--- title: Jim visibility: public --- Not counting the various isolated sheds and grafted lean-tos and the well in the center of the donut-shaped turnaround out front, Olson Farm was three places in one: a shabby barn, a shabbier two-story house with dirty, curtained windows, and the enclosing inestimable fields of head-high corn to every visible side. It was a bubble world, a flat snowglobe, a building with endlessly thick green-stalked walls and pin-pocked twinkling holes in the ceiling. Never had an outside felt more like an inside to Delia, and she shrunk in her seat without even noticing she'd done so. Samuel pulled into the turnaround and shut off the car, headlights blinking out, and Delia allowed herself - just for a moment - to open her other eyes. The night vision felt more like home to her, and it was a comfort. It let her see the weather vane at the peak of the house, almost invisible this time of night except as a subtle blackout of the stars in a particular but inscrutable shape. She closed those eyes again. Best impressions, after all, even if it was _so_ dark without the headlights. She wasn't truly listening to Samuel's breathless, self-assuring enthusiasm. She trusted him. She was also going to stand behind him, like a shy child, until she had a damn good reason to be anywhere else. So that's where she was as Sam knocked on the front door. A light came on upstairs, then another downstairs, and then the door opened in front of them. She wasn't sure what she'd expected of the man in the doorway, but what she got was a fellow in overalls and a dingy white shirt, stubble-covered, and tired - but quite awake. He reminded her immediately of her Pa. The man scratched his head and said, "Well. What brings you two to my doorstep tonight?" Samuel immediately stepped forward. "Sorry to wake you, sir. My wife and I -" Delia startled inside at the word _wife,_ but knew better than to show it - "we hit a deer aways back. Nobody hurt, but we could use a place to camp for the night until we can bring the car into town tomorrow for repairs. Don't suppose you'd mind us spending the night out here?" The man in the doorway had been looking both of them over. Young couple, blood-soaked, but he seemed to pay particular attention to Delia, and the line that the hem of her cotton dress drew just above her knees. She didn't quite have words for how it felt, but she'd felt it before. Not just directed at her, but when she'd seen insect collections, dead creatures pinned under glass for examination and amusement. She had no precious feelings about insects, they were food and that was the turn of the world, but she could imagine too well the feeling of being pierced and studied. She'd heard there were spider collections in some places, just the same as the captivating yet nauseating butterfly collection she'd seen the one time she'd attended - well, snuck into - school. "A deer, huh?" "We got it on the roof ourselves. Took some doing, though, as you can see, and neither of us knows anything about cleaning or butchering." Samuel gestured almost apologetically at the two of them. The man in the doorway looked over their shoulder at the car, illuminated by the house lights in its crimson-on-kelly-green glory. He then focused his eyes on the couple again, scratched himself, and said, "It'd seem God has answered your prayers tonight too. I know a thing or two about the subject. No need to get your soft hands dirty." He looked at Delia, but there seemed to be a jab at Samuel in the words, which Sam winced at. "Where do you plan to sleep, you two?" Sam shrugged. "We have a tent. We're used to that." A flicker of respect crossed the man's face. "Are you? Y'all don't strike me as roaming vagrants." Samuel's smile could light the night on its own. "I should hope not, sir! Not a vagrant bone in either of us. Traveling for business, in fact. I owned a branch of my Father's record store, and I'm sorry to say he passed away quite recently. He was not a young man." The stranger bowed his head. "My condolences. A father is still a father." There was a hitch in Sam's voice as he continued. "Ain't that the truth. And I'll get my chance to mourn him, in due time. Under the circumstances, I've closed my branch in Rock City, Tennessee. I'm going to take over my father's shop in Colorado Springs, and as you see in the backseats, I'm consolidating stock from the closed store." "That's quite a drive for a pair like you," the man pointed out. "Must have been a successful little shop you had goin' for ya, having locations all over the country." "Just the two, actually." Sam stared at his shoes. "A father is still a father. Sometimes distance makes things simpler. I loved him, I just needed to go my own way." The man in the doorway stuck his hand out to shake, then. "I know a thing or two about heritage, friend, you don't need to strangle yourself explaining. Name's Jim Olson, glad to meet you." "You too, Jim. And I'm Samuel, Samuel Hobbes. This is my wife, Delia." Sam seamlessly nodded to her while vigorously shaking Jim Olson's hand, and she was once again impressed by the way her "husband" could slide smoothly into such a refined, personable charmer. Or maybe everybody could do that except her. Maybe that's what you get to become when you grow up around people. "Samuel and Delia. Glad to make your acquaintances, both of ya. And if you don't mind me saying," he continued, taking Delia's hand lightly and kissing it, once again looking her in the eyes while continuing to address her mate, "you sure did hitch yourself a fine one." Samuel nodded enthusiastically. "I may not always have good fortune, but she's been a blessing, through and through. And highly loyal." These last words like a syringe, a sharpness that passes for nothing at all. Jim smiled, teeth white but not all present. "Blessing is just the word. But you can't stay in a tent on my property. You need fresh clothes and warm beds, away from the ants and hornets." He rubbed his hands together. "We have running water here these days, and hot if you're willing to wait for the kettle. I'll run you a bath, and get to work breaking down that deer." "That's awfully generous," said Samuel, taken aback for a moment. "It's Penford, or at least the edges of it. It's a good town, where people share and share alike. That ain't how they do in the big city, but it's how they do here, and there's no better way. You'll see." He led them inside, shutting the door behind them, and then hustled over to the stove to fill and start the kettle. "Sounds like a nice place," Delia said softly, not meaning it. Jim curled his lip into a crooked grin. "Once you get a taste for it, you'll never want to leave." - [02 - White Tail](/writing/brood/02) - [All chapters of Brood](/writing/brood/) - [Other stuff I've written](/writing)