Alex laughed. Protected? "I dealt with nasty people every day at my husband's law firm. I can play nasty right back."

Ezra didn't laugh, because Ridgeway was no joke, but this girlie had pluck. He just nodded at her. And prayed he wasn't putting her in harm's way.

Alex pulled her car keys from within her blazer. "Well, I guess I have a lot of business to take care of. Phone calls, paperwork... I'll see you in two weeks, Ezra. I hope you are up and about by then." With a little wave, she started for the door again, steps light and energetic this time around.

"Miss Alex. Sorry to hear about yer husband."

She paused and looked over her shoulder. Her troubled eyes found his own and held them, touching him gently like a soft hand on a weathered cheek. "Thank you, Mr. Wilkens. I know I would have liked your Marta."

She disappeared through his doorway, but her perfume, like lavender on a summer's breeze, stayed with him awhile.

Strangely contented, Ezra leaned back into his pillows and waited for the heavy tread of Liddy's bunion-peppered feet. When his stomach growled a few minutes later, there was still no sign of the nurse.

"Never around when you need *em, but buzzin' around like a mosquito when you want a little peace," he muttered. *Cept Liddy never did much in the way of any flittin' or buzzin'. If he were able, he'd put his ear to the floorboards to check for vibration, like the Natives did when they wanted to locate the buffalo herd.

"Hey, Florence Nightingirth!" he hollered at the door. "Where you be, oh Big Mother of Theresa's?"

Libby's bulk squeezed through the doorjamb like a ship through a narrow inlet. She had an enema tube slung over one shoulder. "You'd best pipe down old man."

Ezra Wilkens piped down mighty fast.

Waiting for Eden ~*~*~*~*~*~.

Chapter 5.

The mellow tones of jazz drifted throughout the truck cab's interior. On sudden impulse, Alexandra turned off the satellite channel and spun the dial on the radio.

"Lord... I was born a ramblin' man..." Alex settled back and hummed along with the tune. "Tryin' to make a livin'... doing the best I can..." The rumble of the diesel pickup's Cummings engine was infinitely different than the smooth purr of her Mercedes sedan, but she decided that she liked it.

As she decelerated, and swung the pickup onto the unpaved Stony Run Road, her insides thrummed with nervous excitement. She was approaching her new home, with little more than two suitcases of clothes to her name. Goodwill had received an enormous pile of clothes; Richard's mainly- suits, sweaters, shoes... all of it.

"You'd be proud of the tax write-off, honey," she mumbled to herself, refusing to feel the sting of guilt over her actions. It felt like she was throwing him away.

Negotiations had progressed fairly well over the past two weeks. Alex arranged to meet Vince Wycoff at the Montgomery Grill, a favorite hang-out on the corner of Wisconsin and Bethesda. Not at the firm.

She simply couldn't bear the thought of returning to the office, even for a few hours. Alex had been Richard's personal secretary, created and trained by him alone, having dropped out of college to support him through his final tough year at law school. Her sacrifice had paid off, for Richard had graduated from the University of Maryland with high honors, a feat that he would never had accomplished had he needed to hold a steady job.

Surprisingly, it seemed that Vince Wycoff had actually been anticipating her decision to sell Richard's half of the partnership, and had an offer already prepared for her. His eyes were hooded and shifty, and never met hers directly.

Vince had known why she couldn't go back. It disgusted her.

At first, his offer had seemed low-ball to Alex; he obviously thought she was stupid. She had been stupid. Very stupid. But not anymore.

So she determinedly made a couple of phone calls and hired an advisor. They had bartered for several days before she was satisfied with the figure. But in the end, he had caved. Vince was avoiding a company scandal.

But Alexandra had been left with a shit-ton of Richard's debt. He had been a busy, busy boy in the months prior to his death. She ground her teeth at the betrayal.

So, after deducting the cost of Ezra's farm, Alex figured that she only had about two-hundred thirty thousand left to her name. But it would be enough to get a business off the ground. Her business.

"Jesus!" Alex hit a pot hole head on, and if not for the seat-belt, she would have bopped her head on the roof. She had made sure that the pick-up was a hearty one, a Dodge Ram four-wheel drive turbo diesel, but it was still no match for the back-woods road. "Must have had a rough winter out here."

She approached an ancient mailbox, hanging on its hinges only by the grace of God, and realized this was it. 56 Stony Run Road. She turned up the long drive, past the lengths of decrepit fencing, much of it sagging in disrepair. In the morose lighting of the rain-swept afternoon, the house looked downright bedraggled.

The shutters sagged, and the window panes appeared even darker and sootier than the afternoon she had first peered through them. The grass in the pastures and front yard had greened up a bit, but the lack of flower beds around the home lent the dwelling an aura of barrenness.

"Well, Alex, what did you expect?" she grumbled to herself. "You knew it would be a ton of work." More like ten tons. She placed the pickup in park, and hopped out of the cab. The large rut that she landed in knocked her off balance and nearly toppled her. Alex made a mental note to have gravel brought in for the muddy, pock-marked driveway.

Drawing the new set of keys from her pocket, she approached her new residence hesitantly, suddenly overcome by an odd feeling of shyness. She mounted the porch, and looked at the solidly imposing front door. "Hello, house... I'm Alex." She laughed self-consciously, plunging the key into the lock, and opened the door.

It was very gloomy, and she fumbled for the light-switch for a few moments, with the awful thought that nothing would happen when she flipped it anyway. But a pale, overhead light flickered, then held steady.

"We have electric. Hallelujah." Alex moved slowly throughout the disheveled room. Some of the furniture was overturned, drawers on an old roll-top desk were hanging open, and books had been pulled from the wooden shelving of an oak cabinet. She observed a couch, two easy chairs, and an empty wheelchair.

A shudder passed through her, as she remembered that Ezra's wife had committed suicide. If there had been blood, she prayed that someone had cleaned up the mess.

Giving the wheelchair a wide berth, Alex passed through an open archway into the kitchen, flipping on any switches or lamps she could find, hungry for light. The dusty windowpanes hampered any natural illumination from the heavy, gray skies outside.

The kitchen table, a massive thing with hand-carved legs and six chairs to match stood in the center of the room. Some of the chairs were weathered and missing parts, but Alex assumed they certainly could be fixed or replaced. Obviously an antique, the gorgeous table was a keeper, definitely worth re-finishing.

Again, the various drawers and cupboards in the room were pulled open or ajar, and papers cluttered the counters. "Ezra, you must have been quite a slob," she murmured. The rooms actually had the look of being ransacked.

With that disturbing thought, a screen door banged, and Alex had the sudden, horrible fear that somebody was in the house with her. She forced herself to move toward the sound, her heart beginning to race erratically. As she moved slowly through the adjoining pantry, Alex yanked out her car keys with a little vial of mace attached, and brandished the capsule in front of her like it was a formidable weapon.

"Who's there?" she demanded loudly. The back door was wide open, and she inched her way up to it. The screen door hung askew. Alex realized that she had discovered the back porch, where several weeks ago, lost and hopeful, she had knocked and peered through the window. The interior door had definitely been closed and locked then.

Anxiously, she scanned the small back yard, and the line of trees at the edge of the forest beyond. She saw nothing but two squirrels chasing one another, and a blue jay swooping and squawking in heated affront. Slowly, the thudding of her heart dimmed, and she lowered the trembling vial of mace.

The dreary day was wreaking havoc with her imagination. Ezra surely had someone check the house for him a final time, and that person had forgotten to shut the rear door. Simple.

Although the open screening issued a shaft of pale light into the narrow pantry, she closed the door anyway. Tightly. Sighing, Alex picked up where she had left off in her explorations.

She soon found a small sitting room adjoining the living area, decorated with fossilized Victorian-style chairs covered with plastic runners, a dusty coffee table, and a faded rose rug. All four walls were sparsely decorated, adorned only with an occasional country do-dad.

Alex then discovered a functional half-bath adjacent to the kitchen, and a door leading down into the basement, which she quickly re-closed, chuckling nervously. She would explore those depths later, after her horror movie creeps had faded entirely.

Back in the living area, Alex mounted the steep stairwell to the upstairs rooms. There were three bedrooms, a full bath, and she was pleasantly surprised with the furnishings. There were actually antiques in each room at which nobody could thumb their nose.

Two of the rooms had beautiful, hand-carved sleigh beds, and some of the chairs and one chest of drawers were worth saving. Hardwood floors ran throughout, although they were drab and needed to be re-sanded and finished. The third room was filled with boxes of clothes and other assorted junk. Most of the items had been removed and strewn across the floor. The drawers and closets in the bedrooms were in similar disarray.

Alex chewed her lip, wandering how everything had got so messed up. She just hoped that the certain someone Ezra had sent earlier had packed up the clothing and other items he wanted to keep. After all, Goodwill was waiting, and Alex didn't want to waste any time cleaning up.

A shaft of blazing light poured through the bedroom window, and Alex jumped with the notion that someone had pointed a spotlight at the house. Moving to the window, she peered outside and realized that the clouds were lifting off, leaving the afternoon bathed in gloriously warm spring sunshine.

Grinning, she bounded down the stairs and out to the truck to collect her large stash of cleaning supplies. She had a lot of work to do just to clear a spot for her to sleep tonight.

As she pulled the two boxes and her suitcases off of the pickup bed, she spotted a small, propane stove tucked in the corner. Guiltily, she recalled her promise to return the stove to the District Headquarters after her hike. In all the excitement of purchasing the property, she had completely forgotten about it.

Alex left the stove in the pickup, vowing to make a trip to the Headquarters that evening, after she had finished her work for the day. "Better late than never," she muttered, hoping Mr. James Sheldon the forester would feel that way too.

Waiting for Eden ~*~*~*~*~*~.

Chapter 6.

The sunset was beautiful. Hanging in the western sky, the last coppery-rose rays outlined the barn with its little spires and weathervane in perfect country melancholy.

Alex down-shifted to first gear and puttered down the driveway with her neck craned, taking in the incredible view. Pleasure flooded her insides with warmth, spreading like the after-effects of a hot cup of Chamomile tea.

If it weren't for the rumble of the diesel engine, she would surely hear the soothing hum of crickets and the soft shush of an evening breeze through the maples lining the driveway. And it was hers, all of it was hers!

Reflexively, her foot slammed on the brake pad, and the truck came to a sudden halt six inches shy of taking out a section of *her own' fence. "Shit!" she barked expressively, but the smile on her lips held like a permanent fixture. She felt different somehow... and as she pulled out onto Stony Run Road, and giggling, Alex thought she had an inkling of what it was.

She was comfortable! There were no tight stockings cutting off her circulation, no skirts hiking up her thighs, no high heels pinching her toes. She wore practical Hanes undergarments, there was no lacy thong inching up her butt tonight, no sir!

On the trip north, she had stopped at a small clothing outlet called The Crossings, and flaunting convention, had supplemented her wardrobe with six pairs of form-fitting Levi's, sweat shirts and pants, jackets, functional flannels and tees...all of the simple things that had previously been a definite no-no in Janine-etiquette.

She had even purchased a pair of coveralls for later use when mucking out stalls. Tonight she wore a stone-washed pair of stretch Levi's that fit her just right, and a green soft-flannel shirt that brought out the highlights in her eyes. She was in heaven.

The District Office was easy to find, an attractive, cedar-sided building right off of Highway 6. There was one vehicle in the driveway, and she truly hoped it belonged to James Sheldon. And that he wouldn't be rude to her, the way she had been to him.

But an older man came out to greet her when the little bell over the door announced her arrival. "Can I help you, miss?"

Why did everyone always assume she was a miss? She automatically touched her ring finger, seeking the familiar gold band. It wasn't there.

Alex recalled removing it when she had turned in Richard's clothes at the Goodwill, and slipping it right into the garment bag. She had later burned the last remaining picture of Elizabeth that she had hidden in her purse.

Alex felt a sinking in her stomach, a physical reminder of a bad memory. Truth now being, she was a *miss'.

"Miss?" the man repeated. His hair was sparse and gray, and he had on the same sort of uniform that James had worn. He smiled at her patiently, and his eyes were kind.

"Umm, I'm looking for James Sheldon."

"He's not around this evening. Can I help you with anything?"

"Well... James lent me his propane stove several weeks back, and I wanted to return it."

"You can leave it here, if you like. He won't be in the office for a couple of days, but he'll get it eventually."

"Oh. Thank you, I would appreciate it."

"No problem."

Alex felt her stomach spasm, and realized she was absolutely starving. "Actually, could you recommend a good restaurant nearby?"

"Sure. Follow Route 6 west about eight miles. Just before you come into Coudersport you'll see the North Fork Restaurant on the left. Best in the area."

"Thank you. I'll go get the stove." Alex had turned and opened the door, when the older forester called her back.

"Hey, I just thought of something. It's Friday night, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, then I'm ninety-nine point nine percent sure that Jamie will be at the North Fork tonight. He's a regular on Fridays. You could take the stove along with you, if you like."

Alex thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. She kind of wanted to see James anyway, to apologize in person for her forgetfulness, and perhaps even her rudeness. He was the first person to make her laugh in a long time. Even if he had made fun of her middle name, she thought with a grin.

The old forester watched her go, and chuckled to himself. Jamie Sheldon had lent her a propane stove? There had to be a good story behind that. Not to mention the little miss had looked darned disappointed that Jamie wasn't there in person. Yeah, he was sure Jamie would be at the North Fork. Laughing now, he wished he could be there too.

The North Fork Restaurant was not exactly what Alex expected. It was a large building, log-cabin style, constructed with great, dark wooden beams. A wrap-around porch with a beautiful pine railing completed the picture of a rustic, homey atmosphere.

Alex could discern the slow beat of music from within, but it was nothing like the harsh jukebox wailing that she had expected. There were no winking neon lights, or no drunken couples necking outside. "No fleet of leather-clad bikers, either," she murmured, and then felt a twinge of chagrin at her city-bred penchant for stereotypes.

Night had fallen swiftly, and the parking area was peppered by lurking shadows. The vast expanse of the sky was devoid of moon and stars, even the last vestiges of the sunset had fled beneath the thick weight of the heavens on her drive from District Headquarters.

With a small ripple of trepidation, Alex noted the only illumination in the lot filtered down from a single, sodium-vapor streetlight. She chided herself then, for this was just not comparable to D.C.

Alex parked the truck and stepped out, breathing deeply. The air was thick and dewy, laden with the moist scent of sleeping earth. Spring peepers sounded noisily from the shadows, their small voices joining in a singular melody, giving the illusion of coming from all around her in the same instant.

The forest loomed behind the building, an imposing backdrop of hulking blackness. The mountain seemed to hover, like a predator avidly waiting for the right moment to swoop down and cloak the unwary valley in a flutter of dark wings and sharp claws.

Although the day had been fairly mild, Alex shivered momentarily. She gave a short chuckle at her own theatrics and headed for the restaurant.

A large shadow wavered as she approached the stairs, and her steps faltered when she realized it belonged to a person. Or at least a very large something was standing next to the stairs, watching her from within the concealing gloom.

After glancing behind her at the empty parking lot, Alex swallowed reflexively, fingered her mace vial, and then forced her body forward. For a few moments, the shadow remained nothing but a shadow. Then she saw the glow of a pale face, the reflection of window-light on a high, sloping forehead, and inky circles where eye sockets would be.

The dark shape stepped in front of her. It was a man. Alex stopped and cleared her throat while her heart rate accelerated. "Excuse me."

When she received no response, she leaned forward cautiously, peering upward for a closer look at the... person. Teeth flashed at her, he was smiling. A large, hideous, threatening smile. His eyes were dark hollows, gleaming now as a shard of light danced upon the irises. The smile stretched, widening almost freakishly. Alex's heart and stomach flip-flopped in the same moment, and she slowly raised the mace.

"MOUSE!" a voice bellowed behind her, and Alex and the hulking shadow jumped a foot in unison. The mace vial clattered to the ground, useless.

A small, heavyset man emerged from the darkness, huffing noisily, a large yellow hamper in his arms. "Mouse, quit scarin' off my customers!" The hulk-creature hung its head at the rasping reprimand. Alex noticed that its head was bald, and light from a restaurant window now bounced gleefully on the smooth pate.

Still huffing, whether with anger or exertion - Alex didn't know - the smaller man shoved the hamper at the creature called Mouse. "Go throw this scrap in the woods a piece-way. Far enough that it won't bring the skunks in the yard."