Free Eyes at the Window by Deb Donahue

out before the cold winter months tamped down on them.
    Opening her eyes, she looked across the field toward the barn. No strange movements in the window today. She smiled, but the smile faded as the man and dog she’d seen that morning skirted the edge of woods again. This time she could see him more clearly and was almost positive it was the same man she’d seen in Greenville. It was too far to see his face, but the hair color, body build, even the jacket, matched almost exactly what she remembered. He was carrying a rifle.
    Suddenly the man noticed her and froze. He motioned to the German Shepherd, who also stopped and looked Miranda’s way. Rufus was still far off in the orchard so had not seen them. They stood that way for what felt like minutes before finally the man raised an arm in greeting, waving it slowly. Miranda hesitated, then raised her arm as well. The man nodded, then turned and disappeared into the trees, followed by his dog.
    Rather than alarming her, seeing the trespasser a second time made her feel relieved. He must be a neighbor out hunting. The house had been empty a long time so perhaps he hadn’t known someone was now living there. Or maybe he’d even had an arrangement with her grandmother and had been given permission to hunt on her land. It wasn’t like anyone else was going to do it.
    Rufus distracted her just then by running up with a dead bird in his mouth and laying it at her feet.
    “Yech, Rufus, what did you do?” It was hard to scold him, though. He seemed so pleased with his accomplishment. So Miranda just sighed and headed into the garage, hoping to find a shovel so she could bury the carcass. Several shovels and rakes hung from a rack next to an old wood burning stove in the back corner.
    She made her way past a workbench and several lawnmowers in various stages of repair. Standing in the corner just under the shovels, she found an old rusted safe with a combination lock. It was a strange place for a safe, she thought. Despite its rusted state, it didn’t seem to have been there that long. It was not covered with dust—in fact, it was evident someone had swept dirt out of the way before placing the safe down.
    There was no way to open it, however, and Miranda doubted it contained anything of value anyway. No doubt it was just an artifact that had been relocated from the house much like the furniture in the front room. Maybe her grandmother had been planning on selling some of her antiques but had to stop mid-project when she became ill. That reminded her of Patty telling her how her poor grandmother had been left alone for two days after her death.
    She shook her somberness off as well as she could, but as she patted the last spadeful of dirt on the grave for the dead bird, she decided to visit her grandmother’s grave soon and leave flowers. She could not undo the years of silence between them, but she could do her best to show some respect now.
    She heated more of the casserole up for supper but was only able to eat a few bites of it. That strange, lingering taste seemed intensified today. Rufus appeared to like it well enough, however, so she gave the rest to him and threw some macaroni in hot water to make a simple pasta dish for herself. Sissy’s canned tomatoes were perfect for a sauce and when she mixed it all together with salt and basil and a little onion, the results tasted just like the spaghetti her grandmother used to make.
    She finished off her supper with vanilla wafers dipped in cold milk, eating them in front of the fireplace like she’d intended to last night. She’d kept the couch pulled close to the hearth and lit the fire despite the fact that the furnace was working. There was something about the crackle and light of a fire that make a house feel so cozy. Stretching out with a pillow under her head, she watched the flames. After a while, they began to dance like pretty ballerinas and she began to feel drowsy, her head drooping as she sang some nonsense