21. Aspen
ASPEN
I’ve been here for almost a week now, and I’m already starting to feel a little cabin feverish, despite having so much land to explore.
Blake has given me the key to my room, which means I’m able to lock the door at night, but that hasn’t changed my sense of being watched.
I’ve also had more strange dreams of people standing over my bed at night.
But no more stick dolls have appeared, and if it wasn’t for their very real presence, I’d have been questioning if I’d imagined them.
I could do with picking up a few feminine supplies.
While I’m sure Blake didn’t mind lending me a disposable razor, I doubt he has any tampons lying around.
I’m also going to run out of moisturizer and cleanser soon, so I figure I could do with stocking up.
If the mountain pass closes when the weather turns, I don’t want to get stuck without those necessities.
I remind myself of my promise to Levi to be gone before that happens—something that makes me feel sick with disappointment, because, despite everything, I really don’t want to leave—but it’s still a good idea to get some supplies, just in case.
I find Blake outside, chipping old paint off one of the window frames.
“Hey, Blake, any chance I could borrow your car to head into town?”
He turns to me with a frown. “Why do you need to go into town?”
“I’ve got a few things I need to pick up.”
“I can drive you in,” he offers.
I shake my head. “No, no. You’re busy here. I don’t want to take you away from your work. Besides, it’ll do me good. I need to learn my way around a little. I can’t rely on you being my chauffeur.” I offer him a smile to show I’m only half joking.
I can’t allow myself to be completely dependent on Blake. He can leave my life again, just as quickly as he’d reentered it.
The few fine lines around his mouth deepen. “I’m not sure, Pen. The mountain pass can be dangerous.”
I gesture at the blue sky. “The weather is perfect. I’ll be fine. I’m a good driver. I’ll look after your car.”
“Fuck the car. It’s not the car I’m worried about.”
My breath catches. He’s worried about me?
“I’ll drive carefully,” I promise.
He digs into his jeans’ pocket and fishes out the keys. “Okay, but be gentle on the old girl.”
Blake tosses me the keys, and I snatch them out of the air.
“You know where you’re going?”
“Not really,” I admit.
“Follow the mountain road back down the way we came, and when you reach the junction, you’ll see a signpost for the town, Cragmoor. It’s about another ten minutes on. There isn’t much to it—just a few stores and some houses—but you should be able to get whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Blake.”
“Have you got any cash?” he asks. “The town is kind of remote, and most places won’t accept a credit card.”
“Oh, really? No, I don’t have cash.”
That seems strange, but then I remember the spotty service. Surely the stores have Wi-Fi down there, though?
I’m completely broke, but I’d been hoping my card isn’t maxed out so I could afford the necessities. I always hate going to pay when I’m not sure if my card is going to be refused. I could check on the app, but I still haven’t logged into Blake’s Wi-Fi.
I have to question why I haven’t pushed for the Wi-Fi login.
If I’d really wanted it, I’d have asked by now, wouldn’t I?
I’m enjoying being free from social media and my email.
I dread the thought of logging back on and having to deal with companies sending demands for money.
I’m sticking my head in the sand, not wanting to think about it, and not having service is the perfect excuse.
I am also aware that I’m going to need to contact the church at some point to figure out what to do about my dad’s ashes, but Father Montague had told me to take as long as I needed.
He digs his hand back into his pocket and pulls out a small wedge of twenties. He peels a few off and hands them to me. “Here, just in case you need it.”
“I don’t want to take your money.”
“It’s nothing, Pen. Seriously. Pay me back some other time, if you really want.”
I will feel better having some cash on me, so I take the money. “Okay, thank you. Is there anything I can get you?”
“Nah, we’re all stocked up.”
I note his use of ‘we.’ Not that I’d had any intention of getting anything for Levi.
He’s managed to stay out of my way over the past couple of days, and I’m grateful for that.
Life is a lot easier without Levi around, though I feel guilty for thinking it.
This is Levi’s home, after all. I’m the one who’s the interloper.
I hesitate, not really wanting to ask, but decide that I need to. “Actually, there was one other thing,” I say. “Is there any chance of getting the Wi-Fi code for the hotel?”
He grimaces. “Sorry, but it’s out at the moment. I need to get it fixed, but it’s not exactly easy to get an engineer out here.”
I shrug. “No worries. I just thought I’d ask.”
Truthfully, I’m more than a little relieved. I might be able to pick up service when I get to town, but I’m not sure I even want to.
I head to the old Range Rover, giving Blake a little backward wave as I go. I wonder if he’s watching me and find myself adding an extra wiggle to my walk. I hope he’s staring at my ass, but I don’t glance back to check.
I climb into the car, plug the key in to start the engine, and put the car into gear. The tires crunch on the gravel as I maneuver it away from the hotel and head out of the grounds and down the mountain road.
A little frisson of excitement goes through me.
I slide the windows right down, so the wind blows through the interior, whipping my hair away from my face.
I resist the urge to go heavy on the accelerator, picking up speed as the vehicle winds down the mountain pass.
I remind myself about the bends and the drops beyond.
I don’t want to die crashed off the side of a cliff and wrapped around a tree.
I’m tempted to put on some music and sing loudly as I drive, but even as the thought goes through my head, I’m tangled up in a yarn ball of guilt.
My dad only just died. I shouldn’t be experiencing moments of happiness.
Maybe he’d have wanted me to, but that I’m here with Blake only makes me feel guiltier.
What would he say about my situation if he were still alive? Would he be happy about where I am now?
I like to think he’d be happy I’m back in a position where I can focus on my drawing.
I’m still clinging to the hope it might one day be my ticket to creating some kind of a life for myself.
I honestly can’t see what else I’m going to be able to do.
People say just apply for a job, but that isn't so easy for someone like me.
There are forms to fill out, questions to read and answer.
I cringe at the thought of how the person reading whatever it is I've tried to write will automatically think I'm stupid.
Sometimes, I can try to read a question, only for my brain to have warped it into something completely different and, when I've answered it, I've answered something else entirely.
And that's before we even start talking about my spelling.
Words a preschooler would probably get right, I somehow manage to fuck up.
I reach the junction Blake described to me and do my best to study the signpost. I didn’t want to admit to Blake about the difficulties I’d have in reading it.
I signal, though there’s no one around to see it, and turn down the road.
Sure enough, ten minutes later, a couple of rural properties appear either side of the road, and then the area gradually becomes more built up. Before long, I find myself on Main Street of a small, pretty mountain town.
I spot a convenience store and pull into a parking space outside.
I climb out of the car and hit the fob to lock it behind me.
A few people are milling around, browsing in the shop windows, walking down the street, or sitting on benches positioned outside of the stores.
I sense eyes on me, the turning of heads as I cross the sidewalk toward the convenience store.
They must be used to seeing strangers here.
It's not as though they don't get tourists.
What is it about me that's caught their attention?
Before I manage to enter the store, an older man stops me. He’s sitting on one of the benches, a newspaper folded on the seat beside him.
“Excuse me. You don’t look local.” He seems friendly enough, probably just looking for someone to chat with to pass the day.
“Oh, that’s because I’m not.”
Smile, I tell myself. Make eye contact, but not too much. Mirror their body language.
“Just passing through?” he asks.
“No, actually, I’m staying up at Windridge Hall.”
His rheumy blue eyes narrow. “Right. I thought I recognized the Range Rover. What are you doing up there?”
Is that why everyone is staring? Have other people recognized what I’m driving? Why should they care?
I smile, but I feel like his friendly demeanor has iced over. Is it something I said?
“I-I’m a family friend of the owner. He’s given me somewhere to stay for a while.”
His already craggy forehead furrows. “Be careful of that place. I’ve heard some things...”
Oh, God, has Levi’s behavior even reached the town? I'm almost tempted to ask, but I also don't want to be responsible for stirring up gossip. Small towns thrive on the stuff.
“Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”
I sense some other locals listening in to the conversation.
I'm definitely not feeling welcome. I want to get what I came for and leave again.
The momentary buzz of happiness I'd experienced on the drive down has vanished.
No wonder Blake and Levi like to keep to themselves if this is what the locals are like.
I lower my chin and keep walking, leaving the man behind. I push my way into the convenience store, and a small bell jingles above my head.
It reminds me of the coffee shop back home, where Blake had taken me after my father's funeral, and I experience a sudden pang of homesickness.
It's like someone has twisted something in the center of my chest, leaving me breathless.
I never thought I would be homesick, and the emotion surprises me.
But there's nothing there for me now. No family, no friends—only Tobias, who didn't exactly seem sad about me leaving and who I haven't even heard from since.
I take my cell phone from my pocket and check the screen. But the words ‘no service’ are still scrawled across the top of it where the bars should be.
Surely there should be some cell service somewhere around here?
I frown and then let out a sigh. It doesn't even matter.
It's not as though I'm desperate to contact anyone, anyway. The only person who might have been expecting to hear from me is Tobias, but there's also a little spiteful part of me that hopes he’s worried I haven’t been in touch.
It would serve him right if I just vanished on him after what he did the day of my father's funeral.
Perhaps I'm being bitter, but I can't bring myself to care. I realize I’ve barely given Tobias any thought since I’ve been here.
Walking the aisles, I select a few of the items I need, dropping them into my basket.
I remember Blake’s warning of the mountain pass getting closed off when the weather turns bad and, with his money in my pocket, I grab enough to last me a few months.
I might have told Levi that I’ll be gone before the weather turns, but the fact is I have nowhere else to go.
Even with the items I need, I still have a little money left over. Blake said they didn't need anything in particular, but I still decide to buy a few snacks that I like.
I pause in front of the boxed cake mix, and, on a whim, add a couple of boxes into my basket as well.
Hadn't Blake said it was his birthday soon?
Yes, I'm sure he said he was turning forty-two. Forty-two sounds ancient to me, but nothing about Blake seems in any way old. If anything, he’s a man in peak physical condition, at the prime of his life.
Still feeling self-conscious, aware of people staring and muttering behind their hands, I pay for what I've selected and wait for the older lady behind the counter to bag up my goods.
I’ll be glad to get out of here and return to the solitude of Windridge Hall.
I'm starting to understand both Blake and Levi's point of view about the peace that place can bring. Okay, there is also something a bit creepy about the old building, with its endless corridors and deserted wings, but I can look past all of that and see its beauty. I even love the little stick dolls that have been left for me, though I’m still unsure where they’ve come from.
I should really ask Blake, but speaking about them feels like it would spoil the mystery.
Is it the artist in me that sees them as something fun instead of creepy?
I’ve definitely felt more connected to that side of myself since I’ve been here.
I don’t know if it’s because of Windridge Hall inspiring me, or because I’m no longer constantly worried about where I’m going to be spending the night, or because all the stress and pain of caring for my dad has finally passed, but the urge to create has definitely returned.
It’s such a relief. For a little while, I’d been frightened I wouldn’t ever be able to draw again, that my talent had abandoned me.
Within the hour, I get back to Windridge Hall.
“How did it go?” Blake shouts over to me from where he’s still working.
“Fine,” I reply.
“Did you get everything you needed?”
I hold up the paper bag.
“I’ll pay you back,” I remind him, but he waves me off. I hesitate then add, “The locals weren’t exactly friendly.”
He frowns, his features tightened. “Who did you talk to?”
“Umm… no one, not really. Just an old guy asking where I’d come from.”
His shoulders tense. “What did you tell him?”
“Only that I was visiting. I think he recognized your car.”
I’m sure he mutters ‘shit’ beneath his breath.
“Is something wrong?” I ask cautiously.
His lips tighten and he shakes his head. “I don’t like people knowing our business.”
I feel like I’ve done something wrong, but I’m not really sure what. My stomach knots, and I desperately want to make things better. It’s not as though he told me not to speak to anyone, and why would he need to?
“I didn’t tell anyone anything,” I only half-lie.
His expression relaxes and he smiles at me. The sight warms me from inside.
“Good,” he says. “I wouldn’t want you to give them anything more to gossip about.”