Chapter 3
Ali
Ididn’t actually have a key to the cabin, so I needed to find a different way in.
In the Midwest, cabin is used to describe just about any kind of house set up for weekend retreats, fishing, hunting, and lake life.
But this one was a true cabin, with dark brown cedar wood siding meant to mimic the look of a log cabin.
The concrete foundation was ornamented with large stonework.
The A-frame architecture was capped with a dark green metal roof.
It mirrored the surrounding nature. Rustic and charming. A place Gibby loved for a lot of decades.
My father? Not so much. He didn’t grow up here, and he never enjoyed visiting his mother. I never knew why.
I, however, had a lot of good memories spending time here with Gibby.
I was surprised at how well the exterior had been maintained.
The landscaping around the home was a mix of manicured and wild in a way that made me believe it was intentional.
Jake said he did some maintenance work on the house for Gibby. I wondered if that continued and at what expense.
I cringed to think I would have to figure out those kinds of details now that I was inhabiting the place.
But first, I needed to find a way inside without tipping off Jake that I didn’t have a key. Something told me he was not a breaking-and-entering kind of guy. Dr. Elliot seemed like a rule follower. Someone not chill about busting into homes without a key.
Not that I made a habit of breaking into homes myself, but this was different.
It was legal. This was technically my home.
In my name. Left to me by my grandmother.
I just hadn’t bothered to go through the appropriate channels to take possession of it upon Gibby’s death and certainly not in my hasty escape from the city.
So breaking in was my best option. One I was sure Dr. Pure-Heart Adonis over there wasn’t equipped to understand.
Hmm. Maybe I could enter through a window in the back.
A flash of a memory came to me. There was a window in the room I slept in as a child that would rattle on windy, stormy nights.
It scared me then because I knew it was flimsy.
On those nights I would run across the hall to snuggle in bed with Gibby.
As Jake unloaded my luggage, I sauntered to the back of the house.
I waded behind a hydrangea bush to get to the window.
I remembered that bush. By midsummer, pink and periwinkle blooms would greet me out the window every morning.
I imagined that each one was watching through the window for the moment I would open my eyes so they could say good morning to me.
The bush still looked healthy. Maybe those blooms would greet me once again.
I hoped Jake or whoever was maintaining this place hadn’t replaced or repaired the windows or their locks in the almost decade and a half since I slept here; otherwise, things were going to get much more destructive.
I pressed my palms against the window trim and sash, and it lifted just a hair. It was sticky, but it lifted. Finally, something is working out!
I looked down at my lucky heels and clicked them together a couple of times in appreciation. These old girls had at least one more stroke of luck left in them.
I glanced around my feet, hoping to find something that could be wedged under the trim. I shimmied a sturdy stick under the window frame, hoping to create a big enough gap to get my fingers under and lift the sash.
Yes!
And I didn’t even chip a nail in the process.
It wobbled and opened as I worked the pane up.
I hopped a couple of times, trying to lift myself into the now open window, but it was harder than I thought. Especially in the heels.
I peered down at my feet and spoke directly to my booties. “Well, Luckies, I think we’ve reached the end.”
One spike heel was already stuck in the pervious ground.
I bent down to unzip the side of each bootie.
“You may’ve served me well in the past, but today was not a good showing. I’m throwing in the towel.”
I wriggled my feet out of them.
“Besides, you don’t want to be a part of these novice attempts at breaking and entering—but only for right now, girls. I could never abandon you completely.” I lifted them out of the dirt and placed them gently on their sides in the grass.
Now barefoot, I not-so-gracefully shimmied my body up to my elbows, dangling from the window.
I rested my top half through the open window. So far, so good.
My plan was to place my hands down onto the floor on the inside and slip my bottom half through.
Only, the floor was lower than I anticipated, and there was nothing nearby to help pull me in.
The fabric of my dress was caught on a nail or something.
I was suspended half in, half out, like sheets on a clothesline—my ass shining up at the sun.
Feral animal noises escaped me as I fought with my dress. With nothing to grab onto inside or push up against outside, I made zero progress—even as I flopped like a fish tossed on a dock.
I was stuck.
The compression rod holding up the window sheers on the inside fell and bonked the back of my head. Thankfully, the rod was cheap and the curtains were light. But the fall punctuated the fact that I needed help.
“Help!” I raised my voice just enough to carry—I hoped—to the front of the house.
Silence. Shit.
“Help!” This time I projected my voice. Less delicate flower. More thrashing wildlife. “Somebody. Anybody?”
While Dr. Elliot seemed like the respectful, rule-follower type, I was hoping beyond hope he hadn’t left yet.
“Ali? Where are you?” Jake’s voice came from the other side of the bush.
Oh, thank God.
“I’m in the window. Behind the hydrangea bush.”
“What do you mean you’re in the window . . . ? Oh. I see . . .” His voice trailed off. “How . . . did you?” The beat between his words stretched long enough to confirm I looked ridiculous.
“Um . . . Well . . . I needed to find a different way in, so I tried crawling through the window.”
“Why did you need to crawl through the window? Something wrong with the front door?”
“The door . . . You know . . . It’s old and gets stuck. So I didn’t even try it.”
“I could have helped you with the door.” I heard him sigh. “Can you get yourself down? I’m, um . . . trying not to look in your direction.”
“No. I can’t. Don’t you think I would have gotten myself down if I could? And why aren’t you looking in my direction?”
“Well, I don’t want to embarrass you, but you’re wearing a skirt or dress or whatever. There is a lot of your bottom half exposed right now,” he said through a few stutters and throat clears.
I squinted my eyes tightly and mouthed, Fuck. This was humiliating.
The uneven window frame dug into my fleshy hips.
“It’s okay, I’ve a . . . I gotcha,” he said. “Here’s what I am going to do. I’m going to wedge my shoulder under your hips. Then I think I can lift you up and pull you out of there. You’ll want to use your hands to guide yourself out.”
“Okay. Good plan . . . I think . . .”
Next thing I felt were his hands on the front of my thighs. Warm, textured palms. A little rough around the edges yet soft in the center. Years of soothing nervous pets, maybe?
He lifted my legs away from the wall and over his shoulder. His touch was sure yet thoughtful—of course it was. It instinctively adjusted to meet my needs with an overwhelming . . . what? Was that tenderness? Despite all the chaos I’d created in this moment, my body melted into him.
I could feel the fabric of his shirt against my thighs. His biceps wrapped around to weigh down the back of my legs, momentarily blocking the draft there.
“I’m going to lift you slightly now so you can back yourself out.”
My dress released, and I was able to ease off the ledge.
“That’s it. Just walk your hands back to guide yourself out of the window,” he instructed. “You okay? Watch your head on the bottom of the—”
“Ow!” The back of my head struck the exact spot Jake was warning me about.
He winced.
Finally, I was freed from the window, but I hung over his shoulder like the female half of an Estonian carrying contest team. All dignity lost.
My hands propped on his back, I could feel . . . Well, that was unexpected. Taut body, sturdy and strong beneath my palms. So not only did he have a handsome face and tender hands, but a rigid body too? What kind of small-town veterinarian had this kind of muscle tone?
“Once we clear the hydrangea, I’ll lower you to the ground,” he said.
My bare feet touched the soft, cool grass as I slid down the front of him.
My eyes fell to his and a bolt of lightning shot through me all the way to my toes. If my face hadn’t already been red from exertion and embarrassment, I would have been ablaze under his gaze.
I blinked and lowered my eyes while adjusting my clothing so nothing hung out or rode up. I did, however, avoid picking the massive wedgie I’d received. I didn’t think I could stomach picking my butt in front of this man on top of everything else.
“Thank you.”
I stepped away to put some distance between us.
“Let’s see if I can help you get the front door unstuck,” he said as he walked toward the front of the house.
“No, um . . . wait.” I grabbed his arm, and hmm . . . it was a nice arm. A dreamy arm. A what-the-hell-are-they-feeding-their-local-vets kind of arm. Did it have the same effect on all medical professionals or just those who treated animals?
I realized I was caressing him and holding on for too long.
The corner of Dr. Elliot’s mouth lifted along with an eyebrow.
I quickly removed my hand.
“You don’t have to do that—really.”
He started collecting my shoes.
“You’ve done so much for me already.”
“It’s okay, Ali. Hand me the key. I’m sure I can get it unstuck.” He opened his palm even as he walked a few steps ahead.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“Exactly.”
He stopped and turned. Crossed his arms. “Exactly what? I’m confused.”
“Exactly. I can’t hand you the key.” I was trying to spin us in a little verbal ring-around-the-rosy meant to distract.
Instead, I sounded unhinged.
“Why not?” He spoke slowly.
There was a lengthy pause as I worked out how to confess that I did not actually have the key to my own home. Nothing came to mind except the truth.
“I don’t actually have the key.” I winced.
“You lost the key?” He scanned the grass like it might be at his feet.
“It’s not that so much as . . .” I squeezed my eyes shut. I was too weak for eye contact. “I never actually . . . had a key.”
Silence.
I cracked one eye open.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s complicated.” I pressed my lips together.
“Complicated?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Can you expand on that?”
“I could, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
One of his brows lifted.
I sighed.
“I never took possession of the house. I never met with the lawyer. My father’s accountants and all his people took care of making sure everything was just set up.
” I shrugged. “And then I had to leave Chicago quickly, and I didn’t have a chance to get the keys from anyone.
It’s a very long story that won’t win me any favor with someone like you.
So . . . yeah. You’re not going to like the explanation.
” I rocked back and forth on my bare feet.
“Someone like me?” He repeated the words back to me, and I heard the judgment in them this time.
Dr. Elliot looked down, then away. A slow exhale slipped from him.
I knew that sound.
It was the sound of someone needing to collect themselves.
To restore their patience.
Because I’d pushed them perhaps too far. Frustrated them.
“Right. Okay then.” He walked away.
Shoot. Nice one, Ali. You offended the town’s do-gooder.
Anyone could tell that this man was not a risk-taker. He wouldn’t so much as nudge a rule, let alone break one.
I hoped he wasn’t going to call the cops. I didn’t think I could get arrested for this, but it would make a very long morning feel even longer.
He got back into his truck.
If he was calling the police . . . Well, I’d just rely on my usual charm to get me out of this. It’s gotten me out of worse.
Deep down, though, I was screaming for him not to go.
I bit the inside of my cheek and followed the sight of his truck as it moved left. He only drove a few feet down what I assumed was his driveway. He got out of his truck but left it running. Door left wide open. He reached into the cab again.
Then the sound of a motorized garage door opening.
The sound of an interior door opening and closing.
Then he got back into his truck and pulled it back into my driveway.
I was transfixed by his surefooted movement. He was methodical. Precise. It was soothing like ASMR videos before bed.
I snapped out of the hypnotic stare as he started walking toward me, a tight expression on his face.
“Look, if you’re planning to call the cops, please don’t. Everything I told you is true.” While my charm and wit had gotten me out of so many dire straits, I remembered that my father was often called upon when Johnny Law was involved, and that was not an option anymore.
Jake dangled a single key on a key chain from his hand.
Then he walked up the groaning wooden steps of the front porch, swung open the creaking screen door, and stepped onto the porch.
I heard him insert the key. The click of the deadbolt.
He grasped the knob. Turned it while pushing on the door to nudge it open, and .
. . it didn’t budge, even under his very masculine shove.
He looked at me, and I shrugged.
Jake gave the door a forceful nudge involving hip and shoulder. I joined him on the porch in case this was a two-person job.
The door loosened and opened with a protesting grind against the doorjamb.
“The humidity of the early season makes all the doors sticky,” he said. “There you go.” He wasn’t going to press me for any more details?
We switched places at the door, and he started to walk away.
“Um . . . Thank you, Dr. Elliot.”
“You’re welcome, Ali.” He dangled the key in front of my face. It was a benign-looking silver thing on a key chain that said Wild Child in bubble letters straight out of a 1970s movie title card. It reminded me of Gibby.
He disappeared around the back of the house again. And returned my booties to the front porch.
“Don’t forget about these. And please, just call me Jake. I didn’t mean to sound so formal earlier. I was trying to make you feel more comfortable. And I was nervous.”
That made me smirk a little.
Before he made it back down the porch steps, he turned back. “Listen, I have ladders and tools if you need help in the future. I can help you.”
He climbed into his truck and drove away.
Jake.
I peeled my eyes away from the driveway, jiggled the key in my hand, and turned toward the threshold of the cottage.
He’d left my bags lined up neatly and in size order on the screened porch.