old-fashioned futon, fake fur rugs, except for the giant lambswool covering, and a deep pile turkish rug, faded, but lovely. Wooden shelves lined one wall, holding little but blankets, mugs and saucers, and a pair of burned down pink candles.
“Wow!” Sedona stared at the replica of an original wood cooking stove,similar to the one she remembered as a little girl on her grandmother’s farm near Garnet, Kansas. Sure enough there were charred remains of wood inside. “Neat. Electric or wood.”
“Solar array on the back roof,” Volcano spoke from the doorway of the kitchen-dining area.
“Too bad there’s not much sunlight. Lots of pots and pans. I could turn domestic goddess in my senior years.” She peeked up at him from leaning over, and peering into the cabinets. “Even a back deck for those balmy summer evenings.”
“Or early mornings,” he spoke softly, opened the refrigerator. One lonely six pack of beer resided, cold from the temperature of the cabin, not the dark interior. “You don’t like beer,” he stated, shut the door.
“Why would a hot young cherub like you want early mornings out on a deck? I assume the birds still sing. Ever been to Earth before, except on
Woodstock
excursions?”
“Mother adores the wilderness areas for family vacations. Breakfast on the back deck. Complete with singing flitting birds. The usual wildlife scenes.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to impugn the family vacations. Fireplace?” She raised her brows.
“Roaring. More of a medium roar.”
He smiled, lighting her heart. She wished he hadn’t.
“And no smoke. Good job, cherub.” She followed him back to the front area. A tame crackling fire greeted them. “Guess you’ve been around the woods a few times. Actually I know nothing about it. Just what I’ve read and heard—TV shows, the old days.” She folded her arms and wondered how to proceed with the rest of her bizarre disappointment-riddled life. With him?
“Bathroom,” she murmured. “Wonder if it’s working.”
“I’ll make it all work, Sedona. Cherub power instead of solar power.” He nodded toward the other door off the front room, an intense hunger in his gaze.
“Thank you.” She spun away, her heart tripping. As she moved through the doorway into the bedroom, a warm light infused the room, dim from late afternoon. “Featherbed,” she gasped softly. It looked old-fashioned, if king size. In fact all the furniture was ‘old west’ dark cherry. Miss Kitty of Gunsmoke furnishings. Complete with bead-fringed dainty lamps.
Anticipation quivering her belly, she walked through to the bathroom, delight catching her unexpectedly. With the claw porcelain soaking tub, the room was Miss Kitty’s, except for the cleverly included modern necessities. The antique replica toilet flushed nicely.
Warm air hummed from the vent above. The cabin heat obviously power-supplied by the cherub. She tried the faucet. Water spilled out. Sparingly she used it and wished she had her organic lotions again. As usual, her skin was too dry. She avoided all the mirrors. No point in further traumatizing herself.
Given that the cherub cutie probably wouldn’t allow her to hide away, Sedona headed back toward the fireplace, ignoring the featherbed.
“Radio,” he announced, once she entered. “Found it.” He held it up. “George, the NightHawk, later?”
“Always have their revolutionary station on when I can. Any music stations?” The warmth of hearth blaze s drew her closer. “You sure they can’t find us here?”
“Massive grid search. This is the safest place now. They think we’ll keep running.”
“Are Dave BearFeather and his family safe?” Sedona moved before the sofa, and gave up. She sat on the thick fake fur rug , then hugged her knees.
“He persuaded them we were long gone, then smoked a fake peace pipe with them.”
“Give the enemy what they think they want. Just don’t give them what they actually want.. And smile a lot. The wise
“Wow!” Sedona stared at the replica of an original wood cooking stove,similar to the one she remembered as a little girl on her grandmother’s farm near Garnet, Kansas. Sure enough there were charred remains of wood inside. “Neat. Electric or wood.”
“Solar array on the back roof,” Volcano spoke from the doorway of the kitchen-dining area.
“Too bad there’s not much sunlight. Lots of pots and pans. I could turn domestic goddess in my senior years.” She peeked up at him from leaning over, and peering into the cabinets. “Even a back deck for those balmy summer evenings.”
“Or early mornings,” he spoke softly, opened the refrigerator. One lonely six pack of beer resided, cold from the temperature of the cabin, not the dark interior. “You don’t like beer,” he stated, shut the door.
“Why would a hot young cherub like you want early mornings out on a deck? I assume the birds still sing. Ever been to Earth before, except on
Woodstock
excursions?”
“Mother adores the wilderness areas for family vacations. Breakfast on the back deck. Complete with singing flitting birds. The usual wildlife scenes.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to impugn the family vacations. Fireplace?” She raised her brows.
“Roaring. More of a medium roar.”
He smiled, lighting her heart. She wished he hadn’t.
“And no smoke. Good job, cherub.” She followed him back to the front area. A tame crackling fire greeted them. “Guess you’ve been around the woods a few times. Actually I know nothing about it. Just what I’ve read and heard—TV shows, the old days.” She folded her arms and wondered how to proceed with the rest of her bizarre disappointment-riddled life. With him?
“Bathroom,” she murmured. “Wonder if it’s working.”
“I’ll make it all work, Sedona. Cherub power instead of solar power.” He nodded toward the other door off the front room, an intense hunger in his gaze.
“Thank you.” She spun away, her heart tripping. As she moved through the doorway into the bedroom, a warm light infused the room, dim from late afternoon. “Featherbed,” she gasped softly. It looked old-fashioned, if king size. In fact all the furniture was ‘old west’ dark cherry. Miss Kitty of Gunsmoke furnishings. Complete with bead-fringed dainty lamps.
Anticipation quivering her belly, she walked through to the bathroom, delight catching her unexpectedly. With the claw porcelain soaking tub, the room was Miss Kitty’s, except for the cleverly included modern necessities. The antique replica toilet flushed nicely.
Warm air hummed from the vent above. The cabin heat obviously power-supplied by the cherub. She tried the faucet. Water spilled out. Sparingly she used it and wished she had her organic lotions again. As usual, her skin was too dry. She avoided all the mirrors. No point in further traumatizing herself.
Given that the cherub cutie probably wouldn’t allow her to hide away, Sedona headed back toward the fireplace, ignoring the featherbed.
“Radio,” he announced, once she entered. “Found it.” He held it up. “George, the NightHawk, later?”
“Always have their revolutionary station on when I can. Any music stations?” The warmth of hearth blaze s drew her closer. “You sure they can’t find us here?”
“Massive grid search. This is the safest place now. They think we’ll keep running.”
“Are Dave BearFeather and his family safe?” Sedona moved before the sofa, and gave up. She sat on the thick fake fur rug , then hugged her knees.
“He persuaded them we were long gone, then smoked a fake peace pipe with them.”
“Give the enemy what they think they want. Just don’t give them what they actually want.. And smile a lot. The wise
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