Page 1 of Owned By the Mountain Man

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NASH

The presence is back againtoday. My grandma would have said it’s the spirit of those I didn’t join. But ghosts have a different presence. This is one of the living, a flesh and blood person who haunts me.

I’d bet this Rolex Daytona in rose gold that I’m working on, it’s a woman. It might sound strange to a sighted person, but women and men have different scents. Even if a woman uses masculine soap or cologne, she still has a different smell to her. It’s hard to explain to those who rely only on their vision. I haven’t had that luxury since I was a teenager.

I tip my head and listen, trying to catch her breathing. The clocks around the shop tick. Frankie, my little French bulldog, snores contentedly in the corner. The lights overhead—the ones that are only there for the benefit of my customers—hum softly.

It doesn’t matter that my senses are sharper than they used to be. I’m still not so good that I can detect her gentle breathing. Not for the first time, I wonder what she sounds like. What kind of laugh does she have? Is her voice a booming tenor or a whispering soprano? What noises does she make when she eats?

There’s nothing though and not for the first time, I consider calling out to her. But what if I scare her away? I can’t deny that there’s something about the presence that intrigues me.

I don’t care much for people, but she’s different. She’s followed me around for nearly two weeks, always careful to stay just far enough out of my senses that I can’t prove she’s real. But I can feel her underneath my skin. The same way the air gets hot and sticky before a thunderstorm, I feel her. All I can do these days is keep holding my breath and praying the rain breaks soon.

Beans paws at my leg through my blue jeans. He’s Frankie’s brother, the one who keeps us all on track.

“Alright, alright, we’ll go home,” I promise him. I can’t deny I’ve been staying later and later this week. I keep waiting for her to go home, to hear her twist a doorknob or the soft tap of her shoes against the wooden planks. But there’s nothing. No matter how late I stay, my girl won’t come out of the shadows.

At first, I thought she was a thief here to rob me. But each morning, I come to the shop, and everything is exactly where I left it. I’ve even had Duke, the teenager, who assists me take daily photos of all our projects. Each afternoon, I make him compare the photos to make sure there are no changes to any of the items.

Lifting my head, I call out to the assistive service on my phone. I have it call Duke and tell him to get his ass down here. He drives me to and from work every day.

Kid doesn’t normally complain. He’s too busy trying to keep the lights on and buy groceries for his little brothers. He got a raw deal when his dad walked away last year and left him to care for his siblings and his sick mama. That’s when I took him under my wing. “Aww, have you seen these roads tonight, boss?”

“No, I haven’t,” I answer in a deadpan.

He swears under his breath, in the way he does when he’s forgotten his boss is blind. It doesn’t bother me. Most people forget about my lack of vision when they’ve spent a lot of time around me. It just blends in and becomes another part of me. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy teasing Duke when he forgets.

“I’ll be there in ten,” he says, which is the closest thing the awkward boy will give me as a way of apology. Not that I need one. He’s never meant any harm. Duke doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.

“Go slow. I hear the roads are rough tonight,” I warn before I end the call. There’s a snowstorm headed straight for Courage County. They’re calling it the blizzard of the century and according to the reports, the snow is already starting to fall. Still, there will be plenty of time for Duke to get me up the mountain and make it home safely to his mama.

While I wait for Duke, I put my shop back in order. Carefully, I put away my tools and add an antique Cartier pocket watch that I’ve been looking forward to restoring to my case. Like most of the residents, I’m expecting to be snowed in for the next two days. At least, I can bring some work home with me to keep my hands busy.

I wonder for a moment what my girl will do while I’m away. It strikes me that I’ll miss her while I’m at my place. Where will she be? What does she do when she’s not haunting my shop?

“You could follow me home,” I say into the quiet, finally getting up the nerve to shoot my shot. My heart pounds as I continue, “Cuddle in front of my fire with me. I’d keep you nice and warm.”

An image of having that, a woman to cuddle with, sends another pang of longing through my body. I’ve been alone since the accident, my only companions the ghosts that haunt my mind in the middle of the night. But what would it be like to have someone next to me? A real woman to talk to about my day, someone to laugh with when life seems crazy. A friend to walk through life together, a lover to share my bed with. Seems a lot to ask.

I wait for several long moments, barely letting myself hope that she’ll step out from the shadows and introduce herself. Or that she’ll let me hear her voice and touch her hand.

But as the minutes pass with only the ticking of the clocks, I swallow my disappointment. Maybe she’s something I’ve conjured up in my mind. After all, Duke has never seen her.

Finally, Duke beeps the horn from his truck. I reach for Frankie and change his diaper quickly, getting him cleaned up. A spinal injury means he’s lost control of his bladder and bowels. But he’s still a happy guy with a lot to offer the world. Didn’t seem right to abandon him just because he’s different now.

Once my boys are settled, I turn a circle around the shop. Am I looking at her right now without knowing it? Is she so close that I could reach out and touch her? The thoughts are driving me crazy tonight, so I turn off the lights that I don’t need and grab my cane.

I don’t use it most of the time on these streets. I’ve walked these sidewalks enough to know where every dip and crack is. But the smooth-as-glass ice has changed the familiar terrain into an unknown obstacle course.

Frankie and Beans wiggle where they’re strapped to my chest in a specialty harness, and I place a hand on Beans to calm him. He’s on the alert, has been ever since his brother’s injury. He works twice as hard now looking out for the three of us.

“Be still,” I whisper to them. They both stop moving at the rumble of my voice, and I carefully navigate my way to Duke’s truck. He waits for me behind the wheel. Only once did he make the mistake of trying to help me into the cab. I made it damn clear that I didn’t hire him to be my caretaker.

I settle in my seat, buckling the belt carefully so it doesn’t squish my traveling companions. “Look at my shop.”

“Lights are off,” he confirms.

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