There was no one there. Not anymore, at least. Anyone could have easily escaped by now along the shadowy dirt trail that snaked between the two buildings.
Feeling braver now that she knew no one was pressed up against the wall, waiting, Hannah moved along the path. She strained her ears, but something was humming in the cabin to her left—the water heater, maybe—and combined with the rush of water from the river, she wasn’t sure if she’d hear footsteps or not.
Raising her makeshift weapon higher, she slid between the cabins and into the yard area behind them.
She was almost on him before she saw him. Hannah froze, then jerked backward into the space she’d just walked out of.
A man sat on the patio of cabin four. His back had been to her, thank God, because she’d caught both the glint of a wineglass in his hand and the murmur of soft conversation. She’d almost sneaked up on a couple having a romantic evening.
Hannah spun and rushed back to the front before she let herself suck in a loud gulp of air to fuel her racing pulse.
The shadow had probably been the neighbor, coming back from getting firewood or maybe a bottle of wine from the car. And she’d almost stabbed him with her cabin key.
Hannah hurried past the cabins and the parking area until she was moving downhill toward the inn and the highway beyond. The sun was somewhere below the trees, and everything around her felt blue and peaceful, calming her heart rate despite her rush to leave the cabins behind.
She wasn’t used to being quite so alone in her solitude, that was all. In Chicago she was surrounded, even when alone in her apartment. And in Coswell there were neighbors everywhere. But here in the coastal forest she felt cut off from everything, and it had made her jumpy. “And stupid,” she assured herself.
But before the words had even faded from her ears, she heard the sound of a small motor, and as she watched, that ancient ATV she’d seen earlier zipped out from the trees ahead and sped toward the inn. The same old man was driving. She could see his white hair waving in the breeze as he drove off.
She looked at where he’d emerged from the trees, then followed the motion of her head around until she was facing the cabins.
It didn’t mean anything, surely. And hell, even if it had been him, it was his job to take care of the place. The grounds, the cabins, maybe even the trails. He worked here. Of course he’d be around.
But Hannah still crossed her arms tight and increased her pace toward the highway until she was almost jogging.
By the time she opened the door of the roadhouse, it was nearly nine, and guilt bit into her as she stepped inside. Gabriel had offered to help, but he likely hadn’t planned on hanging around after closing to do it.
She was relieved to see that there were still two tables full of diners and a pair of men at the bar. She wasn’t too late.
When she glanced behind her toward the window, she realized how dark it had already gotten. And she still had to walk home after this. A late stroll home was something she could handle with aplomb in Chicago. But here? She didn’t even know what lived in these woods.
Hannah sat at the bar and slipped off the jacket to reveal the tank top she’d worn underneath. She wasn’t flirting, per se. She just wanted Gabriel to know she didn’t always look like a drowned rat, a form of wildlife she was familiar with even before seeing it in her bathroom mirror today.
She was just glancing down to check her cleavage when Gabriel said, “Hi.”
Jerking her gaze up from her breasts, she saw him ducking under the side entrance of the bar with a big smile. “Are you having dinner?” he asked.
“No. I don’t want to keep you. I just thought I’d stop by and se—”
“A drink, then.”
“No, you’re wrapping up.”
“It’ll be at least a half hour. Can you wait?”
Her smile relaxed. She wasn’t keeping him. Instead, he was asking her to hang around. “No problem.”
“Another whisky?”
“Maybe just a glass of white. Whatever you like best.”
He winked again, probably an impulsive gesture in this job, but damned if she didn’t enjoy the hell out of it. And she was happy for the drink after that weird episode of panic.
He quickly poured a glass of wine, then set the half-empty bottle down beside the glass. “Knock yourself out.” He took two steps away, then paused. “Not literally, though.”
“No passing out. Got it.”
She was grateful for the chance to decompress for a minute and let the adrenaline drain from her body. Tomorrow she’d ask Tucker about the old handyman. Tonight she just had to get home safely. And find out what Gabriel had discovered. And see what was waiting in her inbox when she got back. Maybe an angry email from her ex. Maybe stony silence.
Okay, she was terrible at decompressing. But she was pretty decent at drinking wine, so she took a sip and smiled. It was good. Bright and golden on her tongue. She could get used to this Gabriel guy.
And everything was going fine. She was getting information. Closing in on an answer. Now that she was here, it was seeming less and less likely that she’d actually find her mother still living on this coast, but she might find her somewhere.
One of the tables got up to leave, and the two men at the other end of the bar rose too. They were dressed in high-end bicycling gear, and she wondered if they were going to ride somewhere on the highway in the dark. Concerned, she watched them leave, heading toward two bikes parked outside. As the door cut off her view, she shook her head.
“Everything all right?” Gabriel asked. She swung around to see him carrying a stack of clean glasses from the kitchen.
“I can barely enjoy driving on that highway. I can’t imagine how people enjoy biking on it.”
“They don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Enjoy it. I know people who’ve biked all over the world, and when they get to Big Sur, they white-knuckle it the whole way.”
“I honestly can’t believe they don’t all get hit by cars. Everyone who’s driving is looking at the ocean!”
“It seems unwise to me.”
“So why do they do it?”
Gabriel shrugged. “A lot feel it’s something they have to do. Same reason you’re here. Most of the others don’t realize just how harrowing it will be.”
Just like me, she thought but didn’t say aloud.
Gabriel glanced up and lifted a hand toward the last table. “Excuse me for a second, Hannah.”
He said it as if he were at dinner with her instead of running a business. The guy was adorable, and she had no room for adorable on this trip. Or in her heart.
If she even had a heart. Jeff had claimed otherwise at one point, and she’d suspected he was right.
She finished the wine and poured herself a half glass more.
The last table left. Someone turned up the background music until it wasn’t background anymore. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the ’70s rock. She’d always had a weakness for ’70s radio hits. The memory of being in the family car rolled over her once again: windows rolled down to the summer heat because they didn’t have AC, sisters crowded too close, making them all sweat more, her mom singing along, everyone bored but mostly happy.
She knew her life hadn’t been bad. It hadn’t even been mediocre. She’d had a great childhood, maybe just not the right one.
Her sisters had been so close, and the dozens of interests they’d shared with their mom had created a little blond trio. It felt as if half of Hannah’s childhood memories involved passing the three of them as they chatted and laughed over baking, crafting, gardening, or any kind of busywork they could find. They’d never excluded Hannah. Not intentionally. But maybe something ancient and instinctual had kept her from joining in.
Or maybe . . . maybe she’d felt a secret resentment from a mother who’d loved her—really loved her—even while hating her a little. Dorothy had raised a child her husband had fathered with another woman. The lo
ve had been there, but surely it had been steeped in something subtle that even now Hannah couldn’t identify.
“Ready?”
Hannah opened her eyes in surprise to find Gabriel tucking a stack of clean towels beneath the bar. She could hear dishes being washed behind the kitchen door. “Aren’t you still cleaning up?”
“The benefits of being the owner.” He shrugged on a leather jacket that was similar to hers and tipped his head toward the door. “Walk you home?”
“Oh, thank God,” she breathed as she bounced off the stool and grabbed her stuff. “It’s really dark here. And I think there are mountain lions.”
“There are, but they’re super shy.”
“Funny.”
“That’s not a joke.” He locked the door after she followed him outside.
She glanced around the lot. “Where’s your car?”
“I live in a bungalow behind the roadhouse. There’s a garage apartment too. A couple of my employees share it. Land is crazy expensive here.”
“It seems like most people who have houses here have owned them forever.”
“Exactly. It’s a little like apartments in New York City. Once you’ve got a place, you never give it up.”
Hannah couldn’t see his wink, but she could feel it. She shivered a little, even though she’d tugged her jacket on, and pretended it was a delayed reaction to the mountain lion talk.
“So where are you from?” he asked.
She used to be embarrassed by the question, but she’d lost that a long time ago. Still, it felt more complicated than just saying Iowa. “Until recently I was in Chicago, but now I’m home taking care of my mom in Iowa.” It wasn’t so dark that she couldn’t see him turn his head. “The mom I grew up with,” she explained.
“Ah. She’s sick?”
“She has dementia.”
“I’m sorry. That must be hard.”
“It is hard. It’s exhausting in ways I never imagined. She’s in a home, so mostly I just sit with her, but it’s like having your heart broken every day. And then this happened . . .”
“What?”
Right. She hadn’t told him that part. They stopped at the edge of the highway, and she used the distraction of looking for traffic to think for a moment. They hurried across the road, and when they stepped up the driveway into a spooky patch of fog, Hannah felt so thankful for Gabriel’s presence that she threw caution to the wind and told him the truth.
“I didn’t know before now. I thought my mother was my mother. They were married when I was born.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. I found out the truth because of some medical tests. And now I’d like to know who my real mother is, so I really appreciate the help.”
He drew closer in the mist, and she resisted the impulse to loop her arm through his so they wouldn’t get separated in the darkness. If she veered into these woods, she might never be seen again. A ghost daughter to wander the land with her ghost mother.
“Did your mom tell you anything?”
“Not really. Either she can’t or she won’t. There’s no way of knowing the difference at this point. And I’m angry either way. How awful is that? I’m angry at my mom for having dementia.”
“I think that’s pretty normal.”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t feel normal.”
“And your dad?” Gabriel pressed.
“He died a few years ago.”
“Mine too. Back in ’95, actually. It’s been a long time, I guess. Doesn’t feel like it.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Me too.”
“I still miss my dad so much. I wasn’t ready for him to go. I mean, sometimes it felt like he was the only one on my side. My mom loved me, but . . . Now this. God, if he could just tell me what happened. If I’d found out ten years ago, I would’ve asked my questions and gotten my answers. The end.”
Gabriel’s teeth flashed in the night, and she realized they were heading up out of the fog now. She could see the cabin lights ahead. “Somehow,” he said, the low note of amusement in his voice gliding over her skin, “I doubt it would have been that simple.”
Hannah laughed too loudly at that. He was right. It would have been an emotional, dramatic mess. She would have thrown at least three tantrums. “Already got me pegged?”
“You don’t seem the type to accept things quietly.”
“No. No, I guess I’m not. I would’ve ended up right here regardless, but at least I might have had her name. A way to find her.”
“Any chance your mother will be able to answer questions in the future?”
Hannah shrugged. “I suppose anything is possible. But these days, her lucid moments are few and far between. And as soon as she gets stressed, she’s gone again. That’s the problem. Even if I catch her at the exact right moment on the exact right day, asking her that question will probably send her spiraling. I guess I could have stayed and tried, though.”
“Or stayed and driven yourself crazy.”
“That was what it felt like.” She stopped at the entrance to her cabin. “Want to start a fire? Sit out back?”
“Sure.”
She let him in through the front door, but crossed immediately to the back so he wouldn’t think she was inviting him to her bed. Not that there was any room on the bed. It was covered with her laptop, a notebook, and her open suitcase. “Sorry about the mess,” she said automatically, because she was used to saying that to anyone who stopped by her place. She could almost hear her mom saying, If you were sorry about it, you’d clean it up! True. She didn’t really care that much about clutter.
Gabriel followed her out back with no comment. She grabbed the box of Riverfall Inn matches and lit one against the striker. The fire was already laid out with paper and kindling, and she had a flame going in just a few seconds.
Gabriel watched with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. She should’ve asked him to light it, she supposed. That was the kind of thing that made men feel useful. But she liked feeling useful too, and there was something incredibly satisfying about watching a fire she’d set herself grow and lick higher on the logs.
“Keep an eye on it?” she asked, trying to give him a little responsibility in case he needed it. She went back into the cabin to grab wineglasses.
He was in the same pose when she returned. Relaxed, his shoulders curving down in a way that would have been a slouch on another man, but somehow made him look solid. He was only an inch or two taller than she, but so wiry he looked longer.
Like any man, Gabriel could be the very nighttime danger she should be protecting herself from. He was stronger than she was, they were in the woods, and he could silence her with barely any effort. But she trusted her instincts. They’d been honed during her reckless college years of trying to talk herself into trusting men who gave off the wrong vibe.
Instincts were important. All women learned to trust fear.
But with him, she didn’t feel any fear. He didn’t stare at her too hard or get in her space or make proprietary gestures he had no business making. He flirted, yes, but he watched for her response and then let her reaction be the last word.
Hannah liked that. A lot.
She’d already finished her free bottle of wine, but there was another with a little handwritten price tag of twenty dollars. “I hope this red’s okay. It came with the room.” She handed him the bottle and the corkscrew, making him useful after all. The fire was blazing happily, and she dropped into the wooden chair with a sigh.
“Looks good. And thanks for the invitation.” He poured them each a glass of wine and took his seat. “Salud.”
She stretched out a little in her chair until the heat of the fire branded her knees with warmth.
“So I called Mom to ask her about this place,” he said. “She’s lived in Big Sur her whole life. Figured she’d know.”
“Did she?”
“It was definitely a commune. She was very disapproving.”
Her heart beat a little harder, still excited about the idea even though she had her doubts. “What did she say?”
“That they kept to themselves. That they didn’t belong here. She said they all left a long time ago.”
“All of them?” Her new hopes fell. “No one stayed?”
“She said they were here a few years, and then all of them cleared out. I asked if she knew anyone, any of the women, and she denied it. But she said there were a lot of women.”
“Too many, apparently,” she joked, but then the defeat hit her. “Well, damn it. I guess my little fantasy of finding her in Big Sur was pretty far-fetched. What were the chances she’d just be sitting here waiting for me?”
“Most people come for a season or two and then move on. I’m sorry.”
“What about your family? You’ve stayed.”
He smiled. “We’ve stayed and stayed. My mom’s family goes back eight generations. They were ranchers here back when it was horses and wagons, and few enough of those.”
“Do you have a big family?”
“A sister and two brothers. Lots of aunts and uncles. You?”
“Just two sisters.”
“Hannah and her sisters?” he drawled.
She groaned. “Oh, God, no! I hate Woody Allen.”
“I don’t believe it. You’re the first white person I’ve ever met who doesn’t love him.”
She tried to smother her snort of laughter but failed. “I honestly don’t get it! His movies are about ancient, anxious men who are somehow irresistible to beautiful young women. And the weirdest part is that no one in the movie even comments on how weird it is. No one asks him if he sold his soul to the devil to attract this woman. Pure middle-aged male fantasy if you ask me.”
“No doubt.”
“Let them have their fun, I guess.” She tipped her head back and stared up at the few stars she could see past the branches of the redwoods. “Did your mom remember anything else?”
“She called it Jacob’s Rock.”
That stopped her reverie. She looked at Gabriel. “The commune?”
“Yes.”
Jacob’s Rock. On land owned by Jacob Smith. She was closer to some kind of truth, but she still had no idea what it was. “Do you think I could talk to her?”
Half Past: A Novel Page 13
