Minnie Crockwell - Will Travel for Trouble 02 - Trouble at Sunny Lake (2 page)

You have good reason to be proud, Minerva. I continue to be amazed at your prowess with this large vehicle.
 

I smiled at Ben’s compliment, and playfully tossed the ponytail of my shoulder-length brunette hair.

“Why, thank you, Ben! I think I might have fooled any one of these campers into thinking I had a clue about what I was doing with that parking. I may be slow, but at least I didn’t have to straighten and re-straighten the rig like I used to.”

I climbed down and rounded the back of the motorhome to find my hose and cord to hook the RV up to water and power.
 

Again, a flash of light from up on the hill caught my eye.

“What is that, Ben? Can you see?” I spoke aloud but kept my voice low. How I spoke to Ben was often dictated by whether people were near enough to hear me, or whether I thought it best to communicate with him silently. Ben had a particular gift for reading my mind on occasion as well. I wasn’t too happy with that particular skill, but it did come in handy once in a while.

I do not see anything. Would you like me to investigate?

“Would you? Go up there and see what that light is?”

Your wish is my command, my dear.

I hooked the RV up, and turned to scan the hill. I saw no movement around the cabin. It still looked uninhabited. I supposed I could just climb up there and see for myself.

You may come if you wish, Minerva, but there is naught in the cabin nearest to your coach. I do not see anything out of the ordinary other than some very flimsy construction. These will not withstand a winter such as I remember in this region. I shall move on to study the rest of the cabins.
 

“I’m sure they’re prefab, Ben. And I doubt they’re rented in the winter. I think this park closes at the end of October.” I began my ascent of the hill.

Prefab?

“Pre-fabricated. Pre-made and probably just transported here and put together with some nails, nuts and bolts.” The hill grew steeper, and I took a few deep breaths.
 

I see. I also see that you are approaching.

“You know me, Ben. I was too curious to just sit around the RV and wait to hear back from you. Have you found anything?”

 
I have not surveyed into all of the cabins yet, not those to your right.

“I’ll check this one out.”

Check this one out, indeed! Your twenty-first century idioms fascinate me! I must incorporate them into my vocabulary.

I smiled and hoped he wouldn’t. I loved his formal language. I approached the first cabin on the right and peered into the cabin window but could see nothing in the darkness inside. I tried the door, but it was locked. I stepped back off the small porch and surveyed the outside of the cabin before turning to orient myself to the sun. Unfortunately, it was now hidden by a large cloud. I checked my watch. It was about noon. I supposed sunshine could have reflected off any of cabin’s windows a few minutes ago, but it certainly wasn’t now.
 

I am at your side
,
Ben said.
Did you look inside?

“Which side are you on?” I turned my head to the left and then to the right. “You’ve never told me exactly where you were before.”

No, I have not, have I? Perhaps I sought to keep some mystery about me.
 

I heard him chuckle.

“Oh, you’re mysterious enough, Ben. Don’t worry about that.” I smiled warmly. “So, you have a sense of where you are? You don’t just float around? For some reason, I thought you did.”

His chuckle grew to a full-bodied laugh. I loved his deep laugh.
 

No, I do not simply “float around” as you put it. I have a corporeal sense. That is to say that although I do not seem to possess a tangible physical form, I am aware of my person—where I stand in relation to others. In relation to you.

I caught that caressing note in his voice that never failed to make my heart thump. Such a flirt!

“Do you think I’ll ever be able to see you?” I heard the wistful note in my voice and cleared my throat.

I heard him sigh.

I cannot say, Minerva. Do be careful about what you wish. My earthly presence might frighten you. I may not be as handsome as my portrait would suggest.

Ben referred to a portrait I had found of him on an Internet site featuring the exploits of the Corps of Discovery, better known as the Lewis and Clark expedition. The portrait showed Lieutenant Peregrine Ebenezer Alvord, an Army officer, had been a stunningly handsome man with thick straight blue-black hair, gorgeous aquamarine eyes, a prominent chin with a cleft, thin nose and a sensual full lower lip.
 

I grinned. “Oh, I doubt that. As long as you don’t show up like some 19th-century skeleton, I’m sure I would be fine.”

He laughed.
 

We can only speculate, my dear. For now, I am here in spirit.

 
“I’m sorry. Was that supposed to be a joke?” I rolled my eyes and broadened my smile.

If a modest one
, Ben said.

“I’m just going to peek in this last cabin,” I said. “I’m sure that what I saw was just flashes of sun on the windows, but the sun is behind the clouds right now so I can’t tell.”

I peered into the window of the last cabin. Although the interior was dark, I could see what I thought was a sleeping bag on the floor. I heard quick movement inside, and I jumped back.

“Oh, my gosh, Ben! Someone is renting this cabin. I must look like some sort of Peeping Tom.”

Embarrassed, I trotted off the porch and down the hill on a diagonal slant.

Yes, someone is inside. A young man. He appears to be hiding in the bathroom.

I stopped and turned around to survey the cabin.
 

“Hiding? From me? Oh, no! I must have scared him. When you say young, you don’t mean a child, do you, Ben?”

No, a young man, perhaps twenty-five years of age.

I dithered. I really should apologize for peeking in the window and yet if I had frightened him the first time, I would probably scare him to death this time.

“I didn’t mean to frighten him,” I murmured with a frown.
 

I can hardly believe you frightened him, Minerva, but it was upon the sound of your knock that he hurried for the bathroom.

“That doesn’t sound right. I think I’d better go check on him.”

Is that wise, Minerva? You do not know him. It is most unusual for an adult male to hide from a knock on the door.
 

I retraced my steps.
 

“Well, I’ll just stand out front and call out to him. I won’t knock.”

I heard Ben sigh.
 

You are most stubborn, my dear. I should think calling out to someone would be as frightening as an unwanted knock on a door.

I came to a stop at the foot of the wooden steps leading to the cabin. I lowered my voice to a whisper.

“So you think I shouldn’t bother him?”

No, I do not.

“What is he doing now? Is he still hiding?”

Minerva, I do not care to pry. The young man has done nothing wrong, appears to be in no danger, and no doubt wishes to be left alone. Please do not ask me to look any further.

I bit my lip and nodded. “You’re right, Ben. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t use you like this.”

I do not feel “used,” Minerva. You know there is nothing I would not do for you. There are times when I feel the situation warrants my “close scrutiny,’ and others where I feel it is an unjustifiable intrusion.
 

“I can see that,” I whispered. “I’ll just get out of here and leave him alone.”

To my surprise, the door opened about a foot, and a young man with an unruly shock of shoulder-length blond hair poked his head out.

“Can I help you?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

I stayed where I was. His expression was wary, and his gaze darted beyond me to search the rest of the campground.

“I’m sorry. I came to say I was sorry for peeking inside. I promise you. I’m not a Peeping Tom. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wanted to see inside the cabins, and I thought yours was unoccupied.” I gave him my best cheesy grin.

“No problem,” he muttered. He moved to close the door.

“So, how
are
the cabins?” I couldn’t resist. There was something odd about his behavior, and I wanted to know what it was.

Minerva…
Ben gave me a warning.

The young man poked his head back out.

“Fine. I think they’re all empty right now.”

“Do you have air conditioning?” I have no idea why I asked that question. I didn’t care. I think I was trying to keep him engaged.

“No,” he said briefly.
 

I eyed the portable air conditioning unit fully visible on the side of the building.

“Oh!” I nodded. “My name is Minnie Crockwell. I’m staying down in the campground…with the RVs.”
 

“Nice to meet you.” He moved to close the door again.

“Are you here with family?”

Man, I was irritatingly nosy.

“No, by myself. Just got out of the Army. Looking for some alone time.”

I knew what he was saying.
Leave me alone.
I could have done the right thing, but I didn’t. I followed my instincts.

I nodded. “Army, huh? Good for you. I had a friend who was over in Afghanistan. He has a pretty good case of PTSD right now.”

It wasn’t true, but that didn’t matter. I wondered if his evasive and skitterish demeanor stemmed from possible post-traumatic stress disorder. I had my own case of PTSD from a mugging a few months ago, which occasionally made me jumpy.

“Oh, really? What unit?” He opened the door a little wider. I could see now that he wore a faded black T-shirt and jeans. His feet were bare.

Unit? Uh oh! I winged it.

“I can’t remember. He was there some time ago.”

“I served three tours over there.”

I winced. That would certainly account for a good case of PTSD.
 

“That’s tough,” I said. “So, you’re out of the Army now?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m done. That was it for me.”

A troubled soul,
Ben murmured.

“I’m so sorry!” I said sincerely.
 

He shrugged. He clearly didn’t need my sympathy, just like I didn’t want anyone’s sympathy for my mugging. I didn’t even want anyone to know.

Would that I could have prevented it
, Ben said softly.

You were with me, Ben. That’s all you could do. You told me to stop fighting, and that’s probably what saved my life.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” I said. “And I’m sorry for peeking in. The cabin looked empty from the outside.”

“No problem.” He moved to close the door again but hesitated. “Hey, don’t say anything about me at the office, okay? My friend rented the cabin for me cuz I didn’t have any money. So, they’d expect to see him here, not me, ya know?”

Did it matter who stayed there if it was paid for?

I nodded. “Sure!”

He closed the door, and I turned away. I had no idea what his name was, but I supposed it didn’t matter. We wouldn’t be having coffee together.

Interesting,
Ben said.

I descended the hill.

“What do you mean?”

Nothing specific. It seems that something is not quite right about him.
 

“You mean other than maybe some PTSD?”

I served in the Army, Minerva, and engaged in mortal combat on several occasions both against the British and various tribes of Indians. I know of the struggle to overcome the fear generated by warfare, the pain of injury, the desire to hide away from the world.

I stopped in front of the RV.

“I didn’t know that!”
 

I thought I imagined him shrugging.

We do not speak of these things. At least, we did not speak of them then.
 

I imagined Ben wounded on a battlefield somewhere—the lack of modern medical care, antibiotics, pain medication.

“Where were you hurt?”

It is not seemly to discuss such matters with a woman, my dear. Suffice it to say, I carry scars on my chest, my right upper limb and my left lower limb.
 

“Oh, Ben,” I murmured in a mournful note.
 

Nonsense! I healed. I only mentioned my experience because I have the distinct impression that the young soldier up on the hill was not particularly forthright with you. I know of no information other than what he disclosed to you, but something seems amiss. I cannot say what.

“Well, I trust your instincts, Ben.” I turned to look at the lake. “Let’s forget about him and go out on the lake.”