police. It’s been months since I was attacked. I’m going to walk in there and tell them these terrible things that happened to me and I’ll have no proof. All my injuries have healed. What if they don’t believe me?”
Lance remained silent for a minute and then surprised Brook when he stood and left the room. He returned in a moment holding a digital camera. Brook looked from the camera to Lance with a question in her eyes.
“I have something to show you. It's going to be hard for you to see.” He turned on the camera, flipped a switch, and handed it to Brook. “When I first brought you to the cabin I took these pictures. I wasn’t entirely sure why; maybe to protect myself, I don’t know. But, anyway, here’s your evidence.”
For the next few minutes, Brook paged through the pictures, her face turning paler with each one. “Oh my God,” she breathed quietly. “Oh my God!” She dropped the camera into her lap, covered her eyes with her hands, and cried.
Lance stood by, uncertain what to do. He longed to hold her but felt she needed space.
“Oh, Lance!” Brook looked at him with anguish. “They hurt me so badly. How did I even survive?” She stared at him for a minute, “I know how I survived. You saved me! And now, you have given me the evidence I need to hang those sons-of-bitches.” The shock of the images had left her shaken. “Could you please hold me?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Just hold me.”
Lance pulled her into his arms and held her until she calmed.
The week passed quickly, far too quickly, for the two lovers. Lance finally spoke the words they had both dreaded. “We can make it to town, now. We’ll leave in the morning.”
That evening, Brook and Lance were rarely out of touching distance. They sat together, not speaking, each just enjoying the feel of the other’s presence. When they went to bed they made slow, leisurely love filled with lingering kisses, soft touches, and whispered words of affection. Their hands stroked, lingering over every contour, so their hands could remember when they could no longer do. They didn’t sleep until the wee hours of the morning, and then they woke in each other’s arms and made love one last time.
Brook had only a small bag which contained the camera, sketches, journal, moccasins, and purse. Carrying the tiny tree, she stepped through the cabin’s door without a backwards glance. How hard it was to say goodbye to the place that had become home!
Gilbert pranced and bucked in her pen, nimble in spite of her swollen belly. Lance would let her out when he returned, but now he grabbed a handful of hay and let Brook give her a bite and a pat. “You ever gonna have that baby? You look like you’re about to pop,” Brook chided the goat, then turned pensive. “I bet it’ll be too cute for words. I wish it would’ve happened while I was still here.” She sighed. Then she and Lance turned towards the path leading off the mountain.
The trip to the road was slow-going. The path was muddy and Brook was glad Lance had insisted she put on the many pairs of socks and his bulky boots. Her moccasins would have been ruined if she had worn them. As they moved down the mountain, Brook noticed there was still an abundance of snow under the trees where the sun couldn’t reach. Even some places on the path were still drifted over.
Finally, they reached the road. Lance looked at his bike, having forgotten that he would have to go get Old Reliable. He looked back at Brook, cleared his throat, and said, “Uh, oh!”
“What?”
“I’m going to have to leave you here while I ride to the trading post and get my truck. It’s about an hour’s ride one way. I’m sorry; I should have remembered and went for it yesterday.”
“It’s no problem, Lance. In fact, it’s fine. You ride down and I’ll start walking. The day is beautiful and I’ll be okay. No one comes way up here, do they?”
“Rarely.” Lance still looked unhappy. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
They lingered a few minutes, hugging. Then Lance kissed her once, mounted his bicycle, and pedaled down the road.
The air was brisk. Brook strolled slowly, picking up the pace occasionally to warm up before once again slowing. She looked into the forest, watching as birds flew from one tree to the other, and catching sight of a squirrel moving in its amusing way, running for a second, only to stop and sit on its haunches, searching the area with its black eyes, and then darting to another spot where it would repeat the process. She looked up at the robin’s egg blue sky that held not a single cloud. Smiling, she thought this was probably one of the most peaceful spots in the world right now.
It didn’t seem long before she heard a vehicle coming. Suddenly panicked, Brook looked around for a place to hide.
She darted towards the trees. Before she ducked inside the woods, a truck’s horn sounded and Lance called out, “Brook?”
Heart racing, Brook turned back to the road. This was Lance’s truck. She was still safe.
“Brooklyn? Are you okay?”
“Oh!” Brook clutched her chest for a second. “I was suddenly afraid that it was
Lance hugged her close. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
“No, it’s okay. I have to learn to manage my fear. It’s just that this is the first time I’ve been away from the cabin, away from safety. I just freaked out for a minute.” She smiled to show everything was fine.
Lance pointed out sights as they moved towards town. “See that tree?” Lance asked, pointing to a large pine at the side of the road. “Once, on the way down on my bike, I got to going too fast. Before I knew it, I had lost control. I ended up in the lower branches of that tree. I can still remember Denise’s face when I walked into the Trading Post. She took one look at the needles covering my clothes, the dirt streaked on my face, and the pine cone stuck in my hair, and started laughing. I thought she was going to roll on the floor before she got control of herself.” Lance laughed at the memory.
“Wasn’t she worried you were hurt?” Brook asked, frowning over the woman’s heartlessness.
“Oh, she saw me walking in. She could tell I wasn’t injured; well, maybe just my pride.”
They drove on, Lance showing her this and that, until finally they reached the outskirts of town.
Brook turned to face Lance, urgency written on her face. “I need to find a phone. I have to call my parents.”
Lance nodded and pulled into a convenience store with a phone booth outside. “Will this do? Or, do you want somewhere more private?”
“No, this is fine.” Brook started to step from the truck, but stopped. “Damn, I don’t have any money.”
“Don’t worry.” Lance entered the store and returned carrying three rolls of quarters. “They didn’t want to give these up, but I insisted.” Lance kissed Brook’s forehead and went to lean on the back of the truck, leaving her alone to make her call.
With shaking hands, Brook dialed. She fumbled over the familiar numbers, restarting twice before getting them right. Several rings passed before she heard the loving voice of her mother saying hello.
Brook choked up and couldn’t speak for a moment. “Hello?” her mother repeated with a questioning tone.
“Mama,” Brook managed.
A second’s silence met this word, and then, fearful she had misunderstood, “Brooklyn?”
“Yes, mama, it’s me!” Tears were streaming down Brook’s face, as the answering sobs of her mother filled the receiver.
Brook's mom called for her dad and then his excited voice sounded close by. “Where are you, baby?” her mom asked, her words tripping over each other. “Are you okay? Oh, God, we’ve been sick with worry. We were so afraid…” she broke off.
“I’m okay! Really. It’s a long story and I
They talked for a long while. Brook used over two rolls of quarters before she could bring herself to hang up, to let go of her mama and papa’s loving voices. She promised to call again soon. She had a hard time convincing them not to jump on a plane and come immediately. With reluctance, they finally agreed to wait, but not long.
Brook stood staring at the receiver after she disconnected the call. Finally, she hung it up and turned to Lance. She was trembling when she went to him. He gathered her into his arms and held her until she stopped
