Who Goes There?

The street was quiet, not much traffic this early in the morning, as Joanne and Bryan drove toward their new house. Joanne mused about the neighborhood as the houses passed. Some with shutters that needed painting, others needed the grass cut and the dead trees removed. It seemed a little needy overall.

She didn't care. They had bought their own home, though it needed a good bit of work, it was theirs to love. The back seat and trunk were loaded with paint, rollers and brushes. She couldn't wait to spread a coat of fresh color on those grimy kitchen walls.

Bryan wasn't as excited as she was. His thoughts about the neighborhood leaned closer on the side of dread. Old and dilapidated houses showed that the folks around here were either down on their luck or just didn't care. He'd wanted to go deeper in debt and buy a brand new house that nobody else had lived in. Cleaning up after other people didn't thrill him. He'd bought plenty of rubber gloves at the home improvement store last night.

“Hon, did you remember to pack all those gloves?” he asked his wife, as he began to worry more.

She laughed. “Of course. They're in the bag with the towels and soap. You'll be fine, Bryan, stop worrying so much.”

Bryan frowned and nodded. “I'm not so sure. At least not as sure as you are.”

“Bryan, this will be our home, no more renting. We'll have fun fixing it up and we don't have to ask permission either.” Doubt began to edge it's way in. “I know it won't all get done right away, but we have our whole lives to work on it.” She glanced at his profile. The chiseled jawline and straight nose made her grin. “I'm a lucky girl, love. I have you and a new home, I couldn't be any happier if I'd won the lottery.”

Bryan tried to frown, but smiled instead. “Okay, I'll try to be more...motivated. Can we at least afford a grill?” He knew this would be the perfect time to talk her into it. Paint, then grill. Nap...

“Bryan! We talked about this last night. With all the supplies we need to get the house ready to move in, we shouldn't be spending money on a grill. At least not yet.” She watched as he pouted his lips and blew out. “Maybe next week, if we get enough done on the house.”

“Okay, guess that means you expect me to work extra hard? Gotta earn that steak maker, huh?”

Joanne grinned, then patted his hand on the steering wheel. He really was a cutie.
 

He turned into the driveway and cut the engine off. “Well, welcome home, hon.” The peeling paint on the little cape cod looked even sadder with the sun shining on it. “Where do we start?” Two ladders leaned against the porch, they'd been delivered yesterday.

“Come on, carry me over the threshold first!” Joanne held out her arms toward him.

He fumbled in his pocket for the key. “First things first my sweet wife. I'm not sure I can hold you and unlock the door at the same time. You know that first year of marriage has widened both our girths.”
 

She smacked him lightly on the arm and looked around the small porch. A tattered rug she didn't remember being there, laid in front of the door. A pair of rubber boots sat under the window, along with a balled up flannel shirt.

“Bryan, did we leave this stuff here?”

He looked up from the door handle. “I don't know. Why?”

“Because...I don't think it belongs to us. I've never seen those boots or this rug before. And you have never worn a flannel shirt in your life, Mr. Ralph Lauren.”

Bryan stopped short and took a look at the items, eyes narrowed. One hand was still on the door knob. Suddenly, he almost fell in the house as the door came open.

Shocked and off balance, Bryan stared into the grizzled face of man at least a foot taller than him. The guy outweighed him by more than a few pounds too.

While Bryan stared blankly at the person, Joanne moved into action. “What are you doing here?” Her 110 pound frame stepped toward the guy, challenging him to answer her demand.

He moved closer to Bryan, backing her husband away from the door. “What are you doing here?” he countered.
 

The sound of his loud, deep voice, backed Joanne up until she bumped into her husband. A smell began to waft out the door. Stale beer and cigars mixed with other odors reeked from the man. Joanne looked up at Bryan. “Do something.”

Bryan looked from Joanne to the bearded beast standing in the doorway. “Excuse me, sir, what are you doing in our house?” It never hurt to have manners, especially when dealing with a giant opponent.
 

The man stepped out onto the porch, forcing Bryan and Joanne to the edge. “I live here, man. That's what I'm doing here. Now, get off my property.”

“This is our property! We own it. I don't know who you are, but you're the one who's trespassing.” Joanne's hands went to her hips and she stared at the man in the way that only a woman can. Daring him to dispute her.
 

A loud noise from inside the house took his attention from the couple. “You kids behave in there.” He turned back to Joanne. “Look lady, I've been living here and paying the mortgage and taxes for ten years. You're the one that's trespassing and I want you gone. Got it?”

“That's our ladder and buckets over there. We had them delivered from the store yesterday. This is crazy! We closed on this property three days ago and I'm not leaving.” Joanne sucked in a breath and crossed her arms over her middle.

“Take 'em with you then. But get off my porch, please.” He stretched out the word please and tightened his lips together.
 

Bryan watched as the man shook his head at Joanne. He turned to the street and looked at the mailbox. The numbers on it, painted black and almost faded from view were the exact opposite of their own house number.

“Jo. Honey, listen.”

“No I will not. This is our house and I'm not going to let some beast keep me out of it.”
 

At that moment a head full of blond curls poked out from behind the door. Wide blue eyes peeked around the man's leg. “Daddy, are they going to take our house?”

“No, baby. You're fine, go watch your show before it goes off.” His tone was low and caring. He rubbed the top of the child's head, then gently pushed her back in the door. He turned back to Joanne. “Look, lady—“

“Sir, I'm so sorry. We've made a big mistake.” Bryan held up his hands to calm the man. He pointed down the street. “That must be our house over there. It looks a lot like this one, same color, and we came from a different direction today. I'm really sorry for the mistake, sir.” He looked at the guy with limp hands in the air, as if asking forgiveness for stupidity.
 

Joanne looked at her husband like he'd totally taken leave of his senses. Then her eyes followed Bryan's pointed finger. “Oh my gosh...” Her hand flew over her mouth, she began to laugh. Bent over with the  giggles at their mind boggling goof up, she tried to talk. “I'm... so silly. Please... forgive us. The delivery guys must have gotten the address wrong and we just followed the ladders, instead of the correct address.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and held her hand toward the stranger. "Truce?"

A slow grin began to show through the dark beard and he grasped her hand. “Could've happened to anyone I guess. Ain't never happened to me before though.” His head went back and he laughed with them. “No harm done, folks. Sorry for the attitude.”

His smile reminded Joanne of an old television show, the guy that had a bear as a pet.

Later that day, Joanne heard a faint knock on the storm door of their new house. She glanced over from her position on the floor, paint on her face and all over her clothes, and recognized the man from earlier in the day. “Come on in, John.”

He stepped into the living room with the tow headed child behind him. “Thought you two could use a coffee break.” He sat a tray with coffee and cookies on the ladder rung and reached out a hand to help Joanne up.

“Thank you, John. This is great. My back is aching from crouching so long.” She stretched and reached for a cup. “Bryan, John brought coffee,” she called out to her husband. “John, I hope this is the start of many more cups to come.”

The big man grinned down at her. “It's all good, little lady. Now hand me that roller.”