10. Millie
CHAPTER 10
Millie
Who knew cleaning shit stains off the inside of a toilet bowl could be so truly therapeutic? When I handed in my notice at the factory, Ackermann looked at me like I had horns coming out of my head. That man really thought I had it made being his Executive Assistant. If he could see me now, he’d revel in the opportunity to tell me I had proved him right.
My hands, thankfully gloved up to my elbows, have spent the best part of the morning scrubbing at all kinds of human excrement and clawing hairballs out of shower drains. I’ve somehow drawn the short straw Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday this week, landing me on bathroom duty for the third day in a row.
I shouldn’t complain. Maura has given me an opportunity to work in this beautiful place with much cheaper rent than I could ever hope for this far West. If I have to get well acquainted with other people’s bodily fluids to live out this reality, then so be it.
I glance down at my assigned housekeeping list.
Five cabins down, seven to go.
Caribou Cabin is my favourite. It’s one of the older cabins, lacking the high-end finishes that Riverview and Otter have, but there’s something undeniably charming about it nonetheless. It’s on the smaller side, with an open-plan kitchen and living area on the main floor, and a loft-style master bedroom upstairs. With the original cedar log siding, thick tartan bed linen, and an open fireplace and stone hearth, it’s the epitome of cosy.
When I was a little girl, I always dreamed of living in a home just like this – one with sprawling wildflowers, and little mini me’s running around in the front yard. The sweet smell of fresh bread in the oven, free-range eggs and a husband to love.
But I quickly learned that dreams and reality are often two distinctly different things.
And the older I get, the more I start to wonder if that sort of happiness was ever reserved for me. I’m more likely to end up back under the smog of the city in Rowenbridge, living on my own, having never known the love of a man at all.
I step out into the cool morning, puffing a stray hair away from my eyes, trying to pull myself up out of the doldrums. I lean over the log railing and look down on Braggan Valley.
The balcony wraps around the cabin in a horseshoe, with views across the lodge grounds and over the forest towards town.
It hasn’t taken me long to get my lay of the land. The staff house and the main house are directly opposite each other, separated by a worn-out dirt road and a grassy yard. The lawn is decked out with picnic tables, a make-shift campfire, and a handful of faded red Adirondack chairs. Rugged mountains form the backdrop to the lodge and restaurant, with the runoff from the canyon waterfall filling the creek and flowing through the grounds towards the Braggan River. Sixteen newer cabins, including this one, hug the river on the opposite side of the main road.
There are certainly worse places you could find yourself for the summer.
I’d seen the pictures in the brochure, I’d scoured the internet and watched countless videos of influencers hiking out here, but nothing could have prepared me for how special this place would really feel.
I throw my gloves into my cleaning bucket, heading down the stairs and back out to the golf cart waiting for me at the front entrance. I sold my car back in the city, and apparently now my only options for transport are this somewhat unreliable buggy or sharing a truck with a man who despises me, for reasons I haven’t quite worked out yet.
Speaking of which, I haven’t seen Caden since he oh-so-graciously dropped my bags at my dorm and left me to fend for myself. Which suits me just fine, my back feels somewhat more relaxed knowing his eyes aren’t boring into it, praying for my demise.
I’m finally done for the day, trundling across the gravel on my not-so-trusty steed, when I hear a familiar voice call out my name.
“Millie, darling!” Maura is dressed in floral pink overalls and rubber boots, pushed up on her tiptoes aiming a sprinkler at the baskets hanging over the reception entrance. “Come over here, will you?”
I hop down from the cart, heading in her direction to relieve her from the hose. I’m not much taller than her five foot, but the extra three or four inches I’ve got on her make me a little more qualified for this job.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” I muse, successfully misting the flowers with water.
“It is just that.” She smiles, raising her hand over her brow to shield the sun. “I know you’re off this weekend, but I’m going to put your name down for a day hike up to Lake Ingrid. I hope you don’t mind. I thought it’d be good for you to get to know the local area, try out some of the trails. You’ll not believe the views up there.”
“I don’t mind at all… I need to get out there. I’ve been looking forward to busting out my new hiking boots since the day I arrived,” I laugh.
I don’t usually like being told what to do with my free time, but this just feels like she’s looking out for me, like she really cares about me settling in and growing to love it here. There’s something in the fibre of who she is that just feels like home.
“Excellent.” Compost puffs out into the open air as she claps her hands together. “I’ll add you to the list – you’re going to have the most wonderful time.”
She pierces a shovel into the ground, her voice breaking into a gentle lullaby as she returns her hands to the soil.