IN THE WEEK since Taylor had returned to Seattle, Keegan experienced a level of comfort he hadn’t enjoyed in years. His conversations with Taylor had been more intimate as they shared details about their lives and relived the conversations they’d had while Taylor was at the campground.
Keegan’s writing had taken on new meaning. He was writing faster now, thinking way ahead of the pace of his fingers. And he’d discovered one distinct change in the attitude he reflected on the monitor. His words had become less cynical about the world as he discovered renewed empathy and compassion for what he had seen as a reporter. Deep inside he didn’t hurt any less. Maybe that would come in time. But in many ways the hurt he was feeling now was good, cleansing and blessedly normal for a man who had witnessed the worst of mankind.
Sometimes, very often in fact, he paused and reflected on what had changed in his life, and the answer was always the same. Carrie. And more and more his thoughts lingered on her. She had opened his eyes without ever expanding his current world, which was now confined to seven lonely acres. But he’d lived in a world in which he’d buried his hands in the muck of human suffering for so long, he didn’t think he’d be able to live as a contented man.
He didn’t regret what he’d done with his life. True, he felt a continuing guilt over what his obsession with his work had done to his son, but maybe he was taking steps to close the gap he’d allowed to grow while he was away. But regret over what he’d seen, the words he’d written? No. His reporting had been top-notch, an eye to the miseries of injustice. His award-winning words had brought millions of dollars to the world’s oppressed who needed it. His articles had made people more aware of their own good fortune and perhaps more aware of the darker nature of man’s soul.
Keegan didn’t kid himself that he was healed, that the dark side of his own psyche had been purged. He was a realist, and he knew that the events he’d witnessed would be with him always, a continuous beast clawing inside his breast to break free. But he was changing, little by little, and he was better because of Carrie.
So where did they go from here? The last seven days had been experimental. They’d spent their time pursuing their own interests, coming together for meals and conversation. And then, in the evenings, they would nestle side by side on the sofa watching a movie, or they would take drives over nearby snow-dusted roads. They lived wonderfully normal lives, whatever that meant. He’d all but forgotten.
When Keegan held her hand, he felt connected to something better than himself. When he kissed her, he imagined himself as he was in the nineties when he’d accepted that his family was basically dysfunctional and turned his attention to sports and girls. It had been an innocent, uncomplicated time then, and it was so now.
Carrie’s stay at the campground was coming to an end. Her car was fixed and sitting outside on the gravel lot. Her walking boot would be cast aside in a week if her X-rays were positive. She’d stayed in touch with her fellow tree lovers in Michigan. They understood her plight but wanted her back.
Could he let her go? Of course, if that was what she wanted. And she should want her old life back, not this temporary one with an embattled hermit of a man whose demeanor was as different from her pleasant, hopeful attitude as anyone’s could be. She “could do so much better.” That old phrase entered his thoughts with regularity because it was true. She deserved better than him.
He checked the clock. Three in the afternoon. Maybe he’d decide what they’d have for dinner. He walked to the back window and looked over his yard where Carrie sat in the middle of it all sketching. She’d taken to doing that again, adding details, drawing plants and trees, maybe in hopes of changing his mind, maybe to make beautiful what had grown wasted. He sighed. She’d given him so much more than he could ever give her.
When a knock sounded at the front door, he went to open it. “Well, hello,” he said.
Jeanette stood on his threshold wearing a light jacket, appropriate for the day, black leggings and a dark blue sweater.
She came inside, not waiting for an invitation.
“So, you are still alive out here,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder.” She pulled off her gloves and shrugged out of her jacket, tossing everything on the closest chair. Then she went to Keegan and put her arms around his neck. “Missed me?” she asked, a note of flirtiness in her voice.
“We haven’t gotten together in a long while, Jeanette. I thought you’d moved on,” he said, backing away from her.
“You don’t still have your houseguest, do you? It’s been three weeks, for heaven’s sake. She should have gone by now.”
He resented her tone, as if no one could stand to be around him for that long. “She hasn’t moved on. Not yet. She broke her leg, Jeanette. It takes time to heal.”
Jeanette’s gaze swept the small area. “Then where is she?”
“Outside.”
She strode to the window. “What’s she doing, drawing pictures?”
“Yes. She likes to do that.”
Jeanette went to the nearest chair and sat. “I’ve got to tell you, Keegan. You’ve really surprised me. I never saw you as the type to willingly minister to someone’s needs like this.”
He couldn’t argue that point.
“I mean…if I thought you were getting other benefits from this arrangement, but you’re just boarding and feeding her…aren’t you?”
Keegan frowned. “She’s not a horse, Jeanette. She’s a guest.”
Jeanette stared up at him with a coy smile. “So, are there?”
“Are there what?”
“Other benefits.”
“No! Nothing like that is going on.”
“Well, good, because she’s just a kid, isn’t she? I mean, is she old enough to vote?”
“Yes, she is.”
“Doesn’t she have family? Why aren’t her parents taking care of her instead of you?”
“It’s a long story and frankly, none of your concern.”
“Fine. It’s you and me that I’d like to be concerned with.” Jeanette rose from the chair and walked to him. “I’ve missed you, Keegan. You aren’t always fun in the usual sense, but you’re always entertaining.” She looped her arms around his nape again. “How much longer is she staying?”
He fastened his hands on her forearms with the intent of pushing her away. “I don’t know. As long as she needs to.”
A blast of cool air enveloped them, and they both turned to see Carrie on the back threshold. She tried to shut the door quickly, but the wind caught it. Keegan dropped his hands to his sides. Jeanette backed away slowly. Carrie’s mouth opened, then closed again. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Well, hi, honey,” Jeanette said. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good, thanks. I won’t be staying much longer.”
Keegan closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath. She’d heard Jeanette, and had probably even seen her arms around him.
“Don’t hurry on my account,” Jeanette said. “You wouldn’t want to rush the healing process.”
When he opened his eyes, Keegan allowed his gaze to settle on the floor. He could imagine what Carrie was thinking, and she wouldn’t be wrong.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jeanette asked. “Do you need anything, hon? Things I could pick up at the store for you? I see you’re walking on that boot. Maybe we could have a girls’ day soon. Would you like that? Maybe go to lunch?”
Keegan’s gut clenched. Jeanette was talking to Carrie as if she were twelve years old. He couldn’t look at her to see the hurt he knew would be in her eyes.
“No, thank you. I won’t be staying long enough to have a girls’ day.”
Jeanette picked up her coat and gloves. “Okay, then, just call if you change your mind. Kee has my number.” She headed for the exit. “You two behave yourselves, and, Kee, call me.”
She exited the cabin, leaving a deathly silence behind her. Keegan wished there were a hole in the floor so he could disappear for a while. His relationship with Jeanette was what it was, and he’d always accepted that they gave and took from each other in equal measure. But nothing he could say to Carrie now would make up for what just happened. But he had to try.
* * *
“I’M SORRY,” SHE said again after a moment. “I had no idea…”
He took a step toward her. “It’s not like it seems, Carrie.”
She brushed past him, determined to hide her pain and shock behind cool indifference. “You don’t have to explain to me, Keegan. I realize you had a life before I got here…”
“Not much of one,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“I should have known you had to have had at least one good friend. It seems Jeanette has filled that place for you.”
“I met her soon after I arrived at the campground. She was at the diner and came over to introduce herself. She said she was alone and…lonely. I could relate.”
Carrie disregarded his explanation with a flippant wave of her hand. “You once told me you didn’t live here as a monk. This is no surprise really.”
“Will you let me finish?”
She shrugged. She already knew how this story would end, and she wanted to hear no part of it.
“When I came here I was tense, trying to unwind. I would have done anything. Jeanette said she could see the pressure building inside me. She said she could help.”
“How nice that she was able to,” Carrie said.
“Look, I’m not going to lie to you,” Keegan said. “The whole situation escalated. It just happened, and darn it, Carrie, it felt good to talk to a woman again. It felt good to be touched. Did I love her? No. Not even close, but for a time I needed her, and then, even when I didn’t need her so much anymore, I didn’t send her away.”
Carrie swallowed the lump in her throat. “The life of a hermit isn’t really so bad, is it, Keegan?”
“Carrie, please…” He reached for her hands, but she stepped back. “Jeanette didn’t change my life. Each time when she left, I was happy to see her go. I could go back to work, back to being the anonymous, quiet guy who lived in the campground.”
“So you used her?” Carrie said.
“We used each other. We never established claims one on the other. We never talked of a future. It was a sort of relationship, I guess you could say, but it never went beyond…”
Carrie held up her hand. “I get it, Keegan. It’s fine. I don’t need to hear any more details, and you certainly are not obligated to tell me any.”
As if noticing the tablet in her hand for the first time, he tried to take it. “Let me see what you’ve done.”
She clutched the papers to her chest. “Not now. I’m tired. If you don’t mind, I’m going into the bedroom to lie down for a few minutes.”
“Okay. Do that. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
“I’m not hungry. Fix it for yourself.”
She went into the bedroom intending to stay there until morning.
Four years earlier…
“I’m going to give you one solid piece of advice, Carrie.”
Carrie sat down next to the woman she’d come to admire since she’d arrived at the remote location. Virginia Marcos had been with the Forestry Service for twenty years. She had requested the locale in the dense forest of northern Minnesota and had stayed for years. Virginia was happy here. She was a true forest native. Now Carrie had been assigned to the place for a short period to complete her training.
Anxious to hear what her mentor would tell her, Carrie said, “What is it?”
“Don’t date any of the guys in the Service, at least not the ones who are stuck here in the wilderness.”
Carrie almost laughed out loud. “Why not? They’re all so nice.”
“No, they’re not, not all of them. And I’ve seen you at lunch with Jack Martin.”
“Are you telling me that Jack isn’t a nice guy?”
Virginia rested her chin in her hand. “I don’t like to speak ill of anyone in the Service, so let me just say that he has something of a reputation.”
“Oh, well, you mean he’s dated a lot? I don’t mind that. It’s understandable. He’s very good-looking, and women seem to like him.”
Virginia chuckled. “Oh, they do, honey. They do. Until…” She tapped her finger on the table. “Choose wisely, Carrie. I’ve warned you. That’s all I can do.”
Carrie hadn’t dated anyone seriously since Jeff, and she was ready to take a risk. She was lonely and fearful that she would never find the happiness her sisters had. She knew she had hang-ups about men. Maybe Jack was just the guy to help her through those. He was charming and rugged, and shared the same interests Carrie had.
She accepted the first few dates with him and couldn’t find any reason to heed Virginia’s warning. She and Jack went to movies and diners. They hiked along the local rivers. They fished for trout in clear streams. They kissed and held hands and sat long hours on the porch of Carrie’s temporary employee cabin while Jack played the guitar.
When he asked her to spend a weekend camping with him, she carefully considered the implications of that invitation. She explained to Jack that she didn’t know if they had gone together long enough for that kind of adventure.
“Hey, we’re both adults,” he’d teased. “I think we can spend a couple of nights in the wild.”
“As long as we don’t get too wild,” she’d said.
“I understand,” he’d assured her. “You bring your sleeping bag and I’ll bring mine.”
Carrie was only a few hours into the weekend trip when she started to regret accepting the invitation. Jack seemed to find the most isolated locations in the woods. He wasn’t satisfied to cozy up to a fire. Instead his hands roamed freely over her parka. Carrie had forestalled any advances with gentle warnings and stern reminders of her qualifications in accepting the weekend date.
When they returned to the training site, Carrie hurried to the door of her cabin.
“Look, Carrie, I’m sorry,” he said, stopping her from going in. “I should have known you weren’t ready for an intimate relationship. You told me often enough. But to be honest, all I could think of was getting closer to you. I hope you won’t let this weekend spoil what we have. You’re the girl I want, Carrie. I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for you, and I don’t mind waiting a little longer.”
And so she accepted another date. This time they went to a roadhouse where Jack seemed to know many of the patrons. When she went to the restroom, Carrie overheard several girls talking through the bathroom stalls.
“Jack’s got a new one.”
“She’ll learn soon enough.”
“Are you talking about me?” Carrie had asked when they came out. “What is it I’ll be learning?”
The girls faltered a moment, but then opened up. “We’re members of the Jack Martin has-been club,” one said.
“He’s only interested in sex,” another warned. “Don’t take Jack at his word.”
Carrie looked from one to the other of the group. “And you all know this firsthand?”
One of the girls laughed. “Yeah. We were all new to the camp like you are now. You seem like a nice kid, so of course you can do what you want, but you’re the catch of the day, and Jack’s likely to throw you back when the next recruit comes along.”
Carrie returned to her table and asked Jack to take her home.
“What’s going on?” he asked when he dropped her off.
She told him what she’d heard, being careful not to sound judgmental. After all, everyone was different as far as values and choices were concerned. Jack immediately became angry, calling the girls at the roadhouse unflattering names and accusing Carrie of childish behavior.
She never went out with Jack again, and when they ran into each other, as they often did, he would always ignore her. Within two weeks he had another girl on his arm…
Carrie pulled the throw at the end of Keegan’s bed to her shoulders and punched her pillow. She’d become so comfortable with Keegan. There had been no games, no dating disasters, no attempts to coerce one person into doing what the other wanted. Keegan had been sullen at times, but Carrie had never questioned his honesty. She’d begun to hope that maybe, finally, this man would be the one she could give herself to.
She was thirty years old, and she’d never… Maybe she never would. Maybe her hang-ups about guys would keep her from ever having a happy ending in her life. Keegan didn’t owe her an explanation for his past, and yet still she was disappointed in him. They’d grown so close, and yet while she’d been in his yard, a few steps away, he’d had his arms around another woman. He’d admitted that their relationship went far beyond friendship.
Nothing was more important than trust. She trusted Keegan more than anyone she’d known outside her family. Maybe she shouldn’t have. Maybe she should never trust anyone. Maybe she should accept that she would never be ready to commit to a man.