Damsel in the Dust

3

I stay in bed well past sunrise, trying to remember the last time I've done such a thing. At first I worry that I'll be caught, but then I remember that there is no one to catch me. I think maybe I'll feel guilty, being idle when I've normally been up for hours working, but I don't.

The feeling is amazing, tempered only by the fact that I know it can't last.

As much as I want to stay in bed, I also don't want to waste the precious days I have to myself. The chores still need to be done too, but for now, they can wait.

I get dressed and make a cup of tea, settling into the sunroom to watch the morning light strike across the yellowed fields. The ground is damp, so I open the back door and the windows, breathing deep. I love the smell of wet earth, especially during our long, dry summers. Petrichor, I think it's called, the refreshing and invigorating scent the world gives off after a good rain. I remember a young paralegal trying to impress me with the word one day long ago. It feels like another lifetime, these memories from before I lived here at the end of the road in Marion.

I close my eyes, lost in the bliss of this unremarkable yet peaceful moment. When I open my eyes, my mug slips from my fingers, my peace broken as surely as the ceramic. Two figures make their way across the field, heading straight toward my home.

Shawn's warning about strangers echoes in my ears and I leap up. They're close, close enough for me to see that it looks like they've been traveling for a few days. Bags slung over their shoulders, dusty clothes faded by the late summer sun. The smaller figure is a girl. The other is a man.

My hands start to shake again.

I reach for the door handle. Seeing me start to close up, they both put out a hand and break into a run. I hear the girl yell "stop!" while the man calls "wait!" but I am already yanking the door closed.

In my haste, I forget the back door is broken and needs a slight lift before it can be closed. Without that lift, the screen slams against the frame, the bottom half bending so that even when I lift it, it does not close.

I stand, frozen, with both hands pulling the doorknob toward me. I hold the door closed like a shield.

They both slow as they approach, walking cautiously toward the door.

"Please," I say, "I don't have anything worth taking."

The man speaks first, hands raised, palms out, voice soft, as if soothing a frightened animal. I wonder how terrified I look. Then I wonder when strangers started to scare me so much.

"We just need water," he says.

"Yeah, we've been walking forever," the girl says, folding her arms in what I'm sure is a teenage pout. She's so young. Too young to be walking out here begging for water.

The man shoots her a look. He's standing close, close enough for me to see the strong edges of his cheekbones, the stubble across his chin, and the concern etched in his deep brown eyes. He can't be much older than Shawn, which would make it all the worse if anyone were to see him here. I also notice the lean muscle of his arms, and my mind can't help conjuring a scenario where he rips the door frame from my hands. If he wanted too, I could not stop him.

"My name is Jake," he says, "this is my sister Maive. We've been traveling a few days, and yours is the first home we've seen. We're not burglars or thieves. We'd just like a sip of water and we'll be on our way. Do you have a hose out back that we can use? We don't have to come inside."

I'm still clutching the door, my mind reeling. He sounds honest, and deep down I believe his words. Shawn's warning still echoes in my mind, along with a thousand memories of him telling me to be more careful, more observant. He thought every man I'd ever met was after me, and I was just oblivious. Though I didn't believe that, I had naturally started to become more wary of all men, and took great care to avoid interacting with anyone that would upset the delicate balance I had found at home. If Shawn found out I had helped these people, particularly the man, I don't know what he would do. The doorknob rattles as my hands twitch.

"Jake, she's terrified. Poor thing is shaking. Let's just go." The sister says, her voice softer, arms uncrossed, brow furrowed in concern.

"Okay, we'll go," he says, reaching for the door frame.

I tense.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says, gently taking the flimsy frame and bending it back into a somewhat normal shape.

I lift the door and pull it closed as he and his sister back away, starting down the muddy road. I watch through the windows as they walk away, moving through the kitchen to keep them in sight. Maive drags her feet. On impulse, I open the front door.

"Wait!" I call, running out into the mud. "Wait, it's okay. Come in."

They stop and turn, considering me for a moment before glancing at each other. Maive shrugs and they both start back towards the house.

I force Shawn's words out of my mind, reminding myself that he is not here, that I can make this choice. I fold my arms across my chest to hide the tremble in my fingers.

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A/N: Thank you for the wonderful feedback so far! I've been enjoying the comments immensely. I can't believe how well Damsel has been received and I truly appreciate both your votes and comments.

Fun fact: I dreamt part of the scene in this chapter. I saw these two strangers walk up to the back door, me bending the door frame, and the man in my dream bending it back so I could close the door on them. It was so powerful I had to write it down, and it turned into this!