10. Doreen
DOREEN
After a shared bath and a second leisurely round of lovemaking, they drowsed on the enormous bed in lazy bliss throughout the afternoon. Doreen only woke fully when Wick sat up.
“Weather’s getting bad again,” he said, running a hand down her shoulder. “Better get back down to the cabin.”
“More rain?” Doreen groaned. It did indeed seem that her entire vacation was going to be rained out. Not that she minded staying inside, considering the various ways she now had to occupy herself ...
“I don’t have to go alone,” Wick murmured. He kissed her shoulder, brushing his lips across the skin almost shyly. “You’d be welcome if you want to come.”
Doreen rolled over and hooked her leg over his. “No kidding? I’d love to.”
“And leave all this?”
“Your cabin is wonderful. I’d love to spend the night there. Are you sure you don’t mind me intruding on your privacy?”
Wick brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead. “I’ve never minded anything less.”
They kissed for another little while, and then as the weather darkened outside, Wick reluctantly rolled up to sit on the edge of the bed. Doreen stretched luxuriously, enjoying Wick’s appreciative look as the movement rearranged her breasts, and sat up.
“Just let me grab some things. Oh, and I have your clothes I borrowed. Hester washed them.”
While Wick used the bathroom, Doreen looked around for something to put a few overnight things into. The canvas tote was still muddy. She could probably use her handbag.
She got her phone out of the small can of rice she had begged off Hester the evening before. It seemed all right, so she put it on its charger and started it up.
Reception had been incredibly poor to nonexistent since she had been at the lodge, but her phone managed to retrieve a text message and a voice mail notification on startup. The text was from her parents, wishing her a good weekend. There was nothing about her work woes, so apparently Walt hadn’t told them. Good for him, Doreen thought; she appreciated being given the space to choose how much she wanted them to know.
She didn’t recognize the number on the voice mail, so she decided to check it to square it away and get rid of it. Probably spam or a wrong number. She had to try twice to get through. There was a brief pause before the message began, as if the speaker was unsure about what to say.
“Hey Doreen, Big Mike here. I heard about what happened at the shop. Actually, I’d say by now I’ve heard from just about every guy there, telling me you shouldn’t have been fired and demanding your job back. So this is to let you know that everything’s fine, Tim said you were up in the mountains for the weekend so you might not get this ’til Monday. Hope we’ll see you on Tuesday at the usual time.”
Doreen felt her head spinning in shock. It was Mike Sr, not Junior. Apparently they had gone straight above her supervisor’s head.
“Everything okay?” Wick asked. He had just emerged from the bathroom, gloriously naked, and started looking for his pants.
“Yes—yes, it’s fine.” Doreen realized she was still staring at the phone. Reflexively she archived the message. “I— I was making sure my phone survived its swim. It seems all right.”
She put the phone down, then after a moment, turned it off.
You might not get this ’til Monday.
Tomorrow. The day she had planned to leave.
Without a job to go back to, there had been no reason not to stay in the mountains with Wick for a good long while, if he wanted. Now suddenly she had a choice to make.
Wick slipped an arm around her and kissed the corner of her mouth. Doreen leaned into him. It was amazing how comfortable and familiar his arms had come to feel.
“You sure you’re all right?”
“Yes,” Doreen said, pushing confidence she didn’t feel into her voice. “Let me just finish getting ready.”
She used her purse for an overnight bag and stuffed clean underwear, socks, and a toothbrush into it. No need for more. She’d be back in the morning, and she’d check out, and ... then what?
She would worry about it tomorrow, she decided. Today she was still solidly in “weekend fling” mode.
The drive down to the cabin was, if possible, even more hair-raising than the drive up, especially since it had started to rain lightly. At times Doreen could have sworn the nose of the truck was pointed straight down the mountainside.
But they got there in time, and she had just carried her bag inside before the heavens opened up and rain poured on them again.
“It just doesn’t stop,” Doreen remarked, looking out the cabin door at raindrops pocking the surface of the pond.
“Wouldn’t be surprised if it rains itself out this time,” Wick remarked, feeding chunks of split firewood into the open door of the stove. “Sometimes the clouds can sit on the mountains for weeks, but it doesn’t usually come down like this; it just drizzles. This’ll probably have ’em rained out by morning and we’ll have nice weather for a week.”
Doreen decided not to think about the possibility, likelihood even, that she might not be around to see it.
Hope we’ll see you on Tuesday.
She wandered around the cabin, looking at the handmade furniture and the shelves of books and DVDs. It looked as if Wick passed a cozy, comfortable existence in here during the winter, when rain and snow must make it impossible, or at least unpleasant, to go outside.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked, running her fingertips across the smooth wood. She wondered if it was birch or pine. Something pale and almost glowing with inner warmth.
“Long enough,” Wick remarked.
He said it offhandedly, but there was a slight tension in his voice. Doreen glanced at him.
“I mean, did you grow up in these mountains?”
“Oh. No. It hasn’t been that long. Little less than ten years now, I think.”
That sounded like a long time to Doreen. She hadn’t been in her apartment nearly that long, or at Mike’s Garage. She tried to imagine falling in love with a place enough to stay there for ten years, in spite of adversity and winter storms and having to make everything you used with your own hands.
Could I love this place that much?
She was starting to think the answer might be yes, if Wick was here.
“If it wasn’t raining, I could work on your truck,” she remarked.
It occurred to her immediately afterward that there were definitely other things they could be doing while the rain pounded outside, but Wick only smiled in a fond way.
“There’s an outbuilding I could pull it into, if you want to.”
“I’d love to get my hands on that engine.”
His smile grew wider, and he reached for his rain slicker.
They dashed to the truck through the downpour, and Wick pulled around back and parked in a large open-fronted shed with some wood stacked in the back. The roof was easily high enough to clear the truck cab. Wick hopped out and switched on a bright overhead light. As Doreen climbed down, she guessed that this space was meant for exactly what they were going to use it for: a covered location for equipment maintenance where a person could work without needing to be outside. She noted with approval that there was even a hoist on the ceiling for lifting heavy items, though she doubted she would need it; she wasn’t planning to pull the engine completely.
A pleasant hour or so followed. Doreen worked on the truck while the rain drummed on the roof. Wick brought coffee from the house, and sat on a block of wood and chatted with her, answering her questions about the truck and generally talking about his life on the mountain. Although not a mechanic by trade, he had a wide-ranging set of skills due to keeping all of his logging equipment well maintained and running, as well as a good head for mechanical objects. He asked sensible questions and peered over her shoulder at what she was doing.
“I think your problem was just dirty plugs,” Doreen remarked, wiping her hands on a greasy rag that clearly had been used for this before. “I’ve got them cleaned and gapped, and she’s running smooth as butter now. The truck’s in amazing shape for the age she is.”
“She’s a great old girl.”
“Yes, she is,” Doreen agreed, raising her gaze to look into his eyes. “Thanks for letting me, um—play with her.”
They both laughed, and Wick took her face between his hands and kissed her with coffee-flavored lips.
After a little more enthusiastic necking, the rain had slackened enough that they were able to sprint back to the cabin without getting too wet. Inside, Wick turned on a light and stirred up the fire.
As if in anger at their escape, the storm crashed down again, this time more brutally than before. The cabin shuddered and creaked as gusts of wind struck it. Doreen looked up in alarm.
“Don’t worry,” Wick said as he put the coffeepot on. “The place has stood up to much stiffer winter storms than this. The wind really roars down out of the high peaks in November and January.”
Once again, Doreen was reminded that she might not be here in November. Or then again she might. It all depended on the choices she made.
“Wick, maybe this is a good time to talk about that,” she said. “I have a job in the city.”