When I was five, my father went away. He wasn’t much of a loss in my opinion but he did at least put a roof over our heads. Even now I don’t know where exactly he disappeared to, but he left us, and as a result of what I consider to be his selfish action, we moved in with my grandparents. They were stern people who didn’t believe in much jocularity, prayed fervently before each meal, and followed the adage children should be seen but not heard. My mother did her best, but I admit to being somewhat of a challenge in that regard.
Following the dictates of authority was never my strong suit from an early age. We are all haunted in some way, and I think my problem was my sense of outrage over the abandonment of a parent I didn’t like all that much to begin with, so I can’t explain my reaction.
One night I remember creeping to the stairs and hearing them talk about me. Incorrigible was an unfamiliar word at the time but that was how I was described. From the context of the conversation I gathered it was not a compliment.
For the record, I disagreed. I wasn’t incorrigible, I just did not want to follow their pious dictates.
I think, then and there, I made up my mind to make them pay for the insult.
There is a turning point in everyone’s life.
Alicia was in the hardware store because the damn toilet wouldn’t stop running and she was sick and tired of having to turn on the water before every flush, and turn it off again after. It had happened before. Her ex had hardly been a genius, so if he could fix it, surely she could, right? Online there were sites to walk her through it, and that would be much cheaper than if she had to hire a plumber. On her salary it was not an option anyway, so she was learning to do things for herself one disaster at a time. The toilet didn’t even begin to qualify as a disaster, but a few months ago a tree had gone down in the backyard in a storm, narrowly missed the house and was a mess, so she’d bought a chain saw and cut it up herself. Much cheaper than hiring someone to do it; she’d called around. Then she’d used the wood in the fireplace to offset her heating bills.
This would be a piece of cake compared to that.
Hopefully.
She heard his voice first, the cadence somehow instantly recognizable. Alicia rounded the aisle that held the plumbing hardware and saw Jon Palmer was at the service desk, apparently ordering a pane of glass. He was wearing a denim shirt, jeans, and boots, maybe in a nod for the establishment they were both visiting, and his hair wasn’t perfect like the other night, but instead it looked like he’d maybe just ran a comb through it. Some of that scotch he’d purchased could have been part of his evening.
Still looked good though.
It must be some kind of magic because he managed to pull it off even in his slightly rumpled condition. Alicia weighed whether or not she should just retreat sight unseen, decided nothing ventured was nothing gained, and said simply, “Hi. I thought that was you.”
He glanced up and at least from his expression, he recognized her. “Hi.”
She really wished she wasn’t wearing her fat jeans and a sloppy T-shirt, with her hair once again up in a ponytail. It was like fate would not give her a break. “So we meet again. There’s only one hardware store.”
So now she was apologizing for being in the same place because she needed to fix the toilet? Smooth.
He grinned. It gave him a boyish look that reminded her of that high school crush that she’d had on him, and he definitely hadn’t had on her. “I remember. Why are you here?”
No way she should mention the real reason. Toilet? Very sexy. “Uh, I need some paint,” she improvised. “The deck looks awful.” She gestured at her clothes. “That’s why I’m all dressed up.”
Good save.
“Sounds like a full day. I have a short wait as they size the glass. Want to catch a cup of coffee?”
Alicia blinked. Was Jon Palmer really asking her…what? Not out really, but a cup of coffee wasn’t a bad start.
“Sure. I’m not dressed for it, but if you want.”
“Not dressed for coffee?” He looked amused but maybe a little strained. Definitely there was a hint of bloodshot to his eyes. His brows went up. “I wasn’t aware there was a coffee dress code. I’ve probably been violating it for years.”
Right. He still looked great without even putting in any effort. She shook her head. “Uhm, I doubt that but there’s a place down the street.”
“I remember that too.”
Of course he would. He’d lived there a long time as well before he left for Illinois. Alicia edged past an end cap of snow shovels, which was an unpleasant reminder of what was coming all too soon. Winter was not her favorite season. “I’ll come back for my paint when you pick up your glass order.”
Lie.
“Good idea.”
He walked next to her down the street, hands in his pockets, his expression closed, and when they chose a small booth at the local diner, he politely waited for her to go first and then ordered a cup of coffee—black—in a distracted fashion.
She liked hers with lots of cream and sugar, which might be part of the problem of shedding those pesky extra pounds. Alicia stirred her drink slowly, still a little unsettled that she was actually having coffee with the Jon Palmer. In high school she would have fainted. She was thankfully past that phase.
Contemplating him over the rim of her cup, she asked a question. “I’m not searching for anything but an honest answer, but do you really remember me?”
“I do.” His smile was then genuine with at least a glimpse of his usual charisma. “I was a teenaged boy and you had nice tits. No offense intended by my brief regression to age eighteen, I hope, but it made you memorable.”
Did he just say tits? He had, with a cheeky grin, no less.
“Yes, the boobs matched the ass.” Still did. Alicia laughed ruefully. “Both have gotten bigger.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Life changes.”
It sounded like he meant it.
She considered him across the small table. The place smelled like maple syrup and cinnamon with an overtone of perspiration. Walk-in diner, and her impression was that he might recognize it but it was hardly his regular venue any longer despite how and where he grew up.
No, Jon Palmer didn’t eat in tacky places like this. Not his territory.
She wanted another sugar for her coffee, but decided against it. “So I’m guessing you’re divorced? So am I. Forgive me if I’m being nosy.”
He shrugged. “I invited you for coffee. Yes, to divorced. Sorry about yours.”
“I’m not.” She was telling the truth. “He was not at all what I signed up for.”
His face became distant, cold, shuttered. “I don’t even know if I can say that. My greatest fear is that she was someone I knew from the beginning I would never become emotionally involved with, if that makes any sense at all.”
Alicia cast back on her own shattered romance, if that was even what a person could call her marriage. “It makes perfect sense. Best to not get too attached in case it all goes south.”
* * * *
If he wanted to sleep with the woman sitting across from him, the vibe was he probably could.
As he sat and drank his coffee, Jon pondered the vagaries of life. And, of course, death. Fate tossed into your path people who were the rudders that steered the course, and she might be one, or Alicia Hahn might just be a blip on the screen.
He was tired of trying to figure it all out.
“I love my children.” That just needed to be said for some reason he couldn’t fathom.
She had a cute smile. Not calculated and designed to lure, but just a twitch of her lips upward at the corners of her mouth. She really was dressed in unflattering, loose-fitting jeans and a careless shirt, but still had those spectacular breasts he remembered from the tight shirts she wore in high school. Blond hair, hazel eyes that, besides her breasts, might be her best asset and otherwise just regular features that made her catch the eye but not really turn your head. She was hardly a knockout, but she was pretty enough. Maybe when she gave it some effort, she might even be very pretty. Alicia observed, “You’d be an asshole if you didn’t.”
“What? You have my ex-wife on speed dial?”
She outright laughed at that. “There’s no such thing as a civil divorce, eh?”
“Something like that.” He regarded her over the rim of his lifted cup. “How about you? Any kids?”
Alicia shook her head. “It didn’t last long enough for that. We met at the community college. I was working two jobs so I wouldn’t have school loan debt if I decided to move on to the University of Minnesota and I was living with my parents to save money.” She grimaced. “When Gary found out how much I had stashed away, he wanted to buy a house. So we had a modest wedding and went house shopping. The only happily ever after was that when we split, I got the house because while I was stupid enough to marry him, I was smart enough to give my parents the money and put the mortgage in their name. It really ticked him off when he found out.”
Jon laughed and shook his head. “It always amazes me when we, as human beings, choose to ignore the warning bells going off, and do something we shouldn’t. My mother used to tell me that the day you listen to the inner voice that tells you to not do something you want to do, then you might be grown up.”
His mother. He could tell Alicia was surprised he mentioned her. He was surprised himself.
She glossed over it. “I thought again about Minneapolis, but I think I’d lost the momentum for school. The real estate market here is so dismal I knew selling would be financial suicide. Working at the liquor store pays the bills. It’s boring and unchallenging, but I get along okay. I’ve been there long enough I don’t have to work weekends very often, and no nights anymore.” She paused. “Your turn. What do you intend to do in Black Lake?”
She looked genuinely curious.
He set aside his cup abruptly enough it rattled in the saucer. It certainly was a valid question. “Lick my wounds, I suppose. I liked Chicago, but I am sick of traffic, noisy trains, congested sidewalks and loud restaurants. Nothing there is simple. I guess that’s what I’m looking for. I want peace and quiet. I’m renting a cabin on one of the lakes until next spring. Maybe before then, I’ll be able to answer the question; what am I going to do next.”
She gazed at him with consternation. “Then you’d better trade in your fancy Beemer for a heavy duty SUV because otherwise you’ll be snowed in for most of the winter. You might want to buy a snowmobile as well.”
That had actually occurred to him. He could ride one all the way into town if he needed supplies, but a snowmobile couldn’t carry much back. “I’m thinking about it. I’m also going to stock up on canned goods, and there’s a woodstove if the electricity goes out. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be bored out of your mind. What will you do all day?”
“I like to read,” he said mildly. “Go for long walks. I might do some ice fishing. The cabin has a shanty for it and an auger. My hobby is photography. I’m hoping to take some pictures, maybe turn the second bedroom into a dark room. I brought all my equipment.”
Alicia shook her head and her voice was somber. “Those are some deep woods. Lots of black bear. A hunter was attacked up there last year. The bear dragged him away. All they found was a lot of blood and part of his hand. Three fingers.” She shivered. “The middle one still had his wedding ring on it. I wish sincerely I didn’t know that part. Somehow it makes it seem worse. The body is still missing.”
The elderly waitress ambled up and they both declined more coffee. He asked causally as he picked up the check, glanced at it, and took out his wallet. “How do they know it was a bear? Tracks?”
“I suppose. Hey, thanks for the coffee.” Her smile was tinged with an endearing shyness as they both slid out of the booth. “I’m sure your glass is ready.”
“I hope so. At least it’s clear.”
“Clear?”
He held the door. “The weather. So you can paint your deck.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said hastily. “Right. Nice clear day.”
The glass was ready and he picked up some glazing compound and while he was at it, a cordless drill and a deadbolt. If the owners objected to the new lock he’d replace the door when he moved out, but since it was a company out of Minneapolis that owned a string of rentals on the lakes, he doubted anyone would even notice.
It was probably a futile effort, but it made him feel better.
Those are some deep woods…
As he drove back to the cabin, he thought about eighteen missing people and the mauled hunter. He thought about the images of his youth, the brilliant lights of the football field and the cheering stands, the school cafeteria, he thought about the backseat of his car and Amy, Troy’s wife, and that first fumbling foray into sexual experience.
His mother’s funeral.
Ten years in Chicago and he had done his best to bury the past, tucking it into a place labeled: Don’t Go There.
It was one of the more mature moments in his life when he realized it wasn’t working. Not a feeling of resignation exactly, but maybe enlightenment. He recognized he needed to close the circle, not leave the door open for unexpected visitations of memory.
The birches whispered as he got out of the car, a gentle mocking sound of dying fluttering leaves he ignored. He carried in the pane of glass, knew that back in Chicago he’d have simply hired someone to do the repair, and reflected on how he wasn’t quite positive he had the right skill set to do it in the first place. Yes, he could close multi-million dollar deals, but putting a pane of glass in a window frame might not be his forte.
However, come hell or high water, he reminded himself, he was not going to be able to sleep with a gaping hole open to the outdoors. He’d hung a sheet over it to keep the few insects left out, but that would hardly do.
He worked methodically, using the internet as a guide, following the steps painstakingly, because while he was not a handyman, he liked to think he had a functioning brain and was capable of a simple task like this one.
It took longer than anticipated, but then again, all he had was time. It was an old window, and the wood frame was warped enough it split a little, but in the end, it was done and looked decent. Then he went out and swept up the broken glass from the walk, and got a beer.
He sat on the porch, watching dark clouds roll in, the air taking on a pure autumn chill. Alicia better have gone straight to work on her deck. When it began to rain, the water rippled like a live entity, thirsty and eager. He listened to the sound on the plain wooden roof and thought about the night before.
The boat that wasn’t there. The sound of footsteps, the rattling knob on the door…
The face in the window.