She liked the sound of too many coins in her pockets. It was comforting, really. Especially if you got those rare, all-silver quarters that had a heavier jingle. There was a regular symphony with every step she took, almost like that fairytale about the dame on a white horse with bells tied to her ankles. Lyn didn't think she was a fairytale, but she knew she was something unreal.
Those thoughts were pushed from her head as she drove into town on her massive black Harley, scaring the living daylights out of all the birds in the trees. A small grin escaped her control and spread across her lips as she rode; this was going to be fun. The town was absolutely tiny, barely big enough for its own school and definitely not big enough for any of the major chain stores. Still, it had prospered over the years. Elmendorf was a pleasant little place that had grown from practically nothing and was really just a place for hunters to stop and restock their coolers. She loved it, however. Her "uncle" owned a nice lot up the road a ways; a spacious red cabin on forty-three acres. That's where she was headed, but she needed some food first, so she pulled into an empty space at the local mercantile and cut the engine on the big bike. She caught a glimpse of herself in the window and paused, fascinated. Steel-toed boots that were scuffed here and there but relatively new, loose jeans that had seen too many miles, a wallet chain looped from her front pocket to the battered leather thing she knew was in her back pocket, a simple, lace-trimmed red camisole under a heavy leather jacket with too many pockets, zippers, and scuffs, leather kid gloves fastened with metal snaps, and thin-framed aviators pushed up on her forehead. These things made up her outfit, but she saw a battered young woman running from her memories. She sighed to herself and went into the mercantile.
"'Mornin. Can I help you any?" The clerk was a middle-aged woman with dyed-black hair and an earnest face.
"Na. I'll just pick up a few things," Lyn replied easily. There wasn't too much to be had, but the things she needed were all there; bread, sandwich meat, condiments, soda, chips. She planned to be living off these things until she got a job. Before that, she would have to spend her money wisely.
"That'll be eighteen-fifty," the woman said once everything had been rung up. Lyn paid with one of her last twenties and frowned. She didn't want to have to steal anything…
"You been round here before?" the clerk asked as she bagged Lyn's things.
"Sure. My uncle owned the place out by the Greer's. I used to visit all the time… But now he's left it to me." She stopped there, knowing it would hurt if she said much more.
"That's too bad," the woman said. "You drive safe, now." Lyn nodded as she left. It was somewhat annoying, that false sympathy. She knew the woman had said what she did to be kind, but it only irritated her. Once she was on the road again, she pushed it out of her head. The drive was beautiful, especially in the late summer, as it was now. It took her about ten minutes to actually get out to the cabin, but she didn't mind; she loved riding along the narrow roads with no one else around. When she got to the cabin, she parked the Harley by the back door and used her key to get in. She was eager to see what kind of shape the place was in since no one had visited in about six months. The door opened easily, and a musty smell greeted her when she stepped inside. At least there was no scurrying of little rodent feet. As she wandered the rest of the cabin, she was pleased to find it in better shape than she had expected; the only slight problem was a small nest of mud divers in the rafters of the living room. No hornets, no mice, no ants. Lyn was satisfied.
It would take her at least a week to get the cabin in good working order, but she spent the rest of the day cleaning the important things like the bathrooms and the main bedroom. Dust had collected on everything and she was sneezing up a storm by the time she could see all the wood surfaces again. The bed linens were all airing out on the balcony, the floors had been swept, the windows washed, the window sills cleaned of the accumulation of bugs and dust, and Lyn was exhausted. By the time darkness had fallen, the cabin was in livable shape and she had to sit down, at least for a while.
"Well Miles," she said, referring to her uncle but talking to herself, "I hope you don't mind my living up here. I've got nowhere else to go. I miss you…" The words died on her lips, for she had fallen asleep.