Chapter Six
W ith Gabriel’s warning about her tires on repeat in her brain, she bit the bullet and spent nearly four hundred dollars on new all-weather tires—which she could use anywhere she went—and snow chains she could sell before she left town.
Next she stopped at a Goodwill store, where she scored a pink winter coat and matching snow pants—she was pretty sure they were meant for a teenage girl—plus a few sweaters.
For most people, it wouldn’t have been anything to write home about, but in her book, it was a triumph.
Before she left town, she did a search on her phone to see what the internet had to say about German shepherds and snow. If she needed to put booties on her dog, or otherwise protect her from the elements, she might as well know now. But fortunately for Hilde’s dignity, she was literally bred for the snow.
That made one of them.
The weather turned the very next day, going from mild to cold with freezing rain and sleet. She and Hilde took their usual walks along the road, their heads down as they fought their way through, and the dreary weather inspired the scenes she wrote of Chicago in winter.
Maggie knocked on Mick’s door, all too aware she’d never gone to his house before. They’d been to his family’s butcher shop, and he’d walked her countless times to her own lodgings. But a girl didn’t go knocking on a man’s door, throwing herself in his way.
Except that was exactly what she was doing.
She heard footsteps, and then the door swung open, revealing one of Mick’s sisters. She had Mick’s dark eyes and wide mouth, but she looked tired. This must be Mary, the older, married sister.
“Can I help you?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.
“I was hoping to speak to Mick.”
Mary’s eyebrows went up, her expression going from general inquisitiveness to skepticism. She stepped back and swung the door wider. “Might as well come in then.”
Maggie hesitated, but she couldn’t lose her nerve now. His sister stared her down, as if daring her to enter, and she picked up her skirts and crossed the threshold.
“I’ll go find him then, shall I?” Mary asked, a bite in her tone. She turned and walked down the hallway without asking her to sit.
Maggie stood in the drafty vestibule, feeling like an interloper. She could hear the clinking of plates from several rooms away, and the low murmur of voices—first higher-pitched women’s voices, then a man’s. Her heart accelerated at such a rate she felt nauseous. Her mouth swam with saliva.
Still, no one came. A baby cried and was comforted. Someone coughed and coughed and coughed. The kind of hacking that cracked ribs. Bronchitis, consumption? She took a step towards the hallway, everything in her wanting to go to whomever it was and listen to their chest, check for fever.
Footsteps again, this time from another part of the house. She shouldn’t be here. They had their own troubles. They didn’t need her coming around, needy and confused. Clearly Mick didn’t want to see her, anyway. She must have been standing here for ten minutes at the least.
She turned to go, her hand on the doorknob. Then she heard his voice.
“My apologies for keeping you waiting. We have our hands full at the moment.”
So formal. She’d never heard him speak this way, and it chilled her more than the cutting wind.
She turned to face him. His dark eyes were on her, but they weren’t smiling as they always had before. She hadn’t realized how she’d counted on his pleasure at seeing her. So this was how it felt when someone withheld themselves. You could feel what you wanted locked away.
But she’d turned the key herself when she told him she couldn’t be what he wanted.
“You weren’t at the shop yesterday,” Maggie said. “I was worried.”
His shoulders slumped, as if he couldn’t retain his defensives any longer. “My mother’s taken ill.”
“What does the doctor say?”
“Pneumonia.” His voice cracked.
This was something Maggie knew about.
“There are wonderful treatments now. If she doesn’t show improvement, perhaps I could arrange for them.”
“Dr. Murphy seemed to think all she needs is rest.”
“That may very well be. Many patients recover with nothing but bed rest.”
“Would you...could you maybe come in and see her?”
“Of course,” she said, the familiar fear and excitement rising in her, the way it always did with new medical challenges. “I’m not a licensed physician yet, so this would be strictly my opinion.”
“But you know things Dr. Murphy doesn’t, isn’t that right?”
The coughing started up again, and Maggie’s ribs ached in sympathy.
“I’m learning the very latest treatments, and not every doctor has tried them, or even believes in them.”
“This way,” he said, heading up the stairs. “It’s not as warm up here, but all the noise downstairs was keeping her awake, so we put her in my room.”
Any curiosity about seeing Mick’s room—an event that would have been forbidden in any other circumstance—was snuffed out by the sight of the sick woman lying on the narrow bed.
She was far too thin, and her cough sounded even worse in close quarters. Mick’s eyes pleaded with her before turning to his mother.
“This is, Maggie O’Connell, Ma. The girl I told you about. She’s going to take a look at you.”
She didn’t have her stethoscope, or any other instruments. She wasn’t remotely prepared, but Mick was counting on her. She could at least make his mother more comfortable.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Donnelly,” she said, moving to the woman’s bedside. “May I ask you a few questions?”
His mother smiled weakly and nodded her head.
“Does it hurt to breathe?” she asked.
Another nod, and then more coughing.
“I think you would have an easier time if you had pillows behind you. Is it okay if we raise you up a bit?” she asked.
“Dr. Murphy said I need to lie down.”
“Your working too hard like this. There’s a better chance of you coughing up what’s in your lungs if you’re raised. It can’t hurt, and it may help.”
“Of course,” Mick said, moving to his mother’s head. “We’ll do whatever you say.”
His trust was a gift, but he was also desperate and scared. She couldn’t fail them, and the weight of responsibility was heavy on her shoulders.
Lucy looked up when Hilde whined.
It was nearly eight o’clock, later than she’d realized. She was so immersed in her story, she hadn’t even finished her coffee. Getting up, she grabbed a muffin and a water bottle, pulled on her coat, and snapped the leash on Hilde.
She’d grown to love how sharp everything looked—the dark line of the cabin against the sky, crows crisscrossing their own shadows, so dark you could see them flying from tree to tree in any light, their rough call somehow lonely and welcoming all at once.
There was always something new to discover up here, and while that was sometimes frightening, it was also frequently lovely.
They were halfway down the driveway when she stopped. Were they really any safer from mountain lions on the road than on one of the trails? They’d been walking on the road for weeks now, and it was getting a little old. Hilde deserved some new smells, and she hadn’t heard the mountain lion since that first night. It could be miles away by now.
But she should still be prepared.
She scouted around for a few decent-sized rocks and put them in her pockets. Thus armed, they headed across the bridge and around Gabriel’s cabin. She was grateful to see he wasn’t outside. The only sign of life was the smoke from the chimney.
The trailhead was marked on either side with two stakes painted orange. Entering the shade of the trees, the temperature dropped even more, and the smells of the forest—leaves and rotting wood, pine and plant life—enveloped her.
She removed Hilde’s leash and the dog shot ahead, nose to the ground.
There were birds calling above her, but she couldn’t have said what kind they were. The trail curved to the right up ahead and Hilde was out of sight in seconds. A minute later, the dog came circling back before running off again with her boundless energy.
Something moved off to her right, rustling the leaves. Lucy put her hand in her pocket, ready to throw a rock, only to see one squirrel chase another up a nearby tree. She let out a long breath and looked around before moving forward again.
She walked for another fifteen minutes, sure that a mountain lion would leap out at any moment. Maybe they didn’t typically come out in the daytime, but there were always exceptions for everything. Would it be attracted by Hilde, or more likely to stay away because of her?
She imagined a mountain lion’s jaws tearing into her loyal dog. Then she imagined the jaws tearing into her. What had she been thinking, coming out here? This was torture.
Was it possible to conquer fear through pure repetition? Maybe if she did this every day, she’d stop being so nervous.
Assuming she wasn’t mauled first.
Her heart beat fast and light as she continued to climb. She reached an open rocky area where she could see down into a little ravine.
She hadn’t covered much distance, but it was enough for one day. She’d go farther next time.
Calling out for Hilde, she turned back the way they’d come.
The dog came tearing out of the woods and ran a circle around her, her body tipped horizontally. Laughing, Lucy picked up a stick and tossed it down the trail. Hilde shot after it, then trotted back toward her with the stick in her jaws so Lucy could throw it again.
They came off the trail and around the cabin to find Gabriel standing over his truck with the hood up, looking at the engine. Damn him for looking so good in the Henley that outlined his truly spectacular arms and chest.
She hadn’t spoken to him since the day in the café a week ago, and she didn’t want to now, either. She could never quite get her footing around him—he blew so hot and cold.
Hilde had no such hesitations. Dropping her stick, she ran to him with her tongue hanging out and stood panting up at him.
The little traitor.
“Come Hilde,” she said.
Hilde glanced at Lucy and back at Gabriel as he straightened and wiped his hands on a rag.
“Hilde, come!” she said, her voice sharp.
This time the dog came, and Lucy turned toward the little bridge back to her cabin.
“How was your hike?” he asked, stopping her in her tracks.
“Short,” she admitted. “This is the first time I’ve used the trail.”
“Nervous?”
She nodded. What was the point of pretending otherwise? “I was sure there was a mountain lion around each turn.”
“You’ll get more comfortable. Take reasonable precautions and you’ll be fine.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“You can talk yourself out of nearly anything if you only think of the danger,” he said, not unkindly. “Driving a car is more dangerous than hiking out here.”
“People always say things like that, but it’s not the same. Humans are naturally afraid of the unknown. You’re comfortable being outside, which is why you’re never afraid.”
He set a wrench down and picked up another tool. “I’ve had my moments.”
“Really? Like when?”
“I got caught on a mountainside in a storm one night. The wind ripped my tent out of the ground and nearly blew it off the mountain, with me in it.”
“Oh my God. I don’t think I’d ever climb a mountain again.”
“I didn’t exactly race to go back out, but after a while I missed it. Besides, there are ways to mitigate risk. I was younger then, and I didn’t think anything could touch me.”
“No wonder you think I’m such a wimp.”
“I never said that. I think you’re out of your element, which is entirely different. Anyway, you shouldn’t care what I think. I’m a miserable bastard.”
“True. Plus, you barely know me.”
“Also true.”
Everyone used to tell her how brave she was when she was going through treatment. Maybe she’d been more resigned than brave, but either way, she’d endured that misery for years. She knew how to bear things. It wasn’t exactly a skill or something to brag about, but if leukemia didn’t break her, living here sure wouldn’t.
Tomorrow she’d go a little farther down the trail. She was going to earn her soak in the hot tub.
Speaking of which. “I’d like you to show me how to take care of the hot tub.”
“You sure you want the hassle?” he asked.
“I don’t mind. It can’t be that difficult.”
“It’s not. I can show you right now, if you like.”
“That would be great.”
He led her to the shed that sat near the trees between their cabins and showed her where all the supplies were, then up to the tub to run through how he tested the water and cleaned the filter.
“That’s it?” she asked.
“That’s it.”
“It’s so easy. Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”
He shrugged. “It’s my job, and you never asked.”
“Well, it’s officially not your job anymore.”
“About the other day...”
She waited. He looked uncomfortable, but she wasn’t going to make it easier for him.
“I’m sorry I was such an ass.” He shifted his feet and looked out over the trees. “It wasn’t you.”
“Thank you for that.”
He nodded and grabbed the bucket with the tub supplies. “I’ll take these back down.”
She watched him go, wondering if she’d ever know what had driven him up here. For his sake, she hoped he worked it out.
?