Simone cautiously enters the barn, and spies Paul Bunyan standing at the back of Babe’s stall. He is turned away from her and appears to be searching for something.
“Paul?” Simone calls to him.
Paul’s head whips up and around. He regards Simone as a deer might stare at a pair of headlights. Paul's agitated behavior unnerves Simone, for a reason she can’t quite put words to. After a brief pause, she continues to walk in his direction.
Paul stands and comes to meet her, shutting the door to Babe’s stall. He wipes his hands on the front of his pants and offers Simone a weak smile.
“You needed to speak with me?” Paul says.
His eyes search Simone’s face. She is sure he is trying to determine what—if anything—she has observed.
“Uh…Yes,” Simone says.
She stops walking and waits for Paul to reach where she stands. The way that his eyes stare at her makes a chill go down her spine. She has never seen his eyes look so without emotion, without life. It is as if he has given up all hope—and embraced something else.
Paul steps to within three or so feet of Simone. Even with his prosthetic, he leans heavily against his pine stick. It is as if he has aged a decade in just the short time since she last saw him.
“Well…What's on your mind?” Paul says dryly.
“I…I wanted you to know,” Simone begins.
She pauses when the goat raises its head and gazes in her direction. She hadn’t meant to wake it and has no idea what the animal may do. She watches the troublesome goat out of her peripheral vision and then returns most of her attention to Paul Bunyan.
Simone opens her mouth to speak. However, the goat snorts loudly, drawing a panicked gasp from her lips. Without another sound, the goat stands, and prances happily out of the barn. Simone is grateful that the animal is no longer present. Now, she can fully concentrate on what she has to say.
To her shock, Paul is now at her side, his lips nearly at her ear. Speaking slowly and measuredly, Paul’s alcohol-tinged breath wafts into her nostrils. So that was what he had been doing? Somewhere, he'd found a stash of whiskey or other strong drink. Now, he is clearly drunk again—for the first time in almost a week. Jane’s whirlwind arrival, brief stay, and even swifter departure has put him in a terrible state.
Paul places a hand at Simone’s chin and tilts her face to meet his own, kissing her tenderly. Simone is unsure how to respond. She had no idea he felt even the slightest attracted to her, and she doubts he has any real idea what he is doing. After planting his kiss firmly on Simone’s lips, Paul separates from her and their eyes lock.
“You’re very beautiful, Simone. And extremely lucky,” Paul utters in a soft whisper, his voice dull and without a hint of feeling. “You have someone who loves you. And someone to love. Such a rare thing.”
Paul leans in to kiss her again, but Simone puts a hand between their faces and turns her head.
“No, Paul,” she says gently. She shakes her head and is careful not to raise her voice.
“As you said,” she continues. “Love is a rare thing. And I love Crank. I came in here to tell you…I think, you should let Jane know how you feel. You should tell her you still love her. It’s not too late. She’ll be back in town three weeks from now. Maybe you should wait for her? Crank and I can figure this out on our own.”
Paul smiles drunkenly and cups Simone's face with both hands.
“No. I don’t think so,” Paul replies. “The ship has sailed on that little love affair. I could see it in her eyes. She loves me in the way that a woman loves a sick puppy. Or a lonely space traveler. She no longer sees a man. To her, I’m less than an animal.”
Simone becomes incensed at the implication that her love for Crank is anything but the real thing. However, a part of her mind wonders if Paul could be right. Does she really love Crank? Or is what she feels for him some form of pity? Is she simply filling an empty space in her heart with the first object to come on the scene? Or fall from the stars? Paul’s honest assertion, in regards to her motivations, causes a great pain in Simone’s psyche. She pulls out of Paul’s grasp and turns to stalk away. He grabs her from behind, and does not let her leave.
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“Simone?” Paul whispers hoarsely. “I don’t know why I said those things. I was out of line. I don't know what came over me. I reckon it's cause, it felt good...Having someone come to my defense like you did...In the diner. Believing in me. Listening to me. Hardly anyone even gives me the time of day anymore. My only friends are Hector and a bottle of whiskey. Don’t say anything to Crank. I'm not interested in stirring up trouble. I just...Well, I'm mighty grateful to you.”
Simone answers without turning around. She doesn't dare. Her stomach lurches at the idea of betraying Crank. After everything they've been through so far. But, having to live with the knowledge of Crank killing either Sherlock or Paul? She doesn't know if she could. Crank will not hear of this.
“Now, why would I do that?” Simone asks in a harsh whisper. “I’m pretty sure how he’d react. I’d rather not put any of us through that. You’re forgiven. Please. Just don’t let it happen again.”
Simone stalks out of the barn and heads for the farmhouse. Crank will already be there, waiting for her. She walks faster, anticipating the pleasure of his warm company.
Paul watches her go with a blank expression. The black and white goat saunters back through the opening of the barn door. Stopping to shake itself, it nips at Paul’s pine stick. Paul draws the stick up and away from the goat; his lip curling with angst and disgust. The goat simply swishes its tail and then ignores him. It exits the barn and heads for the water trough near the town square--and Babe.
Paul's eyes narrow and he returns to Babe's stall. He drops down on both knees and scrounges around. Babe's absence makes it easier for him to find what he is looking for. Having to dance around her over-sized hooves is a trick all its own. Removing a second bottle of whiskey from beneath a light layer of dirt and hay, Paul yanks out the cork with his teeth. However, he never takes a swallow.
Hurling the bottle against a wall, Paul glares in the direction of the resultant mess. He will have to clean that up before allowing Babe back into her stall. Or, he can always feed the broken shards to that blasted goat.
Paul places both hands on his hips and laughs. Simone, on her march to the farmhouse, can't help but hear Paul's hysterical laughter. She peers back in the direction of the barn. Hugging herself around the middle, she continues heading for the farmhouse.
-
-
Crank is already seated before the fireplace, his legs crossed underneath him. He observes Simone's drawn face as she enters the house. Climbing heavily to his feet, he goes to her.
"What has happened, Simone?" Crank whispers.
He cradles her face in his hands, studying his lover's every move and gesture. Simone attempts to blanken her expression, to wipe off any trace of her growing anxiety, but Crank is not fooled.
"Why is Paul laughing in that way? And why do you smell of ooman alcohol?!"
Simone's mouth partially drops open and she issues a small gasp. Stepping back, her hazel eyes narrow and her brown skin pales. So striking is Simone's reaction, that Crank also takes a step back. He examines her with a keen eye.
"Do I?" Simone questions. She sniffs at the air, her brow furrowing. "I hadn't noticed."
Crank continues to peer in Simone's direction, not speaking. Simone hurries to fill the silence with casual conversation.
"I...I went to speak with Paul in the barn," Simone says. She does not quite meet Crank's gaze. "He seemed so distraught after Jane left this afternoon. I thought I could cheer him up. But...He's found some liquor somewhere. He's gone back to drinking. He's severely drunk and not thinking clearly right now. I didn't bother trying to reason with him. So, I left."
Crank steps back into his former position. He stares directly down into Simone's distressed face. He takes note of her labored breathing; the rapid pulse on the side of her neck, and at her temple; the uptick of hormones in her blood; her paler than usual skin tone. She is not lying, but she is also not telling the whole truth.
Simone's eyes widen briefly, as Crank bends to kiss her forehead. Her body grows rigid. She is afraid. But not of him. Crank follows through with his kiss but quickly withdraws.
When she realizes that Crank means her no harm, Simone's body gradually relaxes. For a moment, she was in a different place-- a different time.
"You have not told me...Why you smell of strong ooman drink!" Crank reiterates.
Simone releases a deep sigh and finally meets Crank's gaze.
"Some things...They are what they are, Crank," Simone says noncommittally. "Not every action deserves a death sentence. Paul is just drunk. No harm was done. Once the liquor is gone...He'll be his usual self."
Crank studies Simone for a moment more, and then extends his hand to her.
"Join me. I have prepared the burnt meats you oomans love so much," Cranks insists with a tiny smile.
He is hoping to avoid Simone's ire concerning the fragile nature of his ooman disguise. However, in this rare instance; Simone doesn't seem to mind. She slides her hand into Crank's with a smile of her own.
Crank guides her to their pile of blankets and she drops down heavily and dramatically. Reclining backward on her palms, Simone stares into the small fire burning only feet away. Already, there are droplets of sweat above the line of her lips. Crank watches them with interest. He lowers himself to the blankets beside her.
"I really wish this place had electricity," Simone laments. "The heat is killing me. What I wouldn't do for some air conditioning. And with only an open flame to cook? Couldn't you like...Just char the food with your laser or something? Ha. No...I'm kidding. I just can't stand this heat anymore."
Simone's eyes slide shut as Crank whispers softly in her ear. His words cause her to chuckle and she throws back her head.
"I never knew you could be so dirty, Crank!" Simone laughs. "I'm surprised at you!"
"You shouldn't be," Crank counters. "I love you, Simone. I want to spend every moment I can with you. But as far as electric energy? That is a concern."
"Later," Simone says. "For now, we eat."
Crank reaches out and grabs a small jar he had tucked away for safe-keeping. Offering it to Simone, he smiles a little wider when she squeals with joy.
"Spiced pears?! Crank...You said we had eaten the last of them!" Simone says, nearly jumping up and down with excitement.
"I did some searching," Crank replies. "I found three more just like this one."
Crank comically tries to open the jar, but the neck is too small for his large hands. Simone takes the jar from his hands and regards him with slitted eyes. She places the jar on the floor. An expression he has come to know, all too well, alters her previously somber countenance.
And he likes it.