Brook, for her part, thought about Christmases past. She recalled holidays in Denver with piles and piles of brightly-wrapped expensive gifts under the massive tree. Clark would send a driver for her parents at the airport and then he’d escort them through their spectacular home, showing off in subtle ways. Clark and his flashy over-the-top gifts, professionally wrapped, and generous in size and cost. She and Clark toasting the season with their friends and family, their laughter and joy filling the rooms and bouncing off the tall ceilings. Of all the memories, none meant more to her than the simple Christmas she was sharing with Lance. No gift was more precious than the bracelet that now jingled softly against her wrist as she worked. Her priorities had changed, and she found herself humming as she stirred the batter.
Lance, too, thought of Christmases past. Ellen singing carols in a crazy off-key voice to be funny, and lighting what seemed like hundreds of candles. He would find them everywhere during the season and told her jokingly, on more than one occasion, that she was going to burn down their house someday. They always had a living tree, and hung it with candy canes and red bows. And they always adopted a family from the angel tree in the mall, which was a source of great delight. Ellen loved shopping for total strangers, trying to select gifts that would be most needed and appreciated. He had enjoyed it, too, but nothing like she had. She had a caring heart and a kind spirit. For once, Lance found he could think of Ellen and not feel that old familiar pain. He could think of her now with fond remembrance. The old grief had mellowed, lost its bite.
Before long, tantalizing aromas filled the cabin. Lance opened the shutters and a world of white lay in pristine beauty outside the windows. Brook stared at the view, hypnotized. It was a picture that belonged on a Christmas card, a picture that would stay in her memory long after this day had passed.
A delicious meal followed. The duck was succulent and flavorful and the mashed potatoes creamy and satisfying. Lance served the green beans with crisp shards of bacon and sautéed onions. Homemade rolls came out perfect, golden and fluffy. And Brook’s cake was mouthwatering. Patting their stuffed bellies, Lance and Brook leaned back in their chairs and sipped mugs of after-dinner coffee laced with brandy, a treat he had been saving for just such a special occasion, although he had never pictured anything quite like this when he had stashed the bottle. His lips curved into a smile of satisfaction.
After cleaning up the table, Lance stoked the fire and they retired to the bedroom for a nap, which was preceded by a long leisurely session of tender lovemaking.
The rest of the afternoon and evening they spent relaxing, chatting, and reading by the fireside.
Chapter 47
Not every day was perfect. There were times when Brook couldn’t handle even the thought of physical intimacy, much less the act. At those times, Lance would hold her in a chaste embrace, or he’d leave her enough space to wrestle her demons before finding her way back to him. As with anyone and any life, there were joys and there were sorrows. There were ups and downs, but far more of the former than the latter.
One day, Brook seemed particularly agitated. Lance sat patiently with her, waiting. He knew she was building up to something. At last, she spoke.
“If not for you, I’d be dead,” Brook stated, holding his gaze.
“Not necessarily,” he answered slowly, wondering where this would lead. “It would depend on which direction you traveled. Had you gone one way, you might have eventually found my cabin. Had you gone the opposite direction, you could have ended up at the main house of the man who owns this land. But, it’s a really long, rugged hike. Or you might have just wandered in circles in the forest. Perhaps you would have come across cold-weather hikers or climbers had you gone far enough. It’s hard to say.”
“No.” She took his hand. “I was at the end of my strength. I’d have died if I hadn’t found you. You’ll never convince me otherwise.”
“Brooklyn, I don’t want to convince you otherwise. I don’t know why it happened or how. I only know I’m glad it did. I’m glad I was there in the right spot at the right time. I just wish you hadn’t suffered so much.”
“I’m still trying to sort this all out in my mind.” She struggled for words. “I hate what happened to me,
hate
it. It was horrifying and painful. I don’t know how I survived. But there is one thing that stands out above all the rest. And that one thing is very confusing.”
“What’s that, honey?” Lance stroked her hand.
“If it hadn’t happened, I would never have met you.” Tears spilled from her eyes and she swatted at them as if annoyed. “How can I balance the two? The worst thing that ever happened in my life made possible the best thing. Knowing you. And now I love you, and I’m not supposed to. I’m not supposed to feel this way. But I do. I can’t help it.”
“Sometimes there are things in life that just can’t be reconciled. They just are what they are. As far as loving me, I can’t help you with that, Brooklyn.” His eyes were intense. “I can’t be objective because I love you, too. And I want you. I want you like I’ve never wanted anything else. Right or wrong. I can’t help it either.”
“What are we going to do?” Her anguish was plain in her voice, her face inches from his. He took her into his arms and they clung to each other.
“I don’t know, Brooklyn,” he murmured. “I guess we’ll just take it a day at a time for now.”
Her mouth found his and their passion blazed again. Filled with emotion, they sank into the swirling heat and tenderness once more.
Chapter 48
After several false starts, winter’s reign ended, sending rivulets of water flowing down the mountain and filling the streams and rivers. Shoots of green peeked from behind rocks, and leaves unfurled on trees. The grass that dared to extend above the patches of remaining snow became more verdant daily. Life was refreshing itself after a wintry sleep.
Brook stood in front of the cabin, breathing deeply the warming air, relishing the end of the long, cold days. “I have to go home soon,” she spoke quietly.
Lance, standing behind her with his arms draped loosely around her waist, kissed the top of her head gently and whispered, “I know.”
“When do you think we can get off the mountain?”
“Soon. This week!” If the truth were to be told, they could have gotten off the mountain several times in the past two weeks. They had both delayed bringing up the subject.
Brook heard the sorrow in Lance’s voice. She turned, wrapped her arms around his waist, and laid her face against his chest, listening to his heart beat. “You know how much I care for you, don’t you?” She looked up into his face.
A tear glinted in the corner of one eye as he said, “Yes, I know. But you have your husband, and a life, to return to. I’ll be okay here after you go. I was fine before, wasn’t I?”
“Okay,” she said softly. “Well, let’s make the best of the last of our time together.” She took Lance by the hand and they returned to the cabin where they made soft, gentle love. “I love you,” Brook barely whispered into Lance’s shoulder.
“I love you, too, my sweet Brooklyn.”
Chapter 49
Over the next week, Brook watched the snow disappear around the cabin. She almost wished another storm would blow in and cover the mountain in a heavy cocoon of white, wrapping them in its silence, prolonging her departure. But the weather remained clear.
“You look worried,” Lance said one evening.
“Hmmm?” Brook pulled herself from her thoughts. “Oh, yes, I am. I’ve been thinking about going to the police. It’s been months since I was attacked. I’m going to walk in there and tell them these terrible things that happened to me and I’ll have no proof. All my injuries have healed. What if they don’t believe me?”
Lance remained silent for a minute and then surprised Brook when he stood and left the room. He returned in a moment holding a digital camera. Brook looked from the camera to Lance with a question in her eyes.
“I have something to show you. It's going to be hard for you to see.” He turned on the camera, flipped a switch, and handed it to Brook. “When I first brought you to the cabin I took these pictures. I wasn’t entirely sure why; maybe to protect myself, I don’t know. But, anyway, here’s your evidence.”
For the next few minutes, Brook paged through the pictures, her face turning paler with each one. “Oh my God,” she breathed quietly. “Oh my God!” She dropped the camera into her lap, covered her eyes with her hands, and cried.
Lance stood by, uncertain what to do. He longed to hold her but felt she needed space.
“Oh, Lance!” Brook looked at him with anguish. “They hurt me so badly. How did I even survive?” She stared at him for a minute, “I know how I survived. You saved me! And now, you have given me the evidence I need to hang those sons-of-bitches.” The shock of the images had left her shaken. “Could you please hold me?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Just hold me.”
Lance pulled her into his arms and held her until she calmed.
The week passed quickly, far too quickly, for the two lovers. Lance finally spoke the words they had both dreaded. “We can make it to town, now. We’ll leave in the morning.”
That evening, Brook and Lance were rarely out of touching distance. They sat together, not speaking, each just enjoying the feel of the other’s presence. When they went to bed they made slow, leisurely love filled with lingering kisses, soft touches, and whispered words of affection. Their hands stroked, lingering over every contour, so their hands could remember when they could no longer do. They didn’t sleep until the wee hours of the morning, and then they woke in each other’s arms and made love one last time.
Brook had only a small bag which contained the camera, sketches, journal, moccasins, and purse. Carrying the tiny tree, she stepped through the cabin’s door without a backwards glance. How hard it was to say goodbye to the place that had become home!
Gilbert pranced and bucked in her pen, nimble in spite of her swollen belly. Lance would let her out when he returned, but now he grabbed a handful of hay and let Brook give her a bite and a pat. “You ever gonna have that baby? You look like you’re about to pop,” Brook chided the goat, then turned pensive. “I bet it’ll be too cute for words. I wish it would’ve happened while I was still here.” She sighed. Then she and Lance turned towards the path leading off the mountain.
The trip to the road was slow-going. The path was muddy and Brook was glad Lance had insisted she put on the many pairs of socks and his bulky boots. Her moccasins would have been ruined if she had worn them. As they moved down the mountain, Brook noticed there was still an abundance of snow under the trees where the sun couldn’t reach. Even some places on the path were still drifted over.
Finally, they reached the road. Lance looked at his bike, having forgotten that he would have to go get Old Reliable. He looked back at Brook, cleared his throat, and said, “Uh, oh!”
“What?”
“I’m going to have to leave you here while I ride to the trading post and get my truck. It’s about an hour’s ride one way. I’m sorry; I should have remembered and went for it yesterday.”
“It’s no problem, Lance. In fact, it’s fine. You ride down and I’ll start walking. The day is beautiful and I’ll be okay. No one comes way up here, do they?”
“Rarely.” Lance still looked unhappy. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
They lingered a few minutes, hugging. Then Lance kissed her once, mounted his bicycle, and pedaled down the road.
The air was brisk. Brook strolled slowly, picking up the pace occasionally to warm up before once again slowing. She looked into the forest, watching as birds flew from one tree to the other, and catching sight of a squirrel moving in its amusing way, running for a second, only to stop and sit on its haunches, searching the area with its black eyes, and then darting to another spot where it would repeat the process. She looked up at the robin’s egg blue sky that held not a single cloud. Smiling, she thought this was probably one of the most peaceful spots in the world right now.
It didn’t seem long before she heard a vehicle coming. Suddenly panicked, Brook looked around for a place to hide.
What if it’s them? What if they find me again?
She darted towards the trees. Before she ducked inside the woods, a truck’s horn sounded and Lance called out, “Brook?”
Heart racing, Brook turned back to the road. This was Lance’s truck. She was still safe.
“Brooklyn? Are you okay?”
“Oh!” Brook clutched her chest for a second. “I was suddenly afraid that it was
them
. Coming to get me!”
Lance hugged her close. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
“No, it’s okay. I have to learn to manage my fear. It’s just that this is the first time I’ve been away from the cabin, away from safety. I just freaked out for a minute.” She smiled to show everything was fine.
Lance pointed out sights as they moved towards town. “See that tree?” Lance asked, pointing to a large pine at the side of the road. “Once, on the way down on my bike, I got to going too fast. Before I knew it, I had lost control. I ended up in the lower branches of that tree. I can still remember Denise’s face when I walked into the Trading Post. She took one look at the needles covering my clothes, the dirt streaked on my face, and the pine cone stuck in my hair, and started laughing. I thought she was going to roll on the floor before she got control of herself.” Lance laughed at the memory.
“Wasn’t she worried you were hurt?” Brook asked, frowning over the woman’s heartlessness.
“Oh, she saw me walking in. She could tell I wasn’t injured; well, maybe just my pride.”
They drove on, Lance showing her this and that, until finally they reached the outskirts of town.
Brook turned to face Lance, urgency written on her face. “I need to find a phone. I have to call my parents.”
Lance nodded and pulled into a convenience store with a phone booth outside. “Will this do? Or, do you want somewhere more private?”
“No, this is fine.” Brook started to step from the truck, but stopped. “Damn, I don’t have any money.”
“Don’t worry.” Lance entered the store and returned carrying three rolls of quarters. “They didn’t want to give these up, but I insisted.” Lance kissed Brook’s forehead and went to lean on the back of the truck, leaving her alone to make her call.
With shaking hands, Brook dialed. She fumbled over the familiar numbers, restarting twice before getting them right. Several rings passed before she heard the loving voice of her mother saying hello.
Brook choked up and couldn’t speak for a moment. “Hello?” her mother repeated with a questioning tone.
“Mama,” Brook managed.
A second’s silence met this word, and then, fearful she had misunderstood, “Brooklyn?”
“Yes, mama, it’s me!” Tears were streaming down Brook’s face, as the answering sobs of her mother filled the receiver.
Brook's mom called for her dad and then his excited voice sounded close by. “Where are you, baby?” her mom asked, her words tripping over each other. “Are you okay? Oh, God, we’ve been sick with worry. We were so afraid…” she broke off.
“I’m okay! Really. It’s a long story and I
will
tell you everything,
soon
. But not now, not on the phone. Just believe me when I say I’m alright.
Now
.”
They talked for a long while. Brook used over two rolls of quarters before she could bring herself to hang up, to let go of her mama and papa’s loving voices. She promised to call again soon. She had a hard time convincing them not to jump on a plane and come immediately. With reluctance, they finally agreed to wait, but not long.
Brook stood staring at the receiver after she disconnected the call. Finally, she hung it up and turned to Lance. She was trembling when she went to him. He gathered her into his arms and held her until she stopped shaking.
He looked her up and down. “You need clothes. You can’t very well return home wearing what you have on.”
Brook put on a look of dismay, purely faked. “I thought you liked the way I looked in these clothes.”
Lance, noticing the mischievous look, stated firmly, “It only makes me angry to see them. It means I have one less set of clothing.” He stopped, letting his gaze travel over her again, this time with a leer. “Actually, the clothes look better on you than they ever did on me; but I really like it better when you wear nothing.”
Brook blushed. “Let’s go shopping before we have to get a motel.”
They jumped back in Old Reliable and drove further into town. Brook’s eyes roved constantly, searching for the faces she hoped to never see again. Hunting for the monsters who had hurt her.
After going to a couple of stores, Brook took her purchases into the restroom of the café that doubled as the bus station. She exited wearing a mid-calf dress of soft suede with a matching jacket. She had donned a pair of panty hose but still wore the moccasins Lance had made for her. She had purchased blush, mascara, and lipstick and had spent some time with the cosmetics and her hair.
When Lance saw her he breathed a soft, “Whoooh!”
Brook took this as the compliment it was meant to be and smiled gratefully. One of her other purchases had been a valise to carry her few possessions. Now, she accepted the ticket from Lance’s outstretched hand. One way to Denver. She looked sadly at the piece of paper, positive it meant she would be separated from Lance forever. She noted the time of departure and put on a brave face. “I still have an hour before I leave. How about we take a walk?”
Lance presented his arm and they exited the building. They walked slowly along meandering paths until they came to a tiny park. Sitting on a bench outside the gazebo, they stared up at the surrounding mountains. “It is so beautiful here,” Brook whispered, leaning her head on Lance’s shoulder.
“It surely is,” Lance said, his eyes for her alone.
They spoke little, each simply enjoying the nearness of the other. They returned to the bus stop and all too soon her bus arrived. Brook gazed into Lance’s dark eyes for only a moment, the ache of leaving threatening to overwhelm her. She saw Lance struggling with the same torment. Quickly, she stood on tiptoe to kiss him goodbye. He met her halfway and they lingered briefly over the kiss. Neither spoke of their love, they had told each other many times the night before; the time had come to put these words aside. Brook boarded and looked straight ahead, blinking away tears as the bus pulled out.
Lance, for his part, stood and watched until the bus disappeared over a rise in the road. Only then did he return to his truck. He started it up and pointed it towards home. Although there was a lot to replenish after the winter, there would be no shopping today; he needed the comforts of his cabin now.
Riding on the bus with her meager possessions, Brook felt she could relate to the homeless; even though, in truth, she had a place to go, a home, a life. As the bus rolled down the road, moving further from one man she loved and closer to the other, Brook found herself in turmoil. How would she feel being with Clark again? Did she really still love him? She hadn’t really thought about the matter before her abduction. But since that time, she had realized that life with Clark had changed over the years.
After their engagement and during the first year of marriage, Clark had spent every dinner hour with her and every weekend. Then, over the next few years, he had begun to stay later at work, and their dinners together dropped to two or three times a week. And then, he began working most weekends. Also, in the early days of their marriage, they had talked. They talked about their childhoods and the time that had transpired between then and when they met. Thinking back, Brook realized these talks centered more on Clark’s life, than her own. But, even at that, conversation had dwindled away to merely perfunctory exchanges. Adequate, but unsatisfying.
Then she lost Lacey, the precious baby she had longed so to hold, to nurture through childhood and shape into a healthy, happy adult. When that dream was ripped away, along with the chance to ever have another baby, Brook had been crushed. But Clark hadn’t really been affected. Oh, he had been sad at the time, but he quickly forgot the whole incident and carried on as before. No! Not as before. Now that she really thought about it, Clark had withdrawn further from her after the loss, spending more time at work and far less with her. Possibly, she reflected, this was her fault. She hadn’t been the same afterwards either.
Clark hadn’t understood why Brook wanted a child so much. Several years after losing the baby, Brook had broached the subject of adoption. Clark had looked at her with incredulity. “I suppose we could,” he had said, flatly. “But it’s not like it would be ours.”
Brook had insisted that any baby they raised would be theirs completely.
Then, Clark had dropped the bombshell. “You do what you want, but it won’t be my child. It won’t have Parrish blood.”
From that point, Brook now realized, life had changed around their house. They made love, but not as frequently. The goodbye kisses that used to promise things to come had now become obligatory, little more than a duty. She now knew that while she had still
loved
Clark, she hadn’t really been
in love
with him for a long time.