Cabin by the Lake (8 page)

“If I had my way, I’d do a total gut job,” he said, moving across the cabin to the other side. “New cabinets. Or if Vivian doesn’t have the money, they can be sanded and painted.  Get rid of this peninsula and replace it with an island and bar stool seating. We can probably get three stools here and still have room to keep the table and chairs.”

“Lots of memories around this table,” she said. “Many hands of Uno were played here, when the adults were around, and many hands of poker when they weren’t. Just another one of our oh-so-naughty attempts at being bad. As you can see,” she laughed, “the depth of our badness was not very sophisticated.”

“Sounds like fun,” he said, smiling. “We could refinish the table and chairs, as well as the bedroom furniture upstairs, and it will be beautiful. It was all well made and is still relevant.”

There was that
we
again. But she couldn’t help being caught up in his vision. “Yes, I can see it. What do you think about granite countertops?”

“I was thinking concrete. It’s less expensive and I think it would bring in a modern, almost industrial aspect that would still be in keeping with the rustic feel of the place.”

“Concrete? That sounds awful.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking of a sidewalk, rough and ugly.”

He laughed. “No, it’s not like that. It’s poured into a mold to fit your counter space. They mix in dye, so it can be any color you want. When it’s done, it’s smooth and sleek and shiny, or whatever look you want.”

“Oooo, I might like that idea,” she said. “Then we replace the appliances, and the kitchen is done. The rest really just needs a little elbow grease and it will be beautiful! I think Aunt Vi could easily rent this place out and have some extra income.”

She leaned her elbows on the kitchen peninsula and rested her chin in her hands, smiling. “You have really good ideas, Mike Rodgers.” She still doubted that was his real name, but she was beginning to like it. She hoped his real name wasn’t Cecil or Fred.

“Thanks, Lydia Steadman,” he said, returning her smile, inordinately pleased at her approval.

Unaware that his thoughts were running along the same lines as Lydia’s, it occurred to him that she might be living under an alias. His online searches had yet to yield any trace of her. Nowadays it’s difficult to live your life without showing up on the Internet.  He had resources at his disposal to easily investigate her past, but he felt strongly that prying into her personal life for the sole reason of satisfying his curiosity would end badly. And he thought that he might not want this new relationship with Lydia to end at all.

Did they even have a relationship? He felt as if he might be in danger of getting in over his head.

He found a lot of humor in the fact that she evidently suspected that he may have some shady intentions toward her aunt. He admired her protective instinct, but she was completely wrong. He
did
quickly fall for Vivian. She seemed like the mother he never had. That woman had him pegged from the get-go. Vivian had confronted him in her no-nonsense way; they came to terms with the situation, and accepted each other as-is. He found it extremely refreshing to be taken in at face value and made to feel so quickly a part of Vivian’s life—the kind of acceptance he’d only imagined.

Lydia waved her hand in front of his face. “Earth to Mike.”

“Sorry, I got distracted. What were you saying?”

“What do you think about that bathroom upstairs?” she repeated, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Gut job,” they both said in unison, laughing.

“I’ll run some numbers and see what it would take for the renovation, but I’m thinking the majority of the cost would be labor, and I can take care of that.”

She stood up straight and crossed her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “What’s in it for you, Mike?” she asked directly. She hated feeling suspicious, but things just didn’t add up.

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I honestly don’t know, Lydia. I’m still trying to figure things out.”

She was stunned at the sincerity she saw in his eyes. He looked sad and lost and she had the sudden impulse to take him in her arms and comfort him.
Why the sadness?
she wondered.

He shrugged, and chose his words carefully. “I find myself at loose ends right now; sort of at a crossroads in my life, if you will.”

“Why?” she persisted.

“Let’s just say I’m reassessing the direction in which I was heading. I’m rethinking all the things that I thought were important in my life.”

“Such as?”

“Such as, well, the people in my life. And the value of money and how much it has to do with true happiness.”

She impulsively reached out and touched his hand. “Do you need money, Mike?” she asked gently.

He enclosed her small hand in his. What a naïve, sweet person she was! He felt his heart swell at her kind inquiry. He seriously doubted that she had more than a couple hundred dollars to her name, and yet she seemed about to offer him a loan. “Nah, I’m low maintenance,” he said in a joking tone.

The feel of his hand around hers made her heart race. His touch felt good, solid, protective. She didn’t know what he was going through, but she felt that, whatever it was, he was someone she could trust. She wanted to trust him so badly. She knew she couldn’t count on her judgment—the past was ample proof of that—but every fiber of her being felt drawn to him.

“It appears so,” she said, nodding toward his bedroll leaning against the wall. “That’s about as low maintenance as you can get.”

He laughed easily, shaking off his dark thoughts. He seemed to suddenly notice that his hand still covered hers and gave it a final pat. “It was either the sleeping bag on the floor or that couch.” He grimaced at the dusty, floral sofa in front of the fireplace.

“Sound judgment,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a cozy little mouse nest tucked under those cushions.”

“Right. But I’m sleeping well at night—clear conscience and all that.” He grinned. “Let’s take a look at the porch.”

She reluctantly followed him out the front door. She felt that she’d lost a chance at something, that a moment was gone that could have made a difference somehow. Some important opportunity had been missed.

Outside they examined the railing on the porch and the crosshatch of sticks that formed an intricate pattern beneath. “Lots of these will have to be replaced, but we have plenty of material to choose from,” he said with a wave of his hand, indicating the many surrounding trees. “Whoever built this had patience.”

Suddenly she remembered something. “Wait, come back in, I’ve got to show you something.”

He followed her back inside to the fireplace.

She knelt to the right of it and pressed on a floorboard next to the hearth. The other end of the board flipped up. “Ha!” she shouted triumphantly, moving aside to make room for him.

“Wow! That’s incredible!”

“I know, right? My cousins and I discovered this secret hiding place, and we left notes to each other. And look, here’s some things left from way back then!”

He examined the space. “This was obviously meant to be here. I mean, it’s not just an accidental loose floorboard. How did you discover it?”

“We were playing Twister,” she said, laughing. “You know, left foot, red. I stepped on it, the board flipped up, and there it was.”

“Was there anything in it?”

“Yes, I hope it’s still in here.” She reached in and pulled out a small pile of papers. “Here’s some of our stuff. We began to leave messages for each other. You know, ‘Steal Aunt Trudy’s glasses for fifteen points.’  ‘Get Uncle Vick’s size XXXL underwear and run it up the flagpole, fifty points.’  Stuff like that. It became a sort of scavenger hunt thing that we went berserk with.”

He fell back on his heels laughing. “Let’s see!”

She handed him the first note and then unfolded the next one in the stack. She eagerly scanned the writing, and then looked up, sadness on her face. She read: “Meet here every Fourth of July.”

“And did you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know about the rest of them, but for me, my mom was having husband problems the next summer and my sister was heavy into the beauty pageant circuit the next year. Sometimes you just get swept along in other people’s lives and don’t even know it, I guess.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“You do?”

He nodded, but motioned for her to continue. “What else?”

“Oh, here it is,” she said, sliding an old envelope from the bottom of the stack. “It was a love note we found. Here, look.” She read:

Liz,

Wait for me, my darling. If the gods allow, we’ll be together again soon.

Love forever, Malcolm.

She clutched the letter to her chest and sighed dreamily.

“Do you know who they were?”

“Yes, we asked Uncle Todd. He said Malcolm and Elizabeth—I think their name was Moore—were the people who built the house and cabin. He and Aunt Vi bought the property from Mr. Moore’s children after he died. Apparently Liz died first, and Malcolm moved to some assisted living place until his death. We assumed he wrote this to Liz after she died, and left it here, hidden in the cabin. It was just such a sad, romantic notion; I always like to think they’re together now forever.”

“Wow. That’s really a beautiful story.”

“Yes,” she agreed, carefully replacing all the papers. “I’ll just leave everything as I found it. It’s sort of like a time capsule. It makes me happy and sad, all at the same time, though.”

He looked thoughtfully around the room. “I’m thinking Malcolm and Liz probably bought the land and built this cabin first. Then, when their family grew, they built the main house.”

“I guess. That makes sense.”

“Come on,” he said impulsively, grabbing her hand and pulling her up from the floor.

“Where are we going?” He led her out of the cabin and through the underbrush to the shore.

“Ta-da!” he said with a wave of his hand. “Care for a bonfire by the lake?” She saw that logs were piled teepee style with kindling beneath, all set to go. This guy was a regular Boy Scout!

“Sure,” she said. “That’s a great idea.”

Night had softly fallen, as only a Southern spring night could. Stars were beginning to shine in the cloudless sky. A little chill was in the air. As he touched a match to the kindling, she was warmed by the sudden
whomph!
of the fire going up, as much as she was by the feel of Mike pulling her down onto the shore beside him.

She was aware of a heightened sense of seclusion. She felt as if she and Mike were the only two people left on the whole earth.
Careful
, she cautioned herself. But suddenly she didn’t care. The evening was perfect. It seemed magical somehow, and she made up her mind to live in the moment, free—for once—from fear and regrets.

“Let’s play Twenty Questions,” Lydia said.

Mike threw another log on the fire and narrowed his eyes. “Am I supposed to think of a person, place or thing?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “It’s a thinly veiled attempt to get information from you.”

“Fire away.” He stretched out his long legs and leaned back on his elbows.

“Okay. Do you have any siblings?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

“One of each?”

“Yes.”

“Names?”

“Cruella de Vil and Hannibal Lecter.”

She laughed. “No fair!”

“That’s four. Next.”

“Hmmm, I see you’re playing hardball. Let’s see. Have you ever been married?”

“No.” He sat up and poked the fire with a stick, sending a shower of sparks into the night sky. “Have you?”

“No,” she said before thinking, and then protested: “Hey, I’m asking the questions.”

He threw the stick into the fire and leaned toward her, braced on one arm. “My turn.”

“That was just five questions,” she said, feeling electricity shoot through her at his sudden nearness. Alarm bells went off in her head, and she found it very difficult to think with him being so close. The left side of his face was in near darkness, while the right side was highlighted by the flickering fire.

“New game. We’re playing Five Questions now. Are you ready?”

“Ready?” she whispered, mesmerized by the light reflected in his golden eyes.

“Ready for my questions.” A small smile played on his lips.

She was glad it was dark so he couldn’t see the flush creep into her cheeks. Her thoughts were completely out of control. She just wished he wasn’t so close. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Sure. New game. Five Questions. Shoot.”

He looked at her for a long moment. Then he reached up and slid a finger down her cheek.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“I guess I have only one question,” he said, leaning forward. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

She didn’t have a verbal answer. They slowly drew together, their lips touching lightly, a quick, sweet kiss that left her wanting more.

“You cheat,” she whispered against his cheek.

“You caught me.” He moved his mouth over hers in a gentle but thorough kiss. If she’d been standing, she thought her knees would have buckled from weakness. She felt that she wanted this moment to go on forever. But all too soon he pulled away, leaving her head spinning.

He put his arm around her and they turned toward the fire, her head resting on his shoulder. They sat in comfortable silence, just listening to the popping of the sticks and the croaking of frogs in the distance.

Reluctant to break the spell, she finally said, “I have to get up early for work tomorrow. Guess I should be getting back.”

He seemed equally reluctant to remove his arm from around her. Before he released her, he said, “I like the games you play. Let me know when you’re up for a little Truth or Dare.”

She laughed, rising and brushing the dirt from her pants. “Not likely. Not now that I know what a cheater you are.”

He offered his hand, which she took, feeling like she was in a dream as they walked back to the house. Suddenly she stopped and looked over her shoulder.

“What is it?” He followed her gaze into the darkness.

“I don’t know. It’s probably nothing. Just a weird feeling that somebody is watching me. I keep having that feeling.”

He studied the darkened landscape. “Maybe it’s Malcolm and Liz,” he said lightly.

She smiled. “Maybe. And maybe I’m just paranoid.”

“Anything in particular you want to share that’s making you feel paranoid?” he casually asked.

She immediately thought of Rocco, and she didn’t know why his name would suddenly pop into her head. Rocco was in prison. She was safe. Still, when the thought entered her mind, she shivered.

“Cold?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close as they walked. It felt natural as she automatically slipped her arm around his waist, leaning into the fit of his warm body against hers. She felt safe in his arms, but the thought of Rocco was like a splash of cold water in her face, dispelling the magical feel of the evening.

“I think we’ve done enough sharing for one night,” she said with a feigned brightness that she no longer felt. “Thanks for walking me back.”

“No problem.” He reached for the dog as he walked up the steps. The collie seemed to have found a home on the porch and seldom left it since it got there.

She bent over, giving its neck a rub. “What’s your name, fella, huh? Maybe we should just call him Dog,” she said, standing up.

“You mean like in that old John Wayne movie?”

“Yeah,” she said, delighted that he knew that one. “Are you a fan of The Duke?”

“Well, I guess you could say that, ma’am,” he said in his best John Wayne impression.

She laughed. “Not bad. Maybe there’s hope for you yet, Pilgrim. Are you coming in?”

“No, I’m getting an early start tomorrow with some demo in the kitchen, if that’s okay with Vivian, so I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Well, good night, then,” she said, suddenly feeling a school-girl awkwardness, hoping for another kiss.

“Good night.” He bent his head and gave her a quick peck on the lips. Then another lingering kiss, before slowly pulling away. He smiled and disappeared into the darkness, leaving her with spaghetti legs and a head full of confusion.

She let herself into the house. There was no sign of her aunt, and she supposed Vivian had already gone to bed. She locked the doors, turned out the lights and went upstairs. She showered to wash the wood smoke out of her hair and tried to settle down. But she couldn’t get Rocco off her mind.

That man had ruined her life. She often wondered how she could have been so stupid. At first her mother had loved the fact that he drove a Porsche and seemed successful. But it wasn’t as if Katie had any fabulous insight into men. By the time Lydia met Rocco, Katie had been on her fourth husband. The fact that her mother initially liked him should have given her a heads-up.

Rocco was eight years older than her, and seemed so worldly and confident. He threw around money like it was going out of style and she got caught up in the excitement of expensive gifts and spur-of-the-moment trips. One day Rocco gave her a package, a baby gift wrapped with pink ribbon, and asked her to drop it by an address on her way to class. That was the day everything had come crashing down. It wasn’t until she was arrested that she discovered that the “baby gift” she had delivered actually contained cocaine.

She had never felt so betrayed in her life. He was using her; a wedding gift dropped off here, a birthday present there—she had been sure he was the most thoughtful man she’d ever met. How wrong could one person be? She had never done drugs herself, and she never saw Rocco using drugs, so why would she ever suspect anything like that?

There
had
been plenty of drinking, though. She was feeling young and wild, enjoying the freedom of college life to the hilt. Shortly before she realized she might be flunking out, she met Rocco and the party life was kicked up a notch. Fun, fun, fun!

No more stepfather holding the purse strings while she dodged grabby hands. She was free and had her own man, and he was taking care of her just fine. Looking back, she couldn’t believe her behavior, her blindness to the consequences of her actions.

As if it were a perfect storm in the making, Uncle Todd and Aunt Vivian had come for a visit, and they were there when her mother found out she was flunking out of school. It was in the middle of a backyard barbecue, and she and Rocco arrived in his Porsche. She was flippant about the news, wanting to discuss it later, but Katie was instantly raging.

“What do you mean, you’re flunking out?” Her eyes narrowed, and she turned her attention toward Rocco. He looked out of place in his flashy clothes and jewelry, and Katie was suddenly sure that he was the one responsible for Lydia’s bad behavior.

“Is he the reason you’re flunking out of school?”

“She’s a grown woman,” Rocco inserted, in an infuriatingly cool tone. “She does what she wants.”

“She’s barely nineteen,” Katie spat. “She does what I want because I pay her bills.”

“You always throw that in my face,” Lydia said, sounding more like she was nine than nineteen. “You can keep your money from now on. I’m quitting school.”

Katie was incredulous. She drained her wine glass in one gulp. “No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am!” She nodded emphatically.

Vivian, in an effort to change the subject and salvage the situation, asked Rocco, “So, what is it exactly that you do for a living?”

“I’m a businessman,” he said, adjusting the sleeves of his shiny sport coat.

“Oh? And what kind of business are you in?”

“I’m in the business of making money,” he replied bluntly, glancing around in a bored fashion, dismissing Vivian as someone beneath his interest.

She looked at her niece, expecting her to try and smooth over her friend’s rudeness, but Lydia was still smarting from her spat with Katie and seemed to be sulking.

Vivian felt sorry for her. Poor girl, she was trying so hard to become her own woman, to separate herself from Katie’s control. But she didn’t like the looks of Rocco, nor the fact that he seemed to have only one name. She also didn’t like the way he was dressed. His clothes were obviously expensive, but he reminded her of a peacock, strutting around as if he owned the place. She was afraid Lydia was headed for trouble, hanging around with this character.

Lydia may have ignored Rocco’s rudeness, but Katie zeroed in on him. “Well, Mr. Businessman, is there some reason we shouldn’t know what you do for a living?”

“Mother!” Lydia warned.

“How old are you, anyway?” Katie demanded.

“Too old to put up with this,” Rocco said, grabbing Lydia’s arm.

Katie snatched her daughter’s other arm and jerked her back. “You’re not going anywhere with him. Why can’t you be more like Brittany?” she shrieked, waving her empty wine glass toward her older daughter. “You just love to cause problems and make my life miserable!”

“Mom!” Brittany tried to interrupt the tirade. Normally she wouldn’t have bothered to involve herself in the ongoing disputes between her mother and her sister, but this was getting embarrassing. Her fiancé, Rob (Robert Van Landingham, III, to be precise—and Brittany liked to be precise), was here, and this ruckus had the makings of a low-class backyard brawl, which she wanted to avoid at all cost. Like her mother, she believed appearances were everything!

“Stay out of this, Brittany,” Katie shouted, turning back to Lydia. “You’re so selfish. You think only of yourself! You are the reason my last marriage broke up!”

There was an audible gasp from the onlookers, and her current husband looked extremely uncomfortable.

Vivian strode forward, speaking in a low, authoritative tone. “Calm down, Katie. That’s not true, and you know it. Let’s try to stay on point here.” She slipped her arm through Lydia’s and tried to lead her away, but her action only further incensed Katie.

“Don’t you mollycoddle her,” Katie snapped. “That’s her problem. She’s been babied too much and she’s a spoiled brat, just like she’s always been!”

Vivian smiled valiantly, even if it was strained, and waved her hand in the air toward the grill. “The burgers are burning.” Most people took the hint and had the decency to move away and at least pretend not to be listening.

Rocco stood by Lydia’s side, but obviously wanted to be anywhere else but there. “Let’s split,” he said, expecting her to obey him, as always, but Vivian stepped between them.

“What your mother is trying to say,” she began in a low voice, “is that we love you and only want the best for you.” She turned her back to Rocco. “You’re smart, Lydia. I—we—don’t want you to flush your education down the toilet.”

Lydia was so humiliated she couldn’t see straight. Her mother had always had the upper hand, bullying her throughout her life. She snapped, taking her anger out on the closest person to her, because she just couldn’t take it out on her mother.

“Mind your own business!” she shouted.

Vivian looked as if she had been slapped, and her face flamed red with anger. Never had this sweet girl talked to her that way.

Lydia should have stopped there. If only she had.

“Go back home to your perfect life where you don’t have any kids to make your life miserable!” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she saw the look of hurt on her aunt’s face, but she couldn’t take back her hateful words.

Vivian was suddenly very still, her eyes cold. Of all the devastating things to throw in her face; her inability to have children! She pointed a finger at Lydia’s chest and said quietly, “That’s unforgiveable, Lydia.”

“Good!” she shouted. “I don’t need you butting into my life!”

“Trust me; it will never happen again. I’m done with you.” Vivian turned on her heel and walked away.