by Vivien Vale
Margot
I wish I could cuddle with Amelia right now.
Whenever I’ve had a long day, or been through a lot of stress, she’s my rock. I hold her tightly in my arms, and we sit on the sofa watching her favorite television shows or her favorite Disney movies. The sound of her laugh calms me down. Eventually, we fall asleep together, and it’s the most peaceful sleep I could ever get.
But she’s busy.
I watch her as she plays with Crockett. I had always just assumed that racoons were little feral creatures, rummaging around in the trash and eating whatever they could find. But Crockett seems to act just like a little dog, or a puppy.
Amelia’s always loved animals, and clearly, he adores her as much as she loves him already. Part of me is glad that Boone isn’t completely alone out here.
A cabin this far from the city, or even the town, is a beautiful place for a retreat. But to live out here—in the middle of nowhere—permanently, sounds very isolating.
I can’t tell if Boone is happy for our company or resents our intrusion into his loneliness.
Now that I’m sure Amelia is safe and taken care of, I go to the bathroom to freshen up. After that, I’ll go look for Boone—he went back outside, probably to prepare the fish that he’d caught and offered to serve to us for lunch.
He might not be happy for the company, but I’m drawn to him.
I can feel every nerve in my body longing to be closer, my muscles all want to reach out and narrow the distance between us. I’m not totally certain how much longer I can resist my primal instincts.
I can still remember the last time Boone and I were together.
The raw emotion, desire, romance…
Now he’s standing right in front of me again, and who could blame me for wanting all that again?
My father, probably. Boone’s father—definitely.
But even though I want it, Boone might not. Or even more likely, it wouldn’t be the best thing for Amelia. Her life has been uncomplicated so far—I haven’t been with another man since Boone, so she’s never had to adjust to having strange men come and go from our house. To spring that on her now and to reveal that this man is her father…
No four year old should have to understand something that huge.
I turn the corner to find Boone in the kitchen with his back to me.
He stands over the counter, descaling the fish he’d caught earlier. His camouflage shirt hangs over the back of a chair, drying in the sunlight after standing in the river earlier. Boone’s skin still glistens slightly as the last drops of river water cling determinedly to the hairs on his arms and over his shoulders.
The muscles of his back shift and move each time he rakes the shimmering steel fillet knife across the body of the fish. I cast one last glance back to Amelia and Crockett—who are as thick as thieves, clearly—before I walk into his field of vision.
Boone looks up at me. His dark eyes pierce mine, but he says nothing. I feel the lingering gaze as it draws over my body. Every time he looks at me like that, I feel as though I’m standing in front of him naked and totally exposed.
It’s an exhilarating, and yet terrifying prospect.
I used to be able to trust Boone with everything. Seeing him again reminds me of how much I’ve missed having that connection with another person. But I hurt him all those years ago, and things are different now.
I wonder if he’ll ever give me that second chance.
“Thank you so much, for taking care of Amelia, Boone.” I say finally. “Where’d you learn to do a splint like that?”
Boone nods slightly and is quiet for a moment. He always liked to think before he spoke—and he only ever spoke when he had to.
“It’s just a skill I picked up,” he mumbles eventually. “Looks like you’ve finally gotten into photography.”
Of course, Boone places the focus of the conversation back to me, asking me questions that will make me open up. He’s always been the kind of man who cared about others over himself. But I know that he’ll open up in time, if we stay here long enough.
With the rock slide still blocking the road, it’s likely that we would be.
“Yeah, I had heard rumors that there was some stunning natural beauty to be found out here, and I wanted to see for myself,” I explain.
Boone nods again—of course he knows that there’s beauty out here.
He gets to live here all year round.
“How long have you been making art?”
It’s not an unusual question, but it takes me by surprise. I’ve been pursuing photography since college. But I can’t mention college without having to explain everything. If I do that, I run the risk of breaking Boone’s heart all over again.
“I dropped out of college to pursue it. Not long after I transferred,” I say gently, moving around him.
Boone seems unshaken by the mention of our college years.
“It was hard at first, but I’ve got a little gallery in the city. Even if I didn’t make any money, I’d still be happy with it.”
He continues preparing the fish—delicately taking the time to debone the fillets. I’m amazed that such large, strong hands can do such precise work without tearing up the fillet. But you can see that Boone really cares about what he is doing, and that he puts a lot of effort into his food.
“It would be difficult to support a daughter with no money,” Boone says quietly, and I feel my heart leap.
Every time he mentions Amelia, I’m set back on edge.
“Can you pass me lemons from the fridge?”
I do as he asks. He pulls out a cast iron pan from the cupboards and picks some fresh rosemary from the herb garden on the windowsill. I hand Boone the lemons, and, as our fingers brush, I smell the fresh scent of the herb on my skin.
“What about you? How was Wall Street?”
Boone grunts. I never expected him to enjoy working in an office, wearing a three-piece suit and tie every day (though it did suit him.) Out here in the woods, that’s where I would have pictured him being most comfortable, but, back in college, he still wanted to impress his dad.
“Did you continue volunteering with the fire department?”
Boone pauses for a moment, before grunting in affirmation and nodding his head. I’m relieved—I know how much the brotherhood of the fire department meant to him, and so the fact that he kept that after college is reassuring.
I wonder for a moment, however, what’s changed now. There seems to be no need for a fire department in the wilderness. I know Boone would never have given up being a firefighter and saving people’s lives, unless he felt like he had no other choice but to go.
I want to ask him about it, but then he speaks.
“Does Amelia have allergies?” he asks, turning on the stove and silently cooking.
If I had been honest from the start, and Boone had been there from her birth, he would know that she didn’t. But I can sense what he’s doing—he’s trying to get to know her, like a real father would.
“No, she’ll eat anything you put in front of her.”
“A bit like her mother.” Boone smirks, and cuts into the lemon. The burst of citrus fills the air, and the kitchen begins to smell divine.
“A bit.”
There’s a moment of silence, and tension builds.
I want to say something and break it, but Boone beats me to it.
“How old is she?”
“She’s four,” I say with as much confidence as I can manage.
I watch as Boone continues to pause—he’s mentally doing the math.
Finally, he takes a deep breath, and nods his head.
He knows.
“She looks a lot like you,” he says, throwing butter and the fish into the pan.
I want to tell him that I think she reminds me more of him—her eyes, her unwavering spirit, her love for all creatures, and her joy in helping others.
But I can’t.
So I stay silent for a moment, turning my
gaze and watching Crockett and Amelia play. You’d never have known she’d broken her leg until you saw the splint.
“I really mean it, Boone. Thanks for everything.”
He grunts, shrugging off my gratitude to try and show me that he doesn’t do it to be thanked.
“But Amelia and I should probably get going after lunch. We should head to the ER and have her checked over by a doctor.”
Boone turns to look at me again, as he takes the slices of lemon in his hands and then layers them over the fish.
“I don’t think that’ll happen, Margot,” he says calmly.
If anyone else had said that to me, I’d suspect them of foul play, but Boone seems genuinely regretful that we won’t be able to leave.
“The rockslide blocked the main road. It’s the weekend, and there’s not many people about…You’ll both be stuck here until Monday.” He pauses to think. “At the earliest.”
My jaw hits the floor, and I look back at my daughter.
If I have to spend a whole weekend around Boone, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself. The love I had for him five years ago never really went away, and I can feel it slowly bubbling back up in my heart and filling my chest.
If I stay, I’m scared that I’ll get hurt.
I can’t stay. I need to convince him that I can’t stay, even if I have to fight him.
Boone
I can see the wheels turning in her head. Her mouth slowly closes. She breathes in and out like she’s meditating on how to piss me off next.
Taking her cue, I mimic her.
We both need to calm the fuck down.
But the idea of her out there, trying to clear the debris herself, makes my blood boil.
“I can’t stay.” Her adamant tone lets me know I’m in for a fight.
“What do you mean you can’t stay?” She’s going to drive me fucking crazy. “You don’t have a choice.”
I keep my voice final and level, but she’s being fucking ridiculous. It’s going to take more than manual labor to clear the road, and she should know it.
“I have places to be. Amelia needs to get checked out. I just can’t stay.” Her voice is rising in pitch, and she’s giving up on any semblance of remaining calm.
I don’t understand what the big deal is. Doesn’t she realize how lucky she is that they even survived?
If I wasn’t around…I can’t even think of that.
But that’s Margot for you. She’s never seemed to realize just how lucky she’s always been. When I pulled her from that fire all those years ago, she could’ve easily died then and there.
Considering her incredible ability for getting herself into trouble, it’s amazing that she’s lasted as long as she has. What did she ever do without me?
“It’s not a big deal. I don’t mind you guys staying here—if that’s what you’re worried about.”
A few more mouths to feed and a little shuffling in the sleeping arrangements. That’s all it will take. We can work it out.
“I’ll go out and check the road. Maybe it’s not that bad.”
I stare at her like she’s crazy—because that’s what this is.
Of course it’s that bad. We saw it. Why is she being so willfully naïve?
“We’re both strong. We could shuffle it a bit so that we can get through. You moved those other rocks before.”
I can tell she’s trying to stay calm as she says this. But her closed fists and red face give away her emotions and the strain it is taking for her to remain calm.
The furrow in her brow is exactly how I remember it. Only I remember thinking it was so cute. It’s not looking very cute right now.
“Landslides are dangerous. This isn’t something either one of us should be fucking around with.” Shit, I hope that wasn’t too loud. But Amelia still seems oblivious to the conflict we’re having in the kitchen.
But when Margot turns and heads for the door, my own anger gets the best of me.
In two steps, I catch and grab her arm. Pivoting her towards me, I can’t help but vent.
“It’s dangerous, Margot.”
So is being this close to her. Her upturned face, full of anger, turns me on more than I’m willing to admit.
All these years, I’ve thought and dreamt of her. Her face filled with passion, just like it is now.
Concentrate, fuckhead. It doesn’t matter how beautiful or passionate she is. Not while she’s being an idiot.
“You don’t own me, Boone. Just because you saved me—”
“You think that’s what this is about? Owning you? Fuck, Margot. If you go out on this harebrained fucking mission of yours, I’m going to have to save you all over again!”
She can’t be this obtuse. Her eyes are wide and innocent. She’s acting like a child, so I’ll have to treat her like one.
“This landslide might only be the beginning. The same rocks that shifted down that mountain can shift again. We can’t just go out there and start shuffling things around.” My own voice is as loud as hers.
“Wouldn’t that have happened already?” She’s really yelling now. Instead of pulling away, she’s leaning in, and we’re practically nose to nose, going at it.
This isn’t anything new. We’ve had these moments before, and it’s always hot. I just want to take her lips in a scorching kiss and give her a damn good reason not to go outside.
But on the flipside, I’m furious at her. How can she be so selfish? She doesn’t have just herself to think about anymore.
“No!” Leaning in, I make myself eye level to get my point across. “That slide out there might only be one of many around this area. And I’ll be goddamn sure that you are not out there with our daughter driving around making yourself a target.”
I realize my mistake as she stiffens. A look of defeat crosses her face as her eyes tear up.
Fuck.
Never in all of my wildest imaginings had I ever thought that we would get into a yelling match when we saw each other again. Especially not in front of our kid.
And that’s the proverbial icing on the cake, isn’t it?
She knows I know. And as tears start to roll down her cheeks, we both realize Amelia has tuned in.
Her cries can be heard in the next room, and Margot pulls away and furtively starts wiping her cheeks.
“I’m coming, honey!” Her singsong voice holds no trace of her scattered emotion.
How does she do that?
I’m breathing hard and don’t trust myself to speak. There aren’t many people that can whip me up into a frenzy this way. But the thought of her going off and getting herself hurt—her and heaven forbid the daughter I just found out I have—drives me insane.
She’s so headstrong and always did think she knew best. But this is one situation where I know I’m the expert. If I have to tie her to a chair—or a bed—to keep her from going out and getting herself killed, I will.
Avoiding eye contact, she scurries from the room.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Her low murmurs drift towards me as I stand paralyzed in place.
“What are you guys fighting about?” Amelia’s high-pitched question reaches my ears, even though she’s whispering.
“We aren’t fighting. We just don’t agree. Sometimes adults don’t always have the same opinion.” Margot’s pacifying tone is impressive. Considering how we were just going at each other’s throats two minutes ago, that woman has some fucking talent.
And that’s another thing. Another thing that she’s taken from me.
I could be the one soothing our daughter.
I could be the one explaining away our argument.
There’s so much I have missed. And now she knows I know.
It’s no wonder she took off out of here like a bat out of hell.
Tilting my head back, I take a few deep breaths and force myself to relax. Rolling my shoulders, I shake out my hands and turn around to go back to my fish prep.
It needs a little more work, and n
ow that I know I don’t have to chase Margot down, I can relax a little.
At least I can count on Amelia keeping her around.
Margot’s soft voice and Amelia’s high-pitched giggle drone in the background as I finish cleaning the fish.
I realize the voices have stopped as I see Margot’s feet come into view.
“I need to make a phone call and make sure everyone knows we’re okay.” Her voice is soft and hesitant, and when I look at her, she still can’t make eye contact.
That’s just fucking brilliant. We’re in a tiny cabin and stuck with each other for at least a few days.
I need to make this right.
Even though it’s not my doing, I know causing battles now will keep me from being involved in either of their lives. That is not an option.
“Let me just wash my hands, and I’ll keep her company.” Turning on the tap, I lather soap under the warm stream. “I didn’t mean to make you angry. It’s just that the thought of you in danger again really stresses me out.”
Shutting off the tap, I turned to face Margot. “Let’s plan on talking about all this later. Okay?”
“Okay.” Her eyes finally lift to meet mine. The resignation on her face makes me pause.
Did she really think I would be that bad of a father?
“I’ll just be a few minutes.” Her parting words are loud and obviously meant for both Amelia and me.
“Stay close to the cabin,” I can’t help adding. I want to add and stay in sight, but I don’t think that will go over very well.
Starting my low chirping whistle, I call for Crockett as I move into the living room.
Less than ten seconds later, he scurries in, just as I settle on the far end of the couch next to Amelia.
As Crockett hops up and puts both his front paws on one of my knees, I look at Amelia and wink. “Okay, Crock. Let’s show our guest some tricks.”
Amelia’s breathless giggle and quick claps are all the encouragement I need.
Crockett and I have been working on these tricks for quite a few months. “Let’s see some walking. Walk, Crockett. Walk.”
Crockett’s clumsy attempts to take steps on his hind legs impress Amelia. He can only make it three to five steps each time, but it’s not bad for how overweight he is.
