Chapter 19
Iwant to talk more about kids and whether Tessa wants a family someday—whether that’s through adoption or an egg donor or some other means I haven’t thought of yet—but as usual, I’m getting way ahead of myself.
It’s hard not to with Tessa.
Every minute we spend together only confirms my belief that I don’t want to spend my minutes with anyone else. Not my romantic minutes, anyway. Before that first night in the woods, if you’d asked me if I believed in love at first sight, I would have rolled my eyes. I’d only been in love twice before and both times, the feelings came on slowly, gradually, a simmering pot that eventually came to a boil.
But the moment Tessa ran to me, her face streaked with tears, and I pulled her into my arms, I never wanted to let her go.
The past year and a half, being estranged from her and not knowing if she would ever even give me the chance to explain or apologize, has been pure hell. If I rush things, we might very well end up in the same place again. The fact that she trusted me with her private struggle is huge, but I still need to proceed with caution.
The last thing I want to do is scare her away.
Then you should probably get back on the road and find somewhere else to stay, the inner voice mutters as we step into the dimly lit office. This place was clearly designed to scare people.
“What’s that smell?” Tessa whispers, her nose wrinkling, “It’s like—”
“Vinegar and cloves!” a creaky feminine voice shouts from somewhere deeper in the cottage, behind the front desk and whatever room is concealed by the wall behind it. “Sorry! The smell is vinegar and cloves. I’m making pickles. Homemade sugar dills. They’re going to be delicious when they’re done, but you three won’t be here for that. People never stick around for more than a night or two. There’s just not enough to do around here. Though the trails are lovely in the summer. You should come back in the summer! And bring your ferret! Ferrets love a walk in the woods, though you can’t push them too far. Thirty minutes is usually enough, but they’re so small you can always carry them if you want to keep going. You could get a little sling, like the hippy moms put their babies in at the farmer’s market.”
“How is she seeing us?” I ask softly, glancing around the small office area, but unable to spot a camera.
Tessa shakes her head. “Or hearing us? I wasn’t loud, was I?”
“Sorry! I have exceptional hearing. Just my silly superhuman skill. And I can see you in the mirror there by the deer heads. I’ll be out to check you into your room in a minute.”
Tessa and I exchange another baffled glance before inching forward to peer into the mirror. But the only thing looking back at us is our own reflection.
“Just need to get this last batch out of the hot water bath,” the voice continues. “If you leave them in for more than twenty minutes, the cucumbers get mushy. My sister swears by twenty-five minutes, but she isn’t the Meyer sister with three blue ribbons from the county fair for her sugar dills, now, is she?”
Tessa bites her lip, shooting me a “should we run now or later?” look.
I shrug, answering her with my best “I’m not sure, but this person doesn’t seem dangerous, just strange” expression.
Before she can reply, a tiny woman with gray hair the same shade and texture as a used Brillo pad leaps out from the open doorway behind the desk. “You must be Tessa and Wesley!” she shouts, making us both flinch and Freya duck behind Tessa’s leg. Cackling at our obvious surprise, she bounces over to her ancient computer, pushing her thick glasses up her nose before punching the keys with one gnarled finger. “I thought so. You look like a Tessa and Wesley.” She glances up from her work, squinting. “Though I do think Wesleys are better when they’re blond.” She grins, baring large, white teeth, I’m guessing must be dentures. “But I’ve watched The Princess Bride too many times. Ever seen that movie?” She sighs, pushing on before either of us can answer, “As you wish… If I’d had a man say that to me, even once, I never would have let him out of my sight, even if he was just a farm boy.”
She resumes tapping at her keyboard. “Okay, one night, two humans, one precious ferret that I’m assuming is potty trained.” She looks up again, arching a thin white brow. “If she’s not potty trained, you should take steps to make sure she doesn’t make a mess in the room. I don’t like to charge people’s cards for damage, but I will if I have to. Gotta keep things tidy for the next guests. That’s how I got my reputation as the nicest place to stay in town, and I don’t intend to lose it.”
Willing my face not to reveal my thoughts about this being “the nicest place in town” I assure her, “She’s potty-trained and well-behaved.”
“As long as you aren’t threatening my welfare,” Tessa adds. “She’s very protective.”
The woman nods, grinning. “Oh, they are. My little Diana was the same way. Never met a bad guy she wouldn’t take on in my defense. One time a car full of addicts looking for drug money pulled in here with an eye to empty my cash register. Diana bit every last one of them right on the butt.” She cackles. “They ran out of here so fast one of them fell over the porch railing and into the horse trough. I had a trough out there back then for the horse people. We don’t get them around here anymore, though—too many cryptid encounters—so I took it out.” She hoots again, slapping the counter. “But man, did they look funny dripping wet and clutching at their backsides as they piled into that old car.”
“Cryptid encounters?” Tessa asks, her brows sliding up her forehead as she glances my way. She mouths, “Like Bigfoot?”
“Sure enough,” Mrs. Meyer says. “Got a few different kinds, but the Tommyknockers are the ones who really put the horse people off. Your average Sasquatch is a shy creature. It sees someone coming and runs off into the woods to hide, unless it’s a mama with a baby to protect, and she feels you’re getting too close to her little one. But Tommyknockers?” She shakes her head as she taps a button, sending the printer behind her jolting to life. “Those little monsters love to dig holes on the trails, cover them up with leaves, and wait for a horse to come by and break an ankle. It’s just cruel. My friend Zeke doesn’t think they realize how much damage they’re doing, but I’ve looked a Tommyknocker in the face more than once. Not a shred of empathy in their miserable little bodies.”
She fetches the paper from the printer and slaps it down on the counter with a big grin. “Now, who’s going to sign? Whoever it is, I’ll need your driver’s license and a credit card for the damage deposit. I saw you already paid for the room online, but gotta take a card just in case. Hope that’s okay.”
“That’s…fine?” I glance Tessa’s way.
“Yes, that’s fine,” she says, confirming she’s up for a night in the forest with the cryptids. But I’m not really surprised. We both seem to have been bitten by the adventure bug.
Which reminds me as I pull out my ID and credit card…
“Do you have Wi-Fi, Mrs. Meyer?” I ask. “We wanted to do some research tonight on our next stop.”
“Call me Merry,” she says warmly, “everyone else does. And yes, I do. Network and password will be in your welcome brochure. It can get a little slow when everyone’s on at once, streaming their TV shows before bed, though. So, if you have important things to do, I’d advise getting it done first thing, before everyone’s back from dinner.”
“So, there are other guests?” Tessa asks with a soft laugh. “We were a little confused by the empty parking lot.”
“Oh, my yes, booked solid now that you three are here,” Merry says, her tone growing a touch more ominous as she adds, “Except bungalow seven. Don’t go anywhere near bungalow seven.”
“Why not?” I ask, as she passes over a brochure and an old-fashioned motel key attached to a carved wooden bird. “What happens in bungalow seven?”
She frowns. “Nothing happens, honey. It just has a hole in the roof I didn’t catch until it was too late. Now there’s mold in the walls. Gonna have to gut the entire thing and rebuild from scratch.” Her frown morphs into another wide grin. “But I love renovating. Can’t wait to give the Cinderella suite a whole new look. You’re in the Beauty and the Beast bungalow. If I’d had my druthers, I’d put a sweet couple like you in the Sleeping Beauty suite with all the pretty flowers on the wall, but I already have an older guy in there. From Seattle.” She lowers her voice to hiss, “He’s not very friendly so stay away from bungalow five, too, if you don’t want to get yelled at. Any questions?”
I glance back at Tessa, who shakes her head, before turning to Merry. “No, I don’t think so. Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome, but be sure to move that camper off to the side of the lot, will you, doll? That’s the best way to be sure there’s room for everyone else to park.”
I nod. “Of course.”
Tessa waves as we step toward the door. “Thank you. Have a good night and good luck with your pickles.”
Merry cackles. “And good luck with yours!”
Outside, Tessa turns to me with a bemused grin, whispering, “What do you think she meant by that? Surely not…” She glances down at my waist, her cheeks flushing as she laughs again.
“Oh, I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s a character.” I hold up the key. “You want to go check out the room while I move the camper? Then, if the space seems safe, we can unload our things?”
“Good plan,” she says, frowning.
“What’s up?’ I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nothing. I wanted to Google something but I’m not getting service. I’ll log into the Wi-Fi once we get to the room.” She nods to Freya. “Come on, cutie. Let’s go see our room for the night.”
I head back to the camper, the ominous feeling from when we first pulled into the lot returning as I load into the driver’s seat and move the vehicle to the edge of the asphalt, as directed.
It’s just so…quiet. And so dark.
The sun only set a few minutes ago, but it’s already nearly black under the trees. I have to turn on the flashlight on my phone to follow the path to bungalow nine. The temperature drops beneath the fir branches, as well, making me wish I’d grabbed our winter coats. If Tessa decides she wants to stay, I’ll run back and grab those and the camping flashlights before we go fetch the bags.
But that’s a big “if” at this point. If the inside of our cabin is as faded and run-down as the outside, Tessa might prefer the relative luxury of the camper, even without running water.
I let myself in, calling out, “Hello?” as I swing through the door, stepping into…one of the cutest spaces I’ve ever seen.
I laugh as I turn in a slow circle, taking in the small sitting room and large fireplace, decorated to look like an old French castle. There’s also a small “dungeon” under the stairs, complete with bars and toys in bins—a great place for kids to play or…for ferrets to explore. Freya is already pawing through a bin of wooden blocks, chattering happily to herself.
“Looks like Freya approves of the new digs.” I move through the sitting room to an equally cute and cozy kitchenette, complete with a breakfast nook beneath a window overlooking the murky forest. “This is nice, right?”
Tessa, perched on the edge of the bench beneath the window, looks up from her phone, her face pale.
“What?” I ask, my stomach tightening again. “What’s wrong? Did you find a dead mouse in the bathroom?”
“No.” She gulps as she turns her screen my way. “It’s a Tommyknocker. That’s what they look like.”
I grunt, taking in a small, dwarf-like creature from a fantasy novel with green skin and a hint of a muzzle where its nose should be. “Creepy. But at least they’re small. I think we could take a few of them in a fight.”
“They look like leprechauns,” she whispers.
I nod. “Yeah, a little, I guess.”
“I hate leprechauns,” she says, her eyes beginning to shine. “I hate them so much.”
Before I can respond, something smacks hard against the roof—like a coconut falling from a tree—and Tessa dives under the table with a scream.