Chapter 17 #2
“If you need decorating help this year, let me know. I’ll drive up here through the snow if it means Isabella gets what she wants,” I say.
“Oh yeah?” Miles raises his eyebrows. Even sitting down, he towers over me as he looks down. An electric charge sparks between us. I wonder if he can feel that too.
“Yeah,” is all I can say.
He’s the first to break eye contact as he leans back onto the cushion at his back. “Alright, I’ll pencil you in for decorating duty.”
Red numbers flash in front of my eyes, changing from 5:13 to 5:14. When I started staring at the alarm clock beside my bed, the numbers said 4:27.
Close to an hour of laying here trying to sleep again. Probably more than an hour, but I didn’t bother to look at the clock when I first woke up in the middle of the night. Between this and having trouble sleeping in the first place, I’ve probably gotten three hours of sleep total.
Even then, I was dreaming fitfully. Pine trees on fire all around me. Running through the mountains in Idaho until I tumble into the big lake Juniper Ridge is built on the shores of. Being pulled under by waves as big as they are in the ocean. Waking up gasping for air.
It’s time I admit defeat and just get started on my day. Might as well be productive if I’m going to be awake anyway.
Rolling out of bed, I find my footing and walk over to the window facing the dirt road that leads up to the ranch.
A blanket of stars paints the night sky, which has just slightly started to light up with the hint of the morning sun.
The outline of the mountains behind the ranch set a stark contrast of black against the morning sky.
By the time the door clicks shut as I head out for my morning run to the Old Cabin, the sky is a deep purple, stars disappearing in the morning light. The dirt road is hard against my running shoes. My legs ache already, even though the day hasn’t started for me yet. It’s going to be a long one.
The ranch is beautiful this morning. Tall grass fields wave gently on either side of the road, a group of cattle feeding a few hundred feet out.
The gray mountains jut out of the earth to my left, bright green trees mixing with dark green pines until about halfway up.
The smell of morning dew on the wind, birds singing their songs as Wyoming wakes up.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I walk up the driveway to the cabin. I’m the only one here. For now. My heart rate kicks up as I imagine Miles walking through the front door. For once, I’m not dreading his arrival. I’m looking forward to it.
For the first time in a long time, I have a full on crush. I debated texting him last night so many times I had to charge my phone in the bathroom so I couldn’t reach it. I Google’d the guy, for God’s sake. He’s living in his own little corner of my brain every second of the day.
I’m not being careful enough with him. I let myself get way too wrapped up in that field. Miles is so not a possibility for me. No long term relationship is. And that’s exactly what he is.
Long term.
Miles Autry isn’t a guy I can be with once and leave.
It didn’t work out well the last time, and I refuse to make that mistake again.
He’s boyfriend material. The one thing I can’t handle.
Not to mention, he’s not exactly interested in me either.
I represent everything he hates. I’m loud, I’m flighty, I work for a big corporate empire that bought part of his family ranch.
I’ve got to get a grip. I breathe in and out until all of the air has left my lungs before stepping up the last of the porch steps.
The wood cabin door creaks as I open it and step inside. I flick on the lights and a warm glow fills the entryway. My boots click against the wood floors as I walk back to the temporary desk and set up my laptop for the day.
I open up a scheduling spreadsheet and stare at the screen for five minutes. My mind wanders in every possible direction except work. I open my phone only to grimace at a text from my mother, reminding me on no uncertain terms they’ll be checking in with my supervisor on my progress at the cabin.
I roll my eyes, exiting out of the message thread. More work has gotten done at this cabin in the short amount of time I’ve been up here than any other property I’ve worked on. But, none of that matters to them. None of it will ever be good enough.
If I didn’t love this job so much, I would probably cut them off for good. I don’t think either of them would have a big problem with that, either. It’s not like my mother checks in on my personal life.
The sky outside of the large windows on the back of the cabin turns from a deep purple to hot pink. It’s a perfect view of the sunrise from where I’m sitting, as if this spot in the house was built specifically to watch the sun come up.
My head whips to the side as a creaking sound rings out from the great room.
“Hello?” I call out. No response.
I walk into the hallway as quietly as I can, towards the sound. Silence rings in my ears. As soon as I get to the great room, an ember floating out of the unlit fireplace catches my eye. I follow it with my gaze, watching as it glides across the room, landing on the floor in the opposite corner.
Swallowing my unease, I pad over to the spot the ember landed. In its place, the corner of a photograph pokes out of the floorboards, as if it was trying to wedge its way out of the floor on its own.
I kneel down, unable to contain my curiosity, squinting at the small photograph until I can see it better. It’s a photograph of a young couple standing in front of the fireplace, looking into each other’s eyes.
The paper is old and wrinkled, as if it’s been sitting here for years. It could be a photo of anyone. I reach out to pull the tiny paper out all the way to get a better look.
The instant my fingertips touch the photo, I’m pulled through a grey, wispy haze until I’m sitting in the same spot in a very different looking cabin. A worn leather sofa sits next to me, covered in throw blankets. Tables sit comfortably in the room with books stacked on top and loose papers.
The shape of the living room is the same. It’s like someone completely rearranged the living room in the Old Cabin and added some furniture. The only thing that remains the same is the fireplace.
Voices cut through the air as a man and woman enter the room talking and laughing. I can hear them, but it’s almost as if I’m underwater. As if I’m in a memory, not quite as clear as the original moment.
The woman turns towards the fireplace, her raven hair shining in the sunlight. The man trails behind her, beaming as if she’s the sun.
It’s the couple from the photo.
But, that’s not the only reason they look familiar. I just can’t quite put my finger on it. They stop in front of the fireplace as the man takes the woman’s hands in his. Although I can’t hear his words, his lips say “I love you.”
Right when he says the words, the fireplace jumps to life. A fire burns so brightly, it’s almost like someone flipped a switch. Wood crackles and sparks fly upwards into the chimney. The couple doesn’t seem to notice, caught up in each other.
The woman jumps up, wrapping her arms around the man’s neck. I study the man’s face as he lifts her off of the ground. I know him. I just can’t place it.
Before I can look any longer, the hazy, grey fog surrounds me again. The cabin melts away into nothing, before reappearing exactly how I left it this morning. Empty, dark, dusty.
The photograph in my hand has changed. Gone is the couple standing by the fireplace, the exact scene I just witnessed. In its place is a picture of the Autry family from years ago, standing next to the Old Cabin.
Walter wears a tan cowboy hat and blue button up, looking like the picture of health in his youth. His hair is light colored and a lot longer than it is now, poking out the sides of his hat. Isabella looks similar to how she does today, long black hair and a comforting smile.
It’s Miles who looks drastically different. I’d guess he’s about 8 years old in this photo. A toothy grin spreads across his face as his parents hold onto each of his arms like he’s their pride and joy. A ratty old baseball cap sits on his head, his brown eyes just as dark as they are today.
The corners of my mouth lift as I stare at little Miles. He looks so… happy. Like he did the day I met him. Carefree and full of wonder.
The cabin looks much better in the photograph than it did when I got here, but it still isn’t what it had to have been when it was new. Seeing it like this, with the Autry’s standing outside, sets a dagger into my heart.
I feel a twinge of sadness for Miles. Until I saw this, I didn’t really understand why he’d be so upset about MacPherson purchasing the cabin and land. Of course he’s upset. He grew up here.
He has good memories at this place. Probably lots of memories with his dad.
It was just another business deal to me. Another vacation rental to fix up for tourists to enjoy. But for him, it’s a piece of his home. I can’t blame him for being angry.
I don’t know what it’s like to have a family like his. Close. Loving. But if I did, I’m sure I’d be the same way if we lost something important to a corporation. Even if they did decide to sell of their own free will, obviously Walter and Isabella didn’t tell Miles about it.
If his dad is as sick as it seems from talking to Miles, it may feel like things are being torn away from him one piece at a time.
I remember when my entire life was torn away from me in an instant, dropping me in Juniper Ridge where I didn’t know anyone.
I couldn’t pack all of my things, had no way to stay in contact with any of my old friends.
Not even my parents visited me for a good long while. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.
Standing up, I brush my jeans off and take another look at the photograph. Now that I think about it, Walter and Isabella look a lot like the couple I saw by the fireplace. Take off a few years of age from this family photo and…
Holy shit. That was them.
That was Walter and Isabella before they were married, in this exact cabin.
I look around for the glowing ember that flew around the room, but it’s nowhere to be found. The fireplace is cold and perfectly clean, no evidence of a fire being lit in the hearth.
What is going on in this place? First the postcard, now this photo. It can’t be a coincidence.
I take the photo over to my folio and tuck it in next to the postcard I found before. I’ll take these over to Walter when I go up to the house next. And, maybe I’ll ask him about the photograph I saw before this one.