“That’s when the man hit me, shoved a gun in my face, and stole my car. Oh my god! But he didn’t just steal the car…” She looked up into Lance’s eyes. “He stole me, too!”
Brook broke down and cried. She wouldn’t say another word and Lance didn’t try to make her. Gently, oh so gently, he approached the table and sat next to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned him, burying her face in his chest. They sat like this for a long time, Lance offering the only thing he could, a sympathetic shoulder and genuine concern.
When her tears were spent, Lance parted from her with a comforting pat on the shoulder. He didn’t make a big deal of the incident, carrying on a conversation about trivial matters while she collected herself. She appreciated his discretion. The episode had given her a tremendous feeling of release, a catharsis. Somehow, she felt no embarrassment at all for falling apart in front of this near stranger. It surprised her a little, but she put it down to the odd circumstances in which they found themselves. She wondered if he was getting weary of her yet. If so, he showed no sign of it.
Later that day, she read. In fact, she became absorbed by a book and thoroughly pulled into its world of science fiction. Time passed much more easily when her mind was occupied. Lance was in and out all day, working outside for a while, and then finding things to do inside. He made sure Brook had whatever she needed, be it a helping hand to the bathroom or something to eat or drink.
She soaked her feet again that evening and felt the steaming water pulling the soreness out. She was lucky they hadn’t gotten infected. No, she corrected herself, it wasn’t luck. It was thanks to Lance’s diligence and care. She would never let herself forget that.
They turned in early, Brook to her bed in front of the fireplace, and Lance to whatever lay behind the curtain. She felt a tug on her heart as they said goodnight, but she refused to cry again. She didn’t even know why she would be crying.
Chapter 34
“So, you never did tell me how you ended up way out here,” Brook reminded Lance after a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. It was amazing what Lance was able to produce on the old wood cook stove.
Her night had seemed endless as she tossed and turned, waking from nightmares with Benny slamming his fist into her face, truckers laughing and calling her ‘little woman’, and Jase saying he had to get his pliers, that those teeth needed to come out. Now, she tried for nonchalance. Curled in a rocking chair near the front window she watched the snow as it continued its almost endless fall. She sipped coffee and waited.
Lance looked up. He’d been putting away the breakfast dishes. Now he stopped and moved to sit on a chair near Brook. “Kind of accidentally. It was actually through a client. In searching for an accounting error in his books, I exposed an embezzler in his ranks. After that, he always made a special effort to seek me out when he was in town.”
He thought back to the day he met with Dutch Norton. It was several months after Ellen had passed. Dutch was in town for a convention, and he invited Sullivan to lunch. Sullivan figured Dutch Norton was wealthier than any human deserved to be, but he was a stand-up guy and he enjoyed Dutch’s company. He accepted the invitation. During their meal, Dutch mentioned some land he owned in the mountains. He invited Sullivan to come out and do some backpacking, get away from it all. Sullivan surprised himself by accepting and put in for a week’s vacation.
It was during this backpacking expedition Sullivan had come across the cabin. Dutch had not gone hiking with him, sensing Sullivan needed some time alone. When he had returned to the main house that evening, muscles pleasantly tired and mind strangely clear of its usual sadness, Sullivan asked him about the old shack.
“This land has been in my family for generations. Undoubtedly that old cabin was built by one of my forebears, but I don’t know which one. I can’t believe it’s still standing. I never go up there anymore. It’s much too long a walk for someone my age. I’m not in that great of shape anymore,” Dutch had told Sullivan with a slight smile.
“It’s got an old wood burning stove in it, but not much else. The roof’s mostly caved in, but the walls are sturdy. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been inside it for years; except, that is, one very upset raccoon who just about gave me a heart attack,” Sullivan said.
Dutch chuckled, and stated the obvious, “You like that old place!”
“I do,” Sullivan said, thoughtfully. “It’s primitive, but it appeals to me on some level, even though I’ve always been a city boy.”
“Well, you just feel free to go on up there anytime you want,” Dutch offered. “I have no use for it. In fact, I’m getting ready to put the whole place into a trust. I’m moving out to California in a couple of months, but I’ll be damned if I’ll sell this land. I know for a fact that the government would love to get their hands on it, but I think they’ve got enough of our forests. My lawyer is working on a plan for me to keep it just like it is. I'm putting in a clause that the property can never be sold as long as there is a living heir and money in the trust. It’ll remain in the family for my kids and their kids and on down the line. None of them wants to live out here, but they’d be pretty unhappy if they couldn’t come to the old homestead from time to time and soak up the fresh air and the views. ”
Sully glanced around. What met his eyes was a grand old home, colonial, at least seven bedrooms, sitting on a well-manicured five-acre plot, well back from the road and surrounded by forest. Dutch had told Sullivan that he owned a total of two hundred acres and Sully mentally smiled at the description of ‘the old homestead’.
“So, I’m keeping my house for the kids to use whenever they want a vacation. Hell, I’m not sure the kids even know the cabin's there. It’s so remote. Anyway, I trust you, Sullivan. I know you’ll take care of the place. So I give you carte blanche when it comes to that old place. Might do your spirit some good to spend some time up there. There’s something healing about these mountains.”
Sullivan was shocked by the offer. “You’d let me just use it, anytime?”
Dutch looked at Sullivan with kindly eyes. “I know what you’re going through, son. I lost my wife twenty years ago. You just go up there and spend time in that forest whenever life gets to be too much for you. You’ll be surprised how it helps what ails you. Feel free to fix ‘er up if you want; just don’t do any damage.” He chuckled.
“Thank you, sir. I might take you up on that.” Sullivan wasn’t serious, but he deeply appreciated Dutch’s kind offer. He stored the idea away in the back of his mind.
Never believing he had a conscious plan, not in the start anyway, Sully made the trip up the mountain. At first it was just one little project at the cabin. Then it became two, then three. He told himself he was just making it more comfortable for those times he needed to get away from the city. Before long, however, he was going up every weekend.
The trip wasn't easy at first. If there had ever been a road or trail to the cabin, it had long since been reclaimed by the forest. After a number of tries, he found a way less difficult than others, but still not passable by car or truck. He started working on the system he had now perfected of hauling supplies.
First priority was replacing the roof. This took him several weekends. He fixed the windows and attached shutters to the inside, allowing easy access in all weather. He repaired the walls and added a door. Next he concentrated on paving the dirt floor with stone. He cleaned up the old wood cook stove and hauled up a small potbelly stove for extra heat.
More weeks passed with him taking a day off from the office here and there to allow even more time for his projects. When it finally occurred to him to live in the cabin full-time, he was as surprised at himself as anyone would have been. But he kept his idea secret, sharing it with no one.
As his story wound down, he noticed that Brooklyn was looking at him with frank interest in her eyes.
“But, what about your life back in the city? Did you just put it on hold in case you ever want to return?”
Lance studied his hands and wondered how to explain. He presumed no one would understand what he had done next. Hell, he hardly understood it himself.
“It’s hard to justify, I guess,” he told Brook, “but I was fed up with civilization and society. It just seemed like life had lost all meaning when I lost Ellen. The cabin became my sanctuary, the place where the ghosts from the
