by Gerri Hill
Copyright © 2005 Gerri Hill
Bella Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 10543
Tallahassee, FL 32302
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper
First Printing, 2005
Second Printing, 2009
Editor: Anna Chinappi
Cover Designer: Sandy Knowles
ISBN 10: 978-1-59493-011-2
ISBN 13: 978-1-59493-011-9
Dedication
This story is lovingly dedicated to Diane, forever my hero.
Chapter One
Susan saw her through the pines and had one moment of panic. She turned to retrace her steps, but made herself stop. For over two weeks, she had been making this solitary walk along the narrow river and had not even glimpsed another human being. City instincts had taken over for a moment. She was alone and a long way from help. But she had spotted this woman before, last weekend. She had been at nearly the same place, doing the same thing. Throwing rocks into the river while a large golden dog splashed in and out, chasing them.
Instead of quietly turning around, like she’d done the last time, she decided she would continue on and with any luck, this woman wouldn’t even notice her, and she could get on with her thinking. That was why she was here, wasn’t it? To sort out her life?
But before she even took two steps, the wet dog bounded across the river to her side. He cocked his head with ears raised, then ran up the trail to her. He barked once, then shook himself, splattering Susan with cold river water.
“Alex! No!”
Susan raised up both hands and backed away from the wet dog, her plan to walk by unnoticed shot to hell.
“I’m so sorry. He usually has better manners than that,” the woman called from across the river.
Susan peeked around the pine tree to the other side and met warm, friendly brown eyes and forced a smile to her own face.
“It’s okay,” she said, glancing down at her perfectly pressed jeans and spotless white athletic shoes, now splattered with muddy drops of water. She stepped around the dog, intending to disappear down the trail, but stopped. She had never been intentionally rude and she would not start now. She looked back at the woman, searching her muddled brain for normal conversation. “I’m actually surprised to find anyone out here. You’re the first person I’ve seen in weeks.”
“I’m camping,” the woman said from across the river. She had both hands tucked under her arms and she pulled one free to brush at the hair hanging in her eyes. “I’m Shawn Weber.”
Susan lifted one hand in greeting. “Susan . . . Sterling,” she managed. Would she keep the name? she thought suddenly.
“Well, nice to meet you, Susan. Again, sorry about Alex there.” With that, she patted her thigh and whistled. “Come on, Alex.”
With one quick look at Susan, the dog plunged into the cold water, hopping across boulders to the other side. This time, he shook cold water all over his owner.
“Thanks a lot,” she heard the woman mutter. Susan felt an involuntary grin slash across her face as she watched the woman attempt to avoid the wet dog. Without another word between them, Susan watched as they walked back down the river, taking in the woman’s worn jeans and hiking boots, so unlike her own attire.
She finally continued with her walk, silently acknowledging that this was the first person she’d spoken to in two weeks, unless you counted the token conversation with the checkout girl at the grocery store down in the village. Well, she’d come up here to be alone. And early May was the perfect time of year. Most of the other cabin owners didn’t venture up into the mountains until Memorial Day.
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her light jacket and walked on. She knew she couldn’t hide up here for long. The troops would come looking for her soon. And she should really call Lisa. Her daughter was the only one who knew where she was, but she hadn’t called her since the day she left.
She wondered what they were thinking. Especially Dave. He was probably out of his mind.
“Good,” she said. “I hope you’re worried sick.”
She sighed, the anxiety over her uncertain future nearly choking her. She never thought this would be happening to her. They had gossiped about others at the country club, but she never thought she would end up like them.
But she wasn’t really like them, she told herself. The country club setting was all so pretentious, something she never would have called herself. But twenty years of playing the game, anything could rub off on you. She let out a deep breath, depression threatening to settle over her again, but she refused to think about Dave and . . . the girl.
She suddenly turned and retraced her steps along the trail. She slowed when she came to the spot where the woman and dog had been. There was no sign of them. She walked on to the trailhead where her car was parked. She admired it from the trail. A gift from Dave just this Christmas. Black, sleek. Nothing she would have ever chosen for herself. And right now, it represented everything she hated about her life.
“Hey.”
Susan jumped, her hand going to her chest as the woman and dog materialized beside her.
“Sorry. I thought you heard us.”
“No, no, it’s okay. I was . . . deep in thought, apparently.” Susan gathered her composure and tentatively reached out a hand to brush the dog’s fur. “Going on a walk?”
“I’m following Alex around. We just drove up a little while ago and he’s got a lot of energy to burn.” Then Shawn Weber motioned to the car. “Yours?”
Susan shrugged.
“Nice. But you don’t look like you’re camping,” Shawn said, glancing at Susan’s white athletic shoes and neatly pressed jeans and blouse. “You must belong to one of the cabins in Grant Grove.”
Susan wondered if she should divulge information like that, then told herself she was being silly. This woman meant her no harm. “Yes. My husband . . . we have a cabin there. I’m living up here, temporarily,” she said. Until she decided what to do with the rest of her life, she added silently.
“Living? Must be nice.” Shawn reached down and patted Alex’s shoulder. “I’m only lucky enough to snatch a few weekends here and there,” she said.
“Are you from Fresno, too?” Susan asked.
“Yeah. I have a house there, but I love it up here in the mountains. I come up to camp every chance I get.”
“Surely not alone,” Susan said.
Shawn smiled. “Well, there’s Alex.” She again reached down to pet the dog.
Susan shook her head. “I’ve been in the city too long, I guess. I’m having a hard time staying alone at the cabin.” She regretted her words as soon as she said them. This stranger had no business knowing that. Susan looked at her, really looked at her for the first time. Short dark hair that was lightly windblown, flannel shirt tucked into faded jeans, scuffed hiking boots, hands shoved casually into pockets. She was stereotyping perhaps, but a lesbian, nonetheless. Susan tucked her own hair behind her ears, shoulder length and still styled for the country club, and she quickly looked away.
Shawn shrugged, ignoring Susan’s appraisal of her. “I prefer to be alone, actually,” she said. “It’s kind of an escape from real life out here, isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Susan said. Wasn’t that why she was here? To escape from her life?
“Well, I’ll let you get going,” Shawn said. “I need to tire Alex out a bit more or he’ll keep me up all night.” She patted her leg for Alex to follow her.
“Wait,” Susan called. “I don’t suppose you would like to have d
inner or something?” she asked, surprising herself as much as this stranger.
“Dinner? Like tonight?”
“I’m sorry,” Susan said. “I guess you came up here to be alone.” She pulled her gaze away. “It’s just that I haven’t actually . . . talked to anyone in two weeks or so and I’m about to go crazy, I guess,” she finished in a rush.
Shawn laughed, and Susan gave an embarrassed smile.
“Okay. Dinner would be good, as long as you don’t mind Alex,” Shawn said.
“No. Of course he’s welcome. Do you know where the old lodge used to be?”
“It’s right off the main road, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Turn there. I’m two roads down that lane. Take a right on Nuthatch. It’s about four or five cabins down,” she finished, her habit of talking with her hands getting the best of her and she shoved them into the pockets of her jacket to still their motion.
“Okay. About . . . six?” Shawn asked.
“Yes, that would be good,” Susan said. She watched Shawn and Alex walk away, back toward the water, and she walked to her car, thankful she had gone into town yesterday and stocked up on groceries. She frowned. What in the world could she and Shawn Weber possibly talk about? Well, it didn’t matter. Any conversation would be better than her forced solitude of the last few weeks.
She had skipped town so suddenly, she hadn’t realized she would miss people. She laughed quietly. She was having a woman to dinner, a stranger and a lesbian, most likely, and she was as excited as she’d been when she and Dave had their first dinner party.
“No,” she murmured, turning her smile into a frown. She would not think about Dave. She had spent two weeks thinking about Dave and . . . the blonde. She shook her head, instead planning the meal. Steak and baked potato were safe. She would serve a vegetable, too, something safe like green beans. Maybe sauté some of the mushrooms she had picked up. Oh, and a good bottle of wine. She smiled. For the first time in weeks, she wouldn’t be spending the evening alone.
Shawn and Alex hopped rocks across the river and hiked back to the tent. She had been coming out for the last three weekends. April had been cold, a mix of snow and rain some days as winter still hung on. But this first weekend in May, the sun had dominated, and she had escaped early and headed up the pass to Kings Canyon National Park, a small bit of heaven she had found a few years back. She usually camped at the same spot this time of year, but when the tourists started coming in the summer, she would move higher up, packing most of her gear on her back, just for some peace and quiet.
She wondered why she hadn’t declined Susan’s dinner invitation. Shawn had seen her on the trail last weekend. Both days, she had silenced Alex and let the woman pass by, but today Alex had slipped away before she could stop him. Susan had seemed so anxious for company that Shawn hadn’t had the heart to say no. And it might be nice to make a new friend. It wasn’t like she had a lot of them. A handful, at best.
“What do you think, Alex?” She patted his head then reached for the dog bone that he patiently waited for. She relaxed in the lawn chair, staring into the giant trees, seeing nothing, just listening to the sounds of the forest. For some reason, her mother’s image flashed across her mind. She was startled. She had not thought of her in a very long time. She closed her eyes, trying to recall some happy moment from her childhood, but the memories were elusive. There was always pain, crying. No laughter.
Even now, as an adult, joyous occasions were few and far between. She didn’t think she was an unhappy person. She would not label herself that way. She was . . . content. Her solitary life with Alex was all that she desired. But she wondered if ten, twenty years from now, she would again try to recall happy moments in her life? Would there be any? Or would she always carry this pain with her?
Alex nudged her hand and whined, his intelligent eyes staring into hers. She smiled and gently rubbed his head. No, she would have happy memories. Like the first day she brought Alex home and he’d kept her awake that night, whimpering until she’d finally let him into her bed. He had snuggled up beside her. Not much had changed. He was still a bed hog.
She laughed quietly. “You were such a baby,” she told him. He cocked his head to the side, listening. “Don’t act like you understand me.” In reply, he laid a big paw on her leg. “Want to walk?” His ears perked up and he practically danced around her until she got out of her chair. Yes, she would have happy memories.
Chapter Two
Susan hadn’t realized how starved she was for another’s company. She had last spoken to her daughter two weeks ago. Since then, only a brief conversation about the weather at the grocery store yesterday. Frankly, she was sick of her own company and her own thoughts. She knew that was why she had invited a perfect stranger to dinner. It was something she would never have done in her previous life.
She tidied up the cabin, even bringing out the vacuum to run across the already clean rug in the living room and stacking the magazines she had bought yesterday. She seasoned the steaks and got everything ready, including emptying the charcoal from the grill and putting in fresh.
By five, she had everything ready to go and she took a magazine out to the deck and made herself relax. She flipped through the pages, seeing nothing, again wondering what she and Shawn Weber would talk about. She finally put the magazine down and glanced around the deck, finding solace in the familiar trees that surrounded the cabin. She watched birds flitter high up in the branches and closed her eyes, trying to relax.
By five-thirty, she found herself listening for the sound of a car and she realized that if Shawn Weber were not coming to dinner tonight, she might very well be on the verge of a breakdown.
At last, she spotted a black truck creeping along the road. She got up and hurried to the back deck to put a match to the charcoal, then walked down the drive and waited.
“You came,” Susan said, uttering the first thing that came into her mind when Shawn stopped.
“Did you think I’d get lost?” Shawn asked through the open window. Alex climbed over her lap when she opened her door, tail wagging as he sniffed Susan, then turned to inspect the cabin.
“No, I just . . . never mind,” she said. Shawn had changed into black jeans and a sweater and Susan sighed. She had been so busy getting everything ready, she had forgotten to change herself. Mother and Ruth would have had a fit had they known she was entertaining this way! She dismissed her thoughts and waved at the cabin with her hands. “What do you think?”
“Beautiful,” Shawn said. “I love the stonework.”
They walked to the porch and Susan held the door open. “I’ll show you around, then we can sit on the deck in the back. It’s still warm enough.”
They walked inside and Shawn’s jaw dropped.
“This is by far my favorite room,” Susan said. The front of the cabin was made up of nearly all windows, save the front door. The vaulted ceiling, supported by natural wood beams, eventually gave way to skylights. Nearly as many windows adorned one wall, while a stone fireplace shared space with a built-in bookshelf on the other.
“Jesus,” Shawn muttered, bending her head back to gape at the skylights.
“I know. It’s a bit much,” Susan said. “But my husband . . .well, let’s just say that he hated to be outdone.” She led the way down a short hall, Shawn’s hiking boots clicking on the hardwood floors. “There’re just two bedrooms,” she explained.
Shawn stuck her head in the guest room, then followed Susan into the master bedroom. Each room, including the living room, was impeccably tidy. It was hard for her to imagine that someone had been living here for two weeks straight. Her own house, after just one day, looked more lived in than this. Hands on her hips, she turned back to Susan. “Nice,” she said, hoping it sounded sincere.
Susan nodded, not being fooled for a minute. Shawn hated it. “Let’s sit outside,” she said and led the way through the rest of the house.
The kitchen was Shawn’s favorite room, large and spac
ious. Two skylights overhead brought the forest inside. It, at least, looked lived in. A bar separated the kitchen from the dining room and four stools were shoved neatly underneath.
“I like this. It’s comfortable,” she said of the kitchen.
“Yes. I’ve always enjoyed cooking. So much less of a chore up here,” Susan said.
Shawn caught just a glimpse of pain in her eyes. Her husband, no doubt. Either she was going through a divorce or he had died and she was grieving. Her guess was the divorce, but she said nothing.
Susan motioned to one of the chairs, then took the other. “I have steak,” she said. “I hope that’s okay.”
Shawn smiled. “Steak would be wonderful. I usually get by on cheese and crackers or just sandwiches. It’ll be nice to have a real meal up here.”
Susan nodded, relieved. One less thing for her to worry about. But she felt uncomfortable. She had forgotten how to entertain. She was searching her mind for conversation when Shawn stood.
“You want a beer? I’ve got some iced down in the truck,” she said.
Susan brought a nervous hand to her throat. “God, I forgot to offer you something to drink,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. I’m out of practice, I’m afraid.” She stood herself, her hands talking for her. “Sit. I’ve got wine. Is that okay?”
Shawn laughed at Susan’s nervousness. “Let’s save the wine for later. I’ll bring you a beer,” she said easily.
Susan watched her bound effortlessly down the steps and disappear around the cabin, dog right at her heels. She tried to remember the last time she had had a beer but couldn’t. Dave kept some at the house, but she had not actually considered drinking any. And the country club, Lord! The ladies didn’t ever order beer!
“Fuck the country club,” she murmured.
Shawn came back with two bottles, still coated with crushed ice, and Susan watched a piece melt and slide down the bottle and her mouth watered. Beer’s good, she thought.
