Page 7 of Defending Our Ever After

Hearing that, Gramps excuses himself to head out with Eddie to wherever they’ve been working today and I drift over to join Dylan in the living room.

“So, what is the neighbor like?” I ask him.

“He’s that guy who would watch us when we were kids,” Dylan answers, dropping his voice so neither our parents nor Grandma will hear him. “I smelled the same cigar smoke when we were halfway up his drive.”

“Oh my God!” I exclaim. “Do you think he knew who you were?”

“He definitely did,” Dylan answers, looking over at our parents to make sure they aren’t listening. “He, his name’s Lee, has a broken arm and Dad thinks maybe some ribs. We could tell he was in pain, but even so, when he was looking us over at first, and he kinda laughed when he looked at my face.”

Hearing about the man we never laid eyes on before, brings back memories from the summers we spent here. Gramps always insisted we never cross over the stream that runs near the far border of his property, so of course we had to push the boundaries.

I was about twelve when Dylan and I were allowed to go out together and camp overnight—anywhere on either of our grandparents’ properties. We loved the freedom we were allowed compared to back home in Seattle, but not far past the stream we could smell someone’s cigar so that made us move slower. Not long after that, a whistle could be clearly heard and as we stood staring at each other, an arrow hit a tree about five feet away from me.

With that we took off running back to the other side of the stream. We set up our tent and over our dinner, Dylan and I finally calmed down enough to laugh about our reactions. The next morning, bright and early, we snuck back to find the arrow and there was a note hanging from the end of it.

“This is the only warning you’ll get.”

That was enough to ensure we never crossed the stream again, although there were other times we smelled the cigar smoke in the woods.

Even as kids, we knew that telling either of our grandparents would result in them restricting our movements around their land, so we never spoke about it, until now.

“What was he like?”

“Shaggy and suspicious looking. Like you’d expect a hermit in the middle of the apocalypse to be,” my brother says, rolling his eyes and sounding like an exasperated fifteen-year-old. “But he was obviously in a lot of pain, so Dad had me go help with the animals and he cut up some firewood and cleaned up inside, I guess.”

“I’ll see if I can go with Grandma and Russ tomorrow,” I tell him, more than a little curious about the only other property owner up this way. “Hey, what happened with Rachel this morning? I thought I heard you yelling at her in the barn.”

“Yeah, she had been reading one of Grandma Martha’s notebooks and was experimenting with dyes. Except she was using my gloves to keep her fingers clean, so they’re all messed up.”

“She was dying your gloves?” I ask, trying to make sense of Dylan’s story and wondering what nonsense Rachel was up to.

“No, the turkey feathers that Gramps put aside for the arrows,” he answers, biting his bottom lip to keep from smiling. “He’s going to love all the pretty shades of purple she created.”

“Oh God,” I moan, starting to giggle before looking over my shoulder to make sure no one’s heard. “Well, that can be a nice surprise for him later.”

Dylan snorts, his eyes showing his amusement since we both know how Gramps feels about dyed feathers on arrows.

“You know, she might actually be able to help with that project this winter,” I say after a second. Neither of us exactly enjoy the monotony of making arrows, and I know I saw it on one of the chore lists for the winter.

“Let’s figure out how to get her interested in volunteering to do it, then the parental units won’t get after us for avoiding it,” he whispers, leaning closer to me and we debate a plan before I finally head off to my shower.

Chapter 3

Julia

“Goodness,” Grandma says grabbing theoh shitbar as Russ floors the gas to get her old truck through the muddy road near Lee’s gate.

It’s only after I’ve jumped out and am trying to figure out the mechanism for the gate, that I notice the older man watching me from the brush-line and stop what I’m doing.

“Hi, I’m Julia. Um, my dad and brother were out here yesterday,” I call out before looking back over to my grandmother who has popped her head out of the window.

“Lee, I want to check on your arm,” my grandmother yells to him by way of greeting. “Go ahead and open the gate, it’s just my granddaughter, her man, and me.”

“Fuck, if I wanted to see people every day, I would have lived in town,” he loudly grumbles, before instructing me on how to open the gate.

I wave at Russ to drive ahead, choosing to walk to the house with Lee after I secure the gate.

“Well, you’ve certainly grown up,” Lee says as we fall into step together. I’d been trying to come up with something witty and was relieved he broke the silence. “I understand you’re quite the archer?”

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