When Fences Fall: Small-town, grumpy sunshine romance, page 2
“Because they are peaches.” Her bare shoulder shrugs, moving the hair a little and exposing more of her skin. A dangling necklace with a long, pink stone between her… well, breasts… moves to the right, distracting me from yelling.
Dropping my hand down, I stare at her. “Is that your house?” Please, tell me you’re renting it and planning on moving out. Jonah said I have sweet neighbors, and this does not constitute as ‘sweet.’
“Been in my family for generations,” she explains proudly. “As it will remain for many more to come.”
I turn away, placing my hands on my hips. I lift my head to the sky and ask the universe why this is happening to me because I’ve already paid my dues.
After calming down a little, I turn back to her. “I bought this house. It’s mine now. You can’t come here.”
“When?” she asks with narrowed eyes.
“Never!” I explode. “You can come here never.”
“No,” she replies, annoyed. “I mean when did you buy the house?”
“Today. It’s my property now, and you need to be off it,” I explain, rapidly losing patience.
She glances at the sky before returning her gaze back to me. “Can’t do.”
I choke on the air from aggravation. “What do you mean can’t do? Just get on your feet and remove yourself from my yard before I do it.”
Her brow quirks up with something one might call an open challenge. “It’s the full moon today. And I need to soak in all the wisdom at midnight.” Then she adds with a smirk, “Here.”
I blink. “Soak in the wisdom?” She’s even crazier than I initially thought.
“Yes.” She spreads her arms wide, revealing the milky globe of her tit and making me avert my eyes this time. The woman is an intruder on my property, and somehow I’m the one ashamed. “The moon is most powerful at midnight.”
I watch her, slowly blinking, hoping she’ll disappear after my eyes open. She doesn’t, so I just squeeze them tighter every time. Maybe I’m dreaming due to exhaustion, and all of this is just a nightmare. But she’s still here, sitting on the unkept lawn. The grass surrounding her helps to cover some of her legs—at least that helps.
“You need to go back to your place and soak in the wisdom there.”
“No can do.” She shrugs. “No moon there.”
“It’s everywhere,” I deadpan.
“She’s better here.” She points at the sky. “See? The brightness reaches here. She talks.”
I blink again.
“She?”
“The moon.”
“The moon talks?”
She nods.
“What is it saying?” I ask, playing right into the trap.
“She. And it’s a lot.” She lifts her finger in the air and adds thoughtfully as if she were a hundred-year-old shaman from the high mountains. “Only if one listens.”
I blink some more and, after a forceful shake of my head, tell her, “You need to go.”
It’s her turn to blink slowly, drawing my attention to her eyes and her big eyelashes throwing long shadows on her cheeks. “I will go when the ritual is done.”
“I know I’m going to regret asking, but what ritual?”
She watches me like I’m the one with a few screws loose. “Soa-king up th-th-the mooooon,” she explains, drawing out the words.
My eye twitches. “Go soak it up in your backyard.”
“Can’t do.” She shrugs, moving her hair again and revealing even more of her skin, which is covered in goosebumps. I notice that part. Along with her other parts reacting to the cold of an early September night. “It’s almost midnight, and I don’t have time to look for another place.”
“You need to go,” I growl. “Now.”
“Can’t do,” she replies stubbornly with narrowed eyes. “This house has been empty for two years, and I’ve been coming here all this time. I’ve been cutting the grass and fixing the gutters after storms. I might be the only reason the house hasn’t fallen apart yet. You,” she points a finger at me, “should be thanking me instead of ordering me to leave.” Her voice turns vicious. “I will soak in the moon here. The house lets me.”
“You will not,” I hiss back, making a move to get in her face to maybe scare her a little with my presence, but she squares her shoulders back, simultaneously dropping her knees and taking some kind of yoga position.
I stumble over my own feet, realizing she’s a real redhead. I can see it from the tiny triangle of bright hair between her legs. The rest of the skin is bare. Smooth. So smooth.
“What are you doing?” I cry out, covering my eyes and looking away.
“Soaking up the moon. Be gone.” She graciously waves her hand in the air, dismissing me.
The muscle on my jaw ticks. “You need to get out of here!”
“Make me,” she challenges, squinting her eyes.
Both my eyes are twitching now. “I’m warning you,” I say in a low voice.
After giving me a long, disregarding look, she closes her eyes, placing her hands on her spread wide knees. My gaze drops again, and it takes quite an effort to look away.
Instead of listening to my vague threat as any sane person would, she sits up straighter and starts humming a tune.
“Lady,” I growl.
The humming intensifies.
“Lady!” Louder this time.
The humming matches my voice.
“Fuck!” I throw my head back, glaring up at the moon who’s put me in this position.
The first thing I want to do is grab this woman and throw her over my shoulders just so I can dump her over the fence into her own backyard. But I’ve just moved here. It’s literally my first day in this town, and maybe this is the local looney everyone adores. It’s not a good way to start my life here. So I decide to go with the right way.
“I’m calling the cops,” I say, striding back toward the house. I wish I’d grabbed my phone before charging out here.
By the time I’m back in maybe two minutes, I pray she’s not there. But she is. Still humming at the moon.
“Fucking shit.” I wipe my face with my hand and dial nine-one-one.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency, hun?”
Ignoring the ‘hun’ part, I focus on the problem in my backyard. “I have an intruder on my property.” Then I mumble the address. The silence on the other end of the line should have tipped me off, but I’m too riled up to notice it.
“Hello?”
“Cheryl will be there shortly.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Whoever this Cheryl is, she’d better hurry up.
I’m glaring down at the naked intruder when the cop car lights come from the front of the house. Moments later, a female officer leisurely walks our way. She’s in no hurry to help me out here.
When she reaches us, her face is twisted with a knowing smile.
“Nora, what are you doing?”
One of Nora’s eyes pops open. “Soaking up the moon.”
“Soaki—” Then the cop shakes her head. “You know what, whatever. Let the man be. Go to your house.”
“Can’t do, officer.” She closes her eyes, clearly mocking said officer. “The moon is not the same in my backyard.”
A weird noise in the cop’s throat sounds awfully like a snort. Then she says, “Nora, you have to go. Or I’ll have to detain you.”
That draws the naked witch’s attention. Both her eyes pop open as she stares at the cop.
“Yeah?”
“Nora,” the cop says with a warning.
“Cheryl,” the witch replies with the same tone.
“Nora,” she starts again, but we both know where it’s going.
This is where I lose my patience. Walking up to the sheet on the ground, I grab it, turn to the naked woman, and throw it over her shoulders.
“What—”
Her question drowns in a wave of shrieking when I grab her off the ground and haul her over my shoulders.
“What are you doing? Cheryl!”
“Sorry, Nora,” the lazy cop apologizes tiredly. “He has the right to defend his property.”
“Especially when you’re not doing shit,” I throw back, making her rear back.
“Excuse the fudge out of me, but you just came to town and you’re already bringing your own rules.”
Ignoring her dumb comment, I keep striding toward the fence separating our properties. There should be a way she got in here, so I can squeeze her right back through. I’d much rather throw her over the fence, but I don’t want to risk her having broken bones after the fall—the fence is high.
I walk along the whole perimeter while she’s punching my back with her fists, showering me with colorful profanities impressive even for me who spends my days on constructions sites.
“What are you going to do?” the cop asks, hot on my heels but not trying to interfere.
“Deliver her back. How the hell did she get in here?” I whisper under my breath, stopping when I can’t find a hole in the fence.
“Once you’re off your property, I can arrest you for assault.”
Coming to a halt, I feel a wave of rage rise from the pit of my stomach. It starts as a small spark. A weak one. Until it grows into a raging fire.
Dropping the woman on the ground, I walk up to the officer and lean closer to her. “Get her out of here. Now.”
Fisting my hands by my sides, I walk back to my house, feeling their curious stares on my back.
3
Nora
“What’s up with him?” Cheryl says as we both watch my new angry neighbor striding toward his house. His shoulders are rigid, steps heavy. With hands clenched into fists, he disappears inside the house.
“He got mad.” That much is obvious.
“You think?” she asks, turning to me with a quirked brow.
I wave her off. “I was just messing with him, and he was pissed but not mad mad. Something shifted in his energy.”
“When I warned him about being charged with assault,” she notes carefully, returning her attention back to my neighbor’s house.
“Yeah,” I reply mindlessly, trying to listen to my intuition but coming up short. The man, despite his giant size and ragged appearance, doesn’t give off any warning vibes. At the same time, he also lacks any welcoming ones, which makes him a total enigma for me.
When I came here this evening, I wasn’t ready for anyone to come out of the house. I figured someone had moved in when I returned from work and saw the lights on for the first time in years. I was happy because this house has been falling apart but also sad since our solitude at the dead end of our lovely street would be no more. And I like our solitude and quiet. It gets a bit scary during long winter nights sometimes, but those months are not long enough to justify sharing our wonderful space with a grumpy stranger.
After talking to people at work all day long, I want to relax in silence, alone with my own thoughts for a change. We live in a cul-de-sac with no neighbors around. And now we have one. A big grouch.
Quite honestly, I didn’t expect him to come out. It’s midnight, so I’m not sure why he wasn’t in bed sleeping, because everything around here is long asleep by that time. Including me. I have to open the diner for breakfast, so my nights are usually cut short too. Today has been a planned exemption due to the full moon—I wasn’t lying.
So when I was sitting here, minding my own business, and he strode toward me like an angel of fury with a dark cloud behind his back, I was surprised for a moment. His walk was angry. His posture too. His body was coiled and ready to attack like a cobra. And yet, I didn’t feel scared as I should have been. In fact, the opposite. The more aggravated he became, the funnier it was for me. Until it wasn’t.
“Why were you naked?” Cheryl’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
“I wasn’t planning on it.” I chuckle. “Grandma said I need to try cleansing my energy. It might be the reason everything doesn’t work as it used to.”
At the mention of the cleanse, Cheryl’s eyes roll so far backward, I fear they’re stuck there now. Drama queen.
“Grandma says bathing in moonlight during specific times can help cleanse one’s energy and prep it for new beginnings. The more moonlight can touch your skin, the better the clarity.”
Her sigh is loud enough to let me know what she thinks about my plan. This is why I always got along better with Grandma than with her—Cheryl and I have always been like fire and water with nearly zero understanding. It has never stopped us from loving each other though—thanks to our grandma who cultivated that understanding in two young, orphaned girls.
“But honestly, I saw him only when he was already like right next to me. It was too late to be modest.”
“Could have thrown the sheet over yourself,” she says sarcastically. “You know, if you really wanted to.”
“It was closing in on midnight, and Grandma said it has to be the exact time for the rays to hit the right way.” I try saying it convincingly so even I believe it. The truth is that somewhere along the way, I started enjoying our little yelling match a little too much.
A heavy silence speaks volumes about what she thinks about my antics. I’m used to it though. Some time ago, it bothered me. When I was younger and had just returned to Big Love. But not anymore. I own who I am and don’t pretend to be something I’m not just to make everyone around me comfortable.
“I’m going back to the station. Can you please try to refrain from going onto his property again?” Her gaze dips to the sheet covering my front. “Especially naked.”
“Can’t promise,” I tsk. “Too tempting.”
“Nora,” Cheryl growls. “I’ll have to book you if you keep trespassing. Or he can shoot your ass. He looks like a guy who knows how to use a gun. And probably has one.”
I let out a loud snort in response—I imagine him to be more the type to go in bare-handed for the sake of a brawl.
She walks up to me and stares in my face with narrowed eyes. “You really enjoyed messing with him, didn’t you? Haven’t seen you like this since Dick.”
Feeling my mood plummet, I say through gritted teeth, “Thanks so much for bringing it up.”
“Sorry,” she whispers softly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s fine.” I wave her off. “I won’t go onto his property.”
She watches me for a few more moments before she walks away to her cruiser, waving me goodbye. “I’ll stop by tomorrow for a coffee and bring something sweet.”
“Yep.” I wave back, not very enthusiastically, and head back to my house.
4
Jericho
I wake up to a loud shrieking sound. Prying my eyes open, I find the room barely lit from the light outside. I was battling with my crazy neighbor at midnight, and when I came back home, I couldn’t sleep for a long time. Not when the memories I’d rather forget were brought up.
I try going back to sleep for another hour of shut-eye, but the sound continues, stronger than before.
What the fuck?
Padding toward the window, trying to rub my eyes of sleep, I peek outside. No one is there. The sound repeats. I go around the house checking all the windows but find no intruders this time.
The sound keeps coming. The more awake my brain is, the more the sound resembles that of a rooster. A psychotic rooster who forgot how to cock-a-doodle-doo, because whatever sound is coming out of his beak is not it.
When I make another round about the windows on the second floor of my house, I find the source of the disruption. It is in fact a rooster who’s standing in the middle of my neighbor’s backyard and yelling from his very mighty throat. What stuns me is that I can see the motherfucker clearly with no peach trees supposedly obstructing the view. Meaning the moonlight would have hit her just fine if she’d been on her own territory.
Great. I just bought a house next to a looney, and I can’t keep calling the cops if she continues her craziness. Eventually, they’ll be curious about me and run a check. This crazy rooster is the last thing I need when all I’m looking for is peace and quiet.
The bird keeps yelling from the top of his lungs without stopping. I check the time—it’s four forty. Why is it yelling before the sun is even up?
Giving up on the idea of sleep in this condition, I take a shower and head downstairs. Running on nearly three hours of sleep is not ideal, but not a novelty to me. Chugging coffee will help, so I make myself an extra strong pot of dark roast, pour it into a big mug I unpacked yesterday, and go through the front door. The porch swing still might have life left in it, and that’s all I need this morning to barrel through.
Pushing the door open and yawning, I don’t expect to see anyone on my front porch at five in the morning. So I let out “Fucking hell” while stepping back with a cup of scorching hot coffee. Some of it spills on my front, burning the skin.
“Fuck me!” I grab the shirt and pull it away from my body.
“I would. If you asked me twenty years ago,” comes a scratchy giggle.
Shifting my attention from my singed skin to the unexpected visitor, I’m met with crystal blue, watery eyes. A woman with long, completely white hair falling over her shoulders, wearing a white nightgown and a fuzzy blanket wrapped around her shoulders, is sitting on my porch swing. She looks almost eternal and so peaceful.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” I remember all the lessons my mother taught me. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“Clearly,” she giggles. “Why?”
“What why?”
“Why didn’t you expect me to be here?”
I open my mouth and then close it, not able to find an answer that won’t offend her. Because that one is pretty obvious if you ask me.
“What are you doing here, ma’am?”
She sighs, fixing her skirt around her knees. “Well, that depends on whom you ask, I guess.” Her voice turns dreamy. “Ask a bird, she’s here to fly. Ask a cat, she’s here to cause mischief. Ask—”
“I’m asking you.” My temples start pounding, and I put some pressure on the painful point with my thumb. “Why are you here, on my porch, in the morning?” I decide to clarify because I have no idea if she has dementia or if she’s just fucking with me.
