Samuel nodded. “Yeah.”
“You know if there’s any place to spend the night around here?”
Samuel motioned back the way they had come. “Take the next left. There’s a really nice resort. Old-timey log cabin kind.”
“Thanks and good luck,” the driver said and drove off.
“You think they’re dangerous?”
“Not likely. Young and stupid. Lazy. Let’s get to Grandpa’s place. We’re far enough off the road there that they won’t find us.” But his eyes kept straying to the rear-view mirror, hoping they had turned onto the South Shore Road instead of coming back and following him and his family.
As he drove the twisting road through moss-coated vine maples and red-barked cedars, the sense of peace the forest usually instilled failed to come over him. How could he be stressed out here?
He coasted in the last mile or so to minimize the engine noise from carrying across the lake. He turned down into the rutted, leaf-covered drive.
When they pulled up to the cabin, it was clear that no one had been here recently. Not in or out. No fresh logs had been added to the firewood stack in some time. Leaves had gathered in the porch. It wasn’t like Grandpa to let things like that go.
Anna sighed, and Samuel couldn’t tell if it was from relief or regret. “He’s dead.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
MARIA PULLED JAMES’ TRUCK IN behind the trailer, grateful to be able to stop driving and feel safe. Her father stepped out of the Suburban shaking his head. Maria pushed the door open and stepped out into the wilderness twilight. As a child this had always been the end of the earth or nearly so. If you drove a couple more hours northwest you’d hit the real end of the earth, Cape Flattery, where you could crawl to the edge and watch the ocean eating away at the earth. Her father came toward, relief in his face. “Any sign of Grandpa?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Anna’s going to go in first. Looks deserted.”
James came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s pretty.”
Her father nodded and pushed through the tall grasses by the side of the house.
“Yeah.” Maria sighed, breathing deep of the soft, wet air. “Come on, James. Let’s go across the crick and see if we can see any sign of Grandpa. Maybe his truck’s by the barn.”
“The crick?” James spun her around, a quizzical look on his face. “What’s a crick?”
“Cogan Creek. Sorry. I grew up hearing it called The Crick. Later, I’ll show you Canoe Crick.”
James shook his head in wonder. “What about the kitten?”
“Let him run.”
“Didn’t you say there were cougars and bears in the area?”
“All right, leave ‘him’ in the truck, we’ll take him inside when we get back.”
She scampered down the driveway, feeling energized by the great outdoors.
The old half log bridge hadn’t been used recently. The handrail from her childhood had fallen down leaving only moss covered stakes placed at regular intervals. Weeds and grass had sprung up among the moss. A fern had spread its fronds across the close end as if to say this is no longer a bridge. Maria held it gently to the side as she stepped over it. “Grandpa Tom?” she called into the woods.
“Should we keep it quiet?”
“I don’t think anyone is within earshot. But you’re right. Sound carries across the lake.” She took his hand and pulled him through the brush. She could duck under, but he had to duck and push the stickers out of the way.
“My little brother, Jesse is buried here,” she said, her voice hushed. “Just a ways ahead. Under an apple tree.” The grass under the apple tree was laid down, like something had been here. Maria noted a path down to the creek. Deer probably, here to eat the apples and get a drink. The small simple cross with Jesse’s name cut into it still stood in the shade of the tree. James came behind her and again wrapped her in his arms. They stood there for a moment in softness of the evening, the gurgle of the creek and wind in the trees, the only sounds besides their breath.
“Let’s check out the barn.” She followed the deer trail down into what remained of the field, now dotted with small to medium-sized alders. The old barn was empty, but the rutted tire tracks that went up to the road showed some use in the last months. Someone had been here recently.
James was checking out the electric fence controller and an old multi-band radio. He twisted the knob and static erupted. “Grandpa must be nearly deaf,” he said as he turned it back off.
“Last time I saw him he only didn’t hear what he didn’t want to hear.”
James chuckled. “Kinda like my dad.”
Maria slipped inside his arms, put her face up and kissed him gently on the lips. “Yeah.” If Grandpa was dead, she really didn’t want to face it yet. “Let’s go see what they’ve found at the house.” The sky had darkened and a few stars dotted the space between the trees.
She found her father at Grandpa’s gun cabinet, trying to remember the code.
“House is empty. Nothing in the fridge except some baking soda.”
“I think I remember the code.”
“Be my guest.”
Maria typed in Grandma’s birth date and the lock shifted. She pulled open the door. It held half a dozen rifles, a couple ancient shotguns and a few handguns. The center position in the cabinet was empty. “What goes here?”
Her father shrugged. “Anna might know.”
“What might Anna know?” She came around the corner. “Beds are made, but no sign of him.”
“Good,” her father said.
“Good?” Anna’s voice judged him.
“You’d rather find him dead in bed?”
“No. Spose not.” She looked inside the gun case. “The thirty ought six is missing. Good sign that he left here under his own motivation.”
Giggles echoed down the hall. And the patter of little feet. Abi and Noah shuffled into the already full room.
Abi had the kitten in her arms squirming to get free. “What’s his name, James?”
“Dunno. Have to get to know him first.”
“I want to call him Simba.”
Maria laughed. “We’ll see.”
~
Anna demanded that Samuel check on their new “friends.” So he found grandpa’s old spotting scope and drove back down the road to look across at the Lodge. Through the drizzle of the rain and the dingy eyepiece, he saw three shapes in front of a roaring bonfire.
Sam heart sped up as he wiped off the lenses with the cleaning cloth and focused the scope. No. Only two.
Tonight it was wet and gray enough that the bonfire felt like celebration. He wanted a fire like that. He glanced back at Grandpa’s place. The window shades kept the sun out and also did a decent job of keeping the light in. When he got back, he’d better make sure he couldn’t see the bonfire from the house.
When he pulled into the driveway, he noticed some slivers of light escaping the windows on this side. The rain had started to fall more thickly, and the wind was picking up. Before going back inside, he walked the path around the house one more time to make certain they were hidden. There were lots of trees between them and the resort. The panel truck boys would have trouble finding them unless they were looking carefully from the road. They’d better get that tightened down.
Inside it was quiet other than the whispering of the wind and Anna’s voice reading bedtime stories to the little ones.
Samuel carried an armload of wood to the fireplace before tossing his coat aside. In a few minutes the fire popped and sizzled. The wind whistled over the top of the chimney.
As big as it was, the house could hardly contain the tempers of the two women he loved most. On the road from Portland they had worked as a team, somewhat dysfunctional, but a team. Now everyone had slipped away, James and Maria to their room and Anna with the kids. Maybe that was okay.
He closed his eyes and listened to the wind and the snap of the fire. A door closed down the hall an
d he reopened them.
Anna emerged walking slowly—the ‘waddle’ as she called it. As she labored toward him, her face transformed from exhaustion to the face he’d fallen in love with. He realized with a warm clench of his heart that the transformation was for him.
“All asleep?” Samuel patted the old couch next to him and dust puffed out. He sneezed. “That was a mistake.”
Anna settled in beside him with her head on his chest, tucking her feet up, and adjusting her belly to rest on his thigh. “Need to go furniture shopping,” she said, yawning.
Samuel watched her heartbeat pounding in her neck. “You okay?” When Noah was born she had issues with blood pressure.
“I am.” Her arms squeezed him. “Thanks for the fire. Cozy.”
Samuel stared into the flames. They helped to put a distance from the rest of the world and its chaos.
Outside the storm threw rain sideways past the chimney cap, and the old house shook as the wind caught it.
“Remember our first time on this couch?” Anna twisted her head to look in his eyes.
There was a twinkle there he had not seen in months. Samuel nodded with a smile. Yes, he remembered. This couch had been downstairs in front of the lower fireplace. They were newlyweds. Jesse had likely been conceived on this old couch in front of a similar fire in another winter storm. “How’s Abi?” his voice came out in a hoarse whisper.
“Sniffly.” Anna tensed. “I’m scared.”
Samuel held her close. “Yea, though I walk,” She relaxed back into his arms as he continued, “through the valley of the shadow…”
“I know. Let go. Let God.” Anna closed her eyes.
“Yes.” If she could let it be out of her power, let God take it on instead of her, she’d be all right. That was how she had come to peace with the miscarriages, at least as much as anyone ever could. Her muscles softened even further. Good. But Samuel’s mind raced. The words did not ease his burden like they did hers. There was too much to do, and he didn’t think God was going to come and help chop wood. “I’m going to kiss the kids goodnight.”
“You want to head to bed?” Anna shifted up for him.
“No. The fire is nice.” He stood. “Be right back.” He kissed the top of her head and trudged down the hall. When he reached the bedroom, Noah’s toddler bed was empty, covers thrown aside. He’d crawled in bed with Abi to sleep, her arms wrapped around him. Samuel sighed. If Abi was sick, they were all exposed. It didn’t matter. A sharp pang gripped his heart again. He knelt and brushed Abi’s curls aside, kissing her warm, but not quite feverish forehead.
Noah stirred and Abi’s slim arms tightened around him, protecting him from whatever danger he dreamed. He kissed Noah’s rat’s nest of hair, feeling his heat as well. He told himself not to worry—the kids always slept hot. He needed to be the glue that kept them together. Anna’s grip was tenuous now, and sick children would only make things worse.
~
Maria sat on the macramé blanket-covered bed, staring dumbstruck at James. How could he ask her right now? Too many other things to think about.
Now the wind and rain outside buffeted the windows already cloudy with moisture between their double-panes. If this was going to be their room, it really need some paint on the drywall and some curtains.
“But you love me. And I love you.” James gripped her left hand tightly in his.
She forced herself to not jerk her hand away. “Now I do. Now you do. But what if that changes? What’s the point? It’s a legal definition. Society is gone. We’ve got no minister, no church, no courthouse. But we’ve got each other.”
“We don’t need a church.”
“Either we’re partners or not. Doesn’t matter whether anyone else approves.”
“I want someone else to approve. I want your dad to approve for one. I want to be part of your family. Not just your kid’s dad.”
“You are in my family.” Maria sighed. “But I haven’t seen marriage work out so well. And what if you change your mind? What if you run off?”
“I won’t.”
“Will getting married keep you from doing that even if you feel like it? Forever is a long time.”
“I want to promise to love you as long as I live. I want to do it in front of witnesses.”
“How will that change anything?”
“Maria.” James looked more serious than she ever remembered seeing him. “I’ve got a history of doing things half-assed. Good enough. I don’t want to do good enough anymore!”
With her free right hand, Maria touched the spot where his worry lines knotted in his brow. “Let’s not rush into it. I’m not totally against it. Especially if it really means that much to you. But I don’t see the point.” Under her fingertips she felt his forehead relax.
“I want you to be my wife.”
“I want to be your partner.” She let her hand fall, brushing his cheek.
“Then marry me. It’s the same thing!” James was getting exasperated.
“It’s not. The whole wedding idea is about inheritance and parentage. It was never about love. We know we’re the parents and we’re now the meek who get to inherit the earth. What do we need to get married for?”
“We don’t!” James let go her hand and flopped down on the bed facing away. “Don’t have to do anything except die.”
Maria put her arm on his shoulder. “James, I don’t mean to make you mad.” She sighed and wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t respond. “I’m not saying no. Maybe the idea will grow on me.”
“Maybe,” James muttered.
“You did. You grew on me.”
“Yeah, cause I’m a fungi.”
Maria forced a giggle as she stuck her finger in his ribs. “That’s for the pun.” Then she kissed him softly on the lips. “That’s for caring. And putting up with me.”
He kissed her back. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Then let’s not get married.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” His arms wrapped back around her.
Safety. Love? Why wasn’t this enough?
~
Samuel ran his fingers across Anna’s back as she faded in and out of sleep with little jerks of her limbs. A big gust of wind pushed at the windows like the house breathed in and held it. If they survived the winter, maybe he could convince her to find a newer, better insulated house. Outside, lightning flashed. Then thunder followed. The windows rattled.
His eyes were drawn to motion outside. Thunder blasted as another explosion of lightning split the darkness in the big Alder tree across the driveway. It cracked before his eyes. God, no!
It twisted as it fell. Crack. The floor shuddered like it was an earthquake. Glass shattered. Then a strange quiet as if the house was taking a breath to brace for the next onslaught. For a moment even the wind abated.
Samuel slid from under Anna, as she came fully awake, eyes wild and frantic. He rushed down the hallway, sliding to a stop at the children’s room, jerking the door open.
The children, nestled together, still sleeping undisturbed. The windows were whole, but branches pressed up against them.
“Samuel?” Anna’s tremulous voice called.
“We’re all right,” Samuel answered, softly closing the kid’s bedroom door.
The tree must have hit the room Anna had chosen as theirs. She moved toward him, dream-like, but when they paused at the door, reality started up again.
“We’re fine,” he said, trying to keep his voice low and comforting. Then he turned the doorknob. The cold wind whipped the door out of his hand and, smacked it against the wall. A branch had pierced the broken window and rain blew in. Broken glass sparkled in the glow of the night-light.
“Dad?” Ria’s voice echoed down the hall. “You all right?”
“We’re fine,” Samuel called. “Tree fell.” His mind replayed the lightning strike and the fall. A different gust of wind and the tree could have hit either of the rooms his children slept in.
&
nbsp; Anna collapsed into him, her body shaking with soft sobs. “The children. It might have…”
“Yes, but it didn’t.” Samuel pulled Anna gently, but firmly from the room and closed the door. “We’ll clean up in the morning.”
“But, what if another tree falls?” Anna’s voice edged toward hysteria.
“It won’t. It was a lightning strike. Won’t happen twice.” He forced his voice to carry the confidence he thought they needed.
James stood there in the firelight holding Maria. They were bleary eyed, and she looked like she’d been crying.
“Go back to bed, kids. It can wait ‘til tomorrow.”
As Anna stumbled back toward the couch. Maria’s eyes softened with concern.
“Let’s go to bed, Ria.” James pulled Maria close to him. “Samuel? I’ll help you tomorrow.”
Samuel helped Anna settle back into the couch and waved to Maria and James. Maria nodded mutely. Samuel sat next to Anna’s shaking body as the door closed behind Ria and James.
Anna broke. “Sam. It could have killed them.” Sobs shook her body, even as she stifled herself to keep them quiet.
“No. They’re safe.” He rubbed her back and ran his fingers through her hair. “We’re all safe. Look at the fire. We’re home. We’re together.”
After a time her tension released, and the sobs faded to sniffles. Samuel pulled the big afghan off the couch and tucked it in around Anna. He shifted her into his arms as her trembling stilled.
Samuel stared at the last embers holding the middle of the top log together. It burned through and both ends fell into the center. Sparks shot up the chimney as the fire worked on the new fuel in its core. It should keep this room warm through the night before it burned out. Tomorrow would have to take care of itself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE NEXT MORNING THE SUN revealed a clear blue day and the calm after the not-so-proverbial storm cast a subdued wash over everyone’s spirits during breakfast. Anna and Maria were being pleasant to each other, but a silence had come between Maria and James that hadn’t been there before.
Deserted Lands (Novel): Toils and Snares Page 6
