Chapter 2
two
T he small hovel of a cabin isn’t much to look at, but it’s ours. Been in the Dittmar family since my great-great-great granddaddy settled here, or so the story goes.
Oma has the front door propped open, her wide frame resting against the banister at the top of the porch steps.
“My sweet angel, come give me a hug,” she yells the moment my car door shuts behind me.
I drove separately from my parents so I could come and go as I please this week. I love my family, but spending an entire week, closed up in a small cabin with them is too much.
My snow boots leave a direct path, crunching against the fresh dusting of dry snow. I’m grateful things haven’t frozen over, it means the runs might be worth a damn in the morning.
“Where are your parents?” she asks, her arms coming around my waist to hug me.
My tall frame engulfs hers. She’s not fragile by any means: big boned and stocky. Those strong Germanic genes definitely got passed down to me, if my wide—baby bearing, as my family likes to call them—hips are any indication. Thankfully, mom’s family balanced it out with the height gene, so I got the best of both worlds.
“Oh, they should be right behind me. Dad’s just getting a tad slow in his old age.”
“Well come on out of the cold. He can unpack your car when they get here. I’ve got supper on the stove and ready to go. I made your favorite.”
“Rouladen?”
“And spaetzel.”
“I’m so excited. You don’t know how much I need some home cooked comfort food today.”
“Well…” she draws out ushering me to the round dining room table.
“She called you already?”
“It’s a long drive up here.”
“Ugh!” I bemoan. “That means dad knows, too.” I drop into my chair, the one I’ve sat at every dinner in this house since I was a toddler old enough to sit on my own.
“He was going to know regardless, angel. You know they don’t keep secrets, especially when it comes to you.” She softens, placing a drink I didn’t ask for in front of me.
“I know. Hopefully, he’ll keep his comments to himself. I just want to move on and have a great rest of my break before I have to head back to school.”
“And so you will,” she says, like there’s nothing more solid in the world. “Oh, I ran in to Edna at the market. They’re here for the holidays. Sounds like her grandson is coming out from the city too.”
“Oma,” I admonish.
“What? You two used to be such good friends.”
“Used to, being the key word. He’s such a—” I pause, taking a sip of the thick egg nog, searching for the right description. “Blowhard.”
“Dakota Dittmar!”
“What? You know I’m right. The moment that kid grew six inches over the summer and finally grew into his face, he was never the same.”
She doesn’t get a chance to give me a piece of her mind for being mouthy because the front door springs open, letting in a chilly draft.
“Honey, we’re home.” My dad’s raucous call comes from down the hall.
“What took you so long?” I chide, getting up to add a few more logs to the dying fire. If we don’t build it up now and open all the bedroom doors, we might as well sleep outside with how cold it will be.
“We weren’t in a hurry. Plus, we stopped for pie at Spiffy’s.”
My head whips around to stare him down. I’m about to give him a piece of my mind, when I see the take out bag he’s holding out.
“You really think I wouldn’t bring you your favorite?”
I throw the last little bit of kindling in my hand on the fire and walk over to where he waits for me. “Thanks, dad.”
“Anything for you, peanut,” he says, with the most sincere stare and I know it’s his way of letting me know he’s available to talk if I want, without bringing it up directly.
I help get the presents in the living room where the tree will go once we’ve chopped one down and the bags of kitchen stuff mom made sure to have on hand for our holiday feast, after unpacking my weeks worth of winter clothes.
My room at the cabin is tiny, but at least I don’t have to share it with anyone. That’s more than I can say for the apartments on campus. Singles don’t exist, even for seniors. I was too late to pair up with any of my friends because I kept going back and forth between living further in town verses on campus. In the end, I had to live on campus because it was cheaper. I didn’t know anyone, even a friend of a friend still looking for a roommate, leaving me with one option: the library’s bulletin board.
“I’m going to head to bed,” I tell the group.
Dad’s playing a game of cards with mom, while Oma reads in the rocker next to the fireplace, her eyes suspiciously half-mast behind her glasses.
“Already?” Mom twists her wrist to check her watch. “It’s only nine.”
“Yeah, I’m going to get to get up early and head up to the peak before it opens.” It’s a half-truth. “We have passes at the window, right?” As much as I love snowboarding, I’d never be able to afford it all week. Thankfully, my parents gift me a pass every year as part of my Christmas present.
“Yeah, under my name. You should be all set,” Dad confirms.
“Love you,” I call down the hall, a chorus of replies following suit.
Leaving the door cracked to let in the heat, but give myself the semblance of privacy, I flop on the squeaky twin size bed. My phone is in my fingers the next second and I’m opening all my social media accounts. One-by-one I go through and remove any trace of Chad. By the time I’m done, it’s almost eleven, and it’s like he never existed in my life. Five years of memories, gone in the blink of an eye.
I set my alarm for six thirty, planning to get to the lodge an hour later. My eyes are bleary from the long, emotionally heightened day. It doesn’t take long before the soft sounds of conversation in the living room and the crackling fire drag me off sleep.