Other photos were of Gracie as she’d grown older, wearing footie pajamas, giggling with her head tossed back, on Christmas morning.
I felt tears forming as I took in the images. The recording of their beautiful life together. The recording of the life Ethan had taken on when he’d been called to be a father.
“I took these ones!” Gracie said, pointing to a lower frame, which held several pictures of the cabin and the lake. They were shaky, blurry, showing spots of light. But I could feel her intense pride emanating from her smile.
“You really are an artist,” I told her, bringing my hand to her shoulder. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful place.”
As Gracie scampered off to her bedroom to drop off her backpack, Ethan leaned across, kissing me lightly on the lips. I felt a jolt of excitement, knowing we were hiding our feelings from his daughter.
Giving him a small smile, I shrugged my shoulders. “Thank you for sharing your home with me.”
“I didn’t want to share it with anyone else,” he murmured.
We set to work after that, with the three of us joining in the kitchen. We sipped on water, rather than wine, and put an LP on the record player—an album from the late ‘60s.
As Ethan and I chopped and sliced vegetables, Gracie spun in circles to the scratchy tune. Her blond curls swept through the air, glittering. As she twirled, I allowed myself to imagine that this could be my life for good.
Ethan dropped the vegetables on the baking sheet and then prepped the pasta, along with a platter of cheese and crackers, for an entrée. He passed the plates to me, and I set the well-loved wooden table.
I tried to imagine the days past in that cabin. How, when Gracie had first arrived, she had probably sat in a booster seat, unable to peer over the table otherwise. She’d probably cried, been unruly—certainly someone a bounty hunter couldn’t deal with, not with all the training in the world.
And yet, he’d cared for her. He’d learned how to be a father. And he’d adorned the house with fairy lights, to give Gracie a more magical life.
How could I not fall for someone like that?
We sat around the wooden table as the afternoon became night. I felt Ethan grip my hand beneath the table, and gave him a sly smile.
Gracie placed a piece of cheese on her cracker and then bit into it with a mighty crunch. Crumbs filled her plate. She giggled, her eyes lighting up.
“I hope you get to stay here forever,” she told me, her shoulders slumping down.
“I told you, baby,” Ethan said, filling my glass with a pitcher of water. “Serena has a big job in the city.”
“Maybe she could do it out here?” she asked.
“I don’t know about that.” Ethan paused, sliding his fork into his pasta. “Anyway, Gracie, you don’t have school tomorrow. You have anything you’d like to do?”
Gracie eyed me, giving me a small smirk. “I want to go hiking,” she said, sounding more certain than I’d ever been in my life. “And I want Serena to come, too. Won’t you come? Please?” She eyed me with a hopeful look.
“Only if she doesn’t have something better to do,” Ethan said, turning his gaze toward me.
We filled our bellies, laughing and joking. I tried to force away my feelings for Ethan, which only seemed to grow deeper and more certain with each passing moment.
As we ate, I grew tired, my brain feeling soft and light. As if to match me, Gracie yawned with her mouth wide. She swatted her hand over it, as an afterthought.
“Why don’t I make coffee?” I asked, standing up.
Ethan joined me, clearing the plates and whistling. After placing them in the sink, he moved toward the record player and swapped out the record, causing the music to crackle into the air around us.
As he passed by me, his elbow touched mine, and our eyes held onto each other—saying a million things without saying anything at all.
I reached for the coffee filters and beans, busying myself as Ethan began to fill the sink with water. Gracie swept into the room, pointing to the coffee maker. Her eyes were dark and quick.
“You better be careful of that thing!” she told me.
“The coffee maker?” I asked her, raising a single eyebrow.
“Don’t touch the button with your finger,” Gracie said, her chin quivering as she tried to suppress a smile.
“What?” My eyes darted between Gracie and Ethan, trying to sense if I was missing something. I shrugged, sliding the coffee grounds into the filter. “I don’t know how else I would make it work, Miss Gracie.”
“It’s an old machine,” Ethan said, bringing his hand across Gracie’s hair and ruffling it. “She’s just bringing up a past—erm—humorous occasion, you could say.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, growing curious. “What happened?”
“Daddy’s hair,” Gracie said, giggling. “It was all like this!” She mussed her hair, making it curl far above her head. “It had sparks in it!”
“Oh, it did not,” Ethan said, his cheeks growing the slightest shade of pink. “It wasn’t like that at all.”
“It was!” she said, continuing to laugh. “He looked crazy!”
I began to chuckle, placing the filter into the coffee machine. It was, indeed, an old and crooked one, probably made over 20 years ago. “Where on earth did you get this thing, Ethan?”
“Oh, I don’t know. One garage sale or the other,” Ethan said, slipping his hands through his hair. “It just the button.” He pointed to the brew button. “It shocks you if you touch it. But it’s perfectly fine otherwise. Just that one minor flaw…”
“Just the minor flaw that it shocks whoever wants coffee,” I said, laughing fully now. I could imagine it: Ethan tossing around the kitchen, howling, with his hair in every direction. “Why would you ever replace something as perfectly functional as that?”
“My thought exactly,” Ethan said, chuckling.
“Oh, Daddy,” Gracie sighed. “You’re so silly.”
After using a bit of cloth to press the brew button—avoiding certain disaster—I poured us each a cup of coffee. Gracie curled up on the couch in the living room with her coloring book, her head bowed low over her lap.
As her crayon moved over the page, I felt an ease overtake me. It was as if this was our normal routine. Me, making coffee. Ethan, doing the dishes. And Gracie, tucked away with her art, lost in a haze of her own creativity.
It was beautiful.
About a half hour later, Ethan tucked Gracie into bed and slid the door closed. He bowed his head to me, whispering, “She fell asleep almost immediately. I think you exhausted her.”
“She exhausted herself,” I said, giggling. “She’s just an electric kid, Ethan. She has a million stories, a million things to say. I’ve never met anyone like her.”
“Her teacher says the same thing,” Ethan said, slipping onto the couch beside me. He traced a line down my back, using a single finger. I shivered. “That she’s always the first to raise her hand, to turn in her assignment, to have an idea. They said they can hardly control her, but that it doesn’t matter—because she isn’t the type to take orders. She puts herself to work, and doesn’t stop till it’s done.”
“Ha.”
I was beginning to lose myself in his touch. I yearned to move forward, to kiss him. But I held back. If I allowed myself to dive deeper into my feelings, I knew I’d never be able to leave.
As the tension escalated, Ethan took the moment to move toward me, his eyes closing. But I lifted my hand, pressing it against his shoulder and pushing him away. His eyes opened, filled with curiosity.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice soft.
“We have to be careful,” I told him, feeling the hesitation in my voice. “There’s a child involved here.”
Ethan nodded, his lips pressing together. After a long pause, he said, “You’re probably right. I know you’re right. I just can’t ignore this.”
“I know,” I whispered. “But we must.”
We were on the same page. As we stepped back from each other, I felt my shoulders slump forward. Disappointment clouded me. I gave him a soft laugh, wondering at the strangeness of life. Ethan swept his hand toward the door, shrugging. “So I guess we’ll be seeing you tomorrow?”
I swallowed, trying to gather my words. “Tomorrow’s my last day up here, you know?”
“I do.” His eyes were deep, a darker blue than normal, expressing his sorrow. “You don’t have to make any excuses. I know what you want from your life. It’s for the best.”
“For the best.” I echoed his words, taking small steps toward the door. “Okay. Yes. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Gracie and I will come find you around ten or so,” he said, standing in the doorway. He crossed his muscled forearms over his chest, gazing at me with those deep, penetrating eyes. “In the meantime, sleep well, Serena.”
I wanted to tell him I’d be dreaming of him. That he’d be stuck in my mind. But instead, I turned my feet toward the dark path in the woods, shining a light with my cellphone. I felt tears begin to trace their way down my cheeks.
After I disappeared into the night, I heard him click the screen door closed. We were separated once more. Soon, our separation would be forever.
Chapter 9
Serena
It was sunset. Orange light blasted across the lake below us, as Ethan, Gracie and I stood atop the mountain after a long day of hiking. Gracie was without words, for perhaps the first time since I’d met her, completely breathless as the night descended around us.
Ethan placed one foot on a rock beside us, leaning into his knee. He looked sturdy and tough, his eyes taking in everything around us. The darkness of the pines. The light off the lake. The stars, as they began to twinkle in the coming darkness.
“We’d better make our way back home,” he finally said, linking his hand with Gracie’s. “You’ve got a long drive tomorrow. Better get some rest.”
It had been a gorgeous day, even better than the others, despite being tinged with sadness. We’d packed sandwiches, with peanut butter and jelly, and we’d played in the waterfall, each of us donning a swimsuit this time. We’d made up little stories to amuse one another, with Gracie coming up with tall tales about fairies and witches and warlocks, leaving me mystified at the strength of her creativity.
“Gracie, is there anything you can’t dream up?” I had asked her, amazed.
As we walked down the rest of the mountain, we took a small shortcut, which wound a trail around toward my cabin, before sending Ethan and Gracie along toward theirs. At the entrance to mine, I hugged them both, saying, “I’ll see you in the morning before I go.”
When Ethan and I hugged, I felt us both linger, our chests pressed tightly against one another. His hands made lines across the small of my back, almost trying to memorize me. I knew we wouldn’t have a chance to make love again. The following day was Sunday, which meant that Gracie would be around in the morning, before I left. Besides, there wasn’t any use fooling ourselves any longer. We couldn’t be together, would never be. It was best not to indulge old impulses.
After bidding them both goodnight, I bounded down the rest of my trail, feeling suddenly, horribly lonely. My cabin rose before me, between the trees, its screen door flapping in the slight wind. It rapped against the side of the porch. I’d completely forgotten to close it.
“Shit,” I whispered, moving quickly inside and catching the door. As I did, rain began to spit out of the sky. I blinked upward, noticing that the stars were now covered with a layer of clouds. It would be a stormy night.
After latching the door, I walked toward the living room and kitchen, dropping myself into a rickety chair. I stared down at my feet, wondering if I should begin packing up, cleaning. I felt I couldn’t bring myself to. Knowing I would have no more than a few minutes more with Ethan forced my heart to dip low in my chest. My stomach was tense with sadness, and with hunger.
As I sat there, steaming with loneliness, I heard it. It was a soft, yet very precise rattle.
Glancing across the table, toward the fireplace, I came face-to-face with a giant rattlesnake. His eyes were wide, his tongue flicking in and out of his mouth. He’d lifted his head high, and he was staring at me, as, far behind him, his tail rattled back and forth.
I shot up from the chair, running to the far wall. I didn’t dare say a single word. The snake and I held one another’s attention for a long, horrible moment. Slowly, I began to inch toward the front door, my shoulders quivering.
Stay where you are, I mentally told the snake. You can have the cabin. It’s yours.
With a last bolt toward the door, I rushed from the cabin and back into the darkness of the woods. I felt myself begin to sob with fear, somehow thinking that the snake would be after me, or that there were more in the woods around me. I raced, throwing myself forward as fast as I could. After a moment, I realized I was heading toward the only other safe-haven I knew: Ethan and Gracie’s home.
After stumbling through the forest, feeling wild, I spotted the cabin’s lights between the trees. Immediately, hope filled me. I could almost feel the warmth of the fire, hear Gracie’s laugh. I could almost sense Ethan’s strong arms around me.
When I reached the door, I didn’t hesitate to knock. I heard Ethan stop speaking on the other side. There was a pause. He whispered something to Gracie before creeping toward the door.
“Who is it?” he asked, his voice clipped and short.
“It’s me. It’s Serena,” I called. “Please let me in.”
Ethan unlatched the door quickly, throwing it open. Immediately, he sensed how fear-stricken I was. He reached for me, wrapping his firm arms tightly around me and holding me close. I was shuddering into his chest.
“Jesus, Ethan. It was so terrifying,” I whispered, my voice losing itself in my sobs. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“What is it, baby?” he asked, his voice soft, as if he were speaking to a child.
“Just…” I tried to control my tears, bringing my head back from him. I felt my cheeks grow red. “I forgot to shut the screen door earlier. And I had a surprise visitor.”
Ethan gave me a crooked smile. “Was it rattling around your house?”
“How did you know?” I asked.
He led me deeper into his house, where Gracie was perched on the couch, looking up at me expectantly.
“Those rattlesnakes are crafty, aren’t they, Gracie?” Ethan asked. The girl had donned her white pajamas and her feet hung down from the couch. Her face turned grave.
“You shouldn’t go home tonight,” she whispered. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m sure the snake was just as afraid of you as you were of it,” Ethan told me, gesturing for me to sit, to get cozy by the fire. “But you’re right. There’s no sense in going back tonight, is there? Why don’t you sleep here? You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
It was clear that our earlier conversation still hung in the air around us, affirming that we needed to keep our distance.
As my heartbeat began to slow, I took a step forward and collapsed alongside Gracie, just grateful I had some semblance of family, up on the mountain. I wiped my damp cheeks with my hand.
“Thank you so much for everything,” I sighed, feeling foolish. “I thought for sure I was toast.”
“Don’t get many snakes in the city, do you?” Ethan said, maintaining eye contact. “Or maybe just snakes of a different sort.”
“Something like that.” I lifted my feet up out of my shoes and crossed my legs, tucking closer to Gracie. I watched her coloring as the night grew darker, as the time ticked along.
As we sat together, chatting, Ethan disappeared for several minutes. I heard water begin to bubble and boil. Moments later, he appeared in the living room with two cups of hot cocoa, complete with marshmallows. He slid them onto the coffee table, as Gracie leaped forward, her eyes bright.
“Daddy! You made it!” she cried, blowin
g softly over the melting marshmallows. “Oh, it looks perfect. Thank you.”
I reached forward, gripping the mug. It was warm, but not scalding. I sipped the very top, inhaling the rich scent.
The ambiance was warm, homey, something I was growing even more accustomed to. Ethan slid onto the couch beside me, his hand twitching. He seemed to want to wrap his arm around my shoulders, to cling to me. But he held back, knowing. Knowing and keeping track of the line between us.
“At least we get some extra time together,” Gracie told me, bouncing slightly as she sipped the sugary drink.
Ethan suggested we put on a movie. Rising up, he swept the curtain on the wall to the side, revealing a small television. “We hardly ever watch it,” he said. “Don’t want it to poison our brains, do we, Gracie?”
“Too much TV turns your brain to mush,” Gracie informed me, sounding matter-of-fact.
“But just this once, I think it’ll be all right,” Ethan said.
He snapped on the television, and slid an old movie into the player—one about a young girl on a mission to find her father, who’d disappeared when they’d been homeless in New York City. The girl was a particularly accomplished musician, who played in the city subways for spare change. Her hope was to find her father, to someday reunite and learn why he’d abandoned her. To learn why he’d fallen out of her life.
Halfway through the film, Ethan tilted his head, gesturing toward Gracie. I turned my eyes toward her—her head was resting against Ethan’s shoulder. She was fast asleep. Reaching forward, I grabbed the remote and turned down the volume, giving Ethan a shrug.
“I suppose we should turn it off and hit the hay?” I murmured. “I don’t want to mess up your schedule…”
“Schedule?” Ethan said, chuckling slightly. “You’re not messing up anything. Until that snake gets bored and leaves of its own accord—”
“You mean, because I don’t have anything of value in the cabin?” I asked, joking.
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