Unsettled, she leaned over the side of her bed, fingers searching until they wrapped around the familiar heft of the baseball bat she kept tucked between the mattress and the bedside table. She slipped between the warm sheets, her feet recoiling at the first touch of the chilly floor, and combed through her apartment, searching every nook and cranny. But the apartment was empty, her door still securely locked, all her windows closed. She padded back to her bed, stopping beside the chair tucked against the wall. She didn’t know why she even bothered to check, but she placed her hand on the worn fabric. It was warm.
***
Amelia took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. She was standing beside the back exit of the diner, the warm breeze heavy enough to blow away the smell of grease wafting out from the open kitchen door. She looked out over the employee parking lot, taking in the old, rusted cars that made up the diner’s employees and owner. Occasionally, she would feel the pent-up frustration slipping from the dark corner of her brain where she usually kept it and take over her mood. Sometimes she hated her life: a dead-end job, no prospects for a better future, no way out, and the constant paranoia of being found. But the crew at the women’s shelter told her not long after she showed up that she should try not to hate the things that were out of her control and instead be thankful for the little gifts that life gave her.
She glanced at the cracked screen of the secondhand watch strapped snuggly to her wrist and walked back inside the diner, realizing her break was over. She grabbed the rag out of her apron pocket and started to wipe down the counter of the breakfast bar. The sun was burning high in the sky, streaming through the windows on the few late afternoon patrons she had. She doesn’t pay attention to the slow rumble of a truck pulling up, the sound dying as the owner killed engine. She glanced up, her practiced smile dying on her lips when she saw that it was Eli.
He had obviously put some effort into his appearance this time. The dusting of dirt and sawdust was missing from his arms, his hair still damp from a shower and pulled back into a low, neat tie. He was wearing another flannel, paired with blue jeans, both clean this time around. A warm smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, his eyes glowing like amber in the sunlight. “Amelia, hello.” He said.
Fear gripped her heart. “How do you know my name?”
“It’s, um, it’s on your name tag.” He said almost bashfully.
“Oh.” Amelia said dumbly, feeling her cheeks heat up with her embarrassment. “Right, sorry. Um, hi? You can sit anywhere you like.”
He sat across from her at the breakfast bar. “Thanks.” He said as she set a menu in front of him but made no move to pick it up. “I’ll have water to start and I think I’ll just have what I had yesterday.”
“Okay.” She muttered, scribbling the order onto her notepad. “I’ll get that started for you.” She walked quickly away, giving the order to Earl before filling a large glass with ice and water. Her hands were trembling as she jammed the lemon wedge onto the rim of the glass. Not for the first time this morning, she was grateful that the diner was relatively empty. There were only a few scattered elderly couples in the booths by the window finishing up their brunch, she didn’t want a big crowd if her anxiety started to get the best of her again. Whispers broke out amongst her tables as one by one they noticed that Eli was at the breakfast bar. It didn’t do anything to help her nerves as she walked the water back to where he was seated. Maybe he just got out of jail or something, she wondered, mystified why his presence at the counter could cause such a disruption in the dining room.
“Here you are.” She said, proud when her voice refused to waver.
“Thanks.” He muttered, taking a large a gulp from the condensation coated glass. Amelia couldn’t help but watch the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed. Amber eyes locked on hers, his lips twitching up in a smug little smirk, she had been caught staring. Suddenly cursing the empty dining room, Amelia tried to busy herself with whatever little tasks she could find. Tension hung thick in the air between then as she folded napkins at the counter, working a few seats away from him. Finally, as the silence continued to drag, Eli decided to speak.
“I have to apologize.” He said, making her startle and drop the napkin she had been carefully folding. She glanced towards the window into the kitchen, feeling Earl’s eyes on her, his eyebrows were raised in an obvious question and she shook her head as subtly as she could to let him know that she was okay. It’s not like Eli made her uncomfortable for the wrong reasons or made her feel unsafe, she felt attracted to him and that’s what made her uncomfortable.
“Why?” She asked, eyes downcast and focused on the napkin she was worrying in her hands.
Eli leaned forward, draping his body over the counter as he shrugged his broad shoulders. “I shouldn’t have acted so inappropriately yesterday.”
She couldn’t stop the sharp laugh that bubbled from between her lips. “Inappropriate? Look, I’ve seen, I’ve felt men being inappropriate. Trust me, you weren’t. It was… a little weird, sure, I’ll give you that, but you weren’t being inappropriate.”
He shook his head firmly, his mouth turned down in a stern frown. “I don’t know who convinced you that you should just accept men treating you like an object they can position and pull whichever way they want, but I’m telling you now, I touched you, unsolicited, and that was inappropriate, and I apologize.”
She was stunned into silence for several long moments before shaking her head, a little wild-eyed. “No, really, you don’t have to apologize. It was probably something that I-“
He held up a hand to stop her. “You shouldn’t make excuses for the men that wrong you.” He said and pushed himself off the stool her was sitting on, digging into his pocket for a rumbled fifty that he tossed on the counter. “Why don’t you eat that breakfast when you go on break?” He suggested and before she could protest was already walking out through the door and clambering into his truck. She was still watching his truck rumble to life when the bell dinged for his order.
She snapped from her daze when an elderly woman, Lyra, she thought her name was, caught her hand, giving it a trembling squeeze. “It’s for the best if you don’t get involved with that one, dear.”
“What do you mean? I wasn’t-that was just-“
“Trust me, that one leads to nothing but trouble.” She said, patting her hand before shuffling to join her husband at the door.
Amelia spent the rest of her shift pretending that absolutely everything was fine, something she was well practiced in. She served tables, a pleasant smile stretching uncomfortably at her lips, all the while rolling her troubling conversation with Lyra around in her head. What had she meant by trouble? Was he a serial heartbreaker? Was he a drunk? In and out of jail? Amelia knew she had just met him, but she found it hard to imagine him stumbling drunk around the tavern or dating hordes of women when he seemed so reserved. Maybe he really did just get out of prison. While he didn’t exactly give off the air of some kind of criminal, there was a dangerous tension that seemed to cling to the set of shoulders.
When she got home after her shift, she couldn’t help but replay the words he had spoken to her at the counter. He told her not to make excuses for the men that wrong her, hadn’t that been what she was doing all those years she was married to Jasper? She made excuses for his behavior, she let him convince her that it was always her fault, and after time she actually believed it. Eli was the first man to ever call her out on it. Somehow, it felt different then her counselor repeating it at the end of every meeting. Maybe she was finally starting to believe the sentiment.
***
This time when she felt the rough, wet scrape across her palm, she knew it was a dream, for this tongue was much too long and wide to be human. Her eyes fluttered open, trying to adjust to the low light of the wooded glen. The sun was disappearing around the distant snow-capped head of Ruby Peak, the mountain owning up to its namesake as the setting sun cast the snow in reds and golds. Whatever sunlig
ht was left filtered through the wide bows of the fir trees, casting long armed shadows across the edges of the glen.
She was laying on a soft patch of grass, her head pillowed on one of her arms while the fluffy head of a massive black bear snuffled its muzzle into her palm. Her heart raced in her chest despite the knowledge that this was a dream. It felt so real, the scrape of its tongue across her palm, the short, thick whiskers on its snout tickling the sides of her fingers, and its large, warm amber eyes staring into hers. Please, she thought desperately, please let this be a cute dream instead of the beginning of a nightmare where I get mauled by a bear.
So, she waited. Her body completely still other than the quick, panicked rise and falls of her chest. Nothing happened. The bear pulled his snout away from her palm and settled its large, fluffy body next to hers in the grass with a soft huff, the warm air gusting over her face. Several long seconds passed before she slowly raised her hand to stroke over the coarse fur of the bear’s head. It snuffled softly, tilting his head so her hand could scratch behind its rounded ears where the fur was softer.
“You feel so real.” She whispered, hesitant to disrupt the peaceful quiet that had wrapped around them within the glen. The bear turned its head, licking her wrist as if in response. A laugh escaped her lips as his whiskers tickled the sensitive skin on her arm. “You’re magnificent.” She told it as she ran her fingers through the thick fur on its neck. “I can definitely say I’ve had worse dreams.” She confessed.
Their heads snapped to the left in unison as a loud crack echoed in their tiny glen, a branch giving under the heavy soles of the shadowed intruder emerging from the trees. The figure was tall, slender but lean muscled, and as he stepped from the darkness of the firs Amelia’s breath caught in her throat. Blue eyes, pale and clear like a mountain creek glowed from his pale face, blond tousled locks draped artistically across his forehead, while the barest hint of stubble kissed his jaw and cheeks. Sometimes the worst monsters were the most beautiful.
“Baby,” he crooned in that smooth voice that once held the power to make her melt, “baby, why did you leave? Come home.”
Her heart was pounding in her chest at the sight of the husband she had abandoned. So, this is a nightmare. “Jas, I couldn’t-I didn’t-“
He was stalking towards her, his pleasant expression twisting in anger. “When I tell you to do something you do it! Do you like making me like this? Huh? Do you think I want to bash your fucking head in every time you do something stupid? You do this to me Ames, you do this to yourself!” She felt herself shrinking under his tirade, the strength that she had found to leave was disappearing under the weight of the familiar words. Her hands instinctively flew up to cover her face, waiting to brace the blow that she knew was coming. Only, it never did.
The bear had lumbered to its hind legs, standing tall between her and her husband. As she lay safe in his shadow, it opened its mouth to release a chilling roar, a single, powerful swing ripping the image of Jasper in two. Jasper flickered, a mirage amongst the beautiful landscape of her dream before fading away like he had never been there to begin with. She rolled to her side, eyes searching the corners of the wood desperately for any sign that he was returning. He was truly gone, banished from her dream by the bear that was nudging his nose impatiently against her side.
“Okay, okay,” she groused, pushing herself to her feet. “I get it, you want me up.” The lightheadedness from her racing heart was already starting to leave as she buried her fingers in the thick, coarse fur of the bear’s back and allowed him to lead her to the edge of the glen and into the wilds beyond. The trees grew in tight clusters the farther in they walked, the sunlight streaked through the thick branches overhead. A bed of dead limbs cracked under their weight and a ground squirrel dove back into his hole with an angry chitter at the disruption.
“Where are you taking me?” She asked, ducking to avoid a particularly low hanging branch. The bear huffed in response and she wondered why she expected anything different. As the undergrowth began to thicken around them, it became harder and harder to maneuver through the overgrown trail she now realized they were following. Just as she thought they wouldn’t be able to go any farther, the bear himself struggling against the dead limbs and the young trees grabbing at his fur, the trail suddenly opened to a small, clearing. It was unobstructed by the dead foliage from the trail behind them. The grass was a rich, youthful green that brushed against the top of her kneecaps and perfumed the air with a soft, clean scent.
Straight ahead, on the edge of the clearing, was the largest tree that Amelia had ever seen. It seemed as wide around as the pre-historic redwoods that she had seen as a child in California, but this tree was no redwood. The bark was smooth and grey, branches twisting from its base at all angles, some bowed down towards the ground as if under immense weight while others looped in infinity style designs and some pointed directly towards the heavens. The leaves grew large in a five-point design, colored the lightest shade of lavender with dark purple veins. Nothing about this tree made sense and yet it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
Carved into the base of the trunk was a small opening, large enough for one person to stand in its entryway, and through this pathway, Amelia could see where it opened into a cave. A small ‘oof’ escaped her lips as the bear put its broad forehead against the small of her back and nudged her towards it. She couldn’t fight the urge to walk into the entrance and as soon as she took that first step into the man-made cave all the hairs on her arm stood on edge, her heart fluttering against her ribcage as a vibrating energy surrounded her. It filled every empty space down to the fiber of her being, erasing every negative thought she ever had about herself, and replacing it with an aura of serenity.
Her fingers traced along the smooth wooden walls as she basked in the positive energy that surrounded her. It was addictive and cleansing, and she never, ever wanted to leave this place. With her body thrumming and the air crackling with life around her, Amelia missed the heavy steps behind her, jumping only when a large, warm hand encircled her shoulder, squeezing it gently.
“Wake, Mia. Wake and be at peace.”
She bolted upright in her bed, chest heaving with breath, and mind buzzing. Already, she could feel the energy leaving her, her chest growing cold at its absence. That was too real to be just a dream, especially when she could still feel the power vibrating in her fingertips where she touched the bark. That place was real, and she was going to find it.
Chapter 3
Sunlight pulsed through the trees as the old Ford truck twisted and turned up the little forest paths. It had rained the day before, the road still dark with water and the grass sparkling in the bright, mid-morning light. It was quiet. The only sound being the distant rumble of the engine as they traveled; the rest of the world seemed undisturbed and pre-historic, especially as the trees began to thicken the further they went, blotting out the sun. Amelia had borrowed Marcy’s truck, another waitress at the diner, during her next day off.
She replayed the dream she had over and over again in the long shifts that made up her work week, and she knew that something about the forest felt familiar. So, she was following that one little thread of familiarity into the old growth forest off McCubbin’s road. It was the only place in the mountains around Eastern Oregon that she had ever been, so, if something looked familiar to her it had to be from there. It sounded like sound logic to her at least. She knew she was going to have a long conversation ahead of her when she returned Marcy’s truck. She hadn’t looked convinced when she told her that she was going out to the old growth forest for a picnic. She had eyed Amelia with the air of a woman who knew she was being deceived and squeezed her hand as she muttered a quick, cryptic warning to be careful, despite the fact that it was Marcy that had taken Amelia there the first time anyway.
The truck shuddered as she slammed on the brakes, so lost in thought that she had almost missed the turn off for McCubbin’s road. She carefully guided the
truck onto the dirt road, less of a road and more of a track by the unkempt state of it. It was nothing but dirt, with deep ruts carved into the earth that threatened to suck the tires in. So, she drove slowly, balancing each tire on the edge of the ruts and took two more easy turns, riding the brakes the entire time as the road dipped down a steep decline. As she rounded the next bend, she saw the tan and white speckled fur of a fawn laying in the ditch.
“Oh no,” she whispered, craning her head to make sure it was dead. Her grandmother had always told her that seeing a dead fawn was a bad omen. Sure enough, the sky darkened as the sun disappeared behind the thunderheads, small, scattered droplets of rain peppering the windshield. By the time she reached the trail that led into the old growth forest, the wipers were on the highest setting, beating ceaselessly at the rain. She pulled her coat tighter around herself, as she gazed towards the looming forest in front of her, submerged in mist and black storm clouds. She loosened her grip on the steering wheel, her fingers leaving damp shapes over the soft cover Marcy had put over it. She finally switched off the engine, listening to the soft taps of rain against the glass.
“I have two choices,” she told herself, “I can turn around or I can get out of this truck and start walking.” Her therapist told her that sometimes it was better if she spelled out her choices for herself instead of dwelling on the possibilities of the unknown. She pulled on the handle of the door, hinges creaking in protest, and jumped right out of the truck into the mud. She had been lucky that she had remembered her rain boots. She glanced at the trail wearily before stuffing the only flashlight she owned into her coat pocket. With one more pause, staring into the warm, dry cab of the truck, she started down the trail, coat collar turned up against the wind.
Her shoes sunk with each step and occasionally she had to pause to pull them free of the mud with a loud squelch. Her hands were stuffed inside her coat pockets, braced against the cold rain and biting wind. Her hair immediately became a lost cause, the long strands blowing across her face with each gust of wind, quickly becoming soaked by the rain, and constantly getting snagged by low hanging branches. She should have had enough sense to tie it back, but apparently her thinking ahead ended when she struggled into her rubber rain boots.
Guardian of Bear Creek Page 2
