Settling on one of the chairs, I looked out at the view of nothing but mountains and trees and tried to come to terms with how royally screwed up my life was now. A few weeks ago my biggest concern was making sure my DVR recorded Game of Thrones and now I was hiding out in Deadwood, South Dakota with bad people wanting to hurt me, the love of my life killed a man, my best friend covered it up, my brother was getting shot at and my mom and dearest friends were out of reach.
I didn't know when the tears started, but I moved back into my room, climbed on the bed and muffled the sound of my tears with the pillow.
An hour later, I headed to the kitchen in time to see Damian reaching for his keys. "Where are you going?"
"Town. We need supplies."
"Can I come?"
In response, I got the chin lift. I had learned, during the long car ride with the Damian looking cyborg, meant affirmative. I belted in and asked, "So what's our story?"
He responded with the best blank look I had ever seen. I had received this stare many times during the course of our journey and yet it didn't grow old.
I clarified, "We're married, so how did we meet? Why did we move here? People are going to ask."
"No one will care. We're just here to lay low."
Words. He spoke actual words. I couldn't bask in his temporary case of verbosity though because his comment was nonsensical.
"What do you mean people won't care? Deadwood has a population of fewer than thirteen hundred people and we're strangers. People are most definitely going to care. Okay, I know. We met at Dahlia's and fell in love over chocolate cake."
My eyes were trained on his profile, but the only reaction I got from that was the jump in the muscle of his jaw, so I continued. "We had only dated for a few months when you realized you could not live another day without me as your wife. We married in a private ceremony and after three years of wedded bliss you whisked me away to Deadwood because you know of my love of wide-open spaces. We don't have children, but we are actively pursuing that..." It hurt because my fake life sounded an awful lot like how I wanted my real life to be, so I turned my head and looked out the window. I felt Damian's stare, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
No one will care, right! That belief of Damian's was dispelled immediately upon parking along Main Street. People stared at us. Some were even talking behind their hands. We were most definitely news. Damian came up on the curb and opened my door for me. Even when he wasn't speaking to me, he still had impeccable manners. We walked toward the market and I reached for his hand. He didn't hesitate to link his fingers with mine. We were supposed to be married after all. He didn't hold my hand long though, releasing it almost as soon as we entered the market so he could push the shopping cart.
Half an hour, that was how long we spent in the produce aisle. The man wasn't a vegetarian. I had shopped often with him as a kid and had witnessed him eating countless meals featuring meat, the latest of which was watching him stuff a double cheeseburger with bacon in his face during a rest stop at a diner on our way here. But he was packing up the cart with a variety of lettuces and kale, beans and peppers and fruit. I was all for eating your greens, but really. Where was the bakery?
Next came the milk and cheeses, the man apparently had a fondness for dairy products and lastly he selected meats, all of which were lean.
"What about bread?" I asked.
"I don't eat it."
I wanted to step on his foot because he knew damn well that I did. "Well, I do." I left Mr. I Don't Eat Bread in the middle of the meat aisle and went in search of bread and cake. Maybe I'd even get a pie. The bakery wasn't what I was hoping for, there were no assortments of cookies, the cake selection was limited as were the breads, but at least I'd have something for my sweet tooth. In the midst of debating over the coffee crumb cake and the orange glazed cake, I met my first resident of Deadwood. She was older, maybe early seventies, with whitish gray hair that leaned more toward purple. She was dressed in a blue housedress and sturdy, thick soled shoes.
"Hello. You are the new gal who just moved to town with her beau."
"Yes, I'm Thea. Damian is here, somewhere." The words were barely out of my mouth when I felt Damian come up behind me. His arm wrapped around my waist as he pulled me close to his side. The gesture to this woman would look like a loving husband, but I knew it had nothing at all to do with that and everything to do with his job of protecting me, even from friendly older women with purple hair.
"Damian this is...I'm sorry I didn't get your name."
"I'm Madge, Madge Littleton."
"It's nice to meet you, ma'am." A full sentence, she got a full sentence, but Damian wasn't done. "Do you need a hand with those groceries?"
Here was the charming Damian, like he had been with Mrs. Cooke and my mom, and I had the same reaction I had then … jealousy. He had it in him to speak, even be charming, very charming, he just wasn't bothering doing so with me now. Jerk.
"Thank you, young man, but Billy at the counter always carries my bags home. There's a square dance tonight at the tavern starting at seven; it will be a good opportunity for you to meet some of your neighbors."
I felt Damian go rigid at my side, so immediately I responded before he could say no because frankly I needed some human interaction. I could only take so much of the cyborg act. "What a wonderful idea. There is nothing my husband likes more than a good square dance. Maybe we will see you there."
"Oh, I'll definitely be there, at least for the first few dances. I'm not as young as I used to be."
"You'll have to make sure you save a dance for Damian."
His fingers on my hip were now digging almost painfully into my side.
"I'll do that, looking forward to it."
And she was because you could feel her excitement. "It was very nice to meet you, Mrs. Littleton."
"Please call me Madge. See you tonight."
She rattled when she departed, and so focused on what she could be wearing that would rattle, I didn't immediately sense Damian's mood until he said in a voice that was a little scary, "You enjoyed that."
"Oh I did, Damian, very much." Then I too walked away because it wouldn't do for him to see me grinning and I was, from ear to ear.
Damian went for a run as soon as we put away the groceries. I tried not to think about the man in the alley and how if Damian hadn't shown when he had, I wouldn't be sitting here. I had something some bad people wanted and they were prepared to kill me to get it. That is not something most people can say and so my overactive imagination took a stroll down memory lane. Were there other people in my life who would like to see me facedown in a river?
Initially, I couldn't imagine anyone wanting to kill me. I was very unassuming. I didn't get into people's business. I kept to myself. I sent thank you notes and Christmas cards. I was really very uninteresting. The biggest drama I'd ever been in was breaking up the fight between Mrs. Cooke and Betty when The Bachelor ended and the outcome was not one either of them liked.
I was convinced the list would be very short, maybe even nonexistent, but as I searched my memories I discovered that there were more people than I was comfortable with who might wish me harm. I looked down at the names under the column, PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE ME DEAD. There were too many names on that list and it was while I stared at the possible harbingers of my death that Damian returned from his run. He headed to the fridge first for a bottle of water before he joined me at the table, though he didn't take a seat. Since I was looking right at him, I saw the frown as he studied the sheet of paper in front of me. His focus shifted to me.
"Facing down death I wondered if there could be others in my life that would like to see me dead. A little morbid, but then that scene in the alley was definitely morbid."
He flinched, subtle but undeniable, and I felt badly for mentioning it.
"Old lady in the yellow car?"
"I didn't know her name, but I took her parking spot. I mean technically I was there first, but she was elderly and it would have been the polite thing to let her have the spot because it was closer to the store. But I'd been circling for a while so I took it. She actually flicked me off when she drove past."
"And you think she would want you dead?"
"Probably not. She's probably dead. The incident was several years ago and she looked like the crypt keeper even then."
"Man on the corner?"
"He's a panhandler, who asks me for money every day, which I refuse to give and not because I'm a mean person, but a panhandler who drinks Starbucks every morning and wears nicer clothes than me, I don't think so. After months of being denied, when I walk by him now he starts mocking me by chanting no in the most annoying way. I think if he had the means, he would kill me then steal my purse and get the last laugh."
"Do I want to know about the dog gang?"
"Stray dogs that walk the streets in my neighborhood. It's the look in their eyes I don't trust."
"Me?"
It was in poor taste for me to put him on this list since he was acting as he was because of that alley and how I had almost bought it. I got that, understood what motivated the change in him, but his silence hurt and I was childish enough that I wanted to hurt him back.