Lance was incredulous. “Used to be?”
“Yes, used to be. Anyway, that’s what everyone said: ‘Brooklyn you are beautiful, you should be a model. Brooklyn, you should be in the movies. Brooklyn, you need to go to Hollywood’. It was enough to turn anyone’s head. I’m afraid I was a little conceited. I soaked up their words and held them close to my heart. After graduation, I worked in an office complex in Wichita long enough to make the money to head for California. Then, I kissed my mom and dad goodbye and headed out to make it big, to become the next Isabeli Fontana or Kate Moss. Boy, was I ever naïve.”
“What happened?”
“Reality happened! I went to L.A. and was turned down by all the agencies I applied to. ‘You’re too fat; you’re too skinny; you’re too short; you’re too tall; your features are too symmetrical! Blah, blah, blah. When I was down to the last of my savings, I got a job at a major investment firm as a pit-secretary. I was just another face in row after row of desks for two years and then moved up to the position of one of the vice-president’s secretary’s secretary. Unfortunately for her she became seriously ill and had to resign. Fortunately for me, I was offered her position.”
“Okay, now you’re in L.A., not Colorado,” Lance stated, raising one eyebrow in question.
“Right. After a few months I was asked to sit in on an important meeting between several branch offices. One of the gentlemen present was from Denver. He took a liking to me and flirted outrageously outside meetings, sent flowers, asked me out; you know, the whole routine. It was against policy to date within the company so he asked my boss if I could attend a business dinner meeting to take notes for him. Of course, since he was high up in the Colorado office, the request was granted. He began coming to L.A. more and more often, always lavishing gifts and praise on me. And then, one bright August morning, during a serious meeting, he stood, climbed on top the table, walked across and dropped to a knee in front of me while slipping a jeweler’s box from his suit pocket. Flipping it open he asked, ‘Brooklyn Cheyenne Johnston, will you marry me?’”
“Needless to say, the whole room went dead quiet. I stared helplessly at the giant diamond shining at me from its bed of rich blue velvet and couldn’t utter a sound. The other men and women in the room started to find their voices and I heard several comments. ‘He walked across the damn table. He can’t marry her, she’s a simple secretary and plus, that’s fraternization’. Scores of voices weaved around me as I stared at the box. Finally, I raised my eyes to meet his and answered, ‘Yes! Yes, of course.’ He jumped from the table, scooped me up in his arms, and carried me out of the room, saying over one shoulder, ‘you’ll need to find a new secretary, Brook resigns.’”
Brook was grinning foolishly when she finished telling this story. “That’s how I ended up in Colorado. Oh god, we were so in love!”
“Were?”
“What? No, are. We are so in love. But sometimes I wonder if his proposal was an act of sorts, you know, to make himself look superior in front of others; not really to impress me, but to make himself impressive. But, anyway, that’s when I married Clark Edison Parrish, moved to Denver, and entered the life of the rich.” Here she frowned slightly. “Not that I ever really fit the mold, but Clark seemed happy to have me and I was happy to please him. Clark liked to show me off. God, I sound so vain, but those were his words, not mine. ‘Brook, wear that slinky black number I got you last month in Paris. I want to shine when I walk into the club tonight.’ Or, ‘Brook, you look dazzling in the diamonds I got you.’ Or, this was probably his most used line, ‘Brook, you outclass every other woman in the room. Everyone can see what a lucky man I am’.” Brook blushed, pausing as she thought. “Of course anyone would look good in the clothes and jewelry Clark draped me in. Still, it was always nice to hear.”
Like she needs wrappings to be pretty. Lance thought. Surely she knows how gorgeous she is.
“Now the club. That is one place I do not fit. The Club is posh. The first time Clark took me there I almost fainted from fright. The only thing that saved me was working for vice-presidents of a major firm for so long. You had to be able to take anything they could dish out; those men and women could be ruthless. Anyway, we entered a foyer bigger than my folks’ living and dining room together. A crystal chandelier practically dripped ice. It sparkled like diamonds, softly illuminating the surroundings. The ballroom was magnificent. I can’t even begin to describe it, and to tell you the truth, I don’t want to.” Her expression turned sardonic. “Then there were the people. Snob city. There are actually women who walk with their noses in the air. I saw first-hand how ugly conceit and arrogance can be.”
Lance laughed and Brook said, “I’m not kidding. They tilt their heads back and look down their noses at others. I always get this treatment. They let me know right away that I'm nothing special. I’ve never been able to fit in, even though Clark has belonged since before he was a man. Clark was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He just has no idea what life is like for regular people.”
Brook played with the handle of her coffee cup. “The wives of Clark’s associates are atrocious. I can only stand one of them; Lizzy Bendershen. She, like I, married into the fold. We are outsiders and it wouldn’t matter if we visited those ladies every day for thirty years, we will always be outsiders.” She leaned back in her chair and shrugged at Lance.
“But, anyway, I got off the subject. As I was saying, Clark gave me a wonderful home, beautiful clothes, and fantastic cars. And even though we aren't as close as we were in the beginning, life really hasn’t been too bad. At least not until he sent me for that book.” She stopped suddenly, a look of panic turning her face pale, and clapped a hand to her mouth.
“What? What’s the matter?” Lance took a step towards her but she held up a hand to stop him.
Quietly, so quietly he could just barely hear her, “Clark sent me to pick up a gift for his boss. It was at a bookstore, a seedy bookstore in a bad, bad part of town. I almost turned around but I didn’t. I parked and even went so far as to get out, leave the parking lot, and step onto the sidewalk. I was surrounded by porn and tattoo shops. Someone said something nasty and I turned and hurried back to the car. That’s when,” Brook whispered. “That’s when the man hit me, shoved a gun in my face, and stole my car. Oh my god! But he didn’t just steal the car…” She looked up into Lance’s eyes. “He stole me, too!”
Brook broke down and cried. She wouldn’t say another word and Lance didn’t try to make her. Gently, oh so gently, he approached the table and sat next to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned him, burying her face in his chest. They sat like this for a long time, Lance offering the only thing he could, a sympathetic shoulder and genuine concern.
When her tears were spent, Lance parted from her with a comforting pat on the shoulder. He didn’t make a big deal of the incident, carrying on a conversation about trivial matters while she collected herself. She appreciated his discretion. The episode had given her a tremendous feeling of release, a catharsis. Somehow, she felt no embarrassment at all for falling apart in front of this near stranger. It surprised her a little, but she put it down to the odd circumstances in which they found themselves. She wondered if he was getting weary of her yet. If so, he showed no sign of it.
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 wha
tever 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.
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