by Kelly Moore
I get to the part about remarrying and sit back in my chair. I’ve never thought about getting married again because I could never love someone like I did Timber. It would have been nice for Emmalyn to have a mother figure, but I would never want to risk someone dying again in her life, not at her age. Dad said she lost her shit when they were notified by the Army that I was in the hospital. He said she barely ate or spoke until she knew I was going to be okay. She was heartbroken enough over Wolfe.
I grab a pen to write her back as my dad comes barreling through the door. “I need you to come downstairs and convince old Buck to get off the ladder.” He’s huffing from running up the stairs. Such is my day trying to keep a seventy-year-old man who refuses to retire, from killing himself and giving my dad a heart attack.
Chapter 7
Shay
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me,” I say, lugging down my last suitcase.
“Good God, woman. You look like you packed for a year.” He takes it out of my hand.
“It’s cold in New Hampshire this time of year. I had to pack sweaters, boots, gloves, thermals….”
“Did you pack a coat by chance?”
I put my finger in the air. “I’ll be right back.” I hear him laugh as I run up the stairs. I haven’t been anywhere in so long I had to buy a winter wardrobe. I’ll probably never wear any of it again. Maybe I’ll donate it when I get back.
“You’re going to miss your plane if you don’t get your ass down here,” he yells loud enough for me to hear him.
“I’m ready,” I declare when my feet hit the bottom landing.
He opens the door, and we head out. We cover what needs to be done while I’m gone. I passed on any new music. I’ve never done that before, but I didn’t want to feel like I had to rush home. I’m looking forward to getting away from it all.
Snow is falling as I get into the cab at the New Hampshire airport. “Here is the address.” I hand the driver a piece of paper.
“This is a good distance out,” he says, glancing back at me.
“I know.” I didn’t want to rent a car because of the snow. I have no experience driving in it. I plan on sitting back and enjoying the scenery.
The further north we go, snow is starting to blanket the ground. The white hanging on the trees is beautiful. Yards are lit up with Christmas decorations as night starts to ease in earlier. Parked cars are covered in snow and icicles hang from the hood of the vehicles.
An hour later, the cab driver pulls off the side of the road not far from a wooded area. “I can’t drive the car any further in. You will have to walk the rest of the way,” he says, looking over his shoulder at me.
Is he serious? “Walk? How far is it? It’s getting dark outside.”
“It’s a quarter mile up that hill. You can’t miss it. It’s the only house on this side of the mountain. The company that rents it out leaves the outside light on.”
I hesitantly open the door, stepping out into the snow that’s falling harder in huge flakes. I tighten my jacket and pull the hood over my head. Fortunately, I took the time to change in the airport bathroom. These snow boots are going to come in handy, but the cold air seems to be hunting the gap in my clothes, making me walk a little quicker.
The hinges on the trunk squeak as the cab driver pops it open and pulls out my luggage. I throw the two bags with straps over my shoulder and pull out the handle to drag my large suitcase. I hand him some cash and head in the direction he pointed.
“Quarter mile my ass,” I squawk as I fight the falling snow. I’m a runner for God’s sake, and this shit is hard. My lungs burn as I suck in the frigid cold air. This is not what I signed up for. I grumble to myself the entire way until I see a snow-covered wooden fence with a quaint stone cottage sitting behind it. The cobble walkway is illuminated by the glow of the lightbulb on the front porch. The dark green leaves of tulips with yellow bulbs on them stand proudly in the cold weather along the path to the dark gray old wooden door.
Light shines through the moon slit in the front door, helping me to find the key where the rental company told me it would be; hidden in the mailbox mounted next to the doorframe. I admire the faux gold knocker mounted in the middle that looks well used. Opening the door, heat instantly warms my cold body. I take a minute to brush the layer of snow off myself before I step inside. The place is so cute with touches of blue that match the old-fashioned blue flowered pillows resting on a rustic-looking couch. An orange knitted afghan lays on the arm of a chair. I can envision someone sitting in it knitting for hours. The same color blue flows through the cotton curtains, giving the room a softer feel. A white brick fireplace sits in the corner of the room, making it a focal point. There is an oil painting of an American Indian woman perched on the mantle. Her red feathers contrast with the hues of blue in the room. My first task in the morning will be building a fire. I can’t wait to read a book by the flickering flames.
The old wooden staircase is beautiful. Each step is decorated with musical notes. I stare at them for a minute before I realize the notes are tunes to different songs. How extraordinary. Each step creaks as I make my way to the top landing. The first door I open is a small bedroom, big enough for an office or a nursery. The walls are painted pink with silver curtains lining the windows and plush gray carpet covering the floor.
It makes me wonder about the people who lived here originally. The next room is a master bedroom. Not very big, but fits the size of the house. The bed is covered in a black flannel blanket with broken shades of foam green nestled in it. I can’t help but run my fingers over the soft fabric. I pick up my suitcase, and the mattress bounces in protest and the brushed gold metal headboard rattles against the matching foam green walls. I remove my boots and spread my toes in the shag forest green carpet, soaking in its warmth.
I hang my clothes in the narrow closet, lay my folded clothes neatly in the black dresser, and force my suitcase under the bed. The rest can wait until morning. I change into my long thermal pajamas and snuggle deep under the soft flannel blanket. I’m so comfortable, it doesn’t take long before exhaustion takes over.
The sun comes up way too early on this side of the country. I didn’t shut the curtains before I went to bed and the sun is shining right in my face. How can it be so damn cold and be sunny? I step barefoot onto the carpet to draw the curtains together, but I’m struck by how beautiful it is outside. There is white as far as I can see. The snow hangs from the brown leafless branches like an artful decoration. There is a red bird roosted on a bird bath with frozen water in the middle. I can hear her chirping even with the windows tightly closed. A fresh cloak of pristine snow covers the ground, making the world look new and bright. It’s completely enchanting.
There is no way I’m walking to a cab. I’ll have to call for a rental. Maybe I should request a big badass truck. I make my way downstairs and see a gift basket wrapped in cellophane on the kitchen counter that I didn’t see last night when I came inside. There is a note attached from the rental company, welcoming me and letting me know how to operate the thermostat. That’s pretty pertinent information to have.
Thank God for coffee. I hold the bag of crushed beans to my nose, inhaling its aroma. I plug in the coffee pot and get it brewing. The basket is filled with apples, bananas, some decadent-looking chocolates, and nuts so I won’t starve to death if I can’t get a car out here.
Next is the fireplace. There’s a cheater log and a stack of real wood sitting in a wrought iron basket. I choose the easy way and get the fire going. As I sip my coffee, I call a car rental place. I’m in luck; they have one truck left, and they will deliver it to me in an hour. They didn’t seem to think they would have a problem driving it to my doorstep, unlike the cab driver.
I change clothes, making sure I have plenty of layers. I fix one more cup of coffee, and outside the kitchen window, I see a family of deer standing just beyond the bare tree line. A momma and two fawns. I’ve never been this close to deer before, yet a strange feelin
g of familiarity washes over me. It’s comforting. A Wrangler drives by and slows down, scaring them off. I’ll make sure to pick up some apples for them, to feed them later. I watch as the vehicle almost runs into the fence a little further down the road.
I finish lacing up my fur-lined boots and grab my winter coat, stepping outside to see if I can help, but the Wrangler is gone. Before I can even turn back around, a truck is pulling into my driveway. I hold up a finger for him to wait. I run inside to get my purse and lock the door behind me.
I climb in, and we head to town. I make sure to pay attention so that I can find my way back. Once I drop him off, I head to a small market that the driver told me about. I stop at a red light and to the left sitting back off the road, I see Outdoor Adventures and know that it’s the same place Keegan told me his family owned. The salted parking lot is slammed full. The outdoor wall has winter gear leaned up against it. Skis, snowboards, and sleds have gathered quite the crowd. Kids are loading up colorful discs in the back of vehicles. I’ll have to go there while I’m here, but today, I need groceries, and I’d really like to find the covered bridge.
I find a parking spot right in front of the market. For a small place, it is packed with tourists. I grab the things I need including a good book to curl up with in front of the fire. As I’m walking out to the truck, I all but run into a young girl wearing a heavy red coat and a multicolored sock hat, batting the snow from her eyelashes. She has earbuds snuggly inside her hat and a sled tucked under her arm.
“Excuse me, sweetie,” I say at my near miss of knocking her over.
She looks up at me and pulls the earbuds from her ears. Her smile slips from her pretty little face and the pink covering her cheeks drains out.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She blinks a few times and nods.
She is such a beautiful young girl, with long jet-black hair tied into braids with red ribbons that match her coat.
“Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I’m going to go now.” I point in the direction of the truck.
She starts to say something, then shakes her head and walks off. When I open the back door of the truck to put the groceries inside, I peer over my shoulder at the girl, and she’s doing the same back at me. I wave and get inside, crank up the heater, and back out of my parking space.
The angry gray clouds are forming again, and tiny flakes are bouncing off the windshield. I keep both hands firmly gripped on the steering wheel until I make it back to the stone cottage.
As I get out of the truck, I notice the noises of winter all around me. I can hear the groan of the trees from the weight of the snow on their bare branches and the soft crunch of the snow beneath my feet. The smell is crisp and clean, other than the smoke coming from the fireplace.
I unload the groceries, and the snow starts falling harder. I don’t think today is going to be a good day to go back out and look for the bridge. A bottle of wine and a good book are calling my name.
I add more wood to the fire and curl up with a pillow and the orange afghan on the floor. I start reading, and for some reason, my mind drifts to a man I have yet to meet. As I read the steamy parts of the book, I envision Keegan’s hands are on me. My body warms thinking about how his touch on my skin would feel. It’s been a really long time since I’ve had sex, but I can’t remember a time I longed for someone’s touch. Especially someone that I don’t even know.
About an hour of reading and the silence is getting to me. No phones ringing, no music playing in the background, nothing. I pick up my cell phone, and the signal is gone. The snow must be interfering with it. I can’t even call Paul. Maybe this was a big mistake, and I should book a flight back home. I thought I would enjoy the quiet, but the silence is almost deafening. The only sound I hear is the crackling of the fire.
“No. No. I’m not going to do that. I came out here to get away, and I’m going to enjoy my time here.” Great, now I’m talking to myself. I get up and go in the kitchen to cut up the yellow apples that I bought. I put my winter gear on and go out to the backyard. There are a couple of deer on the edge of the woods. I slowly walk halfway up to them and place the apples on the snowy ground then walk backward toward the house.
They move out of the trees toward the apples, and I squat down to watch them pick the apples up and chew them. They are such beautiful and graceful animals. I would never kill one. Then the strangest thing happens—one of them walks up to me with no fear at all. She’s inches from me. I could reach out and touch her. Her big brown eyes look at me like she knows me.
“Hi, pretty girl,” I whisper. She takes a step closer and nudges me with her wet nose. I pull a slice of apple from my pocket and give it to her with a gloved hand. She takes it from me and stands in front of me eating it. I take my glove off and carefully reach for her. She dips her head down and allows me to pet her. I close my eyes and feel the softness of her fur. Why do I feel like I’ve touched her before? She stays a few minutes longer and then heads back to the trees.
“That was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.” I can feel my nose start to run from the cold wind blowing on it. Before I retreat back into the warmth of the house, I want to check out the miniature cottage nestled in the back corner of the property. There is a Master lock on the door keeping me from entering, so I wipe the cold frosted window with my glove and peer inside. It’s empty other than some speakers mounted on the concrete walls. A soft breeze blows by me, and I could swear I hear the faint sound of music coming from inside. The sound is gone as quickly as it rushed by me. It was an odd sensation that shrouded me, giving me a strange sense of comfort. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I head back into the cottage.
Chapter 8
Keegan
“Dad, hurry up!” Emmalyn’s voice booms through the house bouncing off the walls.
“It’s Saturday. Why do we have to be up and moving so early?” I’m towel-drying my hair as I walk down the stairs.
“My friends and I want to go sledding before the hard snow hits again today.”
“What are you, the weatherman?”
“Grandpa watched the weather last night, and he says it’s going to snow hard later today.” She’s tapping her foot again. She draws back the curtains covering the large pane window in the living room. “Look, the clouds have already turned gray and dingy.”
“Between the foot tapping and the eye rolling, I don’t think I’m going to make it through your teenage years.” I walk through the kitchen, doused with the smell of coffee, to the laundry room and throw the towel in a wicker basket. I pull a wool sweater off a hanger and put it on.
“You know if you give me the keys and I could drive myself.” She is standing right behind me with her hand held out.
“Haha, very funny. You have a lot of years before you can drive.”
“Grandpa let me drive his truck out back.” Her arms cross in front of her with a little bit of attitude.
“I’ll have to have a talk with Grandpa then. No driving. Let me grab a to-go cup of coffee, and I’ll be right there.” She turns to the side, not giving me much room to pass.
“Can I at least start the car to keep warm while you take your dear sweet time?”
“You’ve been hanging around your grandpa way too much. You’re even starting to talk like him.” Digging the keys out of my jeans, I toss them to her, and she sticks out her tongue and marches off.
“Good morning, Son.”
“Hey, Dad. Did you really let Emmalyn drive your truck?” I tighten the lid on my cup.
“Sure I did, out back on our property. You used to drive it when you were her age, or have you forgotten?” He chuckles.
“That was different.”
“Oh, yeah, how so?” He leans against the counter, with a smirk.
“It…it just was. I’m running her into town to hang out with her friends. I’ll be in the store later.” I swear those two are thick as thieves. Emmalyn has the music blaring when I get in the Wrangler. She’s singin
g at the top of her lungs to some old rock and roll song. I reach over and turn the music down.
“Hey! I was listening to that.” She scowls.
“I’d like to be able to hear when I’m Grandpa’s age if that’s okay with you.” I put the Wrangler in reverse and back down the long driveway. Emmalyn continues to sing but at a more acceptable volume. “I want you to be careful out there today, but have fun. I’m going to take a couple days off next week, and you and I’ll head up the mountain on the snowmobiles.”
“Can we stay at the cabin?”
“I’ll check into it. It’s probably not available this time of year.”
“I want to feed the deer.”
“I could see if the cottage is rented out. There are always deer hanging out there.”
Timber used to feed them. She rescued a momma deer and her babies from drowning in the lake the year she died. She damn near drowned herself, but she was not leaving them behind. I swear that deer and the babies loved her.
“We haven’t been there in a while.” Her happy demeanor is gone.
“I know. I promise we’ll go soon.”
She’s quiet the rest of the way to town. It’s almost as if she’s lost in her thoughts. I drop her off and tell her what time she needs to be at the store to go home. I pull into the parking lot of the store and then turn around. Emmalyn is correct—we haven’t been to the house. I decide to drive by and see if anyone is renting it out. I’m sure it’s booked, and I could call the rental company and find out, but I’d really like to drive by the place.
Snow clouds are gathering up in the distance. Dad was right; a storm will be moving in on us. The ice is thick and piled high on the narrow road leading to the house. I drive by slowly, looking for any signs of movement. There is smoke coming out of the chimney, but no vehicles are outside. I crank my neck to the side when I see someone standing in the kitchen window. “It can’t be.” I slam on my brakes and damn near run into the fence. I close my eyes tight. “It’s my imagination getting the better of me. She’s been dead for years.” The woman in the window was the spitting image of Timber.
