1. Vanessa
1
VANESSA
I squint down at the map as the light dims around us. I guess I should have seen it coming, but it’s way darker out here than in the city, and I can hardly make out the spot I’m supposed to be aiming for, even though Lara outlined it in a giant red circle.
“How far away are we?” Callie asks, peering out the window. She doesn’t sound nervous, which is a relief; I thought she might find this place a little spooky, given that most of her storybooks revolve around little girls wandering into the woods and getting into all kinds of trouble.
“I’m not sure,” I murmur, tilting the map up toward the dim overhead light. I’ve never been any good at map-reading—not that I’ve ever really needed it, given that my phone tells me where I need to go at any given time. It’s not like it was a skill I ever felt the need to work on. But now, I’m cursing myself for my reliance on technology—and more than that, I’m cursing Lara’s family for picking a place that’s in the ass-end of nowhere.
But I know that’s the point. And I know I should be happier to get out of the city for a while. God knows it has been a while since I’ve found the time to explore the world outside the confines of my apartment block and the office, and I know that Callie deserves more than that. She’s got her friends at kindergarten, her little reading groups at the library, and she never really seems to want for anything else. I guess it’s been too easy to convince myself that she doesn’t need any more than that.
“Okay, I think we’re going…in this direction,” I mutter, folding up the map and looking at the dusty road ahead. In winter, I get the feeling this place would be hard to traverse, but now as we’re just coming into the hottest months of the year, the whole place feels still and dry. I draw the car forward a little further, and a moment later, it swings into view between some trees—the cabin!
“Oh my God,” I gasp as I spot it. “It’s way bigger than I expected…”
“We’re going to be living there?” Callie asks, and she sounds as dumbfounded as me about the whole situation. I double-check the map, and then nod.
“Yeah,” I reply, a grin cracking over my face. “Yeah, it looks like we are, babygirl. Come on, let’s get settled in…”
I drive up to the cabin, fumble for the keys that Lara gave me, and step out to admire the place. It’s huge—a giant log cabin that looks like it could have come straight from some cozy vacation magazine spread. Unlocking the door and dumping our bags inside, the two of us set to exploring the place, and it’s even more beautiful inside. Caramel-colored wood makes up the floors and the walls, and the kitchen is a sprawling open space that looks out onto a giant patio outside. The bedrooms—plural—are upstairs, and Callie takes the steps two at a time to get up there and get a look at them.
“They’re huge!” she yells down to me, and I run up to check them out with her—she’s not wrong. The biggest, which will be mine, has an ensuite bathroom and a balcony, and it’s just next to the guest room, which is perfect for Callie. I flop down on the large mattress in the queen-size bed and pull Callie beside me, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing her close.
“And this is our home for the next few months,” I murmur to her, pressing a kiss against her head. “Can you believe it, baby?”
She shakes her head, nestling in to me. Even though she’s excited, I can tell that the exhaustion from the day is getting to her. Her body sinks into mine, and she drapes her arm across my chest just like she used to when she was a toddler.
“You want to sleep in here with me tonight?” I suggest, stifling a yawn of my own. I know we should probably unpack and get something to eat before we go to bed, but God, I could just fall asleep right there. She nods and stretches her little limbs out around me, her head flopping onto my shoulder as she begins to snore quietly.
I press a kiss to her head and let my own eyes drift shut. I can’t believe this is happening. I mean, it’s not exactly how I pictured us spending our summer—and I can’t help but feel a little guilty, knowing that there’s so much I have taken from her with this story.
But the best I can do in the meantime is try and make this the greatest summer she’s ever had. Try and make up for the mess I’ve made, and let her focus on being here with me, where she belongs. We might never get a chance to have this kind of fun again, and God knows, both of us need it.
Before I know it, I’m drifting off to sleep, my little girl in my arms, and the memory of everything that happened back in the city more distant than it has ever been.
I wake early the next morning, squinting against the bright morning sunlight pouring in through the window; I guess I didn’t think to close the blinds, but now I wish I had. I gently extricate myself from underneath Callie and go to look outside, taking in the forest for the first time. I bite down on my lip—I can hardly believe it’s real.
It looks like something out of a fantasy movie—the green trees bathed in this golden sunlight, the sound of birds chirping, the green of the grass studded by a few brightly colored flowers. It’s a far cry from the usual view I get from my bedroom window, onto the dumpsters behind a local Chinese takeout overflowing with food from the night before, and it’s one I know I could get used to.
I head down to the car to start unpacking while Callie sleeps, bringing the food into the kitchen so I can make us some breakfast. I actually used to be a pretty decent cook, before work and motherhood got in the way of it, and I’m looking forward to having more time to focus on it here.
I knock up some eggs and pour her some orange juice so that, by the time she comes downstairs, there’s already food on the table. I drop a kiss on her head as I lift her up onto the breakfast bar stools for her to eat.
“I’m going to get some more stuff out of the car,” I tell her. “You enjoy your breakfast, okay?”
She’s already tucking in, not waiting for any more encouragement. I make my way back and forth from the car, carrying in everything that we brought and checking for anything the house might be missing. Lara said I could call in a food order every week or so, and I know I want to have the cupboards fully stocked with everything we’re going to need—the less time we can spend in contact with the outside world, the better, as far as I’m concerned. I know this place is off the grid and it’s going to be nigh-on impossible for anyone to find us here, but that doesn’t mean I want some loose-lipped delivery driver to wind up spilling our location to someone he shouldn’t.
Callie heads upstairs to start unpacking her bags—though she gets distracted by the view as she does so.
“Can we go into the forest, Mom?” she asks me, tapping on the glass of her window.
I grin. “I don’t see why not,” I reply. “Let me just tell the delivery driver where to leave the food, and we can go, okay?”
She gets herself ready—she needs a little help with her shoes, but she mostly manages it herself, the smart little thing—as I text the driver to leave the food at the top of the driveway. We can pick it up on the way back, but right now, I want to feel a little of that fresh outside air on my skin, and forget about everything else that might have brought us here in the first place.
We head outside, into the woods, following a small path through the green grass that winds through the trees. She doesn’t let go of my hand the whole time, as though she has no idea how to navigate this place—and I can’t say I blame her. It’s so totally different to what she’s used to back in the city, where she’s lived her whole life.
“Would Daddy like a place like this?” she asks me, her voice bright. I swallow hard. I’ve never tried to keep the fact that her dad isn’t with us anymore from her, so to her, it’s just normal. But sometimes it stings to be reminded that Johnny never got to see her grow up.
“Yeah, he would have loved it,” I reply, though I’m not entirely sure if I’m telling the truth. Johnny and I had hardly been together six months by the time I found out I was pregnant with Callie. While I adored him so fiercely back then, when I was just nineteen, I have no idea if things would have worked out between us. God knows if we’d have actually stuck together through the stress of work and life and raising a baby—but I still wish he’d gotten the chance.
“Good,” she replies, sounding satisfied, and then she trips on a rock and nearly goes stumbling into a tree.
“Hey, watch your step!” I laugh as I catch her. Her eyes widen, but then she laughs, as though utterly entertained by what just happened. And as she straightens up, a small furrow appears on her forehead.
“Who lives there?”
“Where, honey?”
I stoop down to her level to get a look at where she’s pointing. Her chubby little finger is stabbing off toward the right, but I can’t see anything through the trees. As soon as I stoop at her side, I spot it—another cabin. Not unlike ours, actually, though this one looks a lot more modern, with big glass windows that look out onto the surrounding woods.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I guess they’re our new neighbors…”
“Like Mrs. Rosa?” she gasps excitedly.
I grin and nod. “Yeah, sort of.” Mrs. Rosa lives a few floors down from us back in the city, and constantly seems to have a steady supply of sweets and books ready for Callie. She’s got kids of her own, but they all live abroad, so she tells me she likes to spoil Callie instead.
“Can we meet them?” she asks, and I hesitate for a moment. The thought of letting anyone else know we’re here doesn’t sit right with me. After all, isn’t that why we came here in the first place, to put as much distance between ourselves and the rest of the world as possible…?
But I guess it’s only a matter of time before they figure out we’re here. And perhaps it’s a better call to introduce myself to them rather than wait around for them to stumble upon us—hell, if anyone lives there at all. I can easily see that being some vacation home for a rich family.
“Yeah, of course we can,” I reply. “Why don’t we make them something? Bake some cookies…?”
“Can we make a pie?” she asks, clapping her hands together. I grin. We cooked one pie together last Thanksgiving, and it’s all she’s been able to talk about since. I can still remember the way she pinched her tongue between her teeth as she did the latticework on the top. It came out slightly wobbly, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her prouder of anything in her life.
“Why not,” I agree. I guess that’s the kind of quaint shit people do out here, right? Make each other pies? I don’t know. I’ve been a city girl my whole life, and it’s not like I’m well-versed in the etiquette of Middle-of-Nowhere-Ville. “We can do it when we get back to the house, okay…?”
We spend another half hour or so wandering around the forest, but I don’t want to get too far from the house before I know this place better—I can see myself strolling off confidently into the forest and then never coming back, knowing my sense of direction. We grab the groceries where they’ve been left by the edge of the driveway, Callie helps me unpack them, and we set about making a pie.
Once the dough is chilling, she helps me prepare the filling—pulling the green bits off the strawberries so I can chop and stew them. She hums to herself as she works, like a little old lady, and her eyes narrow as she removes the stems as though it’s the most important job in the world.
Soon, the air is filled with the sweet scent of strawberries, and I send Callie upstairs to continue her unpacking. I have to admit, this is kind of nice. Of course, I’m going to need something a little more practical to do with my time in the next few weeks. As much as I love just hanging out with my daughter, I know I’ll get the itch to start writing soon. Perhaps I can get going on the next great American novel or something—or at least edit some of the essays I’ve been meaning to get around to polishing…
Callie helps me braid the dough—well, I do most of it, but she supervises—and we pop it into the oven. Or at least, I try to. I’m not entirely sure how to work this thing, and I feel as though I’m making some huge mistake as I fiddle with the knobs and do my best to get it going. I keep waiting for that flood of heat that tells me it’s in business, but it never comes. How do rich people do this, again…?
Eventually, I step back from the oven and plant my hands on my hips, staring down at it and admitting defeat. Well, that’s got to be it, right? I know this pie takes forever to cook, so I’m sure I can take a quick shower while I’m waiting…
Or wait, a bath! It’s been so long since I’ve stayed anywhere with a bath, and my heart genuinely leaps with excitement when I remember the clawfoot tub in my ensuite bathroom. I stick my head in on Callie, who seems to be totally consumed with organizing her toys in her new bookcase, and I tell her to give me a shout if she needs anything.
“I will,” she mumbles back, though I’m not entirely sure she’s taken in what I’m saying. Either way, I head through to the bathroom and start to run myself a bath. The room fills with steam as I root through the cupboards to find something decadent to put in it. I eventually settle on this bath oil that probably costs more per gallon than a good bottle of wine, and drip a few deliciously scented drops into the water before I strip down and slip beneath the surface.
Oh God, that’s good. I make a mental note to convince my landlord to install a tub in my apartment as soon as I get back, though I know there’s no way in hell she’ll actually consider it. But the warmth of the water lapping around my aching muscles is everything I need right now, and all at once, the thought of staying here for a whole summer doesn’t seem so bad.
I’m so relaxed that my eyes drift shut, and I grab a small flannel from the side of the sink and tuck it behind my neck. I’m not going to fall asleep or anything, I’m just going to close my eyes and get a little rest. And pray that oven is actually on, because if not, that pie is going to be all kinds of soggy by the time I get it out of the…
And that’s the last thing I remember before I drift off.
When I come to, I jerk upright out of the water, splashing the near-cold droplets all over the tiled floor around me. My eyes wide, I try to work out what has yanked me so suddenly from my slumber—and then it hits me. The smell of smoke. Fuck!
I spring out of the bath and grab a towel. The nearest one is tiny, barely big enough to wrap around my body. Lara’s so much smaller than me, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that it’s not accommodating for my curvier body, but still…
But there’s more than just the smoke. No, there’s something else too—a sound. An alarm. A fire alarm, it must be. Shit! So much for flying under the radar. I probably have half the emergency services in the area rushing out to check on me right now.
And there’s more—someone at the door. Banging? Where’s that coming from? Have the firefighters already arrived? It seems kind of quick for them to have made it all the way out here, but maybe…
Maybe I don’t have time to sit around pondering how exactly this has happened or why it’s gone down like this. I need to get the door, and make sure that I don’t burn this damn cabin down on the first day I’m here. Tightening the towel around myself as best I can, I hurry for the door and pray to God that I don’t have to explain myself before I can get dressed…
I have no idea who’s waiting for me on the other side of that door. But I am damn near certain they don’t want to see me fresh out of the bath, still slippery with oil, while the cabin catches fire behind me.
And if they do…well, maybe the people out here are even crazier than I could have imagined.