Stranger at the Door by J.S. Cook

Author:J.S. Cook [Cook, J.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2015-05-06T23:00:00+00:00

WYATT WAS waiting for him in the garden that evening when Thom finished work. “Hey there, Thom Turkey. Looks like you settled in real well.” He stood in the doorway of the potting shed, leaning casually against the frame and watching Thom scrub his hands at the sink. Like the rest of the property, it was quite old, a granite plinth surmounted with a pump—no taps, no hot water.

“You could say that.” Thom leaned over the sink and splashed water on his face, then dried himself with a scrap of old towel he kept nearby for just that purpose. “Did you come here to tell me that, or is there some other reason for your visit?”

Wyatt caught Thom by the elbow. “Let’s walk. It’s a beautiful evening.”

They were silent for a while, crossing the wide lawn and following the footpath down to the small herb garden near the duck pond. Polly had expressed a desire for fresh herbs, and Thom had complied. He traveled into Charleston for cuttings and arranged everything after a pattern he’d seen once in a magazine. He’d planted the herbs—rosemary, sage, lemon balm, thyme, mint, and a few more esoteric choices—in a circle, with each separate plant forming the spoke of a wheel. That way Polly could easily find what she wanted without having to hunt for it. Besides herbs, he’d established various plants with therapeutic or medicinal uses—mallow, feverfew, and comfrey—identifying them by small hand-painted garden stakes. Once that was done, he created a graduated border of marigolds, Gerber daisies and black-eyed Susans, simply because they were beautiful and he liked them.

“You’ve created something really nice here, Thom Turkey.” Wyatt sat on a nearby bench and lit a cigarette.

“Not sure I like where this is headed,” Thom said. He sat beside Wyatt and lit a cigarette of his own. “Sounds to me like you all are getting ready to toss me out on my ear.” He experienced a pang of genuine anguish. “I’m hoping you don’t.”

“He’s still pretty broken up,” Wyatt said, “isn’t he? Normally it doesn’t take so long, and your average Southern gentleman is a resilient creature.” He fell silent and seemed to be musing on that.

“There’s still a lot he doesn’t understand.” Thom flicked ash onto the ground.

“Thom, I shouldn’t have to warn you—”

“I know.” For some unfathomable reason, he was close to tears. “I can’t tell him anything.” He laughed mirthlessly. “As if I even understand it myself.” He gestured at the grounds, the enormous oak trees shrouded in Spanish moss. “Because as far as I’m concerned, all this is real. I can feel the sun on my face.” He turned to Wyatt, anguished. “I’m sore after a hard day’s work, same as I’d be otherwise.”

“You kissed him,” Wyatt said quietly. “Didn’t you?”

Thom didn’t answer him.

“Thom, you know better than that.” Wyatt bent slightly to look into Thom’s averted face. “Now isn’t the time.”

Thom stood, dropped the cigarette, and ground it out under his shoe. “He’s as lonely as I am,

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