The Cabin Escape: Back On Fever Mountain 1

by Melissa Devenport

  She checked her texts, a small shiver of hope flaring in her chest. Hope that she wouldn’t be on her own. Hope that maybe, just maybe Phil would be willing to help her find a place to stay, for old time’s sake if nothing else.

  Amanda leaned back in shock. If her stomach had felt knotted before, it was a mess after she read Phil’s messages. He wanted her to come back. He said he was sorry. He needed to know where she was, if she was safe. He wanted her to call.

  Her hand trembled so badly she almost dropped the phone. She didn’t really want to go back to Phil. She’d realized, over the past weeks, that their relationship had never truly been right. She’d seen the uglier side of Phil, the harsh, erratic side that rose easily to anger. She didn’t like it, especially not when it was directed her way. She’d been warned and she’d plowed ahead, heedlessly.

  She thought of Jason’s gentle touch, how he’d awaked passion inside of her, real, true passion. He’d touched her in a way Phil never had. Touched her body, her spirit, her soul. Phil had never reached that far. He’d never cared to truly know who she was.

  She didn’t truly want to go back, even to the house, but at least it was a place to stay for the night. The irrational hope, that perhaps he could help her, rose inside her chest. Phil wasn’t a bad person. He could be hasty or even harsh, but he wasn’t evil by nature. At least she could try. He had a guest room that she could stay in, even for the night, until she figured out what her next move was. She had a little money left, but she needed to save it for what lay ahead, not squander it paying for hotel rooms for nights on end.

  In the end, Amanda dialed Phil’s number. Her hand was back to shaking again by the time she hit the call send button. She raised the phone to her ear and waited. The phone rang, once, twice. Her heart thundered in her chest. This is a mistake. She was about to hang up and call her mother instead, but Phil’s voice, so familiar, came over the other end.

  “Amanda! Thank god! I was so worried about you.”

  “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I didn’t have my phone on.”

  “For weeks?”

  “For weeks.”

  “Where are you?”

  There was no way she was going to tell Phil where she was. It wasn’t any of his business. The last thing she wanted was for him to get some idea about Jason in his head. Phil could be merciless, ruthless, even, towards those he viewed as an enemy.

  “It doesn’t matter. I… I read your messages.” She didn’t want to give him hope that they could be a couple again. That was never going to happen. She couldn’t go back to him again. Not after Jason, the way he’d touched her, the way he made her feel, the way he’d changed her entire world.

  “I- I made a mistake,” Phil stammered, more humility in his voice than she’d ever heard before. “I was hasty, irrational… I- you know it’s not easy for me to apologize, but I love you, Amanda. I want you to come home.”

  Home. She knew there was no such place in the world for her. Not at the moment. Maybe though, just maybe Phil could help her. He did sound sorry. Sorrier and more genuine than she’d ever known him to be.

  “I- Phil… I can’t come back. I’m sorry.”

  He let out a long, hard breath into the phone. “I understand. I never treated you like you deserved to be treated, Amanda. Even before what I did. It wasn’t right, for me to say what I said about your art. I’ve always believed in you. I made some calls to a few people I know in New York. They have contacts and I got you a gallery show. Your very own if you want it!”

  An irrational seed of hope planted itself in Amanda’s belly. She didn’t want it there, didn’t want it taking root and sprouting. She knew better than to trust and to hope. She knew how quickly everything could come crashing down.

  “I- even if we weren’t together, would you help me get it?”

  “Yes, of course. I would do anything to prove to you that I’m truly sorry for what I did and how I acted. I had no right to tell you to pack your things and leave. This house is as much yours as it is mine. You have every right to hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you, Phil.”

  “Even after what I said to you?”

  “Yes.” She hesitated. She didn’t want to trust Phil. Didn’t want to take him up on the offer of a gallery opening. She couldn’t really believe it, because it was the break she’d thought would never come. How could she not take the chance though? It was an offer, a very good offer, when she needed one most. It wasn’t just her now. Much sooner than she thought, she was going to have a newborn to look after and that took money. What would she do when she couldn’t work? She had to take a chance on this. “Phil… I need a place to stay. For a couple nights. I’ll be gone after that- I just- you know I don’t have a lot of money. I’m not asking for a hand out and I don’t want you to think this would be anything more than doing me a favor when I need it most…”

  “Of course.” He answered too quickly, too willingly. It raised a thousand red flags in Amanda’s brain, but she had to trust one more time. Just once more. At the very least, if the gallery thing turned out to be fake, she would have a couple more days to work up the courage to phone her mother. Maybe even convince her mom to let her come home.

  “Really? Do you really mean that?”

  “Yes. Of course. Come home, Amanda and we can talk.”

  She winced. She didn’t want to talk. Not about them, which was what she sensed Phil really wanted to do. He probably thought he could convince her to come back, but how could he? And how could they ever work when she had another man’s child in her belly?

  “Alright,” she finally relented. “I’ll be there in a couple hours.”

  Phil said something in response before he hung up, but Amanda didn’t even hear it. She felt lost. Entirely and utterly lost. More lost and afraid than she ever had in her life.

  She threw her phone down on the bed and glanced around the tiny bedroom. This had become hers. She’d started to think of this place as home, even though it was far too soon. It was all too much, too soon. She never should have got involved with Jason, yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it.

  No, what he’d given her, she’d remember for the rest of her life. He was that person that came along and wrecked you, made sure you weren’t ever the same after, just by being who he was. By loving her, just that little bit. She was sure there was no one else in the world like Jason, at least not for her. What she felt with him… that couldn’t be duplicated or fabricated with another person.

  It made Amanda infinitely sad to pack her suitcase and gather up her art supplies. She made her way out to her car and very carefully began to stack her art back into the trunk and back seat. She took everything except the one painting that she’d made of a cabin in the woods. Jason’s cabin. In these woods. She’d been planning on showing him in a few days, but that was before everything changed. It wasn’t quite finished, just like them, but she wanted him to have it.

  She wrote a quick note, just an address, on the back of an old envelope and left it in the middle of the table, because she couldn’t bring herself to give up altogether. There was still a tiny, irrational part of her that hoped if she let Jason know where she was, he would come for her. Afterwards she stood staring down at her neat writing. A fresh wave of pain in her chest, followed by the hard numbness she needed to dull it out. She turned and her feet, heavy, so very heavy, carried her out onto the cabin’s tiny porch.

  I’m going to miss this place. Her whole world had changed here. She’d changed. She wasn’t the same person who had arrived here though it had only been a month.

  There was nothing more to say or do and staying any longer just made leaving that much more painful. With one last long sigh, Amanda turned and walked to her car.

  Chapter 15

  Confronting The Past

  Boulder wasn’t the same city. At least, it seemed that way to Amanda. She’d just been there that morning and already it was different. Or maybe it was just her. The only thing she r
eally knew was that the city that used to feel like home was now as much of a stranger as she was to herself.

  She was no longer the same person. Her time away had changed her, altered her irrevocably.

  It was strange to follow the same route through the city, to trace her way back to the house she once called home. It had never really been that, she realized. The house, with its modern architecture, square corners and huge glass windows, seemed like little more than a cold shell. All the money that Phil poured into it had failed to give it any meaning at all.

  Amanda raised a hand to the front door. She could have punched in the code that unlocked the door. It was probably still the same. She still had a house key on her key ring. She refused to just walk in. She no longer belonged here.

  She was so exhausted her hand no longer trembled. She’d run the full scale of emotions during the long drive. Dread, sorrow, grief, anxiety and fear over the future. She’d been through it all. She’d cried on and off, until she had no more tears to spend.

  The door creaked open slowly and then Phil’s face appeared. He stared at her in surprise, as though he hadn’t honestly expected her to come back. He pulled the door open wider. He wore casual clothing, jeans and a black polo. All designer, but for him that was casual. No stains, immaculately pressed. He smelled like manufactured cologne, the scent sharp and nauseating, not the fresh smell of sun and wind and pines.

  “Amanda.” He whispered her name almost reverently.

  “Phil.” She couldn’t keep the exhaustion out of her voice. She just wanted to head to the spare room and sleep. Maybe things would look better in the morning.

  “You’re here.” Phil stepped back, let her into the front entrance.

  She recalled the last time she’d been there, the accusations he’d hurled at her, the hurtful words, the way he’d thrown her into her studio and told her to pack and get out. She shivered in distaste. Amanda finally removed her runners. They were muddy and stained and Phil stared at them disdainfully. She wondered if he’d throw them out during the night. She didn’t move to tuck them away into the closet like she knew he would have liked.

  “Come in. Do you want anything? Coffee? Are you hungry?”

  She slowly shook her head. “No. Just tired.” She didn’t rise to Phil’s niceties. He never did anything without a reason.

  A tiny frown line appeared on Phil’s brow. His dark eyes flashed with some hidden emotion, but he blinked quickly and it was gone. “Yes. Of course. I made up the spare room for you. I used the lavender scented fabric softener since I know you like it.”

  Amanda carefully didn’t say that she didn’t give a shit about lavender scented anything or fresh sheets at the moment. It actually felt like nothing in the world mattered. Fresh tears threatened at the corners of her eyes and she blinked quickly. She turned, eager to be behind a locked door, in a private space, where she could turn her face into the pillow and sob out the grief in her heart.

  “Thanks,” she whispered. Phil had never done laundry in his life, or at least not once in their time together. She didn’t like that he’d gone out of his way. It just further proved that he wanted something from her. The Wists were never motivated by generosity.

  “We can talk in the morning then.” Phil crossed his arms over his chest. A chest that was far too thin and streamlined. He seemed somehow less intimidating, less powerful, less… everything, now that Amanda no longer wanted to please him.

  “Yes. Thanks,” she said again, lamely.

  She knew the way to the guest room and she wondered off. Phil didn’t follow behind her, dogging her heels, begging her to talk, trying to reconcile. Amanda tucked herself safely into the large room. It was bigger than the entire cabin she’d stayed in back in the woods, yet she would have given anything to be back there now. Back tucked in her tiny, hard twin bed, no power, no running water.

  Amanda shut off the light and forced herself to walk forward, towards the queen sized bed with the purple satin sheets and matching comforter. The abstract, meaningless art on the walls. Not hers. Never hers. Phil never let her hang her paintings in the house. There was other furniture, all new, expensive, modern. For the most part it was untouched, as hardly anyone ever stayed over.

  She didn’t bother to undress. Instead she peeled back the sheets and slid between them fully clothed. She didn’t want to feel the slide of satin against her bare skin, stain rather than cotton. She didn’t want to breathe in the scent of lavender instead of fresh, woodsy air.

  All Amanda wanted to do was cry. She pulled the comforter around herself and waited for the tears to fall, but nothing came. Not one. She shut her eyes, the pressure behind them nearly as unbearable as the sorrow in her heart.

  Tomorrow had to be better. She couldn’t handle the rest of her life, stumbling in a forward direction yet forever pulled backwards by the past.

  Chapter 16

  The Unexpected

  The fresh, sharp scent of newly brewed coffee roused Amanda in the morning. She sat up in bed with a sharp jolt that sent black spots dancing in front of her eyes. For a second she was completely disoriented, wondering why Jason had come into her cabin to make breakfast. Her eyes fixed on the spare room, the modern, square dresser and everything came rushing back.

  Hopelessness flooded Amanda’s chest. She stumbled out of bed, stomach churning, her throat on fire. She forced herself to move towards the dresser with the mirror. She took in her wildly matted hair, her red rimmed, haunted green eyes. Her clothing was a rumpled mess. Good. It gave her a perverse sense of satisfaction to head out of the bedroom like that knowing full well that Phil hated to see anything less than perfection.

  Phil was in the kitchen. He whirled, coffee pot in hand, when he heard Amanda enter.

  “Amanda… uh, sit down.” He indicated one of the high backed bar stools that stood up against the massive island.

  She did so without hesitation, wanting to get whatever preamble out of the way before Phil let her know why he’d truly let her stay the night in the guest room. Her eyes roved the kitchen taking in the unending rows of white, high gloss cupboards, the white granite counter tops, the custom back splash, the gas stove that was rarely used, the huge, double door stainless steel fridge. All of it was so redundant and seemed so unnecessary.

  How did I ever live here and call this place my home?

  Phil’s sharp eyes assessed her and Amanda shrank back. She withdrew within herself. She carefully studied her hands until Phil placed a mug of black coffee in front of her. After four years he didn’t even know she took it with cream and sugar.

  He pulled out a stool and sat beside her. He was dressed for work, a crisply pressed blue dress shirt with a blue silk tie cinched around his neck, crisp black slacks and black dress socks.

  “So, we need to talk.” Phil cut right to the chase, no preamble, no care or concern. Just straight to the heart of what he wanted, which was so like Phil.

  “Alright.” Amanda agreed because she wanted to say what they needed to say and get out of here. She wanted to be on her way to New York and a gallery opening or heading back home to her mother’s or somewhere that was just anywhere but Colorado.

  “Look at me, Amanda.” Phil’s tone was gentle but she wasn’t fooled. The steel force of command that always dominated everything he said was still there.

  She slowly swiveled her eyes in his direction. “Yes. Go ahead.”

  “I… I lied to you about my test results.”

  Her mouth nearly dropped open in shock. Now that, she hadn’t expected. “What?”

  “I was tested, the same as you were, but they found an issue. I… well suffice it to say that I can’t make you pregnant without doing In Vitro or some other procedure. It was me, not you.”

  Impotent rage crawled up Amanda’s throat, blocking off all words. What exactly could she say to such a confession after she was the one blamed and thrown out with almost nothing at all but the clothes on her back?

  “I’m sorry,” Phil
said sharply, sounding anything but. “I was just so angry and ashamed. It made me irrational. I didn’t want you to find out. I didn’t want anyone to find out. I drove you away, but I missed you. I missed you so damn much, Amanda.”

  Good for you. She let the bitter thought take root in her heart for an instant before she dismissed it. What Phil had done- it wasn’t even worth feeling bitter about.

  “I- I’m a different person now, Phil,” Amanda said carefully. She watched his face for signs of the usual black rage that fired behind his eyes, but there was nothing. “I’ve been out on my own now and I realized, all of this made me realize that I don’t want this. It’s never going to work between us. You deserve someone who can be the kind of wife you want. I want to make my mark on the world. I want to work, I want to be more than just someone who sits around all day and waits for you to get home.”

  “So what I gave you, it was so terrible? Most people would give anything to be where you are.”

  “I know that. I do appreciate everything you did for me. You made it possible for me to finish school. I just… I’m not the same person I was when we met or even when I left here. It’s not going to work. I thought I told you that on the phone.”

  Phil sighed hard. “So why did you come back then?”

  “I told you, I needed a place to stay for the night. I was pretty clear about us not having a future and you made it sound like you accepted that or at least, for old time’s sake, that you were willing to let me stay the night until I could find somewhere to go.”

  His face did darken then. A deep line carved a groove into Phil’s forehead and his eyes snapped with the telltale signs of a bad temper. “And where exactly were you staying? Why now? Why a room for one night?”

  “I… I was working somewhere, but I decided it wasn’t right,” Amanda stammered. She felt very small, very alone. She knew coming here was a mistake. She regretted ever setting foot inside Phil’s house again. What had she been thinking?

  Phil scoffed. “You see? That just proves my point. You’re not ready to be out in the real world. You’re a dreamer, Amanda. You’re an artist. You’re not made for actual work. You have this ideal notion that one day you’re going to make it, but let me tell you, it’s not going to happen without my help.”