Shade: Chapter 2

Chapter Two
Your typical mountain town, Shade has all the expected comforts of Main Street America, surrounded by the natural beauty of snowcapped, pine-filled, mountains. The day’s cloud cover keeps the shops somberly lit as the townsfolk cheerily go about their business. They stop and wave to the newcomers as their overladen truck rolls down said Main Street. The father can’t help but smile to himself and wave back to the onlookers. He can’t remember the last time a stranger waved to him.
“You can meet people later,” he thinks to himself, “Myla’s still sick.”
They take a right at the flower shop before arriving at their new home, in the middle of the block. An unnamed boarding house two stories high and pocked with windows sided by navy blue, wooden shutters. The rest of the building is painted the brown shade of wet lumber. Two stone chimneys on opposite ends of the steeply sloped roof. Firewood stacked against the right side of the home, next to the padlocked, basement entrance.
The father helps his daughter down from the truck and holds her hand as they walk up the wooden stairs to the door. He taps the big, brass knocker once, before the door is abruptly opened; startling them both. Myla is startled by how quickly the woman responded to the knock. The man is startled by the woman.
She wears her jet-black hair like a prohibition-era flapper. Her blue eyes so pale they border on the level of white her skin has everywhere except her cold-blushed cheeks. She stands at his height in her dark boots and tight fitting blue-jeans. Her charcoal colored flannel is unbuttoned just far enough to display her impressive cleavage. She’s a little older than the thirty-five year old father but she looks a little younger.
She speaks in an unexpected, and frankly uncalled for, comforting, Texas drawl, “Howdy, Mr. Spooner! Or should I say Sheriff Spooner?” she asks as she eagerly shakes his hand.
“George is fine. I assume you’re Miss Ashton,” he inquires almost shyly.
“Oh, shush,” she giggles, “Call me Kate. And this must be Myla--oh, she doesn’t look so good. Sugar, did you get carsick?”
Myla stares at Kate’s feet while George regains his composure, “Um, yes. Strange, she’s normally fine on car trips.”
“It’s these darned windy roads. Always gets to children worse--less weight to keep them balanced and all. Come inside and we’ll get you both comfortable. I have cocoa on the stove if y’all want some.”
Myla’s face perks up a little, to George’s notice.
“That sounds great. Why don’t you go inside with Kate and I’ll unpack our things?” he asks Myla.
Myla nods and Kate takes her hand before giving George a quick smile, “Tenants’ rooms are upstairs. There ain’t no other tenants so go ‘head and pick your rooms.”

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The three residents of the home sit in the living room after dinner. The stone fireplace in the side of the room has a flame just big enough to keep things warm. The wallpaper displays a blue on lighter blue pattern sporadically interrupted by the windows, with shutters closed to keep out the night air, and landscape paintings of similar high altitude environments. An old, antennae television and a vacuum tube radio sit between the windows, neither one on. Myla sits next to a bookshelf in the corner; reading a hardcover old enough to have been pulled from a forgotten box in a public school library. She had barely touched the baked mac and cheese Kate had made and could only get down a meager serving of ice cream. George keeps an eye on her from the small couch Kate and he are squeezed into.
“Cozy enough for you, sugar?” Kate asks George.
“Oh, yes, very cozy. Just worried about Myla is all. Carsickness doesn’t last this long,” George tells her under his breath before burning his tongue with a slurp of coffee, “I’m taking her to the doctor tomorrow.”
“She’s just settlin’ in. From what you’ve told me, that child’s been through enough already. No point piling a visit to the doctor on top of it,” Kate calmly assures between delicate sips from her mug.
“I suppose you’re right,” George agrees before instinctively glancing at the blank television.
“Sorry ‘bout the signals being down. The snowstorms took out the phone and power lines again this year and they won’t fix ‘em till spring. Least the generator puts out enough juice to power the houselights.”
“It’s not like it’s your fault. Besides, I watch too much T.V. and Myla prefers to read. I wish the phones were up though seeing as cell coverage doesn’t reach up here. I promised Janice, my sister, that I’d keep in touch.”
“You can always write her. The mail goes out everyday here, same as anywhere else.”
“Suppose I don’t have much of a choice,” George says with a happy smirk.
“Well, there you go, sugar. Anyway, it’s almost ten which is curfew in my house. Stay up as late as you want but the fire’s goin’ out and the lights are goin’ off till morning,” Kate warns as she gets up from the couch.
“Hmm, well I’m still up from the drive. I’ll just put Myla to bed and put out the fire whe--”
Kate switches off the gas and begins staunching the coals, “Sorry sugar, but them’s the rules. You may be the new law in town but I’ve always been the law in this house. Get to bed. I’ll have breakfast on the table by seven. How do you and Myla like your eggs?”
“Um, scrambled,” George answers in mild confusion to the sudden enforcement.
“Good, cause thats how I make ‘em. Good night, Myla. Good night, George,” she finishes as she heads upstairs.
George can’t help but admire her figure as she ascends the steps, “Um, yeah. We’ll see you in the morning, Kate.”
Myla mumbles something of the sort.