Thunder shattered the darkness. Would the cabin walls collapse? It was no icy gale or furious tornado. No... the choppers were back.
Finding Tyler’s empty pillow, Mayson sprung from the bed, screaming his name. Grabbing her crutches, she thumped down the hall, swinging first into the kitchen, then the living room. Where was...? Her eyes shot up to the quaking ceiling — the choppers were directly overhead.
She went down the hall and peered out the drapes. Three police cutters were moored offshore. Thumping across the room, she scanned the inn’s empty drive. “Go away!” she screamed at the maddening thunder.
Hobbling to the bathroom, she sunk into the tub. Tyler had rescued her once before. Surely he would again.
It seemed an eternity until the vibrations finally faded, and silence returned to the cabin. Had the choppers left? You could never be sure. Sometimes they flew off, only to swoop back seconds later.
Crawling from the tub, she returned to the window, scanning the drive and the snowy ridge. Tyler, where are you, she thought. Her eyes drifted down the hall. Would the door open this time? Hadn’t he promised that if it didn’t, she’d know something was wrong and that instead of waiting, she should go through it herself and find him?
She slipped on her socks and boot and grabbed her coat and scarf from the closet. Starting out, she caught her reflection in the mirror. The crutches dug into the armpits of her shabby coat, dark brown curls fringing her tattered cap.
She opened the door and started up the slope, her eyes scanning for choppers in the frigid sky. Like daggers, the icy air slashed her bruised ribs as she covered the deep snow in robot-like motion — right crutch down, left crutch down, swing the body.
Reaching the inn, she thumped into the office shouting Tyler’s name and then headed back to the living quarters. She hobbled from room to room and then started up the stairs. Right crutch, left crutch over narrow steps. Breathless, she reached the second floor and thumped past the vacant rooms. Arms burning, leg throbbing, she climbed to the third floor. The leg pain was constant now, but she hadn’t told Tyler. Calling his name as she hobbled down the hall, she climbed to the next floor.
Reaching the attic minutes later, she collapsed into the corner chair. She surveyed the dust-coated boxes and racks of motheaten clothes and soon found herself digging through the inn’s memorabilia. She leafed through news clippings and postcards and finally came to the family pictures. The Kennesaws, she assumed — Mrs., a plump, plain woman; Mr., a large man with moustache and stern dark eyes; and the two boys, scrub-faced and grinning.
The Corellis had once been a family picture, too. But now there were only voices. Fathers leave their little girls... Brothers disappoint and abandon... Friends take your trust... Songbirds slip off in the night. Only miracles can bring them back.
Was Tyler that miracle? Hadn’t he returned her to a world she’d once abandoned? Persuaded her to trust, when she thought she never would again? Yes, he was. Then please, her tears crinkled the attic quiet like delicate glass. Please... Her eyes lifted as the first vibrations reached the walls and again, the sky thundered.
Pulling herself up, she waited for the floor to settle, then quickly descended the stairs. Had the tri-state region suddenly been cut to two? One, maybe? The smaller the area, the more frequent the reconnaissance missions over the same ground. Their ground.
Finally reaching the kitchen, she scanned the wilderness outside — the northern ridge, the vast gray lake beyond, the coastal ports to the west, the dense forest to the east. Her gaze settled finally on the inn’s storage shed, its flapping canvas roof, and the stacked firewood beneath. A dozen or more logs lay scattered in the snow, with colorful patches among them — colors that didn’t fit. Blue, tan, gold... “Tyler!” she screamed, hurrying outside and then quickly freezing at the sky’s sudden tremble. Horrified, she watched three black bats emerge from the northern clouds. One glided east and another west, with the third maintaining a steady course towards the inn. She glanced at Tyler, and quickly thumped back inside.
The kitchen’s walls trembled, glass rattling in the cupboards as she dashed for the window. The chopper was directly overhead — had they seen Tyler among the logs? She cringed as his hat scooted across the snow. Did they see it? Holding her breath, she waited.
Finally, the thunder faded as the chopper resumed its southern course. Thumping back out, she found him sprawled beneath the logs. She struggled to roll them away, then knelt to examine him. Blood had clotted around a gash in his temple. How long had he been out here? And more critically, how could she get him back inside before the choppers returned? The same way the small girl did what she had to, a voice whispered.
Mr. Cellini, I need more overtime.
You’re working sixty hours a week now. That’s more than your Mama likes.
She likes worrying about money even less. The warehouse stock is piling up. It should be moved out to the shelves.
No, Mayson Angelina. You can’t lift those heavy boxes.
Yes, I can. I’ll show you.
When his sons hadn’t moved them by Monday, she begged again.
Please, Mr. Cellini, let me move the boxes, and save Frank and Sal’s wages. The delivery truck will come soon, and there won’t be room for the shipment.
Okay, he’d finally relented. But don’t tell your Mama.
She’d moved them all, just as she’d move Tyler now.
Leaning on her crutches, she grabbed his hand and tugged. Then again, and again. Finally, the snow scraped beneath him. Encouraged, she tugged until his deadened body had been moved ten feet across the snow. She rested and then tugged another ten feet. Her breath quickened, the icy air slicing her ribs until the pain finally caused her to collapse in the snow. Gasping, she sat up and checked his pulse, rubbing her gloves’ warmth into his face. Hold on, amore mio, we’re almost home. Pulling herself all the way up, she grabbed his hand and continued the arduous journey. Slowly, but steadily, she drew closer, her eyes fixed on the gray sky.
When she finally reached the cabin, she pulled him inside. It took several minutes before the pain faded and she could take a decent breath. Then, stripping off his wet clothes, she wrapped him in blankets and rolled him onto the mattress by the fire. As he thawed out, she dressed and bandaged his temple.
A feverish glow returned to his face. How much today’s disaster had worsened his condition, only time would tell.
The coastline shimmered in the blazing sun and the heavy jar felt like lead in his arms. “I can’t carry it any further,” he shouted to Kara, who strolled ahead in the gentle surf.
Turning, she frowned. “Then you shouldn’t have brought it — or followed me here. I explained it all in the tree house that afternoon. Now please go back and do what you promised.”
His head throbbed suddenly. Why was it so hot? “But Kara, the jar’s too heavy. And I...”
“I have to go,” she said fading away.
“Kara, come back! Kara...!”
The heat intensified, melting the scene away. Cool, fragrant fingers brushed his face, and Mayson’s soft voice confirmed his safety. “How do you feel?” she asked.
“Like Jerry Quarry after the Ali fight,” he said, discovering his bandaged temple.
“That’s some gash. I cleaned it, but it needs stitching. Do you remember what happened?”
“The avalanche of logs? Yeah, I remember.”
“The choppers paid us three visits while you were in those logs. You shouldn’t have gone to the inn in your condition.”
“We needed firewood,” he sighed. “I must’ve been in a daze. By the time I reached the shed, I could hardly stand up. Otherwise, I would’ve known better than to grab the logs from the middle of the stack. The last thing I remember is the wall collapsing. How the hell did you get me back here?”
“Very slowly.”
A silence settled over them as they gazed at the fire. Kara’s memory remained heavy, but unspoken, between them. “This inn’s supposed to be vacant,” he said. “With choppers visiting, we have to keep it looking that way. That means no more fires.”
“Then let’s enjoy this last one,” she said.
He started to rise, then caught himself. “Where’s my underwear?”
“Drying in the bathroom, with the rest of your clothes.”
“I assume you peeped.”
“After so many conquests, I felt sure you’d had it bronzed.”
“Go to hell,” he said. Wrapped in his toga, he rose to go to the window. “At least this latest snow will cover our tracks.”
“Either way,” she shrugged, “it’s just a matter of time until the inn is searched.”
“How much time depends on where we were last spotted.”
Meaning they had two choices. Leave, or wait to be caught when the operation finally reached the inn. But where could they go, with snow piling on snow and the arctic air hovering at zero? “Tyler, I hate Kara for what she did to you.”
“Mayson, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then it’s your fault.” As he ducked into the bathroom, she said, “Your clothes aren’t dry yet.”
“They’re close enough,” he replied, slipping into his shorts.
Wriggling out of her split-seam pants, Mayson tossed them to the floor. “I’m sick of these baggy things! With icy air blowing through them, what good are they?”
As he took his medicine, she slipped into the blankets. “Tyler, you won’t get better until you start acting sensibly.”
“Look who’s talking.” His head throbbed, his feverish skin crawling against a chill that the blankets were useless against. “Just shoot me, all right?”
“I would, except I’m afraid I’d get so bored alone in this cabin, I couldn’t stand it.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“I’m just joking.” She kissed him. “I’d be lost without you.”
“Me, too,” he confessed.
“Well, that’s something you don’t have to worry about.” Her slender leg slipped inside his. “I’ll be here as long as you want me.” Had Kara made the same promise? “Tyler, you’re trapped in a past you either can’t, or won’t, leave behind.”
The fire brought a glow to her large, dark eyes. Had he ever known anyone with her insight?
“What are you smiling about?” she asked.
“How well you know me.”
“And how well is that?”
“Better than anyone else.”
“Tyler, the past can’t hurt us. But you’ve got to be willing to share it.”
Sharing meant letting go. Voicing what had been confirmed that it was no longer. And he wasn’t ready to reduce Kara to a memory. She was much too alive inside him.
A sharp silence settled over the cabin, soothed by the fire’s soft flicker. It was certain to end with her next words. Wasn’t it this anticipation that made the silence, if strained, also alive? Then wasn’t there something he could share with her in return?
“I’ve always had this fascination with clowns – once I got used to their cap guns, anyway. They make people laugh, not with punch lines, but with perfectly timed antics. If the timing’s off, the whole performance suffers.”
“Clowns fascinate me, too,” she confessed. “Not so much by their ability to make me laugh, but by how well they hide themselves behind their circus paint and silly clothes. ‘Who is this clown?’ I find myself wondering. What drove him to seek refuge behind the circus mask? Is he secretly crying at the same moment he’s making the rest of the world laugh? I’ve wondered this about clowns, but more recently, Tyler, about you.”
As the fire quietly died and the night drifted, he revealed his childhood dream. The one inspired by Uncle Frank’s Thanksgiving tales. “That first moment inside RFK stadium — the noise, the crowd, the field sparkling like glass — it took my breath away. The players were like gladiators preparing for battle and by game time, the stadium was rocking. I told myself, ‘I have to do this!’ “
“And you did,” she said. “You were sensational. I wish so much that I’d seen you play.” Had Kara? Would he admit it if she had? “I used to dream of being in Giants Stadium for the opening kickoff, with the world suddenly reduced to the field and its fate decided by the two armies lined up for battle.”
“A great childhood fantasy,” he smiled.
“A great grownup fantasy, you mean. My childhood fantasy took place in my cousin Maria’s tree house. I spent many afternoons imagining myself a queen — the streets below, my empire. The people, my loyal subjects.” She sighed. “I wanted a tree house so badly. Did you have one?”
His eyes became distant. “We could see the whole world from up there. Where it began at the Castlewood oak, and where it ended — south, with the rolling meadows; west, where the forest hemmed the crystal sky; and north, where the James drifted into the horizon. We didn’t care that Columbus had proclaimed it round or that Magellan had circled it. This was our world, discovered one summer afternoon.”
“Who is ‘we?’ A childhood friend?”
He nodded, and with that the book closed, the story having just begun.
Dawn returned to the window. Anxiously, she gazed at the gray sky. When would the choppers return? They would, she was certain of that. Again and again, until they found what they were looking for.
Fear shadowed every minute. But at least there was a glimmer of light. Tyler’s... She froze as his fingers crept inside her shirt, then slowly climbed the tender flesh of her ribs. No, he wasn’t... Yes, he was. He was claiming her naked breast...
“How do they feel?” he asked.
“They?”
“Your ribs. Are they still sore?”
“No... yes... I mean, a little. Only that’s not a rib you’re holding.”
“I feel like a confused shopper in the produce section. What have I stumbled upon here – an apple or pear?”
“Then you’re saying I’m a fruit?”
“The sweetest,” he replied.
Minutes drifted. “Your hand’s still on my breast.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, just a happy bulletin.” Her eyes closed.
Time had become as meaningless as the gray world outside. Huddled in the blankets, she was oblivious to all but the warmth created by their bodies, and the thoughts of a bright future she’d never know. “Tyler, I can’t wait for a Redskins game. Can we drink beer and eat hot dogs?”
“As many as we want.”
“And will we have good seats?”
“Fifty-yard line,” he replied.
“Madonna mia! I’ll learn all the players. We won’t even need a program. You do plan on taking me to more than one game?”
“If you behave,” he said.
“And if the Skins are in the Super Bowl?”
“What makes you think they will be?”
“Because Todd Hansen is the franchise quarterback they envisioned, and their defense is vastly improved.”
Were there any Redskins players she didn’t already know? “If Hansen gets the Skins to New Orleans, we’ll go.”
“Except the Super Bowl’s in Phoenix this year. Tyler, tell me about the oyster roast.”
“You really are a pain in the ass, aren’t you?” His gaze fixed on the rafters, he described the annual event: oysters in every possible form eaten on the riverbank, followed by the Club’s dance.
“Did you go every year?” She idly twirled his chest hair.
“The first twenty,” he replied.
Meaning he’d missed the last seven - because of his split with Kara? “I’ll go to the oyster roast with you, only I’ve never eaten oysters. Does it matter?”
“Not unless someone finds out.”
“Let’s see now,” she inventoried. “A Redskins game, the Barnum and Bailey, an oyster roast, Disney World... and Sea World, of course.”
“I don’t recall Sea World as part of the package.”
“Tyler, let’s say that by some miracle we survive and do all these things. How will it work, with you at Castlewood and me in New York?”
“Distance won’t be a problem.”
“I don’t have to live in New York. I could move closer.”
“Let’s get out of Wisconsin first,” he said.
“Tyler, you hate New York. Will you really visit me?”
“Yes, but you’ll visit me more. In fact, you’ll enjoy a nice, long rest at Castlewood before going home.”
“And what will your parents say about having a young Italian woman from a poor Brooklyn neighborhood as a guest in their home?” she asked. “I don’t have anything resembling a pedigree.”
“And you think one will be required?”
“Honestly,” she sighed. “You can’t just pretend I’m not different. The moment I walk through the door, my accent will send shock waves not heard since Sherman’s cannons. And if I make it to the dinner table, I’ll be totally clueless over which fork and spoon goes with which bowl and plate.”
“Then we’ll just have to feed you in the kitchen. At least until you’ve had the proper training.”
“You’re making a joke and it’s not funny. It’s terrifying to imagine what they’ll think of me.”
“I see your point,” he agreed. “But they’ll notice how beautiful you are right away. There’s no way to hide it, unless we change your hair again and find another pair of hideous glasses. And it’ll take just a minute for them to discover what a pain in the ass you are.”
Her slender body was like tense cord in his arms. But wasn’t her anxiety pointless? There’d be no Redskins games, Disney World or oyster roasts. She wouldn’t return to New York, nor he to Castlewood. They’d probably die right here on the coast of Lake Superior.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll be well received at Castlewood, whether or not you’ve eaten an oyster or know which fork to use. They’ll love your accent and you’ll love Castlewood.”
She envisioned the breathtaking river mansion she’d created in her mind, then filled with uniformed servants, antique furniture, glass chandeliers, silver trays and gilded paintings. She hadn’t sketched Kara, but should she? Did Kara live near Castlewood? Was Tyler forced to see her at their fancy country club with her husband and the children he’d once dreamed would be his? The sight would be agonizing.
“You’re so quiet,” he said. “What’s the matter?”
“I can’t be quiet unless something’s the matter?”
“No. So what is it?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “Now hush.”
He began counting the seconds until... “Tyler?”
Eighteen, he smiled to himself. “Yes?”
“All those times you saw My Fair Lady, you were with Kara? And the piano recitals; they were hers, too?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Had there been words to follow, she would’ve certainly choked on them. But he allowed no time anyway, lifting her chin and kissing her with such tenderness it was impossible to doubt the depth of his feelings, which flowed through her like sweet honey.