Page 9 of Refuge for Flora

Was it too early?He didn’t care. It wasn’t like she was paying him, and if he woke her, she couldn’t really complain about it when her lawn was mowed for free.

Walking was his usual mode of transportation to her house. She wasn’t that far away, and there had been a few times when he’d been afraid that he’d break out one of his windows, or even his windshield, with something the mower would pick up. The chances of that were far too good with all the junk in her yard.

When the house came into view, it was a blink-worthy shot again. Someone was in the yard, and he was pretty sure from the shock of reddish-blond hair that it wasn’t MarilynMurphy. Who the hell would be in her yard?

Gravel crunched under his boots as he made his way up the driveway, watching the woman kneeling by the flower bed as he made his way toward her. When he got within a few dozen feet, he called out, “Gonna mow.”

Two green eyes met his, but there was no smile. “Oh. Guess I’ll have to go inside, huh?”

“I’m really sorry. It’s my only chance to do it.”

“Well, if there’s work to be done.” She stood and brushed the dirt off her hands. “Not like I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Are you… a relative?”

“No. I work for Mrs.Murphy.”

Jesus, what’s wrong with me?he heard a voice in his head ask. “I’m Barrett. BarrettQuarles.” He stuck out his hand, but for some reason, he had an overwhelming urge to hug her.

The hand she placed in his was warm and soft. “FloraStevens.”

“So you’re working for Mrs.Murphy? Yard work?”

“No, everything. I’m actually living here.”

“Oh! Well, I live right down that way,” he said and pointed down the road toward his house. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come down and find me.”

“I’ll remember that. Thanks. I suppose I should go on inside so you can get started.”

“Okay. Well, nice to meet you.”

“You too.” In seconds, she disappeared through the front door.

Barrett opened the door on the dilapidated barn and started the mower. In minutes he was off and running. As he mowed, he kept hoping she’d come out to bring him a glass of water or something, but she never did. When he finished, she came out and started working on the flower beds again, so he used the trimmer and chatted a little, but she didn’t seem very talkative. She was working for Mrs.Murphy…

Boy, she most likely had her hands full!

* * *

The whole firstday she’d been there had been devoted to cleaning out that bedroom. She didn’t know who the girl had been and she wasn’t sure how Mrs.Murphy would feel about her cleaning everything out, but the old woman just said, “Nobody’s gonna want any of that stuff. Toss it.” So she had.

She’d spent the rest of that day and all of the next day trying to clean and straighten up the kitchen. That had been a monumental task. She even found some broken dishes in one of the cabinets, so she tossed those. Whatever she found two of, she put the newest one back and put the older one into a box to donate to the shelter. After all, who needed three flour sifters?

The following day she’d washed linens all day long. That wasn’t just sheets, blankets, and the like. She’d washed the drapes and comforters too. One check of the water in the washer as they were swishing around gave her a look at disgusting, gray slurry, proving that they hadn’t been washed in decades. As they were all washing, she’d done all the floors, then run the washer load a second time before putting it all in the dryer.

Friday had been spent cleaning the bathrooms. Good lord, that had been a disaster. Her stomach pitched a few times as she worked, but she managed to hold it together. Throwing up would only create a bigger mess, and she had enough of one already. But by Friday evening, everything was starting to take shape. Piles of junk here and there were gone, the hallway was cleared of all kinds of stuff that had been stacked along the walls, and she’d put together a list of things and ordered them to be delivered from one of the discount stores there in town. The old woman had said Flora could use her car, and there was a car in the garage, but it looked like it hadn’t been started in several years, so she wasn’t sure it would run. Her driver’s license hadn’t expired yet, so she didn’t have to worry about them tracking her that way for a while.

When she was finished making breakfast for them and cleaning up afterward, she grabbed the few tools she could find and headed out to the yard. Everything needed doing?absolutely everything. After standing for a minute or two and staring at the house itself?way beyond her skill set?she dug in, literally, to get the yard straightened up. It was a mess. The flower beds hadn’t been so much as looked at in years, and there were dead leaves and weeds everywhere.

And then a man named BarrettQuarles had strolled up the driveway and taken her breath away. Flora didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so gorgeous before. He wasn’t especially tall, but he was really built, and the way he ambled up to her told her he was a true-blue country boy, the real deal. It had occurred to her to ask him what he did for a living, but that could be a topic for another conversation. Having to go inside was torture, and from time to time she’d peek out a window to watch him riding the big mower around. When she couldn’t hear it anymore, she headed back out to work.

A sound caught her attention and she looked up to see him come around the corner of the house with a gas-powered string trimmer, working along the foundation of the house and down both sides of the walk. “Want me to trim around that?” he asked when he got to the flower bed she was working in.

“Sure.” Flora scrambled up onto the porch and waited as he trimmed all the weeds around the perimeter of the bed. The whole time he worked, she kept hoping he’d lift his head and look at her, but he never did.Why in hell would he be interested in me anyway?she asked herself. She was nothing. Nobody. She had nothing to offer anyone.

“There ya go,” he said as he cut off the trimmer’s motor and headed back to the barn. Apparently he wasn’t planning to even talk to her. He’d probably cut across the back yard and disappear, and she wouldn’t blame him. No man in his right mind would be bothered with her.

She knelt on the folded towel she was using to save her knees and started digging again with the wonky little hand trowel she’d found in the barn. She’d gotten most of the leaves out of the main bed when she heard a voice say, “You’re really moving ahead with that.”

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