On Bended Knee

Chapter 2

Lucy drove home after work without remembering a thing about her drive. The rumble of the engine only reminded her of a certain deep baritone. Her fingers around the steering wheel made her think of how small her hands looked against his muscled thigh. The smell of his soap lingered in her nose. Before she knew it, she was pulling her car up the steep, winding driveway to her apartment. She took her bag from the car, strolled towards the stairs, then turned around when she realized that she had left her keys in the ignition.

"Sprained ankle!" called a strong female voice. Lucy lifted her head. A tangle of wavy golden-blonde hair could be seen just above the porch railing. Battered cowboy boots were propped up on the railing, crossed at the ankle, and a tendril of cigarette smoke drifted past the woman's head.

"Hey, Janelle. Did you say 'sprained ankle'?" Lucy asked, heading in Janelle's direction.

"Yeah, I figured that'd get your attention. I called your name twice, but you just walked right on past me."

"Oh! Sorry. I was off in space, I guess." Or a zombie-infested Regency England.

Janelle was Lucy's land-lady and was fast becoming a close friend. Janelle lived in the downstairs half of the house they shared, and Lucy lived on the upper level. Janelle had converted the old house into two apartments, hoping to use the rent money to help pay the mortgage and finance her independence.

She worked part-time at the family lumber mill, calling herself a "secretary". It's true that she did answer phones, but she also kept the books, did sales, soothed bruised feelings between her four brothers, and once kept a broken log-splitter going long enough to complete the day's work with a number-two pencil and her hair elastic. Janelle did the work of several people, but knew that the business couldn't afford to hire her full-time. Her brothers also put in free overtime and made their share of sacrifices to keep the business going, so she wasn't mad, just perpetually broke. But she had a no-nonsense attitude and a big heart, and that was always more important than money in Lucy's book.

Lucy headed over to the big screened-in front porch where Janelle was sitting with a heavy plaid shirt wrapped around her shoulders, the setting sun shining warm yellow light into the west-facing front porch. Lucy lowered herself into the folding chair next to Janelle's with a screech of rusty springs.

"Tough day today?" Janelle asked.

"No, it was fine. Good, actually."

"And what kind of good would that be, hon?"

"The kind where I helped someone. He hobbled in and walked out. It made me feel kind of like one of those saints."

"Somehow I doubt that any saint looked like a bear eyeing a beehive when he talked about curing someone, half longing and half terror."

Dang it. Janelle had an uncanny gift for seeing past words and straight into what a person feeling. She'd told Lucy once that it was a product of growing up with so many 'strong and silent' types. She'd learned young how to read between the lines and duck before she was tackled.

"OK, so there was this guy," Lucy said.

"Guy, who?" The single male population in their tiny town was well picked over. Janelle knew that the choices for crushes were somewhat limited.

"This guy from the movie."

"They've started filming on the Kittington farm?"

"Yeah. One of them got hurt and came to my clinic today."

"Ooh, an out-of-towner. Tell."

How could Lucy explain? They met, he was hot, she got to touch him, but not in a smutty way. "Well... I can't really tell you anything. Patient confidentiality and all."