The cabin was both smaller and larger than in her head. The tree she’d planted, only a sapling on her fifth birthday, was now over twenty feet high. The leaves had turned a dark burgundy, most of them blanketing the ground, providing cover for the little creatures she’d gotten to know so well. She climbed out of the truck, heard Mike’s door slam and then felt him next to her. But she didn’t look away from the earth.
“When I was small, I used to build towns for the insects. I’d lie in the dirt, where there were worms, beetles, ants. I spent hours digging them pathways and filling tiny ponds with water. I even made hills and little houses out of mud and twigs.”
“That sounds like fun. I didn’t know girls did those kinds of things.”
She looked at him and laughed. “Well, I can’t speak for all girls. And honestly, right now, it’s all I can do not to shudder just thinking about anything crawling over me.” She paused for a moment. “My mom must’ve liked bugs, too. She taught me all their common names first, but by the time I was twelve, I’d learned their scientific names, order, family, genus and species.”
Mike’s eyebrows rose.
“She was an exceptional teacher. And seamstress. She’d made me a cloth bag to wear over my shoulder, complete with notebook, pencils, highlighters and a booklet called Discover Entomology...” Her throat had tightened with an unexpected lump, and she swallowed until it disappeared. “I read it so often, she replaced it twice.”
Crouching, she cleared away some of the leaves. Of course, there was no trace of her childhood village, but the fond memory would always stay with her. She looked up and accepted Mike’s outstretched hand.
He pulled her to her feet, and she stood close as they looked into each other’s eyes. “How are you doing, Savannah?”
“Not too bad.”
“I expect it’ll come in waves.”
Nodding, she released his hand then followed his gaze to the cabin.
“I told you it wasn’t going to be in great shape,” he said.
“Still has four walls and most of a roof. Even the chimney is standing—more or less.”
“Listen,” he said, “last time I was here was several years ago, when I saw smoke out this way. Turned out some kids had tried to use the fireplace and nearly killed themselves in the process. The smoke didn’t vent, and they were drunk or stoned. Everyone came out of it alive, although they’d broken the lock and a couple windows. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you before now.”
Nodding, her gaze strayed to the front door and her pulse quickened. Funny how she’d assumed her visit to the creek was enough of a pilgrimage. Now it was clear she’d needed to come to the cabin. Regardless of what it looked like inside or out.
“I don’t know why I’m shaking,” she said, staring at her hands. “There’s nothing in there that’s going to hurt me.”
“We don’t have to stay,” Mike said, sticking close.
“Thanks, but I want to finish this.”
“Why don’t I go in first, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“It was a real mess the last time. I don’t want you to see it like that.”
“For all I know, someone else’s mess might be just the ticket.”
He nodded and waited.
As with most things in life, the first step was the hardest. After that, she looked at the cabin as if it were someone else’s. Her gaze caught on little things. A glass shard in the sunlight as she reached the door. A footprint, big, where the doorknob dangled. A squeak she didn’t recognize as she pushed in.
Of course, it was dark. Even back when she was a kid, the trees around them had blocked out a lot of the sun. But now, with the odd angle of the light, the air was ghostly with dust particles and wisps of webs.
Some furniture was still in the main room. The kitchen sink was broken and the counters were disgusting and battered. Her gaze kept returning to the dining-room table. It had never been anything special, just some wood slapped together by her grandfather. She remembered him, even though he’d died when she was four. He’d had wild hair, and he had made her laugh.
“Oh, for heaven’s... It still has the phone book underneath the leg,” she said. “My grandfather was a terrible carpenter. He never measured anything—that leg was an inch shorter than the rest.”
“That’s one way to fix it.” Mike was grinning again, his arms folded across his chest, his back straight and strong. As if he were a guardian instead of a...
What was Mike? A friend? An ally? Yes, but maybe more? While she wasn’t exactly sure what they were, she was awfully grateful for him.
Two chairs pulled over close to the fireplace were still on four legs, although she wouldn’t dare sit on them. The old, ugly couch her father had picked up from a yard sale hadn’t ever smelled great, but now the old lumps had gotten much larger. Perhaps there was a colony inside it now. Squirrels? Mice?
Mike had been right about the trash. Beer bottles, cigarette butts and empty wine bottles littered the floor. There was a flannel shirt in the corner, covered with dust. Strangely, seeing it like this did help. Her mother had always made sure the house was spotless.
“I don’t think I need to see the bathroom,” she said as she moved into the back part of the cabin. The bathroom was between her parents’ bedroom and her own. It had been terrible placement. With their plasterboard walls she’d heard most everything.
She’d saved up for months to buy a pair of headphones, which didn’t even work with the old radio she had. So she’d stuffed cotton in her ears and put the headphones over that.
“This was Mom’s,” Savannah said, wandering into her mother’s bedroom first.
The bed had been smashed, and the old headboard was missing completely. The dresser was in even worse shape. What had happened in this room? Nothing she wanted to know about.
“Whoa,” Mike said, grasping her arms as she ran into him.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were so close.”
“It’s all right,” he said, looking intently into her eyes. “You still okay?”
“Yeah. Pretty much. Just, some memories are better than others.”
“Understandable. I have a few that make me cringe, and I doubt they’re going away anytime soon.”
Savannah smiled at the face he made. Clearly he hadn’t said that just to make her feel better. Then she saw the old dry-erase board her mother had used for math equations.
“I can’t believe she left this behind,” Savannah said, picking it up and dusting it off. “Although she must’ve had a dozen of them. With today’s tech, this seems almost archaic.”
“Maybe, but I bet it did the job.”
“Oh, yeah.” She wondered if the pens were still around. But in this mess, she wasn’t about to search for them. “Mom didn’t follow a regular curriculum, which I didn’t understand until much later. She made sure she followed the Montana laws for homeschooling, but she was much more interested in pursuing the things I was excited about. Not an easy task, since I was voraciously curious. We’d planned on getting a used RV and traveling across the country to visit historical sites.”
“That would’ve been something.”
“Yep. We never had the money, and then I begged her to let me go to the high school. But I learned a lot from her. I’m sure I got more from her teaching than I ever would have from a traditional education.”
“Was she accredited?”
“No. All she was allowed to do was homeschool. But with the wisdom of age, I’ve realized she’s a smart woman. She could’ve done much more with her life.” Savannah shrugged. “If she hadn’t married my dad.”
“I’m glad you had a good education. It’s certainly paid off.”
“It has,” she said, relieved to leave her mother’s room but still a little wary of looking inside her own. Her room had been her sanctuary. “I’m glad you’re with me. And I promise I’m almost ready to go.”
He shook his head. “Take as much time as you need.”
The door squeaked. It always had, but now it sounded more like a scary-movie sound effect. She peeked inside, and her gaze stopped at her bed. It was messed up. Thinking about who might’ve used it since wasn’t a good idea, so she focused on how tiny it was. A twin bed. Maybe smaller than that, she wasn’t sure.
She’d forgotten about the poster above it. The old thing was hanging by one nail, but she knew the picture well. It was a shot of Glacier National Park, the snowcapped mountains above their mirror image in a pristine lake.
She’d been there once. “We had a TV, but it wasn’t connected to an antenna,” she said. “We did have a VCR and seventeen tapes. I watched them all dozens and dozens of times.”
“What was your favorite?”
“The Parent Trap. And I loved Armageddon. I’ve got the DVDs but I haven’t seen them in a while. With work, I don’t have time, and when I do I prefer going to a theater.”
“I do, too. Kalispell has two nice movie stadiums now.”
Her eyes closed as she wondered what life would have been like if her mother had never...if they’d never left. Would she and Mike have found each other? Would they have gone to the movies in Kalispell? Probably not. She would have done everything in her power to get out of Blackfoot Falls on her eighteenth birthday, if not before.
She turned back to the room. Her window had been broken by a rock that sat on the floor. “I used to crawl out that window at night, get into my sleeping bag and watch the stars. Then at first light, I’d go into the woods and try to sneak up on the deer.”
Mike smiled. “How did that work out?”
“Oh, they saw me coming a mile away. Although... I actually became friends with one, a young doe. I fed her apples. But she left.”
“No pets?”
“No pets. My father was allergic.” The mix of memories and emotions were beginning to overwhelm her. She needed time to process. “You know what? I think I’m ready to go. Is that all right?”
“That’s fine. Come on.” Mike held the door for her, his arm outstretched.
They took the short walk to the truck in silence. Mike stayed a step behind her, his way of giving her a modicum of privacy.
“Savannah?”
She started to turn to him then realized he’d opened the passenger door and was waiting for her.
The concern in his dark eyes tugged at her heart. “Thank you,” she said.
“I’m sorry. I wish this could’ve been easier for you.” His brows lifted in mild surprise when she slid her arms around his neck.
“It wasn’t easy, but it was good. You did that, you made it painless.”
“I don’t see how.” He put his hands on her waist but didn’t try to pull her closer.
“By coming with me. By being a shoulder for me to lean on. By not judging me. I could keep going...”
“Savannah, you did all the heavy lifting. You prepared yourself for this day by going to therapy, which I know nothing about except that you had to be brave as hell. As for judging you? Why would I do that? I feel like a wimp next to you.”
She laughed then melted a little at the smile he gave her. “You know what?” she said, pressing closer.
“What?”
“Even if this entire trip had ended up a disaster, it would have been worth every minute just so I could get to know you.”
He let go of her waist and put his arms around her. “I had a similar thought...although the circumstances were just a little different in my version.”
“Just a little?” She tilted her head back.
“Yeah, no disaster involved.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
Savannah let out a silly laugh, startling herself. “I giggled.”
“You did.”
“I never giggle.”
“Can’t say that anymore.”
“Bet you’d let me get away with it.”
Mike smiled. “Bet you’re right,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.