Warm Chances

and a safe place to weather out the storm

 

Yevette’s eyes were wild and she couldn’t stop moving, no matter how hard I tried to get her to listen for even a minute. She kept yelling, “come on Troy, lets go," and struggling to get moving back toward the cabin, she’d discovered in looking for fire wood. That was, until Yevette noticed... I was wearing a rubberized weather poncho. “Where’d you,” and I finished it for her.

“They were in the boat… Yevette,” at least now she was listening and expecting answers, if not now. Then right now, said that look. “Well, if I can say anything about the O’Grady’s, is they are thorough,” I commented and pointed toward the makeshift shelter, I had worked on for the last half hour, “Go on in Yevette, I already laid out a set of dry cloths for you to wear. The pants’ll be too big and I don’t have a belt. Believe it or not. So I cut you a length of rope. The rest is all there, plus the poncho,” I sighed really emotionally beat and at least not shivering any more, but feeling like I was maybe getting fevered. My skin feeling hot to the touch and achy.

Yevette brushed a stray hair away from my forehead and now looking at me with a worried kind of bunch eyebrow look. With rainwater pouring through her hair, down her face and her light clothing, soaked right through... and she, was worried about me? “Oh Troy your almost burning up Ba--by,” to feel my forehead again, with a cool wet hand.

I took her hand away, “don’t worry about that right now, Yevette”, I pointed again at the shelter, “go and get changed. I’ll wait here, till your done and we’ll go and look at your cabin!" She protested some and mentioned I could go in there with her, I shook my head no and with more emphasis. Stabbed a finger in the wanted direction. She said ‘are you sure,' to reply impatient with no seriousness, “yes, now git your a*s moving, Girl”, and smacked her on the butt. Which made her smile some, and disappear crawling awkwardly into interior shadows.

I heard her rustling around, and swearing. Ever try to change cloths in the dim interior under a picnic bench, full of junk. I knew I’d done it impossibly, about fifteen minuets earlier. I chuckled out of the blue, at the memory of Yevette’s wild entry into the campsite. I heard her coming a while off, as her screaming. Couldn’t be missed and she had started the racket a ways off, before her actual arrival. It got me to look out the shelter, just as she arrived.

The look on her face just could not be described, her hair stuck rain flat to her head and pasted all over her face. She was doing at least forty miles an hour and pall maul, at the corner there and almost, like she’d forgot to slow down. Man, she was headed right at the table there for a bit and then at the last second, remembered through her screaming. to apply the brakes. And wow, just missed the table and slid right by the corner, with me holding my breath. My thoughts interrupted, by Yevette saying, “Troy…do you want to take this stuff with us. I’ll start handing it out to you, if you want,” to hear her swearing under the table about her goddamn knuckles or some such and heard her sucking on them, making me wince.

“No Yevette come on out. I think we’ll just leave it all here, it all has to go back into the boat anyway”, at that I heard her mumble something still sounding frustratingly French. Then yell back, ‘okay’. “Ya babe, let’s just boot her up there right now and check out your cabin…what ah ya say”? She was already backing her way out and I was laughing at it's awkwardness, actually enjoying the posterior view. Apparently, Yevette was in no mood… for laughing men!

“Jerk” she said as she turned and stood up and come over, and slug me? Jeez Louise, and I mean like, ‘pow’ right in the upper arm and it goes instantly limp… and me rubbing it and feeling all sour puss. “Serves you right, you. For checking, out my a*s!", was said with vemonous spite.

“I did not”!

“Did too”!

“Not”, and stuck out my tongue at her. Her sour puss broke first, to bend into a smile and finally. To laugh with me, or at me. In the suffering pain... she’d inflicted.

“Okay”, she says, “stop being the retard, Mon Cheri and let’s put this show, on the proper path. Eh!", and popped the hood of the poncho up over her head and I followed suite. “You know” she says, and I sort of ‘grunt’ a manly acknowlegment. “You can really be an a*****e at times, and if you slap me on the a*s again Troy. Just watch to see, a happening”!

“”Ya well Girl. I’m learning, that you can be a real sweet heart too. And by the way, my pants on you. Well one can’t really see your a*s Yevette, let alone check it out!"

“Can we forget about my a*s... and, just move along?"

“Well ok, I’ll try. But it won’t be easy, you. You do have a sweet butt, Yevette!"

“Mmm, you do too Troy. Real nice tight buns Ba--by”, she reached around with both hands and gave them a none too’oo gentle a squeeze. “There you, now can we get out of this, shithole... my man?" She turned to stomp off and left me there open mouthed, and started toward the path-heading north. Well alrighty then, I set off through the curtains of rain. To catch up with my lovely, if brutal waitress. Every moment, getting a different view of this Panther Woman.

It was not easy keeping up with the wicked pace, she was setting either. Her ground eating stride I’d analyzed, was nothing... compared with this action. “Yevette, hey Ya---Vette. Come on, wait up,” I yelled up the path through the mist and rain. Which was swallowing her whole. I didn’t know where the goddamn cabin was.

Although likely, it would be at the end... of this path!

“Well Troy’, she yelled over her shoulder, not slowing one eye-otta, “move your A*s, hey!" Then I heard her talking heatedly to herself. “My a*s, your a*s, what the hell is wrong with a*****e men, and a*s this. A*s that! Like the world revolves around a woman’s a*s”? Then what was a long drawn out dialog, in rabid French... and, there was no doubt. That it was all not very good, for the mens of the world. That meaning me, at that point.

“Come on Yevette hey lighten up, I was trying to fool with you... is all. Wait up”!

“ F**k off”! Came the reply, sharply echoing back to me down the trail.

“ What”, yelled unconsciously, shocked and not believing... what, I’d just heard.

“ You heard me, f**k off an... Troy”, she turned suddenly and came back down the trail. Like a steamroller. She got right up to me and I’d stopped cowering at what I knew was coming. Every muscle in my body, I felt tighten up and cringe... in stark fear.

Bam… she ran right into me, and embraced me. In what can only be called a bear hug. Stood on her toes and kissed me, and not really gentle at first. But turned out to be, what. Like fantastically warm, and caring... would have about covered it. Of course, there lacked any dialog. I being too busy working my lips, in sheer shock and pleasant wonder.

Yevette slowly pulled away, to stare into my eyes and give me the goods. “Ok Ba--by. We walk together, all right!", for me to nod, "M-ya you, you must just not say anything to me, until we arrive there. Oh Mon Due, Monte Christi Tabernacle, I’ll rip your heart out, and eat the thing. Do-you-get-it”? Came out with real force, again nodded like what else do you say, to a thing like that. “This, you must understand… you. When Yevette she gets this way. You must just leave her be. Till I get over such as these things… Eh! If not, Mon Cheri. You will not, I’m sure. Hear the end of things, that I may throw at you… okay”. She’d said it all so calmly direct with feeling and well, that... was that. She took my elbow and off up the trail, we went. That tirade, I knew. Was directly all French Canadian Girl, and Yevette, was now obviously off somewhere lost in her funk... some unimaginable, private place. Where uncomfortably, I wasn't welcome. At all. 

            The rest of the trip up the trail, through the pouring rain with periodic bouts of thunder and lightning, went fairly quickly. As Yevette, all though had slowed down some still set nothing short of a demanding pace. The path itself, was fairly sheltered by the huge evergreen forest, it had been cut through. So at least it sheltered us, from most of the wind. Which judging by the way it was whipping the tops of the trees around. Was fairly fierce. We rounded a bend and I saw where Yevette had dropped her armload of wood, and Yevette point to say. “The cabin, is right a round the next corner!"

And there it was, a very rustic sort of looking affair. It looked fairly old, with a short porch off the front and a very steep roof, done in cedar shakes. As the cabin itself was narrow and we couldn’t at this approach, see just how long it was. We climbed onto the porch, and I was kind of nervous. That it may be locked and I didn’t know whether I could break into someone else’s private property. Yevette was ahead of me, and she turned the knob and walked right in. Well, that solved one small dilemma. The interior was dim, but it didn’t smell musty or have the feel of long abandonment to it. As I got further in, noticed that it was simply furnished and immaculately clean. It couldn’t be said to be very large, but it was a fair size and well laid out. We had opened the door into what was the kitchen, with a small table and four old spindle backed chairs around it. Opposite a living room of sorts with a couch and large comfortable looking, well not a Lazy-boy. But something of an older version, of the same. They both were fronting a wall-to-wall stone fireplace, with a stack of wood and kindling there ready to go. Even a box of Eddybook wooden matches, on the mantle... all of it handily set up.

After we took off our soaked ponchos and hung them on wooden pegs, beside the back door. I looked toward the back and there were a two-stage stairway with a landing, under it... storage shelves, that indeed, had supplies on them. I knew that the stairs would lead to a loft nestled up there, in between the two sides of steep roof.

I heard Yevette rustling around behind me and she was setting a kerosene lamp on the table and watched. As she popped up the glass chimney and light it, with familiarity. When she let the chimney back, down the room brightened into a friendly glow. I let out a sigh and felt some of the tensions of our experience, drain from me. Yevette pointed at the fireplace. ”How about getting us a fire going… Troy?" She smiled and went about snooping through just about everything else in the small kitchen, and I smiled. Knowing, she was looking for any kind of edibles! So, that’s exactly what I did, and set to making a fire in the large fireplace.

It didn’t take long for the seasoned wood to take hold, and had a nice healthy blaze going. Filling the room, with the kind of warmth. Only a wood fire can provide. I sat down into the wing back lounger and it sagged, with a satisfying creak of comfort... if just a little lumpy feeling as I settled down into it. I felt my eyes closing almost immediately, as the fatigue of the mornings wrestle with the weather and the boat relaxed, and the warmth of the fire. Washed over, my near contentment. I really did drift away for a little while, to be awakened by the smell of fresh coffee and could hear it percolating steadily off behind me, in the kitchen. As well I could hear Yevette humming softly away, and being occupied. Clunking around, with something?

To reluctantly get out of my warm buddy the chair and, went to investigate. Yevette looked up from a narrow side table, held a dainty finger up to pull a stray length of hair away from her face. Covered in flour? “Hey sleepyhead,” she state the obvious, “passed out there for a bit, Troy,” and smile with understanding, “can’t say as I can blame you, after this morning eh!”

“What are you up to there Yevette,” I asked with me kind of wondering, about the flour that seemed to cover her, just about everywhere. 

She looked back in my direction again.“I’m baking a pie. An Apple pie, Troy,” to puff a stream out at the same strand of uncooperative hair, and suggest. “Why don’t you have a cup of coffee, and a biscuit. They are there on the table”, nod in that general direction and went on to her happily humming work.

There was a short row of old mugs, hanging on the wall next to a wood stove that was throwing off some heat. I took a mug and the coffee pot was atop the stove to help my self and headed for the table cradling the heating mug in both hands. In the center of the table was a stack of fresh baked baking powder biscuits, and beside it. The butter out of my hamper? Then I notice on the other side of the wood-stove a wooden folding dying rack, and on it steaming away. Were our clothing, taken off at the campsite under the table?

“Yevette”? ‘Hmm’, I heard her reply, “just how long was I asleep”, I asked, feeling guilty.

“ Well, you were out there, for some little while Troy. Why”?

“Did you go back down to the beach and get our wet cloths, and stuff”. I took a sip of really great coffee and, couldn’t help again feeling guilty. Knowing, that she did, and buttered my self a biscuit that was awesome and seemed to just melt in my mouth.

“Yes Troy, I did. I thought well the biscuits were cooking. That it might be a good idea and I could put some cloths back on, that I wasn't swimming around in”, at that she laughed, and said. “Besides, there were things in the hamper to get that weren’t here”, something with her rolling out pastry made her pause, then finish with, ‘like the butter”!

I looked at my watch and it was well after four. I really had been out for a while, and listened to the rain, still pound away on the roof and the wind. Whistling its way through eves. It was obviously still storming out. I had another biscuit and went for another cup of coffee; thinking Yevette had done the things. That that I had thought about doing, after I’d gotten the fire going... and. Before I’d discovered, that the big comfy chair could swallow me whole. Still… I did feel kind of guilty, but really quite amazed with Yevette. Pie? Well not to say that it wouldn’t be appreciated, I mean whose favorite thing in the world. Isn’t fresh baked apple pie?

I sat drinking my coffee and had turned my chair some, to watch Yevette work away on her project and by the looks of it. The pie was pretty much assembled and ready, to go into the oven. It was finished, and Yevette. Crossed to the stove and bent to check the little silver and glass temperature gauge, on the oven door. Nodded to herself, satisfied and went and got her pie. With one hand, opened the oven door then slid the pie in onto the oven rack. Gently closed the door, then went to the side of the stove and took two pieces of cut and measured wood for this stove, out of the side box. Lifted a handle on the side of the stove that lifted the whole side section of the top, and fed the wood to the flames going in the firebox. The manner, in which Yevette was going about this, was all very natural. I could tell that in her life, she was not unfamiliar with things. Such as wood-stoves and well, baking and looking after things. Without, complaint...

Man, she'd even refilled wood for the fireplace.

With that all out of the way, she refilled her cup with coffee and came to join me at the kitchen table. She sat down with a “whew, that’s done,” and try again, at that slip of hair. That rebelled, at staying out of her face and a small annoyed look there... that, said so. She took a sip of her steaming coffee and, put it down to the table to say. “We are going to have quite a nice supper, Troy. I found some canned spaghetti sauce over there under the stairs, and an assortment of dry supplies there, as well. Like the spaghetti noodles.” I watched her face through all this and couldn’t get over how one person could get so much flour on one face, making one pie!

Or... look so domestically beautiful, as her. At that moment...

“You’re, doing it again." said provocatively looking over the top of her cup.

“What,” I smiled, knowing what she meant.

“Looking at me, like that,” and artfully put down her cup, pretending to look annoyed.

I laughed at her failing attempt at a by now familiar ploy, “actually I was looking at how much flour, you’ve gotten all over yourself, Yevette,” to come back with this scripting change and sip on my coffee, to not blow it and smile. Then to cap off this banter, “just how did you, manage this? Miss Richade,” circling an indicating finger at this I thought, whoafully comical condition. 

Her turn to laugh like tinkling crystal, and jump right in, “well you could say, that the whole family Richade… come from very a long of messy bakers. Right back to the 1700’s… or, so I’m told.” Her face holding the façade of the, I’m pulling your leg variety. “Besides, I’ll clean it all up you wait and see, but. Mister slave driver. I thought I might sit here and enjoy a cup of coffee with lazy bones here.”

Well she was certainly good at sticking it to a fella. Knew it too, as she grin and change the topic. “Oh and I know, who the cabin belongs to… care to guess?" Yevette smiled at me, knowing I knew. Like she could see it on my face, continued, “that’s right… the O’Gradys, There a plaque over beside the kitchen door. That says much the same, as the one on the picnic table,” Yevette’s eyes, filled with appreciation, “they must be wonderful people. I mean, the door to this wonderful cabin and fully stocked… not even, locked?”

“Well, that is really pretty trusting of them, but from what I can tell. There is no road on this side of the lake. So the only way to this cabin, would be from boat.” Yes I figured that would all seem pretty logical, but I got a thought and continued, “you know I could tell by the log work, when I got here. That Ben built this cabin. But it seems as though, it is older than the Lodge, and the log construction. Is simpler... not as perfect, either.” I sort of left it at that, and thought it will be interesting to ask him. If we ever got there.

Yevette got up, her chair scrapping its way across the worn plank floor. “Well time to clean up this mess and start on that spaghetti, before dark!" I noticed that with just the one lamp going that it was getting dimmer, in the interior of the cabin as real night was talking hold. “Why don’t you put some more wood on the fire, Troy. While I do this,” suggest Yevette over a shoulder, walking away from the table and off to complete her stated details.

'Good idea slave driver.' I thought with a smile, and quit my chair to make my way over to the fireplace. I noticed on the way, that there were two more kerosene lamps. Which were on the either side of the fireplace above the mantle, attached cunningly. Right into the rock-work. I got a wooden match off the mantle and lite them one at a time, the cabin filled with more mellow golden glow. Becoming even cozier feeling, in the midst of this raging storm. Putting more wood into the fireplace, I thought at least it isn’t getting any worse out there. As if it wasn’t bad enough, I couldn’t help but feel nervous, about Ben’s beautiful boat staked down there back on the beach. Yet, felt confident that every thing that could have been done to secure it from storm damage... had been! Within the limitations, presented.

The comfy chair and the cabins warmth, had eaten me again and I was having some really whacked out dream about a storm on board my ship. When Yevette shook me awake, saying that our supper was ready. The first thing I noticed right away, was all the delicious smells wafting wonderful about the cabin. It all smelled heavenly and the fragrance of fresh baked apple pie, mixed in with all the rest. Making my mouth water and realize, just how hungry I really was.

Yevette, was still there in front of me smiling with her hands on her hips. “My but you are a lazy old man, eh! Asleep here in his chair in front of a cozy fire… are you, hungry,” she asked.

“Ya you bet,” said between a long stretch and yawn, “Mmm, smells great you there,” to stuggle up and out of the recliner and gave her a hug, that was returned in kind. “Let’s go sample your hard work Girl," keeping an arm about her shoulder we moved toward the table setting, "and judging by the smell,” said over a growling stomach. “It will be well worth, the sleeping,” I laughed groggily, “waiting for!" Yevette gave a small smile in return, and follow along to her waiting feast.

The table was already set, complete with a bunch of wild flowers in the middle I pointed to, and about to comment on. “They were right off the side of the porch,” Yevette explained. The dinner wear I noted was all old and well used and as I sat down. I saw that she had gone to some lengths, to set this all up. There was even a bottle of Red wine on the table, and again. Yevette said. “Found that too in a cupboard and I didn’t think they’d mind, if it was accompanying an Italian Dinner…do you.” I answered I didn’t think so, and pour the two of us a measure into what were ordinary drinking glasses. Yevette hadn’t sat down yet and came to stand beside me and serve up the spaghetti noodles. That done, spooned on a healthy topping of what looked like vegetable spaghetti sauce. “There, I hope you like it,” said with a shy hopeful look and went and sat to serve herself.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said and she just smiled, and went on getting her dinner served up. Have a sample sip of her wine as did I, and smacked my lips. “That tastes good, hey,” I commented at Yevette nodding her agreement. I was really hungry, and dug right in. “This is awesome Yevette, and fits right into this homey scene too! Doesn’t it?"

“Can we just stay here, Troy?" Said Yevette with a mouthful of spaghetti, and then slurp went a long stand, up and into the corner of her waiting mouth.

“I have to admit, it is cozy here and it would be a nice place. To escape the rest of the world,” I felt some merit, in that last statement. Thinking it would be nice to stay in a place like this forever, with Yevette. “Yep, I could bring my ship right over, and tie it up at the beach… what ah ya say.” Which, in its way. Killed my last thought, or wistful kind of short dream. I noted, Yevette didn’t say anything and, I could tell. That though this might have been an accidental, yet necessary find. She was enjoying being here. Her face had sort of lost it’s happy glow, “I’m sorry Yevette did I say something wrong?"

“No, no,” was said, almost too quickly, “it’s just that all afternoon, baking and working in this kitchen. Well, I sort of got attached to it. It would be just like something, which I would come up with. I grew up with not a lot of money, and we had a wood-stove for the longest time,” she’d finished wolfing down her dinner, and pushed the plate away. “I looked after my Father and three brothers from the time, my mother died.” She drank down the rest of her wine and poured another glass. “So this afternoon, I was kind of remembering all of that, and really in a way. This is as happy as I’ve been, for some time." She looked somewhat melancholy, “so this cabin, reminds me, of our log home!"

“Your family lived in a log home,” I asked with interest and Yevette nodded her head slowly, “how old were you when you mother died Yevette… if you don’t mind me asking?"

“No, not at all,” took another large sip of her wine. Obvious that this conversation wasn’t easy for her, “I was pretty young, just thirteen, and it wasn’t easy taking her place. She was a great mother, and a fantastic cook. It seemed that she did everything well and never complained, ever. About our being short on money, all the time!"

She got up and took the used plates from the table and put them on the sideboard next to the sink, which actually had an old fashioned hand pump for water delivery, for the cabin. Yevette opened the warming oven, above the stove. To take out her pie and bring it to the table and the fresh smell of baked apples and cinnamon, filled the room. The side plates, were already there waiting, as Yevette’d deftly cut the pie into wedges and put two slices on the plates and handed them out. Intent on continuing with her story, when she sat down to her desert. “Well you know Troy, that wasn’t all that different. Than any of the families, that lived up there on the mountain. Most all of us, really didn’t know any other way. Other than logging, and at first. My father worked part time at the ski hill, till his logging accident and he quite the logging trade for good after that,” she explain with feeling and sample her pie.

Me, I was halfway finished. What I knew would only be my first piece, and when I thought about it. Couldn’t remember the last time I had fresh baked apple pie, perfect… “This is great pie Yevette especially the crust. It so flaky, and just melts in your mouth!"

“Thank you Troy. It was nothing really, there was canned filling already here and I have to admit. I do make good pie crust,” her eyes went kind of funny. “Do you want to hear more, about my family… Troy?"

I was double thinking quickly, and came up with my comment on the pie, and that she maybe thought. I was being polite and for her to change the subject. Nothing, could be further from the truth. I wanted to know everything about her. And I told her so, she looked relieved and seen I had polished off my piece of pie and graciously, served me up another. I pointed to that plate, “The pie I am really enjoying Yevette, but I'm also really very interested. In what you are sharing with me, and... I was listening.” I ignored that second piece a moment and easy to see. Yvette was experiencing exposed feelings in talking about her family and looked across the table into her eyes. To reassure her, asked with a passion I really did feel, “so please don't stop, I do want to know everything I can about your life... your family, and how you grew up, ok!" I didn't go back to my desert and held her eye contact till her features soften... to be rewarded, with a small nervous smile.

“Alright, and I’m glad Troy. Because these thoughts here are fresh, for me. I really haven’t thought this way for a long time and I feel a real need... that I have to tell you, these things!" She looked away momentarily and wiped a tear off her cheek, “I don’t now why, but it is like my chest would explode, if I didn’t. Again Troy, it is like you’re bringing these things to the surface and, I don’t know...

Maybe it is time, for them to be spoken of. Well, for me that is.”

I could see that it was true, and hoped. She, wouldn’t stop that need...

Author's Note

In this chapters experimental re-write, and edit. I was striving to create better dialogue, maybe one of many short spots in my writing disipline. He said, she said, then to and a host of other repetitive superlatives. Striving to arrive at a realism and flow of discriptive that enhance, the scripted scene and character developemnt.

How well do you feel I have accomplished this? What comments, might you have about quality of dialogue so far. Do you have a feel at this point of your read for these characters, Troy & Yevette?

Reviews

[Angel Bird]

Except for some needed editing and maybe a word here or there at the dialog, I found this scene to be done quite well. Easy to picture, and even somewhat making the reader want to be with them in that cosy and warm cabin.
Looking forward to the next chapter.