Chevron

Chapter 3

Sundays were Chevron's designated maintenance days when he had nothing else to do. He had stocked his wood pile well yesterday and decided to spend the rest of his weekend working on things around his home. He fixed the creaking shed door, sealed a persistent leak in the roof, and was currently treating the wood on his front gate.

Colonel Reed was busy dabbling in his garden as usual when Chevron noticed a car coming along the road. He frowned at the sight. No one really came this route; it was well off the main road, and people generally steered clear of the area - of himself, specifically.

But when he recognised the silver Honda, his frown deepened, and he quickly returned his gaze to his work, the odd dribble of treatment dripping down the brush and onto his right hand. The car halted a few feet away from him with a small squeak.

Needs more brake fluid, he noted as he continued working with steady brush strokes.

His eyes inadvertently flickered towards the car when he heard the door open, and Daisy stepped out the driver's side. Her honey locks fluttered in the cool autumn breeze as she closed the door behind her. He took note of the container in her hands before quickly returning to his work.

"Good morning, Colonel," Daisy's tender voice called out to the old man.

"Good morning ..." the man trailed off, and Chevron could imagine him scratching his bald spot in thought.

"Daisy," the young woman supplied.

"I knew that!"

She didn't respond to his outburst. Instead, Chevron heard her boots hit against the gravel as she slowly made her way towards him.

"Good morning, Chevron."

The recluse gritted his teeth at the strange feeling that coursed through him upon hearing the delicate woman say his name. He didn't dare turn around to face her but gave a small nod to indicate that he had heard her.

It was silent for a moment before Colonel Reed shouted from across the road, "I wouldn't bother talking to him if I were you, Stacey. He's crazy - that one. Agatha and I both agree."

"Daisy," the woman corrected as she glanced at the old man before looking back at the silent individual whose back was still turned to her. "Who's Agatha?"

Daisy has only lived here for about eight years. She knew that the colonel was once married, but his wife had passed long before she moved here.

"His fern," Chevron replied.

She chuckled at his response, causing the recluse to grip the handle of the brush tighter in his hand.

"Why are you here?" he asked after she had settled down and before they lapsed into another wave of awkward silence.

"Hm? Oh, yes, I brought you a little something."

Her words made Chevron's hand pause, and he finally turned to look at her fully. "Excuse me?"

She hesitated, shifting the container in her hands, as she glanced down at his crouched form a little nervously. "Um, well, I didn't properly thank you for your help yesterday. I was baking this morning and had made a little more than I should have, so I wanted to give you some," she explained and held the container out to him.

Chevron frowned and slowly placed the brush down on the lid of the treatment to ensure that no grass would stick to the bristles before standing. Daisy's hands trembled slightly at the sight of his large build. She preferred him when he remained in a crouched position. He was far less intimidating that way.

"You didn't have to do that."

His calm, deep voice rolled over her, and she gripped the container as splashes of red formed on her cheeks. Her gaze settled on the ground beneath her feet; she battled to look him in the eye when he spoke. She didn't want to stare at his scars, as she was sure he wouldn't like that.