Something's Building
Chapter Notes
Well, the muses certainly made up for the recent shorter chapters here!
Since Panyan is always keen for chicken wife content, this popped in my head and was
tapped out in such a hurry I misspelled a few things so badly, it took me a moment to
figure out what I was trying to say! :D
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Chickens and Pirates. November 1 through 7.
1001 views
Rainbow Haven Acres
Published on November 11, 2017
"So, it has been brought to my attention-"
Alex was interrupted by Kara ducking into frame, rocking her smaller sister with a
rough shoulder. "See, we read the comments!"
The cheeky comment was accompanied by a large, familiar chicken being shoved into
Alex's arms, clucking with annoyance. Alex looked discomfited for a moment,
abruptly rearranging her hands to support the animal.
"That we haven't had enough chicken content," she finished wryly and flinched away
when the bird whipped her head around. Thankfully, there was no attack, just
curiosity. "Thank you for the mercy, evil overlord."
As though in punishment for the cheek, CWC squirmed wildly, one wing landing a
hard hit right across Alex's chin.
"And now I have been suitably punished. Okay, all silliness aside, Crazy White here
has settled into the hoop house remarkably well. Apparently married life suits her.
That said, her demonic wife, I swear, finds a way through every attempt we've made to
keep her confined. Including a set of claw marks through the plastic that would make
her t-rex ancestors proud."
If a chicken could look smug, CWC did just that.
"But she comes back every night. In fact, she screams her head off if I've patched up
her escape and she can't get back in."
Suddenly, Alex looked over to her right and her expression was priceless.
"Speaking of the real evil, here she is to make a guest appearance. Brainy, over there."
The camera swung around to reveal Ginger walking elegantly over the soggy pasture,
carrying on a burgling conversation with her white companion.
"It is not like her to come in so early," Brainy noted as he kept the camera on Ginger
where she walked over to join CWC, now standing at Alex's feet.
"I agree. She doesn't look alarmed, so must not be a close call with teeth and claws, but
I wonder if we're in for a weather shift."
"I concur," Brainy said decisively and the camera swung wildly to show a leaden sky
above the towering fir trees. "Look at the clouds."
"Storm's a brewin'," Kara drawled in a terrible southern accent and the camera panned
to show her with thumbs hooked over her belt and squinting like a sour old man. Then
she exploded into action, throwing her fists up and yelling in some sort of horrible
British accent, "batten down the hatches!"
And with that piratical announcement, she was off like a shot, a pair of chickens
hopping along in her wake.
Alex sighed but her smile was soft. "You heard the pirate. Prepare for battle!"
Alex's POV
It's status quo for nearly two weeks before we're shook up again. Monday the 13th is Veteran's Day
and Monica is home from school for the holiday, which is nice. I'd offered -borderline begged for-
- a project day, her choice. The enthusiasm for the idea is just more proof how we miss Team New
York.
Shake it off, Alex.
I've got the wood stove cranking out the heat and we're working side by side on some upgrades for
the chickens. Later, when she inevitably gets bored, I'll get with the rest of the gang on the winter
shelters for the pastured critters. The morning is pleasant enough, even with the stoic silence
between me and my young cousin. Which she breaks in fine fashion.
"Is it bad luck that it's Monday the 13th?"
Completely caught off guard, I scoff, "Monday the 13th. Good one! If I had an office job, I would
totally agree."
"Mom likes Garfield," Monica says with a shrug and I laugh again, delighted with her humor and
the little smile on her face.
"Your mom is a nerd. Well, the short one is anyway."
Our humor dies abruptly when a big engine is heard chugging our way.
The alertness in this quiet place is very different than it was living in a city. Sure, you always want
to keep your wits around you, but danger is just… different. An unexpected vehicle of what is
clearly a large size is not something to ignore.
"Gimmie a sec," I tell Monica distractedly and hop the obnoxious beam that separates my shop
from the rest of the barn. It only takes a few steps to get to the person door at the front and throw it
open to the cold.
Guess Lena wasn't kidding about being in a hurry! The noise is a fleet of large vehicles caked in so
much ice and road grime that I can't make out any markings. Well, this better be the new toy or I'm
going to be having a very awkward conversation.
In the lead is a flatbed pickup truck, massive enough that anything bigger would start to look like
an 18-wheeler. Behind it looms an unmarked trailer that makes the huge pickup look almost small.
Somehow the husky boom truck behind it threads past, towing a trailer full of… I can't remember
the name of that piece of equipment. Like a forklift with a telescoping arm, though this thing is
larger than any forklift I've ever seen!
There's a dump truck towing a tractor that looks like it ate both of mine and a jumble of big, steel
gear. With much groaning and hissing, the convoy of semi-trucks come to a halt, lined up neatly,
and snaking out of sight behind the trees alongside the Rambeau cabin. The first two are towing
enclosed trailers, the rest heavy loads of steel girders in various configurations, stacks of pipes and
mysteriously tarped shapes.
As engines start to fall silent, a beanpole figure in heavy jeans and a white t-shirt scoots around the
back of the dump truck's trailer, slapping a beanie on their leg. Good thing it's a relatively pleasant
day. Those short sleeves show enough ink to make me look like a child's attempt, the art crawling
right up to the jowls of a foxy, androgynous face and a smirky grin that reminds me of Lena.
Doesn't everything seem to remind me of that family?
"Glad for that long driveway. You Alex?" the stranger calls out in a voice that sounds distinctly
feminine. Too baffled to find words, I just nod and the smirk becomes a real smile. "Kane. Lena
sent us."
Seems that my association of that smile wasn't very far off after all.
"Me and Baby Luthor go way back and this is a project perfectly timed and too intriguing to pass
up. Besides, what a great place for a working vacation!" Kane's handshake is hearty and I'm glad
for all the months of hard work or I would have winced. Kane's lanky to the point of almost being
skinny, but clearly packs a punch. "So, you might be the star of the show, but I believe our contact
is Lucy Lane?"
"At your service," my best friend, the sneak, calls out as she trots up, flapping a sheaf of papers at
us. "Your boss is an efficient negotiator. The permits were just emailed and printed out. Oh, and by
the way, surprise Alex!"
That smug grin makes me shake my head. "Asshole. You're the best."
"Damn right," she sasses and switches her grip on the papers to step towards our guests with an
extended hand. "Kane, right? Lucy Lane, a pleasure. You made good time."
"Yeah, the brains of the operation found us a better route. More miles, less snow." Kane's
expression softens to real adoration and a little relief as a drop-dead gorgeous black woman joins
us. "Ah, here she is. My partner, Sophie Moore."
That warms a neutral expression to soft warmth as Sophie hands off a black sweatshirt trimmed in
yellow to be shrugged into. "Flatterer."
Their affection is sweet and leaves me nostalgic. Sophie's smile warms a bit when she turns it to
me and my inner playboy mourns that she's taken. The twinge of attraction doesn't feel right
anymore and doesn't that feel weird…
"This is a nice setup you folks have here. Is there a large corner where we can set up camp?"
Thankfully, I have the perfect solution for that, gesturing back the way they'd come in. "That
clearing off to the right when you pulled in? Do whatever you want to that. It's been doing nothing
but go feral since long before we came here. Hell, you chewing it up will probably make it easier
to plant something in spring."
That earns me a real smile then, wide and charismatic. "Good. We'll get unloaded and get rid of
this caravan as quick as we can. I'll apologize now for the long night. I'm sure we'll be a
disturbance to you and your livestock. I promise it's just one night and we'll behave more civilized
after that."
"We appreciate that," I manage to say somewhat seriously, despite Kane's clearly holding back
some manner of smartassery. I like them both already. Particularly when they excuse themselves
and Sophie whacks Kane in the belly with the back of her hand, laughter echoing through the air.
Sophie was right and the noise hasn't let up even as the skies darken.
With all the animals agitated, we all agree on a little extra food since no one will be sleeping much
tonight. I miss said feeding as Kara and I spend several hours rounding up the damn ostrich into
their barn. Frankly, the big idiots are liable to panic and kill themselves running loose in the dark.
We don't lock them up much, even in cold weather, since lots of reading and asking experts
reassures us that the birds are hardier than their African roots would suggest. If people can raise
the damn things in Alaska, they can sure as hell survive the mountains of Oregon!
"Makes me wish we'd waited another week to release the babies," I grouch at Kara once we finally
get the flock behind gates and can close up the old chicken barn. Kara just chuckles wearily and
stretches out her back before heading back to the ATV.
While I know I should go clean up my little shop, or get dinner, or grab a shower or a hundred
other things, I hop in the UTV and head over to the new chaos.
The Rambeau cabin sits facing my house and Lucy's yurt, the side road between us. The land
humps up behind it before falling gradually away to the county road. We laid down an offshoot of
the gravel side road to lead up to the top of the rise where a double garage stands for them. The rise
glows from behind as I send the UTV up the gravel to join my cousin and her family in ogling the
spectacle.
And what a spectacle it is!
All the construction equipment has been unloaded, two little earthmovers on tank treads buzzing
around their larger cousins. Rows and rows of overlong pallets encased in shrink wrap are lined up,
quickly being added to so that the seemingly endless stream of semitrucks can move on.
"Wow," is all I can think to say, climbing out of the UTV to stand with my relatives.
"Look," Monica says excitedly, tugging at my sleeve to get my attention. "Brainy left me a camera
and has me watching the stationary one he set up."
Sure enough, just under the eaves of the garage is a tripod, trained on the action. Another camera is
in Monica's hands and she is clearly delighted with the responsibility.
"Very nice! This mess won't get old soon will it?"
"It will when I want to sleep," Maria grumbles and Carol just snickers and leans into her side for a
hug.
Monica rambles on excitedly about the equipment, pulling out her tablet to show me where she
found them. Turns out their tractor is actually called a loader and the telescoping forklift thingie is
a telehandler. The latter is the busiest thing down there, pulling off smaller pallets as the large ones
get fitted with straps to be lifted away by the beefy boom truck. The little tanks -skid steers,
Monica helpfully informs me- push around the loads on the ground to maximize the rows and
generally help out.
"You should have seen it," Monica gushes on. "The big crane lifted the yellow one right out of the
back of the dump truck! It was cool."
I'm too curious to resist grinning wickedly at Monica and saying, "wanna get closer?"
Carol stifles down amusement, having a harder time of it as I make an exasperated teenager huff at
Maria's expression.
"Relax, Mom, just over to the old house to watch."
Now Monica and Carol are both sniggering and Maria is the very picture of affectionate
exasperation. "You are all children. Be safe!"
We're off like shots, Monica keeping her death grip on the camera. Good girl. Peering around the
dilapidated house -and fuck if it doesn't smell as bad as it looks, eww- we take in the closer view
of our new neighbors.
The clearing is nearly twice the size of the one that contains the village and our septic fields. The
old, derelict home currently stinking at us hasn't been touched despite its needing to be torn down.
At first it was to keep a legal dwelling on the property; now it's just a matter of time and effort.
Maybe if I ask nicely, these folks will just raze the damn thing with that big tractor, err, loader.
Equipment has been lined up neatly behind the house, maximizing the lower half for supplies.
There's an enclosed semi-trailer still attached to its truck and I have no idea what it is, though
windows march down its side at even intervals. Beside it is the big pickup and trailer and then
there's the damnest rig I've ever seen. It seriously looks like a semitruck nose and tail end with a
boxy RV shape filling out the middle. And attached to its 5th wheel hitch is yet another boxy
trailer, though not quite of the proportions of the other two. Both of the smaller trailers have ramps
at their ass ends, standing open to the closing night, tread marks leading away from both in the
light that spills out of them.
It's all fascinating, but when Carol calls it, I follow her and Monica back up the slope and off to a
late dinner. We still have normal lives to live, in spite of the fascinating noise and mess!
We all head to bed early to try and get what sleep we can. Opening the blue door has a noisy
Biscotti rubbing up so avidly it's hard to walk, which is why she gets carried so much. Paying
attention to her and BP soothes me and taking care of their food and mess makes me feel needed.
But soon there is no avoiding my own heart and mind. It's easy to stay busy away from the peace of
my little house, to use effort to cover the ache that has nothing to do with muscle and bone.
With the muffled din of city-like noise that I left behind and took unexpected love away from me, I
dig out the foam earplugs that are so handy before snuggling in with my pets. The bed still feels too
large and too empty, but my body has no choice but to remember life before the couple who I still
miss so much.
Sam's POV
Life carries on. It doesn't give a damn about our frail human foibles. Whether we like it or not. In a
great many ways, I'm grateful for it. The quietness of the apartment and my family is… notable,
but I don't want to make a big deal out of it and potentially cause more stress.
And I can't exactly figure out my own mixed feelings either.
The club is busy with Halloween past and the Christmas season already blaring cheer and
consumerism at us. Can't we wait until after Thanksgiving? Which is only a week and a half away,
dammit!
At least I don't have to do any planning for that holiday. We go up to the Luthor estate every year
to enjoy the pristine pastoral manor and eat like royalty. I feel like the place is going to seem
sorta… artificial after the farm.
As I keep trying to do, I shove away thoughts of Rainbow Haven Acres and those deep brown
eyes…
It takes a physical shake, like a horse with flies, to get my head back in the game. The club is
hopping with the federal holiday of Veteran's Day giving many an extra day off. So, really, I'm too
busy and distracted for the chaos that walks in, but she's as good as family, so what can I do?
Besides, for all that Andrea Rojas is a pain in my ass, she does know how to make an entrance.
The poster child of HBIC in Armani or something more likely to be far more expensive and
handmade just for her, Andrea pauses for exactly the right count of milliseconds to make an
impression to the whole bar without being ostentatious. A glance takes in the whole room before
she makes a beeline for me and takes a barstool that her mysterious powers have seen evacuated.
Exhausting to deal with, yes, but also strangely fascinating. Like a car wreck.
"So, I hear there's a vacation home to decorate in my future?"
Smirking, I nod but don't bother to speak just yet. She's barely warmed up.
"Where was this again?"
"Oregon."
How anyone can look so daintily disgusted and yet remain dignified is beyond me. Bet this is
where Lena learned it from.
"You mean hell and gone. What possessed you two to go to Oregon?" she says it wrong, like ore-egone.
Knowing Andrea it's purposeful. There must be some sort of subconscious warning in my
expression because she actually backs down. "Still, I suppose it must be a gorgeous place with all
those trees and mountains."
"Yeah, the scenery had something to do with it." Yes, there is a distinct leer in my voice, which
earns a sharp, speculative look.
It's a cheap shot to make our wonderful experience with Alex sound like a casual fling, but I feel
like I need the emotional armor of pretending around this shark. Besides, Andrea gets on my
nerves, what can I say. That she has history going way, way back with Lena is the root of that. So,
sometimes I get a little competitive and stupid.
Why I can never hide a damn thing from this woman is a phenomenon I can't figure out as
Andrea's expression goes from speculative to sly.
"Ah, one of your little 'excursions' was involved."
She ought to know, as she was the first one. At least it seemed to have gotten her permanently out
of Lena's system. Lucky for me, because she makes me nervous when it comes to the love of my
life, dammit.
"That's quite a commute."
I don't normally drink on the job, even if I have the alcohol tolerance of the Irish. It's time for an
exception and I grab two shot glasses and the top-shelf bourbon few have the coin to afford,
pouring generous portions. It's all one smooth movement, my body on auto-pilot. Andrea is curious
at the offering, but raises her glass in response to my doing the same.
"Worth it."
Yeah, it feels good to make her splutter a little.
One of the things I insisted on making room for when we remodeled years ago was a half dozen
mobile phone rooms scattered around. And, frankly, people are stupid and never use them enough.
Though at least in the old bar, we're militant in intimidating people into taking their damn calls out.
I'm 100% behind my staff chucking people out if need be. Anyway, I gesture to Wanda that I'm
stepping away and shoo Andrea out ahead of me.
The first room we can see is occupied through the glass door, but the second one is available.
Unusually, Lena doesn't answer immediately and I'm beginning to wonder if it will go to voicemail
when her quiet hello finally comes through.
"Hey, sweetie, guess what the cat dragged in?"
That is as good an invitation as a formal card for Andrea to get sassy. "Oh, you would make a
pussy joke, Samantha. Hey, baby doll, so let's take a meeting for your new love nest, hmm?"
Again, a long pause and my concern grows.
"Yes, the building," Lena says distractedly. "I'm not really ready for a meeting right now."
She sounds upset, despite the valiant effort of hiding it. Andrea recognizes it too, her characteristic
intensity softening with worry. It's a rare empathetic moment between us.
That softening is reflected in Andrea's voice. "Hey, no problem. How about I come back in a
couple days? We could do lunch."
There is real relief in Lena's voice when she replies, "that would be great."
Alex's POV
I'd somehow had the braincells to make a phonecall last night. Not bad considering what a mess
I've been lately. After a surprisingly decent night's sleep thanks to the earplugs, I'm dressed and out
the door around the time I'd normally be getting up anyway. I suspect no one will be up and at 'em
with any expediency this morning, so I'm off to provide a welcome treat.
The drive into town is nice, the world quiet and dark around me. Just black asphalt, patchy old
snow and the shapes and shadows of farm and forest. Every shop but one is closed, the warm light
drawing in all who are awake at this hour. Like bakeries everywhere, lovely things to eat and the
promise of hot coffee is a familiar beacon.
"Hey, Anita," I call out as I push open the door to the whimsically named 'Diamond In The Rough'.
"It smells as fantastic as always in here."
"You bet!" she yells from the back. "Your order's on the counter, you know the routine!"
There are certain cliches about a small town that I've grown to love. A big one is the built trust that
comes with our small numbers. Fuck up that trust and the whole population will know and fast.
That would be a disaster for all persons involved. Besides, I'm not a dick.
Reaching around the low partition that separates Anita's workspace from the serving counter, I feel
out the credit card machine. Checking my tally -ouch- I run my card and open every warm,
fragrant box until I find an apple fritter. Mmmmm, worth every penny!
I've stuffed half the thing in my greedy maw when Anita appears, wiping her hands on a towel and
sporting a sly grin. "What kind of army are you feeding up there? That was some caravan that
came through last night."
Swallowing too hard makes my throat hurt and my eyes water. I blame the mild pain for the
bluntness.
"The sugar mamas bought me a warehouse."
For a moment, Anita is taken aback before she bursts out into peals of laughter and waves me off.
Pleased with amusing her by taking a little potshot at myself, I head home, as grateful as always for
the warm sense of belonging that embraces me. There are lights on at the construction camp and I
can see shadows flickering in the gloom where once again one of the trailer's ramp is down. So I
turn off the gravel and bump over the soggy ground until I'm close.
The open trailer is a traveling mechanic shop, I recognize that in a glance. The damn thing is about
the size of my shop and far more carefully fitted out. Manning it is a small woman with a sleek
ponytail of black hair and warmly brown skin who is dressed for the morning temperatures. I
recognize the way she jumps and goes into a combat mode when she spots me. Not with the feral
danger that Lucy can manifest, but familiar nonetheless. So I pause, keeping my body relaxed and
my hands visible.
"'Morning. I'm Alex, the owner. Well, one of them anyway. I brought donuts and coffee for your
crew."
That breaks the tension and she walks down the trailer, boots thumping lightly against the rubber
and aluminum. Somehow she is more attractive than even Sophie, with grave eyes offset by a
winning smile.
"Hi, sorry for-" the introduction breaks off when there's a muffled racket of sound and the side
door of the trailer up near the front opens. An adult leans in to set down a fury of energy that
beelines for the lady with a squeal. "Good morning, sunshine!"
I take no offence at being dismissed for the child, who is maybe sixish with a happy little face and
a headful of floppy brown curls.
"Mimi!" is the yelled greeting as the child is swept into a big hug. When I'm spotted it earns quite
an intense stare, so I wave a little. "I dunno you."
"Nope," I agree easily. "I'm Alex and you're building that huge thing for me."
The munchkin lights up in delight and crows, "Cool!"
Awww! Adorable.
That my heartstrings are twanging in missing another munchkin who stole my heart is something
I'm trying to ignore. Which reminds me, I have that call in an hourish.
"Charlie, stop squirming," the hot mom admonishes and flashes me that smile again. "This is my
son, Charlie. I'm Kelly and the muttering outside the door is my wife, Brin. Brin! Come in and say
hello."
"Hang on, my laces are all muddy. The princeling really wanted to see his Mimi!"
A moment later a woman steps in, dark haired and average height but with a presence that fills up a
space. Brin is butch enough to intimidate me, massive enough to spindle an ox but moves with the
lightness of a dancer. Or a martial artist.
Thankfully, she has a welcoming grin and strides over with an open hand to meet me. We don't get
past names when a voice I don't know sounds nearby.
"This soggy shit is better'n snow!"
Kelly cackles together with another unseen female and I grin at Brin's eyeroll. "I promise they're
housebroken."
My laugh feels good.
With coffee and donuts as bait, I entice Sophie's whole team over to the clubhouse where my loved
ones are sleepily gathering. The babble of early morning turns into a din as introductions are made
and strangers become pals.
Only when we start to naturally gather around our inadequate seating do I get an almost familiar
jolt. The beautiful cedar slabs are meant to go here, to complete this space. But as so much does,
finishing them doesn't feel right without the lovely family from New York.
I zone out for a bit while the others hash over locations on the farm for the new building. It could
be minutes or hours when I dimly register Monica commenting on how neat and new their
equipment is under the dirt, endearing a smattering of chuckles. Kara laughingly blurts out, "how
long have you guys been doing this anyway?"
Firmly snapped back to the moment, I am stripped of melancholy over different New Yorkers as
these ones are instantly wary, bordering on hostile, and Kara shrinks against my side. Almost as
quickly, they force themselves to back down, Kane rubbing her face and speaking up.
"Sorry, that wasn't aimed at you. Sore spot. A few months ago we were at our last job and
somehow, a crew stealthed in one night and made off with nearly every scrap of equipment we
own. Pretty much only the loader and dump were left."
The collective horror in the air is a sensation I can feel. Carol voices it first with, "that's fucked."
The sympathetic bluntness earns several huffs of agreement that is almost amused and the mood is
mostly defused.
"Yeah, I agree. After fencing with the damn insurance for a month, I gave up and just bought the
damn replacements myself and I'll see them in court to reimburse me."
Everything but the dump truck and the loader. There's a lot of equipment out there, and knowing
what our big Kubota tractor cost, I can't even fathom how many zeros were needed. Probably along
the lines of the damn warehouse.
Well, seems Lena isn't the only one percent that decided to strike out on her own and get a real job.
"Well, we'll help you break in your new toys," I tease and hug a still-unsettled Kara to my side.
"How did you guys end up taking this job if you're, I'm assuming, based in New York? I mean,
besides Lena's involvement."
Again, Kane takes the lead, clearly comfortable with the role. "There's not a lot of us that run our
inherited circles, and fewer still that I can tolerate. Lena is one of the few. And she's diverse and
classy enough to get on with my twin too. Who is as much a highbrow socialite as I am a tattooed,
non-binary grease monkey. We love each other, but have little in common. Still, she takes care of
the bulk of the paperwork we collect, so serves a crucial role."
"Sounds complicated," I say breezily and wave at the clutter of papers and electronics over the
inadequate table space. "So, while I can't argue that the clearing you're in right now is big enough, I
don't like feeling isolated. If Lena hadn't gone quite so extra, I would have liked to have smooshed
the new toy in next to the barn, but I'm not going to argue that it would be far too close to the pond.
And as much as I agree about losing pasture space, we have to expand those anyway, so let's
snuggle up to the end of the low barn. That reinforced turf road is already in for deliveries and we
can expand that big concrete pad by the wood and hay storage to incorporate one end of the
warehouse."
"Shouse," Sophie chimes in with a little smile. "Like shop-house. I know it's a stupid name, but we
can't exactly call it your evil lair."
Again, my unexpected laughter feels good and I just know the nickname is going to stick.
"Oh, I dunno, I kinda like evil lair. Okay, everyone, grab chainsaws and get them ready. Time for
chores and then some land clearing!"
My aching heart is relieved that our next adventure has begun.