Vivian put her hands on her hips and rocked back on her heels. “Well, seems like you’ve developed some taste in men since I last saw you.”
“I sincerely hope so,” she agreed. “Once I dated this guy who was very computer-savvy, smart, and he talked about getting married and moving to Silicon Valley. I was on the verge of falling in love with him until I discovered he actually lived in his mother’s basement and played video games every night till dawn. Then recently I dated this doctor for a few months, and I found out just before I moved here that he wasn’t a doctor at all. He turned out to be a pizza delivery guy with delusions of grandeur after taking a CPR class. My track record goes on, and the list doesn’t get any better.”
“Keep looking. You know,” Vivian said, leaning over the table, “sometimes you can’t judge a book by its cover.”
She smiled. “That’s not what you told me before.”
Vivian set the roast on the table. “Yeah, well, I’ve been known to mess up a cliché a time or two.”
“Am I interrupting something?” Mike said, coming through the kitchen door.
“You’re just in time,” said Vivian.
“I could get used to this home cooking,” he said, and Vivian looked so pleased at the compliment.
Lydia hoped that whatever Mike was hiding, it didn’t have anything to do with her aunt. She didn’t want to see her get hurt. She was still suspicious, but it was becoming harder and harder to picture him in the role of predator.
“It was nice meeting Dugger,” she said as they began to eat. “You’ve known him a long time, I take it?”
“Yes, we went to school together,” said Vivian. “Pass the tea, please.”
“He seems nice,” Lydia probed, glancing at Mike.
“Yes,” he agreed, reluctantly joining the impending interrogation. “You two seemed to, um, be enjoying yourselves.”
Vivian put down her fork. “Yes, I wanted to explain that,” she said, obviously uncomfortable.
Lydia held up her hand. “No explanation necessary, Aunt Vi. I think it’s wonderful that you’re moving on.”
“Moving on?” Vivian looked shocked. “Who said anything about moving on? I just… we… let’s change the subject,” she finished firmly. “How are things at the cabin?” she asked, turning to Mike.
“Good,” he replied, clearly relieved to move to a more neutral subject. “That cabin is a gem. I was thinking, why don’t you do a complete remodel and rent it out? Someone would love to live there.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” she said, clearly intrigued with the notion. “Todd and I occasionally used it as a guest house. But since we never had any children, and this house was so large, the cabin was almost never used. The last time was that family reunion about fifteen years ago, Lydia, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember,” she said, her face lighting up. “All the cousins stayed in the cabin and we had a ball. No parental supervision, skinny dipping at midnight, bonfires by the lake.”
“Skinny dipping?” Mike said with a humorous lift of his brows.
She laughed. “Truthfully, we thought swimming in our underwear counted as skinny dipping and we thought we were being pretty dadgum adventurous, I can tell you!” She pushed back her plate, looking dreamily at the ceiling. “Those were the good old days, right, Aunt Vi?”
“They sure were.”
“We took your old albums over there and blasted The Beach Boys day and night. I haven’t been in that cabin since. I’d love to see it again.”
Mike shoved the last bite in his mouth and abruptly scooted back his chair. “Then let’s go!” He held out his elbow as if to escort her.
That’s so goofy, she thought, but she liked it. She grabbed his arm and they practically ran out the door, Lydia babbling on about the old days and Mike loving every minute of it.
The cabin was small with a porch that ran around the perimeter. The main room consisted of an open kitchen to the left and a spacious living area with a fireplace to the right. A staircase tucked into the left corner led upstairs to the second floor. A master bedroom took up one end of the upstairs with a large bunk room on the other, and a tiny bathroom sat in the middle. Beside the bathroom was a door that opened out onto a small upper deck. Simple, rugged, and much like she remembered it, only it seemed smaller now that she saw it through adult eyes. She and Mike stood on the deck overlooking the lake.
“I had forgotten how beautiful this place is,” she said. “This is a little piece of heaven right here.”
“I agree. And whoever built this did quality work. This is mid-century craftsmanship. I’ve been studying it, and I don’t think it would take much to bring this up to code.”
She loved the animation in Mike’s face as he talked about what needed to be done to the cabin. He seemed to know what he was talking about and his enthusiasm was catching. She noticed that his light brown eyes took on a golden tint when he was excited. She liked the deep crinkles that formed around his eyes when he smiled. She admired the way his hands gripped the railing on their way back downstairs, how he seemed to be testing its strength and feeling for the life left in the wood.
In fact, she found that she liked just about everything about him. Sure, he was scruffy—in a good way. Her mother would say he needed a haircut, but she rather enjoyed the way his hair fell in messy locks across his forehead. She kind of wanted to run her fingers through it.
No, no, no! Mike had secrets. He was obviously an unemployed drifter, catching odd jobs when he needed money. She hadn’t seen any unacceptable behavior in him, anything that would bode ill for Aunt Vi. So far. She hadn’t seen any signs of drug use. She hadn’t seen him smoke. She hadn’t heard him curse once. She couldn’t find one single thing wrong with him. And that, in itself, was suspicious. Nobody was that perfect!
She forced herself to tune in to what he was saying about the mantel.
“Solid oak, hand hewn, it’s really a work of art.”
She ran her hand across the surface. “And what do you think about the river rock surround? A little dated, maybe?”
“I think we should keep it,” he replied.
We?
“We don’t want to mess with the integrity of the style. It’s rustic and true to the era, and really, some things just need to be left alone.”
“What about the kitchen?”
“If I had my way, I’d do a total gut job,” he said, moving across the cabin to the other side. “New cabinets. Or if Vivian doesn’t have the money, they can be sanded and painted. Get rid of this peninsula and replace it with an island and bar stool seating. We can probably get three stools here and still have room to keep the table and chairs.”
“Lots of memories around this table,” she said. “Many hands of Uno were played here, when the adults were around, and many hands of poker when they weren’t. Just another one of our oh-so-naughty attempts at being bad. As you can see,” she laughed, “the depth of our badness was not very sophisticated.”
“Sounds like fun,” he said, smiling. “We could refinish the table and chairs, as well as the bedroom furniture upstairs, and it will be beautiful. It was all well made and is still relevant.”
There was that we again. But she couldn’t help being caught up in his vision. “Yes, I can see it. What do you think about granite countertops?”
“I was thinking concrete. It’s less expensive and I think it would bring in a modern, almost industrial aspect that would still be in keeping with the rustic feel of the place.”
“Concrete? That sounds awful.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking of a sidewalk, rough and ugly.”
He laughed. “No, it’s not like that. It’s poured into a mold to fit your counter space. They mix in dye, so it can be any color you want. When it’s done, it’s smooth and sleek and shiny, or whatever look you want.”
“Oooo, I might like that idea,” she said. “Then we replace the appliances, and the kit
chen is done. The rest really just needs a little elbow grease and it will be beautiful! I think Aunt Vi could easily rent this place out and have some extra income.”
She leaned her elbows on the kitchen peninsula and rested her chin in her hands, smiling. “You have really good ideas, Mike Rodgers.” She still doubted that was his real name, but she was beginning to like it. She hoped his real name wasn’t Cecil or Fred.
“Thanks, Lydia Steadman,” he said, returning her smile, inordinately pleased at her approval.
Unaware that his thoughts were running along the same lines as Lydia’s, it occurred to him that she might be living under an alias. His online searches had yet to yield any trace of her. Nowadays it’s difficult to live your life without showing up on the Internet. He had resources at his disposal to easily investigate her past, but he felt strongly that prying into her personal life for the sole reason of satisfying his curiosity would end badly. And he thought that he might not want this new relationship with Lydia to end at all.
Did they even have a relationship? He felt as if he might be in danger of getting in over his head.
He found a lot of humor in the fact that she evidently suspected that he may have some shady intentions toward her aunt. He admired her protective instinct, but she was completely wrong. He did quickly fall for Vivian. She seemed like the mother he never had. That woman had him pegged from the get-go. Vivian had confronted him in her no-nonsense way; they came to terms with the situation, and accepted each other as-is. He found it extremely refreshing to be taken in at face value and made to feel so quickly a part of Vivian’s life—the kind of acceptance he’d only imagined.
Lydia waved her hand in front of his face. “Earth to Mike.”
“Sorry, I got distracted. What were you saying?”
“What do you think about that bathroom upstairs?” she repeated, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
“Gut job,” they both said in unison, laughing.
“I’ll run some numbers and see what it would take for the renovation, but I’m thinking the majority of the cost would be labor, and I can take care of that.”
She stood up straight and crossed her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “What’s in it for you, Mike?” she asked directly. She hated feeling suspicious, but things just didn’t add up.
He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I honestly don’t know, Lydia. I’m still trying to figure things out.”
She was stunned at the sincerity she saw in his eyes. He looked sad and lost and she had the sudden impulse to take him in her arms and comfort him. Why the sadness? she wondered.
He shrugged, and chose his words carefully. “I find myself at loose ends right now; sort of at a crossroads in my life, if you will.”
“Why?” she persisted.
“Let’s just say I’m reassessing the direction in which I was heading. I’m rethinking all the things that I thought were important in my life.”
“Such as?”
“Such as, well, the people in my life. And the value of money and how much it has to do with true happiness.”
She impulsively reached out and touched his hand. “Do you need money, Mike?” she asked gently.
He enclosed her small hand in his. What a naïve, sweet person she was! He felt his heart swell at her kind inquiry. He seriously doubted that she had more than a couple hundred dollars to her name, and yet she seemed about to offer him a loan. “Nah, I’m low maintenance,” he said in a joking tone.
The feel of his hand around hers made her heart race. His touch felt good, solid, protective. She didn’t know what he was going through, but she felt that, whatever it was, he was someone she could trust. She wanted to trust him so badly. She knew she couldn’t count on her judgment—the past was ample proof of that—but every fiber of her being felt drawn to him.
“It appears so,” she said, nodding toward his bedroll leaning against the wall. “That’s about as low maintenance as you can get.”
He laughed easily, shaking off his dark thoughts. He seemed to suddenly notice that his hand still covered hers and gave it a final pat. “It was either the sleeping bag on the floor or that couch.” He grimaced at the dusty, floral sofa in front of the fireplace.
“Sound judgment,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a cozy little mouse nest tucked under those cushions.”
“Right. But I’m sleeping well at night—clear conscience and all that.” He grinned. “Let’s take a look at the porch.”
She reluctantly followed him out the front door. She felt that she’d lost a chance at something, that a moment was gone that could have made a difference somehow. Some important opportunity had been missed.
Outside they examined the railing on the porch and the crosshatch of sticks that formed an intricate pattern beneath. “Lots of these will have to be replaced, but we have plenty of material to choose from,” he said with a wave of his hand, indicating the many surrounding trees. “Whoever built this had patience.”
Suddenly she remembered something. “Wait, come back in, I’ve got to show you something.”
He followed her back inside to the fireplace.
She knelt to the right of it and pressed on a floorboard next to the hearth. The other end of the board flipped up. “Ha!” she shouted triumphantly, moving aside to make room for him.
“Wow! That’s incredible!”
“I know, right? My cousins and I discovered this secret hiding place, and we left notes to each other. And look, here’s some things left from way back then!”
He examined the space. “This was obviously meant to be here. I mean, it’s not just an accidental loose floorboard. How did you discover it?”
“We were playing Twister,” she said, laughing. “You know, left foot, red. I stepped on it, the board flipped up, and there it was.”
“Was there anything in it?”
“Yes, I hope it’s still in here.” She reached in and pulled out a small pile of papers. “Here’s some of our stuff. We began to leave messages for each other. You know, ‘Steal Aunt Trudy’s glasses for fifteen points.’ ‘Get Uncle Vick’s size XXXL underwear and run it up the flagpole, fifty points.’ Stuff like that. It became a sort of scavenger hunt thing that we went berserk with.”
He fell back on his heels laughing. “Let’s see!”
She handed him the first note and then unfolded the next one in the stack. She eagerly scanned the writing, and then looked up, sadness on her face. She read: “Meet here every Fourth of July.”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know about the rest of them, but for me, my mom was having husband problems the next summer and my sister was heavy into the beauty pageant circuit the next year. Sometimes you just get swept along in other people’s lives and don’t even know it, I guess.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
“You do?”
He nodded, but motioned for her to continue. “What else?”
“Oh, here it is,” she said, sliding an old envelope from the bottom of the stack. “It was a love note we found. Here, look.” She read:
Liz,
Wait for me, my darling. If the gods allow, we’ll be together again soon.
Love forever, Malcolm.
She clutched the letter to her chest and sighed dreamily.
“Do you know who they were?”
“Yes, we asked Uncle Todd. He said Malcolm and Elizabeth—I think their name was Moore—were the people who built the house and cabin. He and Aunt Vi bought the property from Mr. Moore’s children after he died. Apparently Liz died first, and Malcolm moved to some assisted living place until his death. We assumed he wrote this to Liz after she died, and left it here, hidden in the cabin. It was just such a sad, romantic notion; I always like to think they’re together now forever.”
“Wow. That’s really a beautiful story.”
“Yes,” she agreed,
carefully replacing all the papers. “I’ll just leave everything as I found it. It’s sort of like a time capsule. It makes me happy and sad, all at the same time, though.”
He looked thoughtfully around the room. “I’m thinking Malcolm and Liz probably bought the land and built this cabin first. Then, when their family grew, they built the main house.”
“I guess. That makes sense.”
“Come on,” he said impulsively, grabbing her hand and pulling her up from the floor.
“Where are we going?” He led her out of the cabin and through the underbrush to the shore.
“Ta-da!” he said with a wave of his hand. “Care for a bonfire by the lake?” She saw that logs were piled teepee style with kindling beneath, all set to go. This guy was a regular Boy Scout!
“Sure,” she said. “That’s a great idea.”
Night had softly fallen, as only a Southern spring night could. Stars were beginning to shine in the cloudless sky. A little chill was in the air. As he touched a match to the kindling, she was warmed by the sudden whomph! of the fire going up, as much as she was by the feel of Mike pulling her down onto the shore beside him.
She was aware of a heightened sense of seclusion. She felt as if she and Mike were the only two people left on the whole earth. Careful, she cautioned herself. But suddenly she didn’t care. The evening was perfect. It seemed magical somehow, and she made up her mind to live in the moment, free—for once—from fear and regrets.
Chapter 8
“Let’s play Twenty Questions,” Lydia said.
Mike threw another log on the fire and narrowed his eyes. “Am I supposed to think of a person, place or thing?”
“No,” she said, laughing. “It’s a thinly veiled attempt to get information from you.”
“Fire away.” He stretched out his long legs and leaned back on his elbows.
“Okay. Do you have any siblings?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“One of each?”
Cabin by the Lake Page 8
