Later that day, she read. In fact, she became absorbed by a book and thoroughly pulled into its world of science fiction. Time passed much more easily when her mind was occupied. Lance was in and out all day, working outside for a while, and then finding things to do inside. He made sure Brook had whatever she needed, be it a helping hand to the bathroom or something to eat or drink.
She soaked her feet again that evening and felt the steaming water pulling the soreness out. She was lucky they hadn’t gotten infected. No, she corrected herself, it wasn’t luck. It was thanks to Lance’s diligence and care. She would never let herself forget that.
They turned in early, Brook to her bed in front of the fireplace, and Lance to whatever lay behind the curtain. She felt a tug on her heart as they said goodnight, but she refused to cry again. She didn’t even know why she would be crying.
It’s so crazy
.
My emotions are all over the place.
She read until she grew sleepy.
Chapter 34
“So, you never did tell me how you ended up way out here,” Brook reminded Lance after a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. It was amazing what Lance was able to produce on the old wood cook stove.
Her night had seemed endless as she tossed and turned, waking from nightmares with Benny slamming his fist into her face, truckers laughing and calling her ‘little woman’, and Jase saying he had to get his pliers, that those teeth needed to come out. Now, she tried for nonchalance. Curled in a rocking chair near the front window she watched the snow as it continued its almost endless fall. She sipped coffee and waited.
Lance looked up. He’d been putting away the breakfast dishes. Now he stopped and moved to sit on a chair near Brook. “Kind of accidentally. It was actually through a client. In searching for an accounting error in his books, I exposed an embezzler in his ranks. After that, he always made a special effort to seek me out when he was in town.”
He thought back to the day he met with Dutch Norton. It was several months after Ellen had passed. Dutch was in town for a convention, and he invited Sullivan to lunch. Sullivan figured Dutch Norton was wealthier than any human deserved to be, but he was a stand-up guy and he enjoyed Dutch’s company. He accepted the invitation. During their meal, Dutch mentioned some land he owned in the mountains. He invited Sullivan to come out and do some backpacking, get away from it all. Sullivan surprised himself by accepting and put in for a week’s vacation.
It was during this backpacking expedition Sullivan had come across the cabin. Dutch had not gone hiking with him, sensing Sullivan needed some time alone. When he had returned to the main house that evening, muscles pleasantly tired and mind strangely clear of its usual sadness, Sullivan asked him about the old shack.
“This land has been in my family for generations. Undoubtedly that old cabin was built by one of my forebears, but I don’t know which one. I can’t believe it’s still standing. I never go up there anymore. It’s much too long a walk for someone my age. I’m not in that great of shape anymore,” Dutch had told Sullivan with a slight smile.
“It’s got an old wood burning stove in it, but not much else. The roof’s mostly caved in, but the walls are sturdy. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been inside it for years; except, that is, one very upset raccoon who just about gave me a heart attack,” Sullivan said.
Dutch chuckled, and stated the obvious, “You like that old place!”
“I do,” Sullivan said, thoughtfully. “It’s primitive, but it appeals to me on some level, even though I’ve always been a city boy.”
“Well, you just feel free to go on up there anytime you want,” Dutch offered. “I have no use for it. In fact, I’m getting ready to put the whole place into a trust. I’m moving out to California in a couple of months, but I’ll be damned if I’ll sell this land. I know for a fact that the government would love to get their hands on it, but I think they’ve got enough of our forests. My lawyer is working on a plan for me to keep it just like it is. I'm putting in a clause that the property can never be sold as long as there is a living heir and money in the trust. It’ll remain in the family for my kids and their kids and on down the line. None of them wants to live out here, but they’d be pretty unhappy if they couldn’t come to the old homestead from time to time and soak up the fresh air and the views. ”
Sully glanced around. What met his eyes was a grand old home, colonial, at least seven bedrooms, sitting on a well-manicured five-acre plot, well back from the road and surrounded by forest. Dutch had told Sullivan that he owned a total of two hundred acres and Sully mentally smiled at the description of ‘the old homestead’.
“So, I’m keeping my house for the kids to use whenever they want a vacation. Hell, I’m not sure the kids even know the cabin's there. It’s so remote. Anyway, I trust you, Sullivan. I know you’ll take care of the place. So I give you carte blanche when it comes to that old place. Might do your spirit some good to spend some time up there. There’s something healing about these mountains.”
Sullivan was shocked by the offer. “You’d let me just use it, anytime?”
Dutch looked at Sullivan with kindly eyes. “I know what you’re going through, son. I lost my wife twenty years ago. You just go up there and spend time in that forest whenever life gets to be too much for you. You’ll be surprised how it helps what ails you. Feel free to fix ‘er up if you want; just don’t do any damage.” He chuckled.
“Thank you, sir. I might take you up on that.” Sullivan wasn’t serious, but he deeply appreciated Dutch’s kind offer. He stored the idea away in the back of his mind.
Never believing he had a conscious plan, not in the start anyway, Sully made the trip up the mountain. At first it was just one little project at the cabin. Then it became two, then three. He told himself he was just making it more comfortable for those times he needed to get away from the city. Before long, however, he was going up every weekend.
The trip wasn't easy at first. If there had ever been a road or trail to the cabin, it had long since been reclaimed by the forest. After a number of tries, he found a way less difficult than others, but still not passable by car or truck. He started working on the system he had now perfected of hauling supplies.
First priority was replacing the roof. This took him several weekends. He fixed the windows and attached shutters to the inside, allowing easy access in all weather. He repaired the walls and added a door. Next he concentrated on paving the dirt floor with stone. He cleaned up the old wood cook stove and hauled up a small potbelly stove for extra heat.
More weeks passed with him taking a day off from the office here and there to allow even more time for his projects. When it finally occurred to him to live in the cabin full-time, he was as surprised at himself as anyone would have been. But he kept his idea secret, sharing it with no one.
As his story wound down, he noticed that Brooklyn was looking at him with frank interest in her eyes.
“But, what about your life back in the city? Did you just put it on hold in case you ever want to return?”
Lance studied his hands and wondered how to explain. He presumed no one would understand what he had done next. Hell, he hardly understood it himself.
“It’s hard to justify, I guess,” he told Brook, “but I was fed up with civilization and society. It just seemed like life had lost all meaning when I lost Ellen. The cabin became my sanctuary, the place where the ghosts from the past couldn't follow me. I had also taken to reading a lot of Louis L’Amour and Zane Grey, and I envied the independent lifestyle and freedom of the cowboy. I longed to get away from the squeeze of too many people, to become invisible. And I became aware like never before of how intrusive the government can be, groping through our private lives and personal decisions. Things were heading in the wrong direction, getting to the point where people were going to be so micromanaged they wouldn’t even be able to breathe without a politician’s blessing. I could envision the day I'd be told how much sugar I could put in my tea or taxed for taking a piss!”
He shook his head ruefully and went to the stove for another cup of coffee.
“More?” he asked her, pot in hand. She declined.
Sitting back down, Lance continued, “I guess the final straw was the trip to the computer store. That was the day I stopped hiding the truth from myself. It was the day I made the decision to really leave and started actively planning my move.”
Brook cocked an eyebrow, fascinated and wanting to know more. She had never heard anyone talk this way. His dark eyes flashed as he delved into his recollection.
“I realized at that point that I not only wanted out, I needed out. Out of society, out of my life, out of my world." He gazed into the past. "I had gone to buy a laptop. I don’t know if the clerk was just trying to impress me with what he could do, or if he wanted to sell me some kind of snooping program, but, Brooklyn, he just knew so much about me it made my blood run cold.” Lance’s mouth was set in a firm line.
“What do you mean?” she asked, brow furrowed. “What did he know?”
“Well, I was going to buy the thing on credit, so maybe he got all this from a credit report. I don’t know. But he knew where I lived and worked. That’s not so amazing. But then he told me he could tell the types of books I was interested in. He knew I had recently purchased some fishing equipment. He knew my mother’s maiden name. He even knew where I'd gone to high school and which restaurants were my favorites. And then…he gave his condolences on my recent loss. He knew about Ellen. It was chilling. I walked out of that store and never went back.”
“I know a lot of our lives are a matter of public record,” Brook said. “And I guess I knew that most information is available to people who know where to look. I just never thought about it before, but you’re right. It’s spooky.”
“It is. And if a store clerk could pull up that much info, you know the government has even greater access to our personal information,” Lance said. “I hated that. Not that I was doing anything wrong. It was just the idea of it. It seemed like the days are gone when a man could just set out for parts unknown and start a new life, like back in the old days. Maybe I was born in the wrong century or something, but it seemed at the time like freedom was becoming a rare commodity.”
“In a way, I guess it is.” Brook shivered involuntarily. “So, then what? What did you do next?”
“I sold my house.” Lance gave her a quick grin. “Ellen and I had made some improvements and I cleared quite a bit more than I owed. I moved in with my folks temporarily and gave notice at work; told them a lie about taking a job out of state. I discouraged all inquiries from well-meaning friends and co-workers.” He recalled how the lying had made him uncomfortable, but he was fiercely protective of his plan.
“Ellen had been right when she said I was selfish. My family doesn’t even know where I am. My parents tried so hard to understand when I told them I was leaving. My little brother, Dave, had just joined the service and now I was going, too. It was hard on my folks. But still, I left. I pursued my own path without regard for the feelings of others. So, I admit I am a self-centered man in many ways. I am hopelessly flawed.” He was teasing, but only partly.
“They must be frantic, Lance,” Brook said gently.
“No, no.” Lance rubbed a spot on the table with his finger. “They don't know exactly where I live, but I call them regularly and let them know I’m alright. Plus, I have a box in Haylieville. We write, and I send them pictures. My dad was amazed at the fireplace. I don’t think he really believes I built it. Anyway, they know I’m okay. But they can't accept or understand why I changed my name.”
“Why
did
you change your name? I don’t understand that either.”
“I was sick of people knowing so much about me. At least, that’s what I told myself at the time,” he answered. “I wanted a completely fresh start. And, I was grieving so hard, it was an effort just to breathe. I also was struggling with a bit of remorse for the way I had handled Ellen’s last days, you know, refusing to honor her wishes and all that. Which, by the way, I still don’t agree with. But, all that aside, I knew I had done things that she wouldn’t like in trying to keep her with me and refusing to accept her condition. I felt bad about it, but nothing I could do would change it. So, I decided to bury Sullivan Proctor, in a sense.” He looked upward as he pulled the old memories up in his mind.
“On the last day of work, a half-hearted going away party kept me at the office longer than I wanted. I was itching to get my most recent acquisitions out to the cabin. I had cashed in my retirement, and I collected a check for all my vacation and sick pay. I still needed to clean out my personal savings and checking accounts, and I knew when I did, I would be disappearing with a tidy sum. I had the money from selling the house and the insurance money from Ellen’s death. And I wasn’t finished yet. I still planned to max out my credit cards; and my faithful monthly payments on Ellen’s medical bills would mysteriously stop. It still rankled every time I wrote checks to the hospital and that arrogant ass of a doctor who had killed Ellen. I’m telling you, Brooklyn, I just smiled with satisfaction at the thought that those butchers had gotten the last penny they would ever receive from me. Let them just try and track me down!”
“So you ran up a bunch of debt on your cards before you left?” Brook asked, not even trying to hide her surprise and disappointment.
“No, in the end I couldn’t do it. All the further I got was thinking about doing it. I’m a victim of my upbringing, I guess. My conscience interfered and I ended up paying all my bills and closing out the accounts.” Lance laughed. “But for just a little while, I toyed with the idea. Made me feel reckless, like a rebel.”
Brook was strangely relieved to hear it. Why she should even care, she didn’t know. But, she didn’t like to think this man, this man she was becoming fond of, could be a thief, a common criminal.
She returned her attention to Lance’s words.
Lance told Brook about those days, his plan, and his subsequent actions. He explained how, with a touch of resentment, he had remembered the computer store clerk and all the details the man knew about his private life. He was determined he would leave no further trail for anyone to follow, not that anyone would. It was just the principle of the matter.
He began withdrawing money from his bank accounts, hauling the cash in his briefcase like a secret agent or drug dealer. When he got it home, he laid it out on the table and began dividing it up and wrapping it for burial up at the cabin. He would have plenty of cash to fall back on, should he ever need it.
Sullivan had purchased, with cash, a battered old pick-up truck. He spent some quality time with it in his dad’s garage. Although it still looked like a heap when he was done with it, the engine purred like a tiger and sported a set of new snow tires. He never did file the title with the state, nor did he insure the vehicle. He lifted a tag off a derelict car on a side-street, one that was last tagged five years before and designed stickers to look like the real thing. He would have to drive carefully from now on, and as little as possible.