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.
Then there were the last five months. What would Clark’s reaction be to her sudden return home? Would he understand how she had suffered? Clark never had been strong on empathy. How would he respond when he heard about the rapes? Would he see her as dirty, damaged goods, unworthy of his attentions? And, more to the point, how could she hide the fact from Clark that she had been with Lance, had lain, willingly, with another man? Brook ran scenarios through her head as the bus traveled on.
As the trip neared an end, she fingered the beautiful bracelet that wrapped her wrist in a symbol of Lance’s love. She felt so alone right now.
Brook was astounded by the range of emotions
that poured over her; sadness over leaving Lance, happiness to be returning home to her family, and confusion over her feelings for Clark. By the time she stepped off the bus in Denver, her mood was so low, she found it a struggle to even breathe. Climbing down from the bus, she straightened her posture and wove through the crowd of other travelers, seeking a telephone.
Just as she spotted a pay phone, she changed her mind. She couldn’t call Clark out of the blue; it wouldn’t be fair to him. And, she was very confused about his part in her abduction. She would go home and wait for him. Watch his reaction. Gauge it. Plus, it would give her another small space of time to put away her feelings for Lance and organize her thoughts. She was nervous at the prospect of facing her husband instead of looking forward to the reunion like she ought to be doing. Her heart wasn’t in it, but she resolved to see it through.
She stepped outside and was startled by the unexpected warmth of the day. It was still cold in Haylieville. She had forgotten the weather would be much different at this altitude. Brook removed her jacket and draped it over her arm. Moving briskly to the curb, she waved at a cab and got inside. She hesitated before giving her address.
“The nearest police station,” she said on impulse. The cabbie nodded and pulled into the traffic.
Chapter 50
Brook walked into the police station with no idea the kind of stir she was about to cause. Approaching the glass window, she asked to speak to a detective.
“Your name, please?” The officer’s voice was tinny though the speaker. He was bent over a sheet of paper.
“Brooklyn Parrish.”
At the sound of Brook’s name, the officer’s head shot up and he dropped his paper. Peering intently through the glass, he stared, unable to hide his surprise.
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