by Ilsa Ames
Once the worst cases had been resolved and the people were receiving active treatment, I set about starting the cleanup operation of the mountain’s waterways and reservoirs, and I split my time between helping the sick and organizing the massive cleanup operation.
Preston had agreed to discreetly hire some specialist waste and chemical treatment contractors and had paid generously so that any work they undertook would be of the strictest confidentiality. I figured this was to hide his guilt, but as long as the work was being done as agreed, I was content enough.
I had upgraded my computer and set up a satellite internet connection to set up a base of operation in my cabin, where I could monitor everything, keep in touch with the families of the sick and the cleanup contractors, and plan what would need to be done next.
Over the month following Lia’s release, I tried my damn hardest to put her out of mind. I had to, for my own sanity, and to get the job done. But mostly, because if I let myself think too hard or long about what I’d lost, I wasn’t sure my heart would survive. And I had to survive, to finish what I’d started and what I’d sacrificed for up here in the mountains.
But just the same, she came back into my thoughts. Constantly. I’d see a corner of the couch and remember her sprawled there with a book. I’d find a strand of her hair stuck in the soap in my shower. And every little reminder was like a little knife cutting into me.
The cabin seemed cold and empty without her, and I realized that I had in fact been a little lonely in the solitude of my mountain retreat, even though I was content. I told myself that Lia was probably getting on with her life now, this whole bizarre episode almost forgotten, and that even if she did want to come back, there was no way I could jeopardize the progress I’d made by taking her back from her father.
And so I threw myself harder into my work, starting to neglect eating properly and not resting as much as I should. It was easy at first, but it began to take its toll. My face was dark with unshaved stubble, and I had lost a little weight from overwork, lack of food, and stress.
But I carried on, determined. I was driven by my goal of helping the townspeople and would stop at nothing to see out what I’d started.
Lia had emailed me a few times since her release, and I’d neglected to read them for fear of what I might find, and the suppressed emotions that I knew would surface if I did.
But, one evening, after a long day of hard work, I allowed myself a little time to relax, before the inevitable exhausted collapse into my bed, only to rise early to start it all again.
I cracked open a beer, and settled into the couch, almost dozing as soon as I settled down. After a few minutes of enjoying the silence and allowing myself to unwind a little, my mind began to drift back to the time I'd spent with Lia. I imagined her there, laid out on the couch next to me, feet resting on my legs as we talked about the day.
There’s no point ignoring her. You need to face this, Logan. Who knows, maybe she’s moved on. Maybe she was just caught up in the moment and has returned to her old life.
I rose wearily, taking a large gulp of beer to steel myself as I headed for the computer, and opened up my email account.
And there they were, the multitude of emails from Lia. Oh, I’d gotten them. I just hadn’t allowed myself to open them. Because I knew opening them would tear the wound open all over again, making me ache for the woman who meant the world to me that I couldn’t have.
Yes, I wasn’t in jail, and the funds were coming. But I knew Preston, and I knew one sniff of me contacting his daughter could change all that. He was probably eager for it, to be honest. Eager to put me in prison, or in the ground if he really got his way. And that’s why I hadn’t allowed myself to open her emails.
I’d been too worried that I’d never be able to stop myself from responding.
But that night, I broke. I started at the top, and began to read through them slowly, emotion welling within me as I read the words. An image of her began to form in my mind, as clear as the last day I’d saw her, smiling and brushing her hair back over an ear.
She hadn’t moved on.
The first emails were just her asking how I was, how things were going, almost casual. As I read through the most recent emails, her words became a little more concerned and emotional, worrying if I had become sick or if her father had had me arrested after all.
As I thought about her, about how things had worked out, I felt a burning sensation start to build in my chest, rising from my stomach, along with a tensing of my lungs, finding it harder to breathe.
I passed the sensation off as exhaustion, emotion, and a lack of food.
Part of me longed to have her back with me, knowing she’d help me physically and emotionally with everything I was dealing with. But I knew we both had to stay strong. This had always been about the people of the town and taking her back would do the opposite of that. In time, we could find happiness together.
I was too exhausted to cook, I headed to bed, telling myself I’d eat a decent breakfast in the morning before heading out to check on the cleanup contractors, and then onwards into town.
The next morning, I quickly ate a big breakfast before heading out for the day. The list of things I had to do seemed never ending, and I found myself feeling like I was drowning on occasion.
You can do this, Logan. You need to stay strong. For the people, and for your mountain.
I told myself I wasn’t going to dwell on the emails from Lia, as there was very little I could do to get her back without risking everything I’d worked so hard for up until now. If the funds for medical treatment suddenly stopped, most, if not all, of the sick people in town would be no better off than they were before.
No, I had to focus. I had to get this done. I was a man on a mission, and nothing could stop me.
I quickly visited the cleanup contractors who were currently working on a waterway a little further up the mountain from my cabin. They were experts at what they did and were making great progress.
I briefly spoke to the foreman, trying not to disturb the guys for too long because they still had a lot of work to do, and a huge area to cover.
He explained what they were doing, which had started with a cleanup of the reservoir at the top of the mountain. Apparently, it hadn’t been used as a dumping site for what looked like quite a while, and it wasn’t as bad as they were expecting.
They were now flushing the waterways, removing any residue or foreign objects that were likely to still pollute, and where possible, removing dead or dying animals from the waterways and surrounding areas.
He informed me that the chemical scrubbers had already been installed at the town’s water treatment plant and reservoir, so the risk of any further pollution entering into the town’s drinking water was now very low, probably lower now than most other towns.
His team would continue to clean the area over the next few months, and then take samples at various locations to check the pollution levels, which he expected by then to be almost unnoticeable.
I took him discreetly to one side to ask him if he would be able to monitor the area in the months, maybe even a year or two after their initial work had finished, just to make sure the pollution didn’t worsen, or to quickly detect if anyone started dumping chemical again.
We agreed that I would pay for the work, and it would be a private contract I would pay for myself. The foreman told me he would be bound by confidentiality and would take the samples himself. I thanked him and agreed to meet him to discuss the terms of our contract in the following few weeks.
I felt more positive as I drove to town, the worries and stress fading a little, my morale boosted by the progress the cleanup team were making on the mountain. I was nearing the end now, and just had to stay focused.
I stopped in on a few of the sick townsfolk to check progress, and to ensure they had everything they needed, and all medical bills were accounted for. I tried to check on everyone at least once a week, sometimes more for the more s
ick, young, and elderly.
It was getting late by the time I’d almost finished my rounds, but I figured I had time for one more visit.
I’d known James O’Brien for as long as I could remember, and he’d been one of my few friends at school other than Dan. But unlike Dan and I, James had stayed away from the drugs and the lifestyle we chose, and had been an honest, hardworking family man, with a loving wife and two kids.
Him and his wife had both fallen sick almost a year ago, and he had been unable to work for a few months now. I’d taken him in to the hospital for treatment, and he was making remarkable progress.
When I’d first heard he was unable to work, I’d visited him to offer him some money to cover bills and food, just until he got better. He was a proud man, and stubbornly refused at first, but I’d finally managed to convince him I just wanted to help his family. I visited him often to help settle the bills, and to go shopping for necessities for him and his family.
Now, he was almost well enough to return to work. His eyes had lost the glazed sheen he’d had when he was sick, and he was returning to his old self. Damn, the guy had been sick for almost a year, but two months of treatment paid for by Preston’s funds had him right as rain.
That was why all of this was so important. Because it wasn’t too late for a lot of these people, so long as they got the help they needed.
I settled the most recently, and hopefully final, medical bill, now that James and his wife were almost fully recovered, and headed off on my way, promising to visit again soon.
It was when I returned to the cabin that I collapsed. Instead of landing on my feet as I jumped from the truck, my legs collapsed under me and I hit the ground face first, hard.
I groaned, laying there for a while, confused and slightly dazed.
Fuck, this isn’t good.
I managed to roll over, but I knew something was very damn wrong. I winced, pulling myself off the ground by clinging to the side of the truck before shuffling inside my cabin.
I brushed the collapse off as tiredness and made myself a quick dinner before showering and heading to bed.
I’m going to see this through. Even if it kills me, I’m going to damn well see this through. I’m not gonna stop until the town is well again.
As usual—as with every single damn night since she’d been ripped from my world, it was thoughts of Lia that swam through my head as sleep pulled me under.
Chapter Fourteen
Lia
As the weeks turned into months, I fell into a deep depression. Every day was the same, endless moping and thinking blending into unending misery. In my worst moments, I wondered whether Logan had used me all along.
I would think back to the way he looked at me, the way he’d touched me—surely, he couldn’t have faked that? The emotions seemed so raw and real at the time. Sure, it had been an unusual situation, and sure, it would have been easier for him to get what he wanted by having me sympathetic to his cause, but I just didn’t believe that Logan could be so callous as to fake his feelings for me, just to make it easier to get what he wanted from my dad.
I’d never felt so strongly for a man before, but I’d also led a very sheltered life. I had very little experience of true love, or of serious relationships. Perhaps I was being naïve. Maybe Logan had gotten what he wanted, and now he was done with me for good.
But then I’d remember the way he’d looked at me as I’d been leaving. No, he wasn’t like my father. He was better than that. I just needed to find a way to get to him, to let him know how I truly felt. In my heart of hearts, I knew he felt the same. He was just loyal to his people, and desperate to make things right. He didn’t want to jeopardize that for his own happiness.
I comforted myself with that thought and prayed to myself that it was true. It had to be, or I had no hope remaining at all.
I was desperate to tell Logan about our baby. It was getting almost impossible to hide my pregnancy from the people around me. I’d basically become a hermit, only leaving my room for the occasional walk when I knew my father was out of the house. My food was brought to me, and I did gentle exercise in my rooms.
After our encounter over dinner that one evening, dad seemed to want as little to do with me as I did him. Sometimes he would knock on the door to my rooms and ask me to come down for dinner, but I would always steadfastly ignore him. The very thought of spending time with him made bile rise up in my throat.
I continued to send emails to Logan, almost every day. The only reason I didn’t stop was because I knew he was reading them. My email service sent me notifications every time an email was read—he read every single one, usually very soon after they were sent.
So why didn’t he reply? Why was he torturing me like this? A simple one-word reply would have meant the world to me. Just to know that he cared. To know that he remembered me.
I ached for him to know about our baby. I’d written the words so many times, my finger hovering over the Send button, only to delete them. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Until, finally, one of my darkest and loneliest days, I finally worked up the courage to tell him.
I know you’ve been reading these emails. I don’t know why you haven’t been replying, but I know it must be for a good reason. I still have hope—I still know we’ll be together one day.
There’s something I’ve been keeping from you. I’ve tried to send it in one of my emails so many times, but every time I delete it. I don’t really know how to say it any other way, so here it is.
I’m pregnant. The baby is yours. I want us to raise it together.
All My Love,
L
I was shaking, adrenaline coursing through my veins when I clicked Send. I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, but I couldn’t keep it inside any longer. He wouldn’t reply, for the same reason he had never replied—the contract. He didn’t want to risk the wellbeing of his town. I wanted to resent those people, that place. They were keeping us apart. But they weren’t, not really. My father was.
And besides, I could still clearly recall the dead trees and the barren land. The photographs of the people and their awful sicknesses. What Logan was doing was noble and right. I just needed to be strong and find a way out of this mess.
A few days went by after I sent him the note about the pregnancy.
…I still didn’t hear from him.
That cloud followed me like a shroud and I walked the gardens. I’d somehow managed to escape my ever-present bodyguard—my father was away for a few days, and the poor guy had probably snuck off for a coffee or something. It must have been exhausting, spending all his time standing around and doing literally nothing, watching me mope and pine.
It was freeing, anyway, having a little time to myself and at that thought, I suddenly felt desperately sad and lonely. Had it come to this, that even a few minutes by myself, away from prying eyes, now felt freeing? Even when I’d been a literal prisoner, up in Logan’s cabin, it hadn’t felt as claustrophobic as now.
I tried not to dwell on things and mope, because I’d had more than enough of that and it wasn’t doing me, or my baby, any good at all. I needed to stay positive and upbeat, and work towards finding a way out of this new prison I found myself in.
I walked past the pool and sat for a while, dangling my feet in the cool water. I used to swim every single day, but I hadn’t dared for a long time now. My baggy clothes could hide all sorts of lumps and bumps, but as soon as I put a swimsuit on, the game would be up. My belly was big enough now that anybody who saw would immediately know I was pregnant.
The late summer sun was warm enough that I was tempted to pull off my baggy sweatshirt for a little while. I snuck a few glances around, and once I was sure that nobody was around, I took it off. Looking down, the swell of my baby bump through my tank-top was more obvious than ever, and I swallowed nervously.
Just relax. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Make the most of this little time you’ve got
alone.
I lay back, listening to the gentle lapping of the water in the pool, and wondered what Logan was up to at that moment? Was he out in the woods, planting new trees? Or was he driving down a mountain path, on his way to visit someone from his community, maybe to take them to a hospital appointment? Or maybe he was just doing what I was—taking some time for himself.
…Was he thinking of me?
I hadn’t been brave enough yet to check if he’d seen my latest email, the one telling him about our baby. I knew I hadn’t gotten a response yet, but seeing if he’d read it and just not responded to even that was more than I could handle. Maybe I would at some point, but not yet. If he’d read it, and still didn’t get in touch, that was the end of the line. I’d know that I was on my own.
I must have dozed for a little while in the warm sun, because I suddenly came to as the sun was setting, the sky lit orange. My feet were still in the water, cold now, and the air was a little chilly. I sat up, looking around for my sweater.
It was gone.
I double checked, but I knew I’d left it right there next to me. A chill sense of dread came over me; someone had come and taken it. And if they’d taken the sweater, they’d seen my belly. They’d know I was pregnant.
I stood and looked around, panic rising. There wasn’t anyone around, but dad’s gleaming black hummer sat in the drive. For a wild moment I considered just making a run for it, but it would never work. I didn’t have any clothes, and even though I had money sitting in an account from my mother, it’s not like I could just show up at a bank without ID or paperwork and demand it. And besides, the gates were locked and Andy, the gate guard, would undoubtedly be at his post.
There was nothing for it. I would just have to face the music.
