Thunderheads were accumulating overhead. He considered sheltering in the cabin and moving on when the rain passed, but not knowing who he was dealing with, he thought he’d better announce himself, just to be on the safe side. Trouble was something he would avoid at all cost.
As he watched, Vivian came out onto the porch, clutching a grey sweater around her as if for protection. Her body language spoke of defeat and exhaustion. Her life was about to change in a big way, and she had no idea if she was ready for any kind of change—especially one she’d been forced into. She loved her sister, but Katie could be very self-centered at times. When she called last week to ask if Lydia could come and live with her for a while, she tried to say no; she wasn’t ready for something like that.
“It’s been over two years,” Katie said. “You can’t mope around forever. And besides, her new job is right there in Franklin. It’s like it was planned that way.”
“I’m sorry, Katie, but—”
“Vivian, I’ve already told Lydia you said yes.” Katie didn’t care if she had to lie to have her way.
“What? You can’t—”
“I don’t have time for this, Vi. I just met the most wonderful man—Bull Barnes, you’ve heard of him, right?—and I’m getting ready to go away with him for the weekend.”
Vivian rolled her eyes. Katie was apparently working on husband number five. Her sister had always been “the pretty one” but her beauty had never brought her happiness.”
“She’ll be starting her new job next week,” her sister coaxed, a whiny note entering her voice. “And you’re right there, with that big old house. You said yourself you were getting low on money. She would be paying you rent. Two birds with one stone. You’ll get some extra cash, and she will have a safe place to make a fresh start.”
Katie was definitely full of bull, but bottom line, she was also right; Vivian wasn’t going to win the lottery. She wasn’t going to inherit a fortune from a long lost uncle. No knight in shining armor was going to swoop in and save her from destitution.
True, she had lived the last two years alone in near isolation, slowly healing from the heartbreak of Todd’s death. She just recently began to dip her toes in the water of the community in which she used to be so active. She had touched base with a few of her friends who had dropped out of sight after she repeatedly turned down their invitations. Not great strides, perhaps, but definitely baby steps.
Now, her money was running out and she was in danger of having to sell the home in which she and Todd expected to live out their days together. They hadn’t planned well for the future; they thought they had plenty of time. She still did alterations, but it just wasn’t enough. She knew she needed to go to work for a company with insurance and benefits, but at fifty-five years old, just taking care of the home and grounds was almost more than she could handle, and her struggle with depression threatened to overwhelm her.
When Katie called with the solution to her problem, it seemed too much to hope that living with her niece would be successful. They hadn’t spoken in ten years and she felt uneasy with the thought of Lydia just suddenly moving in with her. She was family, but they’d had a falling-out and exchanged some hurtful words. She regretted the manner in which they had parted ways, but she did still love her.
“She needs a fresh start,” Katie said, “a sanctuary for her to put her life back together, and the lake is just the place. She’s paid her dues, Vi. Please.” In typical Katie style she added, “I don’t need this worry on my shoulders.”
Of course, in the end, she had agreed.
Mike watched her posture straighten as an older model Volkswagen Beetle swung around the curve and into the circular gravel driveway. After a few seconds of hesitation, the driver cut the engine and got out. He was immediately struck by the graceful beauty of the young woman as she unloaded a beat-up suitcase, a large duffle bag and a shoulder tote stuffed to overflowing. So, not a casual visit, he deduced.
Her shoulder-length, straight brown hair swung heavily as she moved. She was petite, maybe a couple of inches over five feet, and slim, dressed in faded jeans and a shapeless hoodie. Suddenly, she turned and seemed to look directly at him for a long moment, pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head. He didn’t think she could see him, but perhaps she felt watched.
Maybe I should keep moving, he thought. Sensing she could feel his eyes on her, he redirected his attention to the distant lake. Soon her gaze moved on, sweeping the ridge behind him. Impossible to tell at this distance, but he had the distinct feeling that her eyes might be green, the kind of eyes you could drown in.
Where had that come from? He closed down his mind like a steel door slamming. That’s what this whole backpacking trip was about, to shed old relationships, regain his sanity, and forget the past and all the painful memories. A woman was the last thing he needed in his life.
The newcomer turned and approached the woman waiting on the porch. Thunder rumbled and he glanced at the threatening sky, abruptly bringing his thoughts back in line.
He hesitated. He’d been hiking for a long time now, and the last thing he wanted was interaction with other humans, especially someone he found so attractive, even from afar. But with growing exhaustion and depleted supplies, he finally had to admit that he needed a break. At least he could find out his exact location and figure out the quickest route to replenish his provisions. This would be a quick stopover; in and out, a little information and some much needed rest out of the elements.
The wind kicked up, cooler now with the impending rain. Thunder rolled in the distance, getting closer by the minute. He watched the two women disappear into the big log home and came to a decision.
He began to move down from the crest, skating on nuts and pine needles, barely keeping his footing. His hands began to sweat at the thought of talking to people. Maybe he should just turn around and move on. No, sooner or later, he had to interact with other humans again. He slid his hands down the side of his jeans, wiping some of the sweat and dirt off, readjusted his backpack and began his mantra: Peace, peace, peace.
Once inside the house, Lydia felt relief. Vivian had welcomed her with a firm hug and led her upstairs, giving her the grand tour along the way. It was much the same as she remembered it, rustic and warm. Vivian pointed out the choice of bedrooms; she would have the whole upstairs to herself. The two largest bedrooms were on either end of the house overlooking the lake, divided by a large sitting room in the middle.
She deposited her things in the cheerful yellow bedroom on the south end of the house, instantly feeling at home. She told her aunt as much, suddenly grateful to have been offered this hospitality. Vivian nodded in her perfunctory way and led her back downstairs and out to the covered back porch.
They sat in matching rockers, and she saw that the passage of time had not changed Vivian much. She was still slim, her hair a little more gray now, but still thick and wavy and, as always, on the verge of being out of control.
She felt uncomfortable, not knowing how her aunt felt about her. Even if their relationship was tense, she hoped at least she could make amends for her spiteful, childish behavior all those years ago. She was twenty-eight now. A decade had passed, and she hoped—prayed—that Vivian would forgive her and let bygones be bygones.
They rocked slowly, side by side, facing the lawn that led down to the lake’s edge. It was staying light a little longer now, but at five thirty the sun, barely visible, was already lowering over the lake. The sky was brilliantly lit by lightning strikes in the distance as angry clouds continued to move in. Soon they would have to go inside if the lightning got too close.
“You sure don’t talk as much as you used to,” Vivian said after a few minutes of strained silence.
She smiled slightly at her aunt’s straightforward comment. “I guess I’ve learned to listen a little more than I used to.”
Nodding, Vivian asked, “Is that your way of apologizing?”
She had forgotten how direct and to-t
he-point her aunt could be. Caught off guard, she snorted a laugh. “Yes, Aunt Vi. I am sorry. I’m sorry for a lot of things.”
Vivian nodded again, as if a weight had been lifted. She gave her the old smile, the one that she remembered from her childhood. “Then forget it. I’m sorry, too. I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “That was a terrible day.”
“And it was a long time ago. Let’s start over.”
With that simple statement, she knew her aunt had put the past firmly behind them. She began to rock again as they watched the line of rain approaching from across the lake, like a curtain sweeping forward.
“I wish it could be as easy as that with Mom.”
“Katie loves you. You’re just—”
“I’m just not Brittany?”
Vivian laughed. “No, you’re certainly not Brittany, and thank goodness for that! You’re you, and you are perfect just the way you are. You went through a little rough patch, that’s all. Your mother tends to have a harsh streak sometimes, and I’m afraid you always received the brunt of that.”
“That’s what it still feels like.”
“I always felt sorry for your father and the three husbands who followed,” Vivian continued. “Nothing was ever good enough for Katie.”
“Except Brittany, you mean.”
Vivian shook her head in mock sadness. “Ah, Brittany. Poor girl, smart as a whip in school, but hasn’t got sense enough to get in out of the rain.”
Lydia threw back her head and laughed. That was an apt description of her sister. She relaxed for what felt like the first time in a really long while. Maybe this could be home, at least temporarily. At least until she transitioned herself into a normal life—one without bars around it, both literally and figuratively. She imagined a tiny band-aid attaching itself to her heart and felt a renewal of the love for her aunt who had been such a big part of her childhood.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw a figure approach out of the corner of her eye.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the man called. His sudden appearance on the pathway that led around the house startled both women. He was a big guy, dressed in ripped jeans and a well-worn coat that had seen better days. He carried a large hiker’s pack on his back, and his ball cap couldn’t conceal the shaggy blond hair sticking out from underneath.
“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping forward with his hands up, palms facing outward to show he meant them no harm. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I knocked at the front and there wasn’t an answer.”
“What can I do for you?” asked Vivian.
“I’m hiking cross-country and I’m afraid I don’t know exactly where I am. Looks like we’re in for some bad weather, and I was wondering if I could get directions to the nearest town. I’m running low on supplies.”
“You got a name?”
He shrugged out of his backpack and walked over with an extended hand. “Mike Rodgers.”
She shook his hand. “Vivian Lancaster. Where’re you from, Mike?”
“Up north,” he said vaguely.
“You don’t sound like a Northerner.”
He laughed at her directness. “That’s because I’m from North Carolina, ma’am.”
She nodded. “And where are you headed?”
He shrugged. He’d already had more conversation than he’d had in weeks and he didn’t feel like being grilled. He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. But he could surely understand her curiosity. He knew what he must look like; rough, dirty and unshaven. Thinking about it, he realized he was probably lucky she didn’t pull out the shotgun that he suspected she had handy. She looked the sort to be ready for anything. “Just wherever the path leads,” he finally said, smiling.
“Well, no wonder you’re lost,” she shot back, eliciting a small chuckle from Lydia who had been quietly watching the exchange. “This is my niece, Lydia—”
“Lydia Steadman,” she supplied.
“Ma’am,” he said, tipping his ball cap as he turned his attention to her.
He tipped his hat, for heaven’s sake! she thought, highly amused. She had been sizing him up at her leisure and she thought she had his number. Drop-dead handsome underneath that layer of dirt. Oozing gentlemanly charm. Of course her male attraction meter was spiking off the charts, which meant he could be nothing but trouble.
Uh-uh, no way. Of course I’m attracted, because I’m attracted to every loser within hollering distance, she thought. She’d fallen in love with every charming conman who had given her the time of day and made her feel special. Special for a while, anyway. But those days were over.
She may be attracted—who wouldn’t be, with that shaggy surfer-boy blond hair falling out from under his cap and those dreamy golden-brown eyes? But guys like him had ruined her life and she was immune now to the scruffy bad-boy types that seemed to draw her to them like metal shavings to a magnet.
She realized abruptly that they were staring at each other. “Nice to meet you,” she mumbled, brushing some imaginary dirt from her jeans, feeling her cheeks heat up and hating the fact that she had no control over the way she blushed.
At that moment, fat raindrops began to spit from the sky. “Grab your pack, Mike,” Vivian said, “and come up on the porch out of the rain.”
Without hesitation, he turned on his heel, retrieved his backpack, took three long strides and joined them on the covered porch. Lydia was struck by how easily he moved, like an athlete, arm muscles bulging as he effortlessly picked up the giant backpack as if it weighed nothing.
“How long have you been out hiking?” Vivian asked.
“Two or three weeks.”
“Two or three?”
He shrugged. “Could be more like four, I guess. Turned off my phone, took off my watch, and I’ve just been walking. I haven’t really been keeping up with what day it is.”
She looked the man up and down, and then nodded, seeming to come to a decision. “You look like you could use a shower, Mike,” she said, and Lydia gasped involuntarily at her aunt’s irresponsible offer of hospitality.
He gave an easy laugh. “Sure could, if it wouldn’t be too much to ask.”
She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “Go through that door, down the hall to your right. You’ll find clean towels under the sink.”
“Thanks. I won’t be long.” He unzipped his backpack, fished out a smaller bag and disappeared inside.
Lydia instantly began to whisper-yell at her aunt. “Are you insane? You don’t know this man! He could be an ax-murderer, for all you know. He certainly doesn’t seem exactly normal. Who do you know who just picks up and leaves his life to go hiking a random trail, showing up on people’s doorsteps looking as though he slept in his clothes for weeks?”
Vivian continued rocking, looking at her niece with a depth of calmness that Lydia couldn’t fathom. “Sometimes you’ve just got to trust your instincts.” And a little inside information, she thought.
“Trust your—” Lydia flopped back into her chair, her eyes round with astonishment. “Trust your instincts? Well, we both know I flunked that course in school. You’re the one who told me a long time ago to go ahead and judge a book by its cover! If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck—”
“What are you saying?” Vivian interrupted. “You think he looks like a drug dealer?”
“No, of course that’s not what I’m saying.” The man was filthy, but his physique spoke of a healthy lifestyle. “But something’s not right about him.”
“We’ll see.”
Frustrated, she turned to look out at the rain that now obscured the view of the lake. She couldn’t have been more blind-sided. The Aunt Vi she used to know would have told that handsome homeless stranger to hit the road. “You’ve changed,” she said aloud, speaking up to be heard over the pounding of the rain.
“I’ve mellowed with age. I’m braver now.”
She threw up her hands. “You used
to be more cautious. I don’t think this is a good idea. You’re taking in strays right and left today. First me, then this stranger who—”
As if on cue, a bedraggled collie appeared on the steps in front of them, tail between its legs, head down. It was sneaking peeks as if ashamed to have been caught out in the rain. A boom of thunder sent the dog galloping up the steps where it slid to a stop, trembling at Vivian’s feet.
“Aw, poor fella.” She snatched up the blanket hanging from the back of the rocking chair and began to dry the dog’s wet fur, rubbing vigorously. “Where’d you come from, huh?” The dog squirmed happily under her ministrations. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you, boy! Good boy!”
At that moment the screen door behind them opened and Mike came out, grinning. “Hey, there’s the dog!”
Lydia’s jaw dropped at the transformation. He had changed into a clean pair of jeans and a faded blue chambray shirt. He was freshly shaved and had finger-combed his wet hair back from his face. She had thought him ruggedly handsome before, but now her heartbeat quickened and she suddenly felt the need to go brush her own hair and maybe put on a little makeup.
No, no, no! What was she thinking? She had no judgment when it came to men, and she was done with that chapter in her life. Love had never worked out for her. No matter how strong the attraction, she knew better than to trust herself to choose a good man. As far as she was concerned, there weren’t any good men out there. End of story. Feeling flustered, she asked, “Is that your dog?”
“Not really. He joined me about a week ago, and he comes and goes as he pleases.”
She patted the side of her leg, clicked her tongue, and the dog accepted her invitation after a good shake of wet fur. He put his paws on her knees, quivering with excitement as she ran her hands through his damp fur. “Phew, you stink,” she said, laughing. “Down, boy!” The dog obediently walked to the end of the porch, circled a few times and settled down, making himself at home. He rested his head on his paws and looked serenely out toward the lake.
Cabin by the Lake Page 3
