Cabin by the Lake (4 page)

She realized abruptly that they were staring at each other. “Nice to meet you,” she mumbled, brushing some imaginary dirt from her jeans, feeling her cheeks heat up and hating the fact that she had no control over the way she blushed.

At that moment, fat raindrops began to spit from the sky. “Grab your pack, Mike,” Vivian said, “and come up on the porch out of the rain.”

Without hesitation, he turned on his heel, retrieved his backpack, took three long strides and joined them on the covered porch. Lydia was struck by how easily he moved, like an athlete, arm muscles bulging as he effortlessly picked up the giant backpack as if it weighed nothing.

“How long have you been out hiking?” Vivian asked.

“Two or three weeks.”

“Two or three?”

He shrugged. “Could be more like four, I guess. Turned off my phone, took off my watch, and I’ve just been walking. I haven’t really been keeping up with what day it is.”

She looked the man up and down, and then nodded, seeming to come to a decision. “You look like you could use a shower, Mike,” she said, and Lydia gasped involuntarily at her aunt’s irresponsible offer of hospitality.

He gave an easy laugh. “Sure could, if it wouldn’t be too much to ask.”

She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “Go through that door, down the hall to your right. You’ll find clean towels under the sink.”

“Thanks. I won’t be long.” He unzipped his backpack, fished out a smaller bag and disappeared inside.

Lydia instantly began to whisper-yell at her aunt. “Are you insane? You don’t know this man! He could be an ax-murderer, for all you know. He certainly doesn’t seem exactly normal. Who do you know who just picks up and leaves his life to go hiking a random trail, showing up on people’s doorsteps looking as though he slept in his clothes for weeks?”

Vivian continued rocking, looking at her niece with a depth of calmness that Lydia couldn’t fathom. “Sometimes you’ve just got to trust your instincts.”
And a little inside information
, she thought.

“Trust your—” Lydia flopped back into her chair, her eyes round with astonishment. “Trust your instincts? Well, we both know I flunked that course in school. You’re the one who told me a long time ago to go ahead and judge a book by its cover! If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck—”

“What are you saying?” Vivian interrupted. “You think he looks like a drug dealer?”

“No, of course that’s not what I’m saying.” The man was filthy, but his physique spoke of a healthy lifestyle. “But something’s not right about him.”

“We’ll see.”

Frustrated, she turned to look out at the rain that now obscured the view of the lake. She couldn’t have been more blind-sided. The Aunt Vi she used to know would have told that handsome homeless stranger to hit the road. “You’ve changed,” she said aloud, speaking up to be heard over the pounding of the rain.

“I’ve mellowed with age. I’m braver now.”

She threw up her hands. “You used to be more cautious. I don’t think this is a good idea. You’re taking in strays right and left today. First me, then this stranger who—”

As if on cue, a bedraggled collie appeared on the steps in front of them, tail between its legs, head down. It was sneaking peeks as if ashamed to have been caught out in the rain. A boom of thunder sent the dog galloping up the steps where it slid to a stop, trembling at Vivian’s feet.

“Aw, poor fella.” She snatched up the blanket hanging from the back of the rocking chair and began to dry the dog’s wet fur, rubbing vigorously. “Where’d you come from, huh?” The dog squirmed happily under her ministrations. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you, boy! Good boy!”

At that moment the screen door behind them opened and Mike came out, grinning. “Hey, there’s the dog!”

Lydia’s jaw dropped at the transformation. He had changed into a clean pair of jeans and a faded blue chambray shirt. He was freshly shaved and had finger-combed his wet hair back from his face. She had thought him ruggedly handsome before, but now her heartbeat quickened and she suddenly felt the need to go brush her own hair and maybe put on a little makeup.

No, no, no! What was she thinking? She had no judgment when it came to men, and she was done with that chapter in her life. Love had never worked out for her. No matter how strong the attraction, she knew better than to trust herself to choose a good man. As far as she was concerned, there weren’t any good men out there. End of story. Feeling flustered, she asked, “Is that your dog?”

“Not really. He joined me about a week ago, and he comes and goes as he pleases.”

She patted the side of her leg, clicked her tongue, and the dog accepted her invitation after a good shake of wet fur. He put his paws on her knees, quivering with excitement as she ran her hands through his damp fur. “Phew, you stink,” she said, laughing. “Down, boy!” The dog obediently walked to the end of the porch, circled a few times and settled down, making himself at home. He rested his head on his paws and looked serenely out toward the lake.

Mike laughed along with her while she waved her hand in front of her face at the offensive smell.
I was right
, he thought as he watched her.
Her eyes are green; the kind you could drown in.

Chicken sizzled in the skillet and biscuits browned in the oven. Vivian was amazed she even remembered how to put a meal together. Like riding a bike, she thought, maybe your hands don’t forget the mundane things you did repeatedly for so many years. It felt surprisingly good to be cooking; she hadn’t fixed a real dinner since Todd died. Two years—it didn’t seem that long. On the other hand, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

After caring for Todd through treatments that seemed to make things worse instead of better, the horrible, messy, nightmarish months finally ended, and she had been exhausted, drained of emotion.

In the last two years she had tried to get back on her feet, to pick up with friends she used to visit and activities that occupied her time. But she didn’t feel comfortable going places without him. At first, when couples invited her to go out to dinner with them, she’d ended up feeling like a third wheel, even though they did their best to make her feel comfortable.

When she was with friends, she was reminded constantly that the seat next to hers was empty. She felt more alone around other people than when she was by herself. In church, her favorite old hymns made her cry, which was embarrassing, and left her feeling emotional and vulnerable instead of uplifted. So she finally quit trying to go anywhere.

Their old friends from high school, Pete and Ally, had invited her over for dinner often, but without Todd there, the conversation didn’t flow between the three of them as it had before. Pete would try to carry on with his usual banter, but Vivian could see how awkward he felt, and he would finally drift off to watch a ballgame on TV.

Afterwards, she would drive home by herself and go into the quiet house alone. Even though she left all the lights and the television on, she didn’t like that creepy feeling of coming into an empty house at night. It was better for her to not go at all. She began to turn down their invitations, and they eventually quit asking.

She fell into a quiet routine, making half-hearted attempts to clean out some of Todd’s things, but it felt somehow disrespectful to just erase the evidence of someone’s life. She knew she could not keep all his things around the house, which were daily reminders that he was gone, and it was depressing. But she had not been very successful in her attempts to clear away the remains of his possessions. She cried daily, usually at night when she missed him the most, and talked to him out loud. She didn’t know if that was healthy or not, but it felt right to her.

After about a year she stopped crying every day, and made plans with herself to get involved in life again. But one day led into the next, and that didn’t happen. Her world narrowed as each month passed, and she felt old and used up, as if her purpose for living was over. She hoped this spring she would feel a renewal of life. She was trying, one day at a time.

She remembered her lowest point, two years ago, when she got out the gun and contemplated ending her life. That was so foolish, but she hadn’t been thinking clearly. She was a firm believer that God had a plan for her, although she hadn’t seen any relief from her loneliness and grief yet.

But now that she’d passed through what she thought of as two years of purgatory, she was amazed at how happy she was to be throwing together a meal. The low-grade depression she had been living with seemed to be lifting, and the relief was immense. 

She poured the pot of boiling potatoes through a colander, automatically added butter and cream and began to mash out the lumps. She shook her head and smiled at the situation in which she found herself. Her head was spinning a bit; she’d gone from zero to sixty, as Todd used to say. Before today, it seemed she had nothing meaningful to do. Now she was making dinner for two strangers who sat on her back porch watching the tail-end of a rain storm. She felt alive for the first time since he died.

And, sadly, Lydia
was
virtually a stranger. She was no longer the child she loved so long ago, and certainly not the basket case from their last experience together, but Vivian thought she might like this new version of her niece very much. Maybe more than she had when she was the sweet child whom she thought was lost to her forever. She was suddenly glad to have the company.

She wondered at her snap judgment call on this Mike Rodgers fellow. Lydia was probably right. Maybe she
had
finally gone off the deep end, but she was pretty sure she knew more than he wanted anyone to know, and she felt confident about her decision to welcome him into her home. Oh well, what’s done is done. Time would tell. And she had plenty of time, if nothing else.

From the back porch, Lydia could hear her aunt banging around in the kitchen. She had been unable to hide her astonishment when Vivian announced she was going to fry some chicken and would call them when it was ready. A suspicious stranger drops in and she just rolls out the welcome mat like it was an everyday occurrence?

“Aunt Vi,” she had said sweetly, as if she were talking to a child, “Mr. Rodgers just asked for directions to town. I’m sure he’s anxious to be on his way.”

Mike just stood there, both thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets with an aw-shucks look on his face. “Fried chicken, you say?”

“I’m a little rusty,” Vivian said, “but I think I can pull it off.”

Lydia shot her aunt an unconcealed look of dismay. Of course, she herself had only just arrived, so who was she to have any say-so about who her aunt entertained.

Mike grinned at Vivian, obviously enjoying Lydia’s consternation. “I can’t even begin to tell you how good that sounds, ma’am. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in, well, I can’t remember when.”

“Coming right up.” Vivian had disappeared inside with a slam of the screen door. Mike took her place in the rocking chair, hooking one arm over the back as he raised an eyebrow in an innocently questioning look at Lydia.

She stared at him in open-mouthed horror, then saw in her mind what an amusing picture she must be presenting of herself. She pressed her lips together and turned more sharply than she meant to, crossed her arms and stared out over the lake which had slowly come back into view as the storm passed. She felt his eyes on her for a few moments before he also turned, slid down to a slouch, rested his head on the top rung of the chair-back and closed his eyes.

That irritated her. Apparently he found her company so boring, that he felt the need for a little nap before dinner.

She fumed inside. She knew her anger was out of proportion. Could it be she was ticked off because he wasn’t falling all over her? Ridiculous! She wasn’t even interested. Loser! A ridiculously good-looking loser! He was probably on the run from the law. They were almost certainly aiding and abetting a criminal.

She stole a sideways glance at him. He reminded her of Liam Hemsworth, only a little older and more rugged. Good gosh, he was yummy. Suddenly he opened one eye and caught her staring. She gasped and turned bright red. And then he closed his eye and chuckled. Actually
chuckled!
That’s it! She bounded up from her chair, leaving it rocking wildly, and went in to freshen up for dinner.

Upstairs, she jumped in the shower, hoping to cool down her irrational anger. She quickly dried off and wrapped the towel around her. One look in the mirror left her with a need for a boost to her ego. She ran a brush through her hair, dropping the brush twice in the process. Not cool, Lydia!

She felt like a freshman in high school again when the senior quarterback winked at her in the hallway. She’d given him her sexiest smile—right before she slammed the locker door on her hand. Pull it together! This isn’t high school, and you’re a grown woman. She couldn’t believe she was so flustered. That man! Well, he would be gone after dinner. Fine! Good riddance to bad rubbish! She didn’t care.

She applied a little lip gloss, simply because her lips felt chapped. Certainly not for his benefit!  Good. On second thought, maybe a bit of blush wouldn’t hurt; she was looking pale after the long winter—and if that man made her blush again, maybe it wouldn’t be so obvious.  She gazed at herself in the mirror. Did she look tired? Just a touch of mascara. Done. 

She eyed her suitcase still unopened on the bed. Aunt Vi was going to so much trouble preparing dinner, the least she could do was dress in something a little nicer than the clothes she had traveled in. Yes, the white slacks would do just fine.

Now she was grateful that her mother had taken her shopping. She loved her new clothes. She desperately hoped that was the last time her mother ever had to help her out. At twenty-eight, she vowed she would not only stand on her own two feet, but make the most of this opportunity and create a decent life for which she could be proud.

She fished the travel iron out of her duffle and ironed out the wrinkles in the slacks, and the red blouse with the fringe on the bottom. Cute. The three-inch black sandals with the red soles made her a full five-and-a-half feet—much better when confronted with what she guessed was over six feet of the backpacker. Take that, Mike Rodgers!

The smell of fried chicken wafted up the stairs, reminding her that she was not dressing for prom night, just dinner with her aunt and a homeless man. Maybe that silver necklace with the diamond chip in the center. And Barney’s clover leaf bracelet. Yes, just the right touch. And a dot of perfume behind each ear. This was the most dressed up she had been in years and, just like most women, new clothes made her feel quite beautiful. Ready or not, here I come! She descended the stairs with more dignity than she had previously exhibited.

She entered the kitchen to find her aunt alone at the table, quietly eating. “Where’s Mike?” she asked before she could help herself.

“Sit down and eat before it gets completely cold.” Vivian eyed her outfit with a questioning look. “You look very pretty. Going somewhere?”

She pulled out the chair in front of the only clean plate and sat down. “No, just thought I’d freshen up a bit before dinner. Sorry I took so long.” She began helping her plate with the one remaining chicken thigh, a spoonful of mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and the lonely half a biscuit left in the basket. She ate in silence for a few minutes, surprised at the depth of disappointment coursing through her at finding Mike gone.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! She felt her face heat up just thinking of how she thought she was going to knock this guy’s socks off when he caught sight of her. She was supposed to be strong, the one with the new life resolutions. She had arrived just a few hours ago armed with a set of rules to live by, rules like no men in her life—certainly not handsome low-lifes that meant trouble with a capital T.

What had she been thinking? She just spent a ridiculous amount of time freshening up, and for what? Why? This was supposed to be the place where she could chill out, lay low, start a new job and become the person she was meant to be. A place where she was safe from the people in her past. This was not the place to find a new man.

And in walked this guy, the exact opposite of what she should be looking for—if she were looking, which she was definitely not—and what did she do? Go absolutely crazy with a silly need to make him notice her. She thought she’d learned her lesson. But obviously not. Was she destined to be attracted to losers?

“This is delicious, Aunt Vi. You always were a good cook.”

“That’s what Mike said,” Vivian replied. “That boy has a good appetite.”

“Boy?”

“Mid-thirties, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, hardly a boy.”

“And he seems very well mannered.”

“Oh?” She sniffed. “I thought he was quite haughty. Especially since he seems to be reduced to begging for his supper.”

Vivian laughed. “I don’t think he’s reduced to begging. He seems quite educated, and I suspect he has a very successful life when he’s not out trekking the wilds. We had a rather interesting conversation over dinner.”

“A short conversation, I assume. Looks like he had to eat and run.”

“He didn’t exactly linger over supper,” Vivian agreed. “We got to talking about the cabin and he’s gone over to check it out.”

“Check it out for what? I thought he was leaving.” She was once again dismayed. Obviously she had no control over her own thoughts or emotions, so she had counted on Mike to just perform a disappearing act. She may have been attracted to bad boys in the past, but the attraction she felt for him was above and beyond her experience. She could only assume he must be the ultimate loser to have so strongly and quickly affected her. Her judgment was just that bad.

“He asked if he could stay the night in the cabin, rest up a bit, and I thought that would be okay. He said he’d probably move on at first light.”

“Oh, he’s staying the night. Well, isn’t that just lucky for him. And maybe he won’t murder us in our beds tonight.”

“I certainly hope not. He seems like a good boy.”

Lydia shook her head in disbelief. During their shopping trip her mother had told her that Vivian had practically become a recluse after Todd died. It didn’t make sense. First Aunt Vi didn’t want people around. Now, overnight, she’s got a houseful. Well, maybe not a houseful, but she seemed a far cry from being reclusive. She wondered if her aunt was thinking clearly.

“I’ll clean up,” she said as Vivian began to clear the dishes. “You go put your feet up.”

“Thanks. It’s been a long day. I think I’ll take some scraps out for the dog.”