Cabin Fever

by K Larsen

  Meghan threw herself into his arms again. She was amazed by what he said and suddenly all of the obstacles that she’d assumed were insurmountable had been dissolved by the man who’d imposed them in the first place. He cared about her enough to do what scared him the most.

  “I wouldn’t want anyone else. I was at my breaking point, missing you painfully and ready to drive back up to Moosewood, hike to the cabin, and see if you’d have me.”

  He took her hand in his and brushed his thumb back and forth over her wrist.

  “You’d be willing to live at the cabin? Without other people, running water, or television?”

  “Those days out there on the mountain were some of the best days of my life.” She lifted her palm to the now smooth expanse of his chiseled jaw. Clean-cut Tristan was even more gorgeous than she’d ever imagined possible. Was he asking her to be with him, for commitment, and a real relationship. “I snooped and read your letters, looked at your photo album. You probably guessed that from the note under the pillow.”

  His hand snaked up her forearm and he pulled her in close to his chest, kissed the top of her head.

  “I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. I’ve spent my whole adult life trying to avoid relationships, feeling like I was cursed, thinking trust wasn’t possible or even something I deserved.”

  “Oh, Tristan.”

  Meghan’s phone rang just then and Tristan nearly leapt out of his skin.

  “It’s probably my boys,” Meghan said. She motioned toward the phone in a gesture that meant she should probably get it. The ring was shrill and traveled through the big house. Tristan’s eyes darted with anxiety and Meghan squeezed his hand as she rose from the couch.

  “It’s been a while since I heard one of those,” Tristan said dismissively, but she could tell he was shaken.

  But while Meghan listened to her boys relate their plans for the weekend, she barely listened, instead her mind was preoccupied with what a huge adjustment reintegrating into modern life would be for Tristan. It suddenly seemed like mixing oil and water. Tristan wouldn’t want to drive, get a phone, or put up with neighbors and constant noise, round the clock intrusions into his space and peace of mind.

  She poured more coffee from the carafe and added some cream. Looked around her kitchen at all the appliances and conveniences she took for granted before she met Tristan. She was a changed woman with her new feelings toward minimalist living. She didn’t need all the crap she had, they didn’t hold the key to her happiness.

  When she walked back into the sunroom, Tristan was gazing out the window at a bird on the feeder. His birds ate in the wild, whatever they could scavenge, her birds feasted on twenty-five-pound bags of birdseed from Walmart.

  “It’s a different life, that’s for sure. We’re two people used to putting it all into protecting our hearts from a collision. And look what happens to us—we get thrown together under the single-most bizarre circumstances. But I know that I don’t want to protect my heart from you.”

  She walked over to Tristan, set down her mug, and wrapped her arms around him from behind. He was big and solid, still an ominous presence that hid a wounded heart.

  He grasped her arms and continued to stare out into the yard.

  “That night I brought you in, I thought, this woman, if she wakes up, is going to think I’m a predator, that I’ve kidnapped her and brought her here to either rape her or murder her. But when you woke up, you taught me how powerful trust can be. I bathed you, wiped you, I cut your damn toe off and you never once wavered in your confidence in me.”

  She snuck around to the front and buried her face in his chest. Wrapped her arms up around the wide expanse of his back.

  “I didn’t have much choice, Doctor. You kidnapped me and had me at your mercy.” She smiled up at him, but his eyes still seemed far off. “Tristan, I didn’t waiver because you never gave me reason to. I was rescued by a noble man with incredible decency and morals. I gave you my trust because you earned it. You’re still earning it, every moment I’m with you.”

  “How do I know that you won’t leave?” His voice cracked when he said it and so did her heart. How could she undo the damage inflicted by such life-altering betrayal, and by the loss of his loved ones.

  She couldn’t promise him she’d live forever, or that she’d never leave. Instead, Meghan stepped back and gazed into his intense hazel eyes. He searched her face for answers, the man himself a complex dichotomy of strength and vulnerability. She reached out her hand and closed her eyes.

  “I trust you, Tristan. Do you trust me?”

  He took her hand and pulled her into his arms.

  Epilogue

  After weeks of hemming and hawing, James and Alex were at the cabin for Thanksgiving and the whole weekend that followed. They’d met their mom’s new boyfriend-turned-husband plenty of times in Vernon. He taught science at a local community college and was a strict conservationist. At family gatherings and the occasional dinner, Tristan was polite, but taciturn, always excused himself early to catch up on grading papers or developing curriculum for next semester. He gave them thoughtful gifts like Swiss army knives and tools, shook their hands vigorously, and always looked them in the eye. He’d jumped their cars in the winter and once picked Alex up from jail when he got pulled over for one taillight and expired registration. The boys watched Tristan silently fix the broken light and later drive Alex to the DMV, no questions asked.

  He didn’t have much to say, but he seemed to make their mother happy. She still went on her crazy nature expeditions, but these days she brought Tristan and they no longer worried about either her sanity or her safety.

  They were deep in the woods attempting to hunt their own Thanksgiving turkey. James and Alex had laughed at the idea, but Tristan was in camo and they were both secretly terrified he’d make them either kill it or clean it.

  “The animals own this land, and we’re just their guests so it’s best to leave as little footprint as possible.”

  James later teased Alex over dinner for thinking Tristan had meant literal footprints and began creeping on tiptoe.

  Meghan heard the lone shot ring out over the valley. She smiled as she stirred in orange zest to her famous homemade cranberries. Her husband was a one-shot man—that’s all it ever took. He never brought home more than they could eat and he made use of every single part—anything extra he’d put in the ice cellar and bring it into to town to share with the locals.

  When her boys barged into the cabin around an hour later, they were rosy-cheeked and breathless, excited over their hunting adventure.

  “Do either of you know how to make a fire?”

  Meghan shook her head as the boys insulted each other and tripped over one another on their way to the woodstove—Tristan in tow—the perpetual teacher.

  Meghan sliced her peeled potatoes and dropped them into the boiling pot. They’d upgraded the cabin, tagged on an extra room and added a few amenities so they wouldn’t have to live on just soup and crackers. She sometimes thought of their mountain home as an analogy for Tristan himself.

  You stumble out of a restless storm and come upon a perfect little haven in the clear chugging out wood-smoke. It looks wonderful from outside. Inside you find all the working parts. But it needs to be filled up, tended to and cared for, could live with a bit of a woman’s touch. You don’t change the cabin, you cultivate it and give it attention, love it to the best of your ability. And before you know it, that cabin becomes all you could ever possibly need.

  “Let’s watch The Shining!” She heard Alex suggest a film as she pulled a berry pie Tristan had baked out of the oven.

  “We’re watching Love Actually,” Tristan said.

  “Who picked that shit?” James asked.

  “Your mother,” Tristan immediately told the boys.

  Megan smiled.

  Actually, Tristan, you did.

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  Read on for an exclusive sneak peek of The Marriage Pact

  The Marriage Pact

  Prologue

  “The thumb is associated with the will and desire, do you see this here?” The woman asked as she pointed. Jackie did. Obviously. It was her hand. She glanced at her boyfriend, Kratch, and rolled her eyes. He grinned and stuffed more fried dough in his mouth. Jackie didn’t want to be at this table. Kratch had dragged her to the Tchotchke High School Fair because he wanted fried dough. And now here she was, sitting with a palm reader, of all people. Her sisters were running around at home, unsupervised, and she’d rather be with them—which was saying something.

  “Yes. I see it,” she answered.

  “This shows that your will and your desire won’t match up for a little while.”

  “Is that a problem?” Jackie asked dryly. At seventeen, she didn’t expect her will and desire to match up for a while. She had plenty of time to figure things out. She still had a year of high school to get through. Her forehead bunched up, trying to see the lines the woman was talking about.

  “No, no. There are great things showing for you. There are three main lines on each hand: the head, the heart and the life line.”

  “Great. Thanks. So . . .”

  Her boyfriend laughed, as the woman went on, “You’re a flashy little thing who doesn’t like to stay still and is constantly keeping busy. The one you are with now will be a long relationship, but he is not the one.” Internally, Jackie already knew that. Externally, she cringed. He was standing right behind her did this woman have no tact? She loved Kratch but she had big plans. She was going to get out of this small town. She was going to go to college and she wouldn’t allow Kratch to hold her back from that. “You will have a true love affair, my dear. He will appear out of nowhere and sweep you off your feet. But . . .” she pulled Jackie’s hand closer and inspected. “This will not come easy because of your will and desire. You will have many lovers and for a time, feel that your love life is tumultuous.”

  “Are you serious?” Kratch butted in. Jackie giggled. She couldn’t help it. This woman had balls. Calling out multiple lovers to an underage girl with her boyfriend standing right there. Jackie had to give her props for that.

  The woman shot him an irritated look. “Shhh, young man.”

  Jackie yanked her hand from the lady’s grip and stood. Although she was pleased to hear she wouldn’t be marrying Kratch, she didn’t like hearing tumultuous and love in the same sentence. “Uh. Thanks. Here,” Jackie said and set a five dollar bill on the table. The woman winked at her, which made Jackie feel all sorts of weird.

  “You got big plans with someone else?” Kratch asked, slinging an arm around her as they walked the fair.

  She looked up at him. “Come on. You don’t believe in that crap, do you?” she asked.

  “Naw. Just makin’ sure you don’t.” He leaned down and kissed her.

  Jackie scoffed. “Definitely not. With my luck, I’ll be barefoot and pregnant with your rug rat three months after graduation.” With her luck she would, but she was doing everything in her power to change her luck, as the last years of high school ticked away. Kratch cackled. He didn’t laugh. It was louder than that, more . . . cackle-y. Jackie leaned her head on his shoulder as they checked out the other booths. A tumultuous love affair—what kind of nonsense was that.

  By the time she got home, her dad had the girls in bed. No matter, she still went in and kissed each one on the forehead and made sure their blankets were pulled up to their chins. Jackie couldn’t sleep until she knew her younger sisters were safe and sound in their beds. When her head hit the pillow, she tried to fall asleep but her brain was in overdrive. “You will have a true love affair, my dear. He will appear out of nowhere and sweep you off your feet. There are great things showing for you.” She didn’t know what that meant. She came from a poor family, running a depressed farm. She was small town. Who wants small town? She had sisters to raise. Who would sweep all that off their feet, she wondered. More like sweep it under the carpet. Still, the idea took root. Jackie smiled. Maybe her luck really would change. Clichés were truths anyway—and wasn’t there one about there being another person out there for everyone?

  She stretched out her limbs before pulling the comforter over her. A distinct pink pink pink prevented her from falling asleep. She stood up and stomped to the window.

  “Jackie—I love you!” Kratch called up toward her. He knew she hated that sunshine song by Len. He had altered to include her name. She pressed her forehead against the window and used her hands to signal Kratch to go away. He beamed up at her and she couldn’t help but smile back. He was a goofball. She watched as he mouthed goodnight and started walking back through the fields between their farms.

  Forty-One

  Chapter 1

  “Ryan, you’re on in five,” the guy wearing the headset told him, as he handed him a bottle of water. Ryan ran his hands through his hair and walked over to the wings. He usually did at least one or two of these presentations every year. It was really Jackie’s cause but he cared about it, too, and didn’t mind the commitment.

  Today he was at UW Madison, their alma mater, speaking to ten thousand students whose majors somehow aligned with the engagement. He walked on stage to loud applause, got some hollers from the ladies. Those still made him blush and he took a long sip of water before he got started.

  “Thanks a lot for having me today, UW! This is my alma mater and this school will always hold a special place in my heart. I’m a former Badger, also a Packers fan, party school, right, guys?” The crowd was going so wild, he decided to wait for them to cool down a bit. He counted to thirty, took another sip of water.

  “My name is Ryan Walters, class of 2006. I bet you wonder why I’m wearing scrubs today?! Well, as we get into it, I’m going to show you some things. In addition, it’s my uniform; I’m a licensed Physical Therapist at UCSF. I love my job and the program here at UW is incredible, so check it out, if you haven’t already picked a major.”

  He was sweating a little under the bright lights, but at least he wasn’t nervous. He’d been in this auditorium many times as a student, sat in those same stadium seats and looked up at this podium.

  “I bet you’re all wondering what driving safety has to do with public health, and questioning why in the world they send a PT to talk about that kind of stuff, right?”

  They cheered and a couple of girls yelled out something in unison.

  “Well, I’m not going to talk about driving safety or public health or even physical therapy. I’m going to tell you all how I met the love of my life, right here on this campus.”

  Cheers and whoops shot up from the crowd. They loved him now but they would hate him once the lecture was finished.

  “Any of you ever hear of a marriage pact? Where you and one of your best friends start to see people settling down around you and you get scared that maybe you’ll never find the one and be banished to a life of eternal solitude? You know that feeling or am I alone in this?”

  More cheers and hollers from the enthusiastic audience.

  “Well, me and that love of my life? Her name is Jackie, by the way. We made one of those silly pacts to one another, right out in front of this very building, over there in the parking lot.”

  Ten thousand necks craned to get a glimpse of the expanse of asphalt that Ryan was referencing. Some cheers and a few whistles sounded through the crowd.

  “And we stuck to it, we went through with it. We were one in a million. So sit back and listen while I tell you today about how Jackie stole my heart, shattered it and eventually blew new life into it.”

  Forty-Two

  Chapter 2

  Ryan was more than a little tipsy, he was drunk. Mexica
n beer night at the frat house—tacos and Dos Equis, a perfect combination. But despite the rowdy sparring and the anthem chanting, he couldn’t help but keep an eye out for Jackie. She was a freshman and just getting to know the lay of the land, meeting new people every day and diving into heavy coursework. He met her during the first week of classes, standing behind her in line at the Starbucks closest to campus. She was one of those girls who might just have rolled out of bed to get to class, hair in a messy bun, lounge pants that were questionably pajamas, flip-flops and a giant backpack slung over one shoulder. It was only half zipped, like she’d come from wherever she’d been, in a great hurry. Her laptop under her arm, the cord dragging on the floor behind her.

  She smelled like lilacs and he liked how she shifted her weight from one flip-flopped foot to the other, noted that her toenails were painted a bright shiny red on one foot and white on the other. School colors. But when it really hit him that she was someone who just might be a kindred spirit, was when she groaned audibly at the long orders placed by V-neck sweater-ed, skirt and pearls-wearing sorority girls, as they asked for their coffees.

  “I’ll have a hot, skinny, mocha frappucino, hold the chocolate shavings but go extra heavy on the whipped cream. Oh! Extra shot! Did I say extra shot? And for Chrissy, a salted-caramel hot chocolate with an extra shot and full fat milk, that skinny bitch, and no whipped on that one. Don’t even think about it because last time you got it wrong and she practically threw it in my face.”