“A lantern,” I said with excitement.  “That’s perfect.”

“It was in the bags of supplies.  Wini thought we might need it.”

I sat at the table to inspect it.  I recalled my grandmother having a hurricane lamp in her living room.  This lantern was similar in that it had a wick, but the glass globe completely protected the flames.  The handle and hood made it safe to hang from a hook and not burn down the building.

Mary set a plate before me and sat across from me.

“Thank you.”  My stomach growled when I saw a quarter of some type of fowl, a baked potato, and peas.  I picked up my fork.

“You never answered,” I said before I took my first bite.  “How is he sweet?”

“He doesn’t know how to cook.  But he cleaned the pheasant while I opened the can of peas and washed the potatoes.  We didn’t talk.  We worked together without needing to.”

I stopped chewing and studied her hopelessly infatuated expression.  I didn’t understand their race.  There was no courtship or time to get to know each other from what Mary said.  The man decided whom he wanted, then bit her.  Sure, she might fight back or decide to let someone else bite her, but that decision was based on what?  Strength?  We weren’t living in the prehistoric age where only the strongest survive.  The world had changed.  Why didn’t they see that?  Winifred did.  But she was trying to convince the men to change.  In my opinion, she needed to start with the women.

I swallowed, took a sip of my Coke, and snapped my fingers before Mary’s eyes to get her attention.

“He didn’t do anything more for you than he would have done for himself.  I’m not saying he isn’t sweet.  I’m saying you’re labeling him sweet for doing ordinary things.  Give him a real reason to be sweet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ask him to do something for you that your men normally wouldn’t do.”

She frowned and studied the table.  I knew she was trying to think of something so I went back to eating.

“What would you ask for?” Mary asked after several minutes of silence.

I grinned at her.  “You’ve slept in my bed.  Which do you like better, floor or bed?”

She laughed.

“Bed.”

She stood and walked to the door.  Gregory must have been close because he filled the frame within seconds.  She motioned him in.  I turned back toward my plate and pretended I couldn’t hear them.

“Hi, Gregory,” she said softly.

“You want a bed,” he said flatly.

I cringed.  Just how well could they hear?

“Yep.  I do.  Charlene’s bed is clean and comfortable, but too small for the two of us.  I won’t take hers.  She needs it more than I do.  But it sure is nice.”

There were several long moments of silence.  I kept eating and stifled the urge to turn around.

“Fine,” he said finally.  The door opened and closed again soon after.

Mary came back to the table and sat down with a grin.  She didn’t seem at all put off by his less than accommodating attitude.

Before she could say anything, there was another knock on the door.  She popped up again to answer it.

“Your father and Gregory are waiting for you outside.”

I turned at the sound of the voice.  Him again.  The dark-haired leader who made my stomach go crazy.  He watched me, not Mary.

“Waiting?  For what?”

“You said you wanted a bed.  Gregory’s not foolish enough to pick one without you along.  He knows how this game is played.”

Did his eyes just narrow slightly?

“Game?” I said, since he seemed to be talking to me.

“She won’t like the one he brings back, right?” he said with a hint of anger.

I shook my head slowly, unable to believe he was so clueless.  Trying to do something nice for a girl was a game?  I turned away.  Maybe she wouldn’t like the one Gregory brought back, but that would be because of the quality of the item.  After all, I had sent back the mattress that appeared gnawed on.  Wait, did those men think I was playing games with them because I rejected some of what they’d brought?  I mentally sighed at the thought.

“Charlene?  Do you mind if I go?” Mary asked.

“Why are you asking her?  Is she your leader?” he asked.

I couldn’t help it.  I turned around to stare at him.  Even Mary’s mouth hung open for a moment.

“I’m asking because Wini wanted to be sure she’s okay staying here alone.”  Mary sounded like she was ready to smack him.

“She won’t be alone.  I’ll stay with her.”

Mary and I shared a look.  Alone would be better.  But I didn’t say that.

“I’ll be fine.”  At least, I hoped I would be.  Winifred was right outside the door; and, apparently, they could hear everything.  “Thanks for your concern, Mary.  And have fun.”

She gave me a last apologetic glance then left.  The guy closed the door, and I turned back to my plate.  When he suddenly spoke from behind me, I barely refrained from jumping.

“I’m Thomas.”

Good for you.  Now, buzz off.  “Hello,” I said, instead.

I took a bite of potato.  A full mouth couldn’t speak rude things.  Though my parents taught me to respect everyone, I was having a hard time with him.  His complete and obvious resolve to be rid of me probably had something to do with it.

He sat across from me and watched me eat.  My stomach did a weird flip again, which I ignored.  I kept my eyes on my plate and not his naked chest.

Though he was pale, he wasn’t sickly.  I couldn’t recall seeing many men without their shirts, but he seemed unusually muscled.  Several defined cords decorated his shoulders and his crossed forearms.  I totally wanted to stare.

Several minutes of silence passed.  When I finished eating, I threw the slightly charred potato skin in the flames along with the bones then went to the sink to wash.

He didn’t move, but I felt his eyes on me.  I pumped enough water into the tin washbowl to wash my hands and face and plate.  When I set the plate aside to dry, he stood.

“Winifred said you’ve made some changes.  Show me.”

I turned and studied him.  He looked mildly annoyed, and I couldn’t decide if his tone was a command or a question.

He watched me in return, his arms once again crossing his chest.  He didn’t seem like he would accept a polite refusal.  Hoping that he’d leave once he got what he wanted, I agreed.

“Of course,” I said moving away from the pump.

I snagged the lantern from the table and led him out of the main room and toward the first of the small rooms that lined that hall.  I pushed open the door and stepped aside so he could see in.  He stopped beside me but did not enter.  I studied the space as I spoke.

“We’ve gone through the windows, collected the whole panes of glass to create several solid windows, and removed broken glass and debris from the rooms.  I plan to board up the windows still missing glass.”  I turned to see what he thought and found him watching me.  “If I stay,” I added.

His face betrayed nothing regarding how he felt about me staying.

“Which rooms have the whole windows?” he asked.

“The main room and several on the second floor.  It will be easier to board up windows on the main floor.”

“Show me.”

We stood facing each other, he impatiently waiting for me to lead and me hesitating.

Take him upstairs?  I brought my fingers up to my collarbone, as close to touching the bites as I dared, to remind myself I wasn’t with people who knew how to behave politely.  Going upstairs with him didn’t feel like a good idea.

“Have you lost your way already?” he said with a smirk.

Irritation melted my budding worry.  What an annoying man.  I turned around and led him up the closest flight of stairs.  Along the way, I started motioning to the rooms Mary and I had finished.  Those doors stood open.  Doors without windows remained closed.  He barely spared each a glance.

When I stopped at the last one, my room, he looked down at me.  Unlike the other repaired rooms, the door was closed.  He waited expectantly.