Chapter 2

Tayla's Cabin

Cedar Lodge, Snowy Mountains

Two months later

I made it!

Tayla grinned and stared out the panelled window to the wintery landscape beyond. In just over two months, she’d not only quit her old life but felt more in control of her future than she had in, well, as long as she could remember. And that was beyond liberating.

The hidden treasure she’d stumbled on was exactly what she needed and came at precisely the right moment. The moment she’d been suffocating and at the same time drowning in fear at the thought of leaving her room. Something had to change.

So, she seized the first chance to escape her mess of a life—and encroaching crazy-cat-lady doom—and adopted a new motto: Out with the old and in with the new.

She thought back to the moment when she’d shuffled down the stuffy, dimly lit halls of the teachers’ dorm at the university, her head down, books tucked closely against her chest, feeling sorry for herself in the lead-up to another lonely, depressing Christmas period. Never before had she bothered to glance at the rows of noticeboards overflowing with pinned colored pages, but that day had been different. Out of the corner of her eye, she’d spied the bland flyer, half tucked behind another generic pamphlet for poetry-reading nights at the local bookstore and self-defense classes—been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

The plain beige flyer seemed to call to her in some strange way, almost as though she was meant to find it.

Believing in a higher purpose had always resonated with her, like each person was destined to follow a path and the universe dished out signs along the way to guide them. But after taking so many hits, there was only so much faith one could summon before doubt crept in and trust in the universe slowly dwindled away.

So, in the end, she’d presented herself with two options.

One: Continue on her current self-destructive path; work a mind-numbing nine-to-five job at a university campus that made her jumpy as hell, develop a serious case of OCD for dead-locking doors and fork out a fortune in counselling fees that didn’t make a difference. Until she was old and grey, retired in one of those nursing home villages, playing cards each morning and eating dinner at four pm. With her twenty-three cats.

Or two: She could kick her butt into gear, take back control of her life—after that monster attacked her—pack up her stuff and ditch that town once and for all, leave it and her old life for dust. Start somewhere new without the whispers, without the judging eyes, without the history. Plus, this option was a heck of a lot cheaper than years of useless therapy.

Filling the hole in her heart would be an added bonus.

Put like that, the choice was easy.

Plus, the lure of gigantic snow gums dusted in powdery white snow and an old red-brick fire place stocked with burning redwood proved too hard to resist.

So, she’d ripped the flyer free from its pin, said farewell to a handful of colleagues, piled all her belongings into the trunk of her car and embarked on her new life.

Dipping into her sizable inheritance, she paid in advance for six months’ rent for a self-contained cabin on the grounds of Cedar Lodge, nestled amongst majestic pine trees in the heart of the Snowy Mountains.

And cabin it was.

A middle-aged lady, Ellen, had managed Tayla’s booking and set her up in a one-bedroom cabin segregated from the main lodge, where she could enjoy greater privacy. Ellen had been a godsend in helping her arrange the necessities. In a few short days, Tayla had brochures on the local town, Summit Creek, forty-five minutes’ drive down the mountain, a fully stocked fridge, and a map of walking trails in the local national park. Plus, she set up a mission-critical Wi-Fi account. A bummer the Wi-Fi was as sketchy as it was cheap, and continued to drop out during her Friday night eye-candy of her favorite vampire brothers—a crime carrying the heaviest penalty.

Tayla peered around the log cabin and grinned. Compact, but hey, it was a lot bigger than the teacher’s flat she’d occupied for years.

The open-plan lower level had three sectioned spaces; a main living area to the right, a small dining space on the opposite side and a galley kitchen to the rear. A narrow winding wooden staircase led to a loft containing the main bedroom and elegant bathroom with oversize tub.

Although it came fully furnished with rich timber furniture, the twin floor-to-ceiling panelled windows filled the room with natural light, creating a sense of tranquility as she peered out at the lush dark green foliage of the pine forest beyond.

Tayla opened the solid redwood front door and stepped out onto the veranda. With her gratitude diary in her hand, she reclined in one of the white-washed Adirondack chairs—her absolute favorite spot. She'd fallen in love with the cabin the moment she stepped onto the wide veranda and spotted the chairs, basked in warm orange rays. The chairs reclined at the exact angle to lean back and put her feet up and stare out at the forest.

That had been her second sign from the universe. And a firm sign her old life was dust.

She opened the journal and turned to the next blank page—it had been the combined parting gift from her university colleagues and really hit the mark. What better way to be more positive than to be thankful? Finally, something from those countless therapy sessions put into practice.

These chairs are incredible. She jotted down the first item for today.

The golden afternoon sun burst through the pine trees like trying extra hard to conceal the fact that winter fast approached. But the breeze failed to get the memo and even though it tried to be discreet, goosebumps continued to sprout over her exposed ankles. Not cool enough for a jacket, but enough to have it close by in case the sun ducked behind a cloud.

Until now, the first color change of the leaves, signifying autumn’s arrival, made her shudder. She’d always dreaded winter, but this year, in this picturesque setting hidden amongst the protection of ancient snow gums and scented pines, the thought of winter brought a smile to her face. Lying on a shaggy sheepskin rug in front of the crackling fire, book in one hand and a glass of red in the other while the powdery snow fluttered between the branches, sounded like absolute bliss.

Her cell phone pinged on the side table and she grabbed it, swiping the home screen to view the calendar reminder. Shoot! If she didn’t get a move on, she’d be late for hot yoga, the class kindly suggested by Ellen. And while in town she could swing by the local store and grab some groceries for dinner and a nice bottle of wine for her Saturday night in.

Tayla closed the journal and slid the pen down the spine before ducking inside to lock up. She snatched her satchel from the back of the dining chair, and grabbed her yoga bag and car keys from the side table at the front door.

Her fingers brushed over the creased leather on the strap of the satchel and her heart ached at the memory of her parents gifting it to her after one of their many overseas trips.

Something positive, Tayla…

Right.

The satchel held bittersweet memories and also the perfect size, fitting all her essentials without becoming too heavy or bulky. There. Nailed it.

She closed the door and jogged down the steps to her car. She opened the driver’s door and tossed her yoga bag between the middle of the seats to land in the back and placed her satchel on the seat beside her, like a VIP passenger tagging along for the ride into town.

Gripping the steering wheel, Tayla gazed out the front windshield toward her cozy log cabin and grinned. Finally, it felt like she could suck in a lungful of air after being submerged underwater for so long.

Better watch out, she warned herself. If she settled here anymore, she might end up convincing the owner to sell her the cabin outright.

Then I'll never have to return to the real world, she thought with a mischievous giggle.