Together in Harmony

Together in HarmonyA Why Choose RomanceNicky Shivers Copyright © 2023 Nicky ShiversCopyright © 2023 All rights reserved by Nicky Shivers.The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.Printed in the United States of America A Note from nickyDear Reader,This novel is a work of fiction and is intended for mature audiences only. There is explicit language, graphic depictions of sex, and childhood bullying trauma in the book, so this read is not for everyone.Enjoy!—Nicky x HARMONYSan Francisco.We are waiting for the transport ambulance to arrive. “Everything is going to work out,” I say to myself, and the two women beside me.My aunt squeezes my hand. “It really is, my love.” Sheila is endlessly optimistic, which is a good thing considering her current challenges. She has Parkinson’s and Patsy is in a wheelchair. Selling the house and moving into sheltered housing just makes sense. Sheila and Patsy will have their own place, with nursing staff on site, and I will have...“The cabin,” says Sheila, “you’ve got the keys, right?”“Yep, and all the instructions.” I pat my jeans pocket. “And yes, I’ll call you from the road and when I get there,” I tell her.“I dread to think what state it is going to be in…” Patsy says for the billionth time. “It’s been years since we’ve been there.”“It’s going to be perfect. I’m so excited,” I lie. “And you’ll come and visit at Thanksgiving,” says Sheila.“Yep. And we all know I won’t be lonely because…” I gesture to the crate beside me. A paw reaches out and tries to swipe my ankle. The aunts adopted Einstein after a neighbor passed. As the cat is not exactly a ‘people-person’ (human-hater would be a better description), the aunts decided he’d be better off with me than at the care home. Lucky me.The transport pulls into the avenue. It’s time.I watch the older women get loaded up, and wave until they disappear back over the hill. Now, it’s time for me to hit the road. I’ve got 500 miles to drive from San Francisco to central Oregon. Solo road trips are not in my wheelhouse, at all. Well, nor is living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, come to that.Ah well.“Einstein? You ready?” I pick up the carrier, and he gives me the side-eye. Neither of us are ready, but we have to go anyway. HARMONYGold Creek, Central Oregon.I’ve taken to country living exceedingly well, considering. Considering how grueling it has been.The first four weeks have been hectic. Inch-thick dust and insane cobwebs covering every surface were nothing compared to my run in with the raccoon family from the woodshed. The cabin had been almost completely encased in green vines when I arrived. The vines had even breached the windows and were wound around the kitchen cabinets. Breaking through them, I’d felt like a prince heading toward Sleeping Beauty. Except this castle had a front door that doesn’t lock, a mouse infestation and several broken window panes.I’d met a nice man in a hardware store who had told me the secret to mending anything was duct tape and WD40.“If it sticks, try a squirt of WD40. If it breaks, try using duct tape.”This amazing advice means I can now lock the front door, and the kitchen window is sort of boarded up.I haven’t told Sheila just how decrepit the cabin is.“It just needed a little spit and polish,” I’d said.In between spitting and polishing the cabin, I’ve also had to earn money. There is no internet at the cabin, so I drive into town and download my assignments (from the Starbucks free wifi), then come home and spend a few days sorting thousands of survey results into little boxes on a spreadsheet. Then I go back into town, email the results, pick up the next assignment, and maybe some more duct tape. Rinse, repeat.I’ve educated myself on how to use a wood burner. The cabin has electricity—thank Benjamin Franklin—and it heats a very small tank of water. I’ve also learned the art of rapid showering.Pioneer life-lite.Einstein has been on the fence about it all. He’s not any more affectionate, but he doesn’t actively swipe at me these days, which is progress. I’ve been listening to a podcast about anti-social cats. I’m supposed to spend a lot of time talking to him, letting him know we are litter-mates.He’s not buying it.Einstein spends most of his time sitting on top of the fridge, watching mice run around the edges of the kitchen. Einstein is not a mouser. The mice to human/cat ratio at the cabin is about 20-1. I haven’t cracked the Einstein code, but there are several more episodes of ‘Cats with Claws’ to listen to yet.All in all, I’m exhausted, but cabin life is working. I have somewhere to live, no one here has a clue who I am, and I am earning enough money to get by.Not too shabby. And—today is my birthday. Twenty-three.I worked double yesterday, so I could have a whole day with zero spreadsheet filling. Today I will ignore the mice and just relax all day. I have a book, a festive drink, snacks and a blanket. I’ve set myself up in the meadow next to the cabin. Sun is streaming down, and life feels pretty good right now. A dragonfly zooms by, and I make a mental note about working on a dragonfly poem. Something about a dragon and a fly having a baby, and it’s a dragonfly?Though I fill in spreadsheets during the day, in the evenings I write poems for my blog. Being alone in the cabin has totally unleashed my creativity.Thanks Sheila and Patsy.They’d been absent for most of my life, but