I held it close to my face so the steam would warm me.
The waitress walked off and Ben turned back to me. “I asked your brothers and sisters what food you liked best. It didn’t occur to me that I’d come across as bossy. So I propose we start over.” He held his hand across the table. “Hi. I’m Ben Aden. I like walking in the rain, singing in the shower, working wood, and making things grow. I’m not always real bright about women, but I’ll never lie to you, hit you, or make you be anything you don’t want to be.”
His hand hung across the table. I stared at it, thinking over what it meant if I accepted it. Thinking about Occam’s kiss. Slowly I reached out and clasped it. “I’m Nell. I’m independent, got a big mouth sometimes, and like living alone. I’m a cop of sorts. And a farmer. I like making things grow too. Mostly vegetables and fruit.”
Ben released my hand. “See. We got something in common already.” He dropped his head and closed his eyes for a moment. I realized he was praying over his food. And that he didn’t expect me to pray with him the way a churchman would. I seldom prayed anymore—the church had put me offa praying—but I closed my eyes and said a silent word of thanks for the food and the company and the strange handshake, which surely cemented a deal of sorts. And for Occam. And asked God if he had put them both in my path, and what I might learn from the presence of two such different men in my life. When I opened my eyes, my unplanned prayer over, Ben’s blue gaze was on me. He nodded and we dug in.
The breakfast was pretty good. The company was better. Ben was charming and kind and told me about his first year of school and classes and how he was a fish out of water in the normal world. He asked me about getting my GED and going to Spook School. He told me about his ideas for sustainable farming with ancient aquaculture, specifically, integrated multitrophic aquaculture, a method devised in ancient Asia. I’d read about it, but Ben’s degree in agriculture gave him a deeper and wider understanding of the pros and cons of the farming methods. I brought up permaculture principles of farming and what animals he might suggest for a half acre of dedicated land. His answers made me want to try permaculture on Soulwood.
The conversation was light and cheerful and fun. And it wasn’t a discussion I could have had with Occam.
At nine o’clock Ben checked his cell and said, “Nellie, I gotta go. I got a shipment of well dried manure being carted in from Daddy’s land, now that the weather’s eased up. You can get home on your own? Your watchdog took off about half an hour ago.”
I twisted around in the booth and saw that T. Laine’s seat at the bar was now occupied by someone else. “You saw her? I’m sorry.”
“I think it’s nice that you got folks who’ll watch out for you.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
Ben tossed a twenty and a five to the tabletop, looped his jacket over an elbow, and slid from the booth. He leaned down and I tensed, near horrified at whatever he might be about to do. In public. He hesitated, his mouth only an inch from me. I didn’t turn. I didn’t breathe. He crossed the distance and gently kissed my cheek. His lips were warm and moist. He pulled back a fraction of an inch and, when he spoke, his breath feathered across my face, smelling of coffee. “I know you said you’d pay for your meal. And that’s fine. It just means the waitress gets a mighty fine tip. I’ll see you later, Nellie.”
I didn’t look around, didn’t move for a good two minutes. And then I gathered up my coat and left Pete’s, allowing Ben Aden’s two crisp bills to buy my breakfast too.
A date. I’d had a real date.
Outside, I spotted T. Laine’s car. The overworked witch was asleep in the driver’s seat with her head leaning against the window, her mouth open a little. I tapped on the passenger window and she snapped awake and unlocked the doors. I got in and buckled up, saying nothing, ignoring her steady gaze. A few seconds too late, she turned to the front and pushed the start button, easing into traffic, heading toward the hills that marked Soulwood. More minutes passed.
“Okay. Fine,” she said at last, taking the turn toward Oliver Springs. “I wasn’t going to ask. I was going to let you volunteer. But I have to say, that boy is a fine specimen of manhood. Dark hair and creamy skin, blue eyes to freaking die for. And you made him blush. Deets. I want to know everything. And before you say no, just remember that it’s a damn long way to your house from here, on foot.”
I had begun to smile as she spoke and when she finished her harangue, I said, “You waited for me.”
“Of course I waited. Unit Eighteen rule number one. No one goes in alone. No one gets left behind.”
It was the single most important reason that I had joined PsyLED. “He kissed me on the cheek before he left.”
“Day-um, girl! Dish! Start at the beginning!”
For the first time in my life, I had what Lainie called a “girl talk” about men. And it was pretty wonderful.
? ? ?
Back at the house, I unloaded my gear from the car and waved T. Laine away. She was so tired, I feared her eyes wouldn’t stay open for the drive to her place, but she refused to “crash at your pad,” as she put it, and pulled back down the hill at speed, her mouth moving. I figured she had waked up JoJo to tell her about my breakfast date.
? ? ?
I took care of urgent housekeeping chores, like heat and water, and mixed up some no-knead bread for later baking. I had venison stew, but it needed corn bread to go with it, so I set the Dutch oven on the cooler part of the stove to warm, and the skillets on the hot part of the stove top for later use. Let the cats out and then back in, and fed them. Washed a load of clothes. Put on my pajamas. Turned on the electric blanket. And went out to the married trees with my faded pink blanket, raided from my big gobag. I sat on the blanket on the damp ground, my palms flat, and blew out the stress of the last few hours. I eased my mind into the earth, down and deep, into the warmth that was Soulwood. I had drawn on it pretty hard and wanted to make sure it was all right. And it was, energies humming quietly through the ground like pulses of pale light. I gave it a small bump of energy, like a scratch behind the ears. Had it been a dog, the sentient thing that was my woods would have rolled over and given me its tummy. Satisfied, I glanced Brother Ephraim’s way long enough to ascertain that he wasn’t doing anything naughty. His area looked cold and dark and appeared to be free of electric snakes. I figured he had used everything he had for his strike at me. If I was lucky he was well and truly dead. I wasn’t usually lucky where Ephraim was concerned. Slowly, I eased back to my body.