Slow Dancing Read Free

nothing.
    “No one’s there now,” he said. “No one I can see. Man or woman?”
    “Man, I’m pretty sure it was a man. He was right at the river edge, right by the big pine.” A tall pine tree towered over the rest, its roots in the soft embankment of the river so the weight of the tree was slowly pulling it over, but it was still the tallest tree.
    “Stand back, stay inside,” he said, gently pulling her around behind him as he unlocked the door and opened it. Stepping out on the porch, he looked close to the house before scanning the wood line and the riverbank, but nothing popped out. “It looks like the coward retreated into the trees.” He turned to her.
    “You okay?” She nodded. “It’s a durn shame a person can’t sit on their own porch after dark.” He came inside and locked up the door again. “No need to be frightened now. I’ll see to the windows and doors if you want to go back to your room.” She nodded her head. Tonight, they’d sleep with the doors to their rooms open. He called out for her, asking permission to come into her room to check the window, low and facing the front of the house.
    “Just as a precaution, tonight I’m gonna pull your dresser in front of this window,” he said.
    “Okay,” she answered, watching him work. Slowly, the fear the interloper instilled in her was fading; she was safe in her own house and her stepfather wouldn’t allow anyone to harm her.
     

Chapter 2
    The next morning, Frank called the postmistress, Jessie. “I have a big favor to ask, to one as busy as yourself,” he said, chuckling.
    “Go fer it, Frankie,” Jessie answered. “I ain’t got all day.”
    “Can you write a note that I’ll be in at nine-thirty today and tape it to my door? I got a small job that I got to attend to here before I come into town.” She agreed to it, to tape a hand-lettered sign in her neat penmanship.
    Frank be late today. Not exactly what he had asked for, but close enough, and people in town knew what it meant.
    He was standing at the stove frying potatoes when Ellen came out. “Sorry about last night, Frank,” she said. “Think my imagination must be gettin’ the best of me.”
    “No, no. You did the right thing. Intuition saved many a life, I reckon.” She went to the coffee pot and poured two cups. “I’m going out to look at the river’s edge after breakfast.”
    “What about the garage?” she asked.
    “Jessie’ gonna put a note up,” he answered. “This is more important for now.” They ate in silence, the possibility that someone meant to do Ellen harm foremost in Frank’s mind. He wasn’t sure what she thought, and didn’t want to alarm her. When they were finished, he adjusted the holster attached to his belt and stood up to put their dishes in the sink.
    “I’ll get those, Frank,” she said.
    “No, I will. It’s my job to do the morning dishes.” He was a creature of habit, but more, didn’t want Ellen to think her lot in life was to wash up after a man, even her stepfather. “I’ll take care of it when I come back in.”
    “I’m going with you,” she said. He paused for a moment, doubtful at first but then seeing the wisdom in it. It might be good for her to go, to see exactly where the man stood. It was dry last night, so footprints in the sand should be visible. They walked out the door together, pausing at the house to survey the formal garden that surrounded it; beautiful roses, peonies and perennials that bloomed throughout the summer months and into the autumn, annuals they planted together, and an herb garden; herbs like sage, said to protect the people who lived within. Ellen bent over to pull sheep sorrel out of the herb bed.
    “A vicious, invasive weed, delicious sautéed in olive oil,” Frank said, all traces of his Alabama accent gone. Ellen laughed out loud.
    “Yes!” They walked to the wood line, the edge of the forest that bordered their property. It was never a scary place; as a child she’d set up