The Count of Castle Rock

Chapter XI- Solomon by Day

"I must admit, it is truly a pleasure watching you work," Fran Greenfinger remarks. She's a short, slight woman, with pale blue eyes and deep chestnut colored hair going grey at the roots. Her eyes are sharp and she's quick to speak her mind.

"Thank you, Ms. Greenfinger," Jessica says with a nervous laugh.

"I'm serious. The last three weeks have been quite the treat." She works a pair of shears across a large quartz whetstone.

Jesse blushes, trying her best to focus on the beds of basil and park waltz. She adjusts her sagging top, suddenly aware of her appearance under the intensity of Fran's scrutiny.

"I'm making you uncomfortable," Fran chuckles. "Believe me, I'm not trying to. I just can't help admiring the handiwork of the gods." Fran smirks as heat spreads from Jesse's chest up to her forehead. "Looks like I did it again."

Jesse crosses her arms over her low neckline. She's always been proud of her curves, but something changed after the attack on the King's Highway. Men had always given her lewd and suggestive looks, but she'd never been attacked, never stripped of her dignity. Everything is different now. The hungry looks of passing townsmen makes her skin crawl. However, the flirty looks from the small florist makes the breath catch in Jessica's chest... the fact that it isn't out of disgust only adds to the strangeness of it all.

Fran comes around her whetstone and gently takes Jesse's hand. "Allow me to apologize."

Jesse eases her hand out of the other woman's grasp. "Apology accepted."

She dusts off her apron and starts to tidy her work area, pretending not to see the mischievous smile on Fran's face. Jessica finds it hard to admit, but the woman's looks are the only welcomed attention she's received since arriving in Solomon. First their rescuers fussed over their wounds, then Father fussed about the traumatic nature of their ordeal. Everyone either ogles her body or treats her like a porcelain doll that might break.

But not Fran. She stares at her curves, yes, but she also stares into her eyes. Jesse needs this at the moment.

"I should probably be thanking you." Jesse stands and collects her tools.

"Why do you say that?" Fran asks, crouching down to examine the flowers at Jesse's feet. When Fran looks up, Jessica's heart skips a beat.

"If you hadn't invited me into your nursery, I think I'd still be hole up in my room. This greenhouse has been a sanctuary."

"This place was little more than a storehouse for my junk. You organized it for me, planted my basil, and kept an old lady company."

"You're not that old," Jesse says as she crosses the room to a bag of seeds. "I've never had space to really make things grow. Back home, well back in Levian, I had a few potted plants to nurture, but never a garden."

"Well consider this space yours, I already do."

Jesse doesn't hear Fran cross the room, the older woman's hand is just suddenly on her elbow. The unexpected contact and the feel of the smaller woman at her back sends ice through her body. Jesse's heart is pounding and she can't seem to catch her breath. Unable to move, the walls close in. Unnamed fear with glowing green tattoos looms over her, over the herbal shop, over the forsaken Badlands. Jesse's legs grow weak and Fran lowers her to the ground, too slight of build to hold the larger woman. Jesse grows lightheaded and sags against the worktable.

"Gods, Jessica, breathe," Fran says, checking her forehead and pulse. "You're okay. Take deep breaths. Yes, like that. Deep breaths. Stay here while I go get you some cool water."

Jesse tries to breathe deeply, panic making her chest tight. She thinks about the flowers and her mother Sophia, the most beautiful woman she's ever seen. Remembering her mother's smile chases away the green flames. The tightness subsides and breathing comes much easier. By the time Greenfinger returns, the spell has passed. Fran hands her a cup of water and gently mops her brow. Jessica can't meet her eyes.