The Cabin (The Cabin Novellas (Book One)) (5 page)

“Are you okay?” he asked, turning away from the window. “You’ve seemed so… distracted since last night.”

Looking back across the table at him, I had to fight the sudden urge to spurt everything out – to tell him now. He could make his mind up here – he could walk just a few yards to his car and drive away. He would never have to see me again. Why take him halfway up a mountain to tell him? Was that fair? I bit my lip, stopping myself from pouring my soul out onto the table. I couldn’t tell him in a pub. No, I would wait until we were alone – until we were miles from the rest of the world.

“I’m okay, honest,” I said, smiling weakly at him. I picked up the bottle of beer and took a swig. It moistened my painfully dry mouth and throat.

“I’m sorry if I pressured you in any way,” he said, reaching across the table and taking one of my hands in his. He absentmindedly brushed his thumb over the ring he’d placed on my finger the day before.

I couldn’t believe this man. I couldn’t believe he was apologizing to me. He had done nothing wrong. “You have nothing to say sorry for,” I said, breaking eye contact and looking back at the mountain.

“And you have nothing to worry about,” he soothed. “I’ve been doing some thinking. We can take things as slow as you like. No pressure. I just want you to be happy, Mia. That’s all that matters to me.”

My eyes started to burn with tears and I forced them back. It was almost unbearable to hear him talking like this – unknowingly making excuses for how I’d deceived him. But it was more than that. He said my happiness was what mattered most to him. He just didn’t know he could never make me happy. Nathan could never make me as happy as the other man had, not on that deep level we all long for in our lives. That wasn’t Nathan’s fault. It was mine. I was being naïve and stupid to even think the other man had been good for me. He never was and never could be. He had hurt me. He had betrayed me. I had those scars because of him.

I looked back across the table at Nathan and I wondered, if given the chance, I could find true happiness with him. He was a good man. He would never leave me or hurt me. My happiness was more important to him than his own. I had to push the past from my mind and heart. I had been given a new start with Nathan and I should be grabbing it and
him
with both hands. The cabin would be where my new life would start with or without Nathan. I would show him the scars on my back, then explain how
they came to be there. It would be his choice to stay or leave. But unless I told him the truth, he didn’t have the choice to make.

Pushing my chair back from the table, I gripped Nathan’s hand in mine and said, “C’mon, let’s get going.”

“What about the sea bass?” he frowned.

“They fill the fridge with food up at the cabin, don’t they?” I said, yanking him back towards the door. “We can eat when we get there.”

The bartender watched me pulling Nathan impatiently towards the door and he gave my husband a knowing smile. I knew what was going through his head. I wasn’t desperate to jump into bed with Nathan; I was desperate to tell him the truth, to unburden the weight which hung heavy around my heart.

“Cancel the sea bass,” Nathan said politely to the bartender.

“I didn’t even bother to put it on,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “In all the years I’ve worked in this place, I’ve never known a pair of newlyweds to finish their drink, let alone food, before racing up the mountain, desperate to be alone together in that cabin.” 

With our rucksacks thrown over our backs, and hand in hand, we followed the winding road out of the village and towards the foot of the mountain.

A strong, cold wind blew hard over the Cross Fell. My hair whipped about my face, and I brushed it away, wishing now I had fastened it into a ponytail before setting off. Nathan walked beside me, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind. We had only walked about half a mile when I spotted a small church. It was set back from the narrow road, and barely visible behind a huge tree that was as wide as it was tall. There was a stunted-looking spire, made of white stone, just like the rest of the church. The roof was covered with grey slabs of slate. The mountain towered behind it in the distance. As we grew nearer to the church, there was a wooden post and sign which read
‘Dedicated to St. Andrews’
. The church was in the grounds of a small graveyard surrounded by a low grey stone wall. It was the only building I had seen since leaving the village.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” I gasped, stopping dead in my tracks to take in the view. “Can we take a look inside?”

“Sure,” Nathan said, pushing against a wooden gate set into the wall.

It swung open and we followed the path through the graveyard to the door of the church.

“You go on ahead,” Nathan smiled at me, taking his camera phone from his jeans pocket. “I’m going to take a look around out here. Take some pictures.”

“Okay,” I shrugged, pushing open the church door and stepping inside. The sound of the wind howling faded behind me as the door swung closed. The smell of clean fresh air was replaced by the sweet smell of incense and candlewax. Dipping the tips of my fingers in the holy water by the door, I crossed myself. Looking up
, I could see a network of wooden beams. The ceiling and the walls had been painted an off-white colour. There were statues of the Sacred Heart and the Madonna. Candles burnt slowly around their feet, bathing them in a warm orange glow. I went and stood by the statue of the Madonna. I looked up into her porcelain face, which was covered in a spider’s web of cracks. Her blank, white eyes stared down at me. I looked away.

There were several rows of wooden pews. I went to one and sat down. The church was eerily quiet and the only sound I could hear was my own heart racing in my chest. Why was it beating so suddenly? Was it because of the guilt and shame I felt? I lowered my head, and again, my eyes started to sting at the corners as tears fought to free themselves. It was then I heard a small cough. Believing I had been alone in the church, I snapped my head up. Had Nathan somehow managed to come inside without me hearing him? I looked back at the door
, but it was shut.

The coughing
came again.

I followed the sound, my eyes coming to rest on the confessional box set against the far wall. A curtain was pulled closed over the side where the priest waited to hear his congregation’s confession. The other
curtain was pulled back, revealing an empty seat. I looked at it. I hadn’t given my confession – not since...

How could I tell anyone what had happened? How could I make such a confession? I looked again at that solitary chair and it was like it was willing me to step forward and sit on it. If I could confess to God – He would give His forgiveness,
then perhaps Nathan could forgive me, too? I wondered, standing up. Even if I didn’t get God’s forgiveness, it would give me a chance to work through what I was going to say before I made my confession to Nathan. Did it matter what the priest thought of me? He wouldn’t be able to see my face. He wouldn’t recognise my voice. He would never know who I was. This church was miles from anywhere, the last building before I climbed the mountain with my husband. Maybe that’s why the priest sat in the confessional box and waited? Perhaps there had been other brides and grooms who stopped by to make one last confession, open their souls, tear out their secrets before they climbed that mountain and took their wives and husbands to bed. Maybe there had been others who had needed to unburden their soul before they could fully commit to the person they had decided to spend the rest of their life with, for better or worse.

Slowly, I pulled the curtain closed and sat on the wooden seat. My heart raced faster, as my mouth turned dry all over again. As my mind scrambled, searching for how I might even begin to start my confession, a soft voice came from the other side of the thin wall which separated me and the priest.

“How long has it been since your last confession?” the priest asked compassionately.

“It’s been four years, Father,” I whispered, feeling suddenly panicked. Then, t
hrowing aside the curtain, I snatched up my rucksack and fled the confessional. Fear gripped my heart. I couldn’t make my confession. I hurried through the rows of seats, my heart racing so fast now, I thought it might just stop. Yanking open the door, I stumbled out of the church and into the graveyard. I ran down the path to the gate and didn’t stop until I was back on the winding road. Bending forward, I gripped my knees and gasped in lungfuls of cold, damp air. It had started to rain.

I heard the gate squeaking open behind me. I looked up, half expecting to see the priest running after me. Nathan looked startled and confused.

“Mia?” he gasped. “What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I just spooked myself,” I lied, straightening up, still sucking in air.

“Spooked yourself? How?” he asked, wrapping his arm about my shoulder and pulling me close.

“Just shadows,” I said, breathing deeply, trying to catch my breath. “That place is kinda creepy.”

“Creepy?” Nathan smiled, looking back at the church. “I don’t think it looks creepy.”

“Well, you never took a look inside,” I said, tugging at his sleeve. “
Can we just go now? It’s starting to rain.” I just wanted to get away from that church in case the priest came in search of me, wondering why I had balked so violently from his confessional.

Looking curiously at me, Nathan said, “Sure, we can get going. No problem.”

“Good,” I tried to smile, turning my back on the church and setting off towards the mountain.

The climb wasn’t as steep as it looked from the bottom, and we didn’t have to go right to the top. There was a path we could follow. It branched left, then right, and several times we came upon a small crossroad. We’d been walking in silence for about two hours or more, our heads tilted down against the driving rain. It had started to get dark, and the pale daylight was fading fast.

Nathan stopped suddenly ahead of me and looked back. “I think we’re lost, Mia,” he yelled over the roaring wind. “We should’ve reached the cabin by now. It said in the brochure the cabin was only an hour’s walk from the foot of the mountain. We’ve been walking for nearly two hours.”

“How can we be lost?” I shouted over the sound of the roaring wind. “We’ve been following the path.”

“Maybe we took a wrong turn back at one of those crossroads,” he yelled, pulling the hood of his coat up over his head to beat off the driving rain. “Have a look at that brochure. I’m sure I saw a map on it.”

I reached into my coat pocket, but it wasn’t there. I checked the other, then the pockets of my jeans. “I haven’t got it anymore,” I hollered at him. “I might’ve left it in the car.”

“I saw you put it in your pocket,” he told me.

“I must’ve dropped it then,” I said, feeling useless. “Perhaps it fell out in the pub when I put the keys to the cabin in my pocket.”

Nathan looked ahead, then back down the mountain as if trying to figure out the best course of action to take. I followed his gaze and could see a wall of fog creeping slowly towards us.

“We head back down the mountain,” he said, taking me by the arm and leading me away. “We’ll check out one of those other paths.”

I went with him, as the fog curled around our heels. The temperature had suddenly dropped. My nose, hands, and ears started to grow numb with cold. We reached a fork in the path that we had passed earlier.

“Which way?” I shouted at Nathan, the wind blowing icy droplets of rain into my face.

“Down here,” he yelled
, setting off down the path.

“Are you sure?” I hollered, turning to inspect the other route. A thick blanket of fog had suddenly swept in. I span around in search of Nathan, but I was met by a wall of dense, impenetrable fog. I had lost
sight of him. Was I even facing the right way? I couldn’t be sure, so I turned around again.

“Nathan!” I shouted over the roaring wind, which slammed into the mountainside.
“Nathan!”

I bent low against the wind and listened intently, hoping I would hear Nathan calling out to me. But it was impossible. All I could hear was the wild roar of the wind. Raising my hands over my eyes, I strained to see through the fog, but I couldn’t see anything more than a foot ahead. I staggered forward, my arms outstretched before me like the blind. Was I even heading in the direction that Nathan had set off in? I was scared at how quickly I had become disorientated and lost. I plucked m
y mobile from my jeans pocket but wasn’t too surprised to find there wasn’t any signal. I shoved it back into my pocket.

“Nathan!”
I screamed again.

Nothing, just the raging wind.

I staggered forward, each step now tentative, not knowing how close I was to the sheer drop on the other side of the path. I turned in the direction I sensed I should be heading and to my relief, I saw a figure cutting their way through the fog towards me.

“Nathan!”
I yelled, waving my hands above my head and starting to cry. “Nathan, I’m over here.”

The figure came out of the fog, stopping right in front of me.

“Mia,” he said.

I drew a sharp breath, now believing I had actually seen a ghost. “What are you doing here?” I gasped, stumbling back towards the cliff’s edge.