Stranded Ch. 02

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Kat discovers Sam's true nature & things take an ugly turn.
9.7k words
4.12
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14

Part 2 of the 17 part series

Updated 06/09/2023
Created 10/10/2018
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By the time I opened my eyes it was nearly noon and I groaned as I realized I had missed the morning news once again. I cursed, the sharp throbbing in my skull reminding me of the poor choices I had made the night before. I had made a fool of myself and the embarrassment was almost enough to make me never want to leave the room. I sat up to find a tall glass of water and two tylenol on the nightstand beside the bed. A cold chill ran down my spine; he had been in the room after I had fallen asleep...again. I had let it go the first time because it had been Hank who actually did the waking; and Sam had brought me coffee so I dismissed it as him being thoughtful. But while I had been a terrible guest, that certainly didn't give him any right to enter the room while I was still asleep, lack of social skills or not. After twenty minutes of waiting for it to kick in finally passed I made a quick trip to the bathroom, then made my way bravely down the stairs. I was relieved to find the house empty and I stopped when I found a note folded in half waiting on the kitchen counter.

~Kitty Kat,

Still stranded. Breakfast is in the microwave.

~Sam

I sighed, grateful I didn't have to meet him face to face just yet and pleased to find hash browns, fried eggs, sausage with a mug of coffee. Although I wasn't happy about the new nickname, we weren't intimate enough for him to call me anything other than Kat, there was an irrational part of me that kind of liked it. I pressed three, tossed the note in the trash and took a good look around. Out the kitchen window I could barely see Sam's legs sticking out from what seemed to be my car. Had he been working on it all night? I knew from the water at my bed that he had been back inside the house at least once after I went to sleep. I could hear country music playing loud enough that it echoed in the woods. When I finished my meal I made my way out to him, as Hank ran up to greet me I could hear his siblings howling from their cage. I gasped when I approached the garage and found my car in a million pieces littering the floor. He had said the car was worthless but it still stunned me to see it in such disarray. Sam slid out from underneath the car with a giant smile on his face, turned the music down and wiped his hands on the rag sticking out of the his coverall pocket.

"Morning sunshine! So, I was out in the Yard last night and realized I got the exact same model out there, different year, but I figured until the roads are clear, it wouldn't hurt to try and swap some pieces, see if I can't get this heap running after all." I opened my mouth only to quickly shut it. Was he just going to pretend the night before had never happened? While he'd pushed me on my ass, the only thing that was bruised was my ego. I was usually pretty good about knowing when someone is attracted to me, but his reaction told me this time i'd gotten it wrong.

Did he even remember? We drank quite a bit of wine after all. Better question was, did I want him to? Or maybe he dismissed it as wine induced? He had pushed me away as if I had revolted him and now he was trying to replace most of my car's insides.

"Is there any way I can help?" If he wasn't going to bring it up then neither was I. I wasn't even sure how I would explain my poor behavior or deal with the sting of his rejection. He pointed over at the tool box.

"You know anything about tools?"

"Actually I do. Dated an auto nut in high school who spent hours fixing up an old challenger his father left him." Sam looked skeptical but nodded and disappeared back underneath the car.

"I need a ⅞ socket wrench," he announced. After a quick inventory I grabbed the tool and passed it to his outstretched hand.

"So this auto nut, did you help him too? Or just watch him do all the work? Lemme see a 13/16 please."

"I helped just like I'm helping now, I can read the tools, and I know what most of them are. But I know very little about actual cars themselves," I confessed. I heard a loud grunt followed by the sound of grinding metal. He handed me the bolt he'd managed to remove, it was covered in grease and I placed it where he indicated.

"There's a system, helps me remember the order to put all this back. You date this 'auto nut' long?" He was trying to sound casual, but failed miserably. Why did he even care? He was the one who shoved me away, why did he want to know so much about my dating life?

"Just most of my sophomore year; I got tired of taking second place to his car." Sam's outstretched hand deposited a few more bolts and I waited for what seemed like his inevitable next question. But instead he surprised me and asked about my father instead. What did he do for a living? Did he ever remarry after my mother's death? How did he meet my mother? I answered his questions easily; my father was a professor, after my mother's death he semi-retired to writing books and taking care of me. When he needed money he would occasionally speak at a few seminars, but for the most part, I had been his entire world. Just talking about him was starting to make me feel homesick and Sam suddenly declared a break for lunch. After several minutes of washing, he managed to get the grease off his hands with the help of a giant container of Fast Orange he kept under the kitchen sink.

"Anything in particular you're hungry for, Kitty Kat?" I clenched my teeth and chose to ignore the pet name; he seemed rather amused with it.

"Since I'm the guest, I am at your mercy; however, I can make a salad to go with whatever you do decide to make" I announced. As a child it had been the only way for my father to get me to eat vegetables. Enough dressing and you could hardly taste the stuff. He decided on grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with a creamy tomato soup. I thought it was a little too warm to eat soup, but I knew it was a quick fix and I smiled as Sam led me onto the back patio to eat, the night before seemed to be fading into nothing more than a bad memory.

"So, what's the story with all the dogs?" I asked in between bites as Hank curled up in a sun spot nearby.

"Their mother lived on the property when I bought it, few days after I moved in I found her wandering around, looking for food, belly swollen with pups; she was a bit feral, but seemed to understand that I only wanted to help. I couldn't very well leave her in that condition, so I took her in, fed her, helped her give birth even. She died few weeks later protecting them from coyotes. So naturally I took them in; Hank here is more docile than the rest so I had to keep him inside to protect him otherwise the others would have tore him apart, but the others are just hunting dogs now."

"What do you hunt?" I asked curiously. I had an uncle and some cousins who went hunting; they hunted everything from deer to bears, storing the meat and selling the fur. My father had taken me hunting one when I was 13. In our family, it was almost a right of passage, but when it came time to fire and take the creatures life I found I couldn't do it. Picking up styrofoam plates of meat at the store was a lot different than staring the animal down and killing it yourself.

"Mostly Elk and Duck, depends on what's in season really. I usually go with my cousins, store the meat in the freezers, sell the skins in town; not much goes to waste around here."

"You said you got into mechanics through an apprenticeship; who trained you?" He seemed a little hesitant to share the information, but after all the personal questions he had been asking me, he very well couldn't keep dodging them and stay polite.

"My Uncle Hank actually, I lived with him and my Aunt Mariam during the school year. I was a bit of a troubled kid, and my cousins picked on me a lot so I spent most my free time with Uncle Hank in the garage. Cars have just always made sense to me; Part A fits with Part B and so on, Uncle Hank and I would spend hours tinkering away on whatever his newest project was. And when you find your life passion, you just feel it." I finished my bowl of soup and offered to grab his finished dishes as well.

"Careful now, I could start getting used to this," he teased as he fed his crust to Hank.

"I assure you, it's only because I'm a guest. Normally I have far less manners."

"What a shame. Then I am glad to have you as my guest for the time being. How about if you wash, I'll dry." he replied as he followed me into the house. As we neared the last glass he seemed to stall, as if there was something he wanted to ask, but couldn't quite find the courage to do so. It was several awkward minutes later before he finally managed to spit it out.

"If you're interested, I could use your help again." he announced, doing his best to sound casual. So, how was it he could be sweet and coy during the day only to reject me so forcefully at night? I could have asked, demand the answers for peace of mind, but that would have simply make an awkward situation even more awkward and I wasn't sure just how long I was going to be stuck with him. He's just being nice and polite, keep your hormones in check.

"I'd love to." After drying my hands, I followed him outside and towards the large fenced off area just behind the garage.

"I assume this fence goes all the way around?" Living so far out of the way I wouldn't think that he'd need the extra step in security but he simply nodded and began to unlock the chain from around the gate. It was large and a bit rusty, but he brushed the orange stains onto his coveralls and motioned me forward. The fences had to be almost twenty feet tall with razor wire around the top. There were a few dozen cars, spanning the rough area of a football field; all of them parked neatly in rows at least the ones in good condition anyways. And most were in decent condition, despite the waist high grass growing around and through it.

"Do any of these things still run?"

"'Fraid not, most of them were scrapped for parts, a few got into accidents," he motioned to the half crushed ford truck in the nearest corner. It looked as though it had rolled over several times, compacting more with each hit into the ground. My eyes went wide as I searched, looking for the car that was similar to my own.

When I finally found it, it was in terrible condition. The drivers side window as broken in, allowing the weather to damage the inside.The seats were covered in moss and mildew, the outside paint and body having eroded under the elements. I felt almost sad to see it in such condition knowing the same fate awaited my car if this plan didn't work.

"You sure the parts are any good?"

"The ones we need should be, and no harm in checking am I right?" I nodded in agreement and waited for him to back his tow truck into the Yard where he had me hook it behind the back axle. I followed on foot as he pulled out and to his garage. He dropped the car and started gathering the tools, the jack and the ramps to hold the car high enough to get underneath. I handed him the tools he asked for and we worked mostly in silence, listening to the Oldies playing on the radio. Before I knew it the afternoon had passed and we headed back inside for dinner.

While he tossed the steaks on the grill I made a fresh salad inside. With the nice weather we ended up eating dinner on the patio again.

"Would you like a beer?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." He sat down and turned towards me suddenly looking very serious as he took a deep breath before speaking.

"I've been avoiding it all day like a coward, but you deserve an explanation for last night. I was raised to believe that that type of touching is meant only to be between a husband and wife. You are a very beautiful woman and it's been a very long time since it was anyone other than Hank and I. So when you kissed me, I was a little stunned but I liked it, so I kissed you back. Then when you touched me...you see, I was raised by very religious people...combined with the alcohol I behaved rather poorly and I'm sorry. Could you ever forgive me?" Did he really just call me beautiful? God, is that really the first thing I focus on? How shallow can I be?

"You? I'm the sorry one, I should have never touched you without asking. And you see why it's best I probably don't drink for the rest of my stay, avoid further embarrassments."

"Fair enough. I would be much obliged if you would indulge me in a card game or two." I agreed and after a delicious meal I cleared the dishes while he dealt the cards.

"So, what are we playing?" It felt good to finally get back to something that felt normal.

"A rousing game of 21."

"And what are we playing for? Peanuts? Jelly beans?"

"Not sure I even have peanuts or jelly beans," he confessed,"but I figured we'd play for questions. My father and I used to play when I was younger, I think it was his way of trying to get to know me while my guard was down."

"What are the rules?" I asked hesitantly, I wasn't sure I wanted to answer some of his questions.

"You can ask anything and the other person has to answer it honestly." A heavy feeling settled in my gut, what did he plan on asking me exactly?

"How would either of us even know if the other is lying?"

"Well, we're just going to have to trust each other. I mean, we don't have to of course; it's just one of the few games I know how to play and I thought it would be an interesting way to get to know each other a little better while you're stranded here."

"Alright, deal." What could it hurt?

My first card up was a five, my card down was a seven, his first card up was a Queen.

"Hit." I got a nine and decided to stay. Sam glanced at his face down card then glanced at mine before drawing another card getting a 2 and he decided to stay. Together we flipped our card, and I won. We asked each other everything mundane from favorite color to top three super powers. But the longer we played the more intimate the questions seemed to get and it was awhile before I realized he had consumed several more beers, the empty bottles gathering beside his feet. How did I not notice that? When I yawned he promised one more round, which declared him the winner.

"So...I'm really curious...how many guys have you slept with?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively, as though looking harmless would somehow make the question less invasive. I stood up so fast the chair toppled over with a loud clang and my hands began to shake in anger as I gathered my dishes. I didn't even bother to look at him I was so angry, I also didn't bother to pick up the chair.

"Where are you going?" Sam demanded, standing as well; he towered over me by nearly a foot and I found a small jolt of panic run up my spine. He sounded confused, but I knew that was partially the alcohol, I could smell it on his breath and it was nauseating.

"To bed. I am done playing cards with you, it is apparent you've had too much to drink. I have tried to be polite to you and I am beyond grateful for everything you've done for me but it does NOT give you the right to keep asking me such personal questions. It is none of your damn business how many men I've dated or fucked. And if you liked me, at all,even a just a little, you wouldn't be such a persistent asshole." I shouted angrily, face turning red. Poor social skills was no excuse and I was getting tired of all the mixed signals. Men only asked about your sexual history when they are interested in sleeping with you, they want to know how many dicks you've had before them. I was almost tempted to ask him the same question, but something told me it wouldn't bother him as much as it did me.

"I'm sorry, guess I have had a little too much..."

"It doesn't matter, I'm done! You can't keep blaming the alcohol; at some point you need to take some personal responsibility. I am leaving tomorrow morning whether the roads are cleared or not. And if you don't drive me, I will walk or swim if I have to." I interrupted. Before he could say another word I turned around and walked inside, letting the screen door slam shut behind me. I had just spent nearly two hours being open and vulnerable and he was going to bring this up, again! As I set the dishes on the counter he finally made it to the doorway.

"Please, don't be angry with me. I swear I won't drink another drop while you're here, I won't ask you anymore" he bargained. But I was fed up. I shook my head and he slammed his palm against the door frame the sound causing me to jump.

"You will only reach a dead end if you leave here," he warned.

"Then I will camp under the stars until they clear it." I replied and stormed off, not caring how ridiculous or childish I sounded. I was through dealing with this kind of crap! As I approached the staircase I heard a loud crash and turned to see that he had swept all the dishes off the counter and onto the floor, a string of curses erupting from his mouth. I sprinted up the stairs and into my room as I heard the back screen door slam shut. There was more crashing as he threw the patio furniture around and I shut my door, pushing the dresser in front of it. As I sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the sounds of destruction from below, I realized I was shaking and I wondered just what the hell I had gotten myself into. Accepting help from some stranger just because he was charming and helpful; I was a total idiot! I couldn't tell if he was a psycho or just an immature alcoholic with anger issues.

Either way I was starting to get scared of his personality swings, although I was determined not to let him know it. Only when the cursing died down did I even dare peek out the window. I watched Sam storm off into the woods behind the kennel, disappearing in the darkness. I began to pace the room as I tried to decide whether I wanted to wait until morning or leave while he was still gone. I changed my clothes to something warm and packed away everything else. So far the most he had done was grab my arm too tightly, and he had left instead of following me upstairs so he still had some control, right? I climbed into bed, convincing myself I was safe for the night at the very least.

When Sam finally did return he made no attempt to disguise the noise as he stumbled drunkenly through his house. I could hear the sound of him building a fire, a few cupboards slamming shut and the sound of broken glass being swept up. I waited for what felt like hours listening to the silence and it wasn't until the early hours of dawn did my eyes finally begin to close.

~

By the time I woke it was afternoon. Sam hadn't made any attempt to wake me up and I was relieved to find the dresser still in its place. Maybe I had overreacted and he was just an angry drunk. My father had gone through a short period of drowning himself in every bottle he could get his hands on and he wasn't a nice drunk either. I was hoping that when I found him, he would be in a much more stable mind set. I pushed the dresser back into its place and relieved myself before slowly making my way downstairs, heart racing at the thought of facing Sam again. I had just reached the foyer when a fist began to beat against the front door. I yelped before confusion set in. If he had a guest, did that mean the roads were finally open? When the fist continued its assault I opened it to reveal a very annoyed looking man. He pushed his Ray-Ban sunglasses onto the top of his dull blonde head and gave me an unnaturally wide smile.

"And just who the hell are you?" the man demanded. I frowned, thrown back by his offensive tone. Who the hell greeted people like that?

"Katherine, and you are?"

"Dale, go tell the man of the house I'm here." It sounded more like an order than a request, but I knew the polite thing would be to fetch Sam anyways. Damn my father and his insistence on manners.