Chapter 17

"You're riding again!" growled Matt as he pulled on the two-man cross cut saw.

A chuckle came from the other side of the log, "I know." The saw was pulled back through on the other side.

"Then if you know, knock it off!" he snarled, though it was almost playfully. It was his turn to pull the 'misery whip' through and felt Clara 'riding' again. It was a tactic he played on his brother from time to time when they had to saw logs for their dad. When two people were sawing with a cross cut saw, one pulled the saw blade through while the other 'rested'. The one 'resting' was to just lightly hold to the handle and 'guide' it through the cut in the log, doing nothing else until it was their turn to pull back on the blade. But there was always the temptation to rest on the handles or lay too heavily on the saw as it was being pulled pack through by the other person, causing the blade to drag and bind up. That's why it was called 'riding'. It was torture on the shoulders and arms of the person doing the pulling.

"Not until you apologize…," came the reply as the saw was pulled back to the other side.

"For what!" Matt exclaimed

"For that last comment about being a flatlander…," he heard called out to him over the sound of the saw scraping against the wood.

There had been a friendly sort of teasing going on all afternoon between them as they sawed up the trees she'd hauled up out of the valley over the last couple of weeks. She had explained that she hoped that what she had brought up would be the last of what she needed to cut and split for the winter.

Matt had gotten up early that morning and headed out before the rest of the crew had a chance to get up and around too much. He had plans for the day and didn't want to get roped into helping out with anything or called out on something just because he was there. He had thrown a cooler into the back of the truck and headed to the grocery store in Tahoe where he spent some time purchasing groceries and supplies. The next stop had been by the feed store and then he'd headed up to Clara's.

He'd been only a few miles out when the Lincoln had roared down the logging road towards him, never swerving until the last minute. Matt had laid on his horn and gotten over as far as he could to avoid the guy in case he didn't move but if he hadn't, Matt would have had a messed up truck. That had really put him off his good mood, but had made his gut twist as if he felt something was wrong, making him call the plates and car description into the Sheriff's office.

Stepping on the gas, he'd hurried up to Clara's. As he pulled in, he'd seen the panicked way she'd sprinted for the axe, never even looking towards him. The look on her face when she'd turned with it in her hands told him right away where the Lincoln had just come from. The fear in her eyes made him want to turn the truck around and run the car down, pull the man out and pummel him to a bloody pulp.

Once he got his own emotions under control as well as got Clara calmed some, he told her he was there to help her out with whatever she needed that day. She'd gotten a wicked grin on her face and pointed to the trees that needed to be cut into logs. His back ached from just looking at them.

By lunchtime, she'd stripped out of her sweatshirt to just a tight t-shirt and with a slight blush, Matt's only thought when he saw the muscles she'd built up over the past few months was 'Why can't I have that to look at every day?' The next thought that made him truly blush and look away for a minute to get his face to cool down was 'I wonder what the rest of her looks like?'

A contest was started soon after as to who would quit first. Matt grinned, having instigated the challenge. If he won, he got to take her out for a steak dinner. If he lost, he would have to fix her supper. She looked confused at this at first, not seeing how it was fair to him but finally shrugged and said it was his 'funeral' and thus began the challenge.

During the whole afternoon as the two of them worked, he fired questions at her and she either side-stepped them, ignored them or teased him with hints. She'd turn questions around or make snide comments right back at him to make him guess or play twenty questions. At times it had become infuriating while other times he got to see a whole other side of Clara. It was a side he liked, a side that was easy going, fun to be around, one that was quick to laugh and with a sharp wit and a sharper tongue.

"Well you ARE a flatlander! You weren't born in the mountains…," he said as he thought about his last comment. He grunted as he pulled the saw towards him, feeling her riding it on purpose.

"I've lived up here over five months. I think that qualifies me to no longer have the status of 'flatlander'…and seeing as I'm kicking your ass at cutting wood, I think you should apologize," she teased.

The log thumped to the ground and both looked at each other over the distance of the saw and he caught her grinning, though she was panting a bit.

"I don't know about that...," he said hesitantly, "I think I'd have to leave that judgment up to dad or Aaron Bass. If they say you're not a flatlander anymore, I'll apologize," Matt temporized as he moved down the tree trunk on the saw horses to place the blade at slice mark to start on the next log. He hoped it would be enough to placate her so she would stop torturing him. He wasn't sure if his arms and back could take much more.

His arms were beginning to get sore. He was used to long grueling hours doing rescues that took a lot of training and strength but the work he'd been doing today, he only did once or twice a month with his dad and brother or at the station if he felt the need to get a little exercise in and they had some down time. But the wood the station burned was either delivered or they used chain saws and log splitters. Only his dad used non-gas powered tools like this.

"I guess I can wait a little while for an apology, but it better come with some form of offering of placation and groveling," she said with a wicked grin to her lips.

Matt could only snort and quickly moved onto the next question. "So…since my brother is up here all the time, tell me something about yourself that you've told Cody. Some little fact…" He was curious as to how much his brother really knew about Clara.

For a moment there was silence from the other side of the log except for the sound that the saw made. Finally she spoke up, "Well, I told him I could sing 'Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini' in French," came her reply.

He blinked at that. She could sing? And in French? "Really?"

"Oui! But of course your brother, being Cody, didn't believe me until I proved it to him," came the exasperated reply from over the log.

Matt caught a glimpse of her face and laughed, seeing how flushed she looked. "He made you sing it for him, didn't he?"

"Yes," came another exasperated reply.

Laughing, Matt grinned to himself. He could just picture Cody coaxing Clara to prove to him that she could do it. "All right, now tell me something about yourself that he doesn't know. I think it's only fair…," he teased lightly.

His arms were tiring and he could feel his muscles starting to really ache. He silently hoped after today's workout, he wasn't going to get called out on any rescues that would require climbing for a day or two. He waited as he wondered how long it would take Clara to think of something that Cody didn't know about her and then realized that he must know quite a bit about her if she had to think about it. Maybe he should go pick Cody's brain about what Clara had done for a living before moving up here. He might have gotten it out of her by know, knowing how persistent his little brother could be at times.

She was quiet for a few moments while they sawed and finally she looked up at him with a bit of an embarrassed look to her face. "I absolutely love classical movies and musicals," she offered. "I used to like nothing more than to curl up on a rainy night with a big bowl of popcorn and watch an old black and white movie with Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Jimmy Stewart, Gary Cooper, John Wayne, Roy Rogers or Bing Crosby."

Matt blinked at her, "Really? I wouldn't take you for a 'Classical' girl," he teased lightly. "I would say you seem like you'd be more of the modern, high-tech era kind of gal."

Clara wrinkled up her nose at him, "Oh pa-lease!" she said in her best modern, high-tech era voice. "Gag me with a spoon! Modern day films have no class, no style. All flash and bang, no substance."

This brought Matt to a stop on his end of the saw as he started laughing hard enough to almost double over. When he finally got control of himself, he was still grinning pretty hard.

Clara stood there on the other side of the log and watched him as he laughed, one eyebrow raised as if to say she 'wasn't amused' though she did find his reaction rather entertaining. If nothing else, it gave her a little breather and a chance to look upon him without him noticing that she was staring at him.

Matt finally gave a push on the saw and Clara, deciding to give him a little grief for his 'high-tech era kind of gal' comment and proceeded to ride the blade when he pulled back on it. That got a glare from Matt that made Clara grin just as wide as Matt had earlier.

"You're riding again!" he growled.

With a smile that would have dazzled the silver screen, Clara piped up, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn!"

Matt stood in Clara's kitchen, waiting until he heard the sound of the shower start up. After they had finally called the competition a 'draw' both of them had cleaned up the tools and dragged themselves into the cabin. Matt had insisted he fix supper, telling Clara he'd stopped by and picked up the fixings for something special before coming up there.

She'd looked dubiously at him then gave into his insistence that she use the shower first. "Dad always said, 'Ladies first' and if I didn't abide by that, he'll show up out of nowhere and smack me," said Matt as he'd tried to convince her that it was all right for her to be the first one to partake of the warm water.

Once he'd heard her enter the bathroom, he stoked the kitchen stove to get it heating up before he moved out to the truck and uncovered his morning exploits. Under the tarp in the truck was his cooler but also five boxes of groceries that he'd purchased for her and several fifty pound bags of feed for the horses. Unloading the feed first into the barn, he then unloaded the groceries into the kitchen and did his best to quickly put them into the shockingly empty pantry. The only thing that was in there was her own canned goods and even those were scarce compared to what she might need for the winter to survive.

With that task done, he fetched the cooler full of steaks, potatoes, salad and wine. Before he could start laying out the evenings meal on the kitchen table, he had to clean off the papers scattered about that she had obviously left there from that morning. As he gathered them up, several hand written notes caught his attention and he stopped for a moment to read one of them.

'To find this love of mine, I'd walk through end and fire, forever and always

Hollow hands reach out, for you to touch me now, forever and always

Dead inside, my heart is so flat lined, put your mouth on mine, and breathe me back to life

Dead inside, no other satisfies, my blood runs dry, take my life, save me from this death inside

I can't escape this love, I want it the way it was, forever and always

Don't you leave me here, alone and of this fear, forever and always

Dead inside, my heart is so flat lined, put your mouth on mine, and bring me back to life

Dead inside, no other satisfies, my blood runs dry, take my life, save me from this death inside'

The words struck a chord in him that made him tremble a little as he read them again. Did she write this or was this something she remembered from somewhere else? It looked like poetry but he got a feeling it could have been made into song lyrics too. Setting it aside, he put the rest of her papers on top of the ice box and began preparing the rest of the meal.

He started the potatoes in the oven and had the steaks prepped by the time Clara stepped out of the bathroom. Within a few moments, she came into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway, blinking a little. She was dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a worn sweater and stocking feet. Her hair was wet and combed back off of her face. Surprise shown on her face as she took in the sight of the steaks sitting on the table, waiting to be cooked and then the bottle of wine. Her eyes then went to Matt's.

He grinned, "When I said I'd take you out for a steak dinner, I didn't specify where exactly. Besides, I figured you probably wouldn't want to drive two hours down to Tahoe just for dinner so I brought the fixings up here to you."

Her face flushed a soft pink and she smiled a little, "This is…you didn't have to do this you know," she stated quietly.

"I know, but hey, what are friends for. Besides, I had a feeling you'd probably put me to work today and what better way to finish off a busy day than with a hearty meal and a little wine," he offered with a tender smile.

With a nod, Clara moved into the kitchen, "Anything I can do to help?" she offered.

"Not really unless you wanted to stoke the fire in the living room and make a place for us to sit in there to eat." He moved over to the papers he'd set aside earlier and pulled down the writing that had caught his attention. "I didn't know you wrote poetry," he said, showing her the scrap of paper.

He was surprised at how she started and flushed a deep red before coming over and snatching the piece of paper out of his fingers. "I…sometimes. I don't let others see it though…," she stammered, looking embarrassed or perhaps guilty over something.

"Why? It's actually really good," offered Matt, trying to calm her embarrassment.

With a little shrug and a slight mumbled 'Thanks', she reached up and grabbed up the rest of her papers and shuffled them together before taking them into the living room and putting them into a drawer in the old secretary standing against the far wall.

Matt watched her with a touch of amusement and wondered why she would be so embarrassed by a compliment about a bit of poetry. It was good and he'd liked it. But as she came back into the kitchen he pointed to the salad fixings on the table, "Want to make the salad while I go clean up? I'll start the steaks when I come back out."

Looking a bit more relieved that he wasn't going to push the issue about the poetry she smiled and nodded, "Yeah, I can do that. Besides, you're stinking up my kitchen," she fired back gently, waving her hand in front of her nose playfully.

Matt scowled and made motions as if he was going to come towards her, "And it's all your fault too. Just be glad you're clean or I'd 'share'…," he teased.

With a laugh, she sidestepped him and avoided his 'advance'. "Go shower so we can eat. I'm hungry," she said in a mock growl, raising claw like fingers and pretending to herd him towards the bathroom.

Dinner was everything Matt had hoped it would be. Sitting on the couch in front of the fire, eating steak and drinking wine by candlelight, he couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried.

Clara was just tired enough and the wine relaxed her even further that she didn't seem to mind him sitting there next to her, his arm around her shoulder as they sat in amiable silence after the meal was over.

When Matt felt her head resting against him, he looked down to see her drowsily leaning against him, her eyes watching the fire lick at the logs burning in the fireplace. The light reflected in her eyes and he hoped he could remember this scene for the rest of his life. She was a warm presence next to him, comfortable and her scent filled his nose. She smelled of fresh air and wood smoke, fresh hay and lavender.

Taking a chance, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. That was when he felt her stiffen a little.

"Don't," came her words softly.

"Don't…what?" he asked.

"Don't take this too far, not right now. I'm not…ready," she responded in a quiet voice, kept low as if afraid to break too much of the mood.

"Can I ask why you feel you need to keep me at arms length?" he asked after awhile, giving him time to think of why she might feel not ready.

There was silence from her for a time before she spoke softly. "I don't trust myself. I've trusted people I thought had my best interest at heart, people very close to me and I've been hurt and betrayed by them. I can't…bring myself to trust myself to … trust anyone right now. The wounds are too fresh. They still hurt too much."

He took those words in and rolled them around in his mind for awhile. "I hope you would know that I'm not like that," he responded, hoping to reason with her.

There was a slight shift as if she'd shrugged. "My heart tells me this perhaps, but my mind doesn't want to let me get close to anyone. And right now, I'd rather be a little lonely than open myself up to someone so soon and take the chance of being cut apart again. I don't think I could handle it."

Matt didn't move away from her but he remained quiet, thinking over what she'd said. Maybe this was the reason she was here. Someone had hurt her, perhaps emotionally or even physically, someone she trusted or cared for and they'd betrayed her. Could it have been a past lover or boyfriend or was it something more than that. From the sounds of her words, it was perhaps the latter and if that was the case then perhaps it might explain some things about her.

With a quiet sigh, he laid his cheek on top of her head. "Clara, I'll admit, I've come to care about you a great deal. I want to get to know you better but if you don't want me to or only wish to just be friends for now or perhaps forever, then I guess I'll have to live by your wishes. But I wish you'd reconsider some day," he said quietly to her.

There was silence for a time again and then a slight nod, "Perhaps someday Matt. I just need time. They say time heals all things and I'm not done healing yet…so just give me time."

Matt nodded a little in answer to her request and had to be satisfied with that answer. It wasn't a complete shut down and in a way it did give him some hope there was possibly a chance that things might change for the better between them. But he couldn't push it or he'd push her away and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

The lyrics in this song are not mine- they are from the song 'Dead Inside' by Skillet. (Good song, go find it and listen to it if you can) Anyway, just thought it fit this story and could envision Clara writing them. But I'm giving credit to the rightful owners of the material.

I'd like to also thank eveyrone who has been reading my story and giving reviews. Reviews feed the muse and give me courage to keep going. There are so many more writers out there that put me to shame but I am trying my best to do a good story that entertains. Things are going to start really coming together now and happening faster. So hang onto your hats...

And don't forget to let me know how I'm doing, even if you don't like what I'm doing. Can't fix it if I don't know it's broke ;) as the saying goes.