by Nikki Lewen
As the lack of response lengthens, the old woman smiles and finally speaks, “I know…I heard you comin’ down the mountain before you veered into the garden.” Stepping away from the doorway, she continues, “I figured you might be lost and not sure if it was safe. My name’s Clara Jones. Join me for dinner. I got hot stew.”
Sadie, feeling relieved and immediately at ease, sets her pack on the porch and follows the old woman, who takes the pot off of the outdoor fire and carries it to the cabin. Sadie, invited to enter, observes all of the home’s quaint details, but it’s the stonework along the back wall that draws her attention first. The craftsmanship is outstanding and Sadie walks its length, admiring it.
Clara smiles at the sight and enjoys the chance to share it. “It was a labor of love. My husband and I gathered every stone. It took us three years.”
Sadie’s impressed, “It’s absolutely beautiful.”
“Thank you,” replies Clara, bustling about.
The stones at the base of the cabin’s back wall are huge and sit between two boulders that were cut to make a solid wall face. There are arched passageways along the far right and left side, each with double wooden doors, hand-carved, and absolutely exquisite. An arched fireplace sits in the middle with equally impressive, intricate metal work that serves both in function and decoration. Two beveled glass doors encase the fireplace’s opening and where they meet, an iron redwood takes shape. The art piece, outlined with incredible detail, sits brilliantly silhouetted by the glow and soft orange of the fire.
Clara is in the kitchen area on the right, where a hand pump is set in another stone masterpiece. The stone sink and counter tops sit underneath two large windows overlooking the garden area. In the corner there’s an antique, large wood-burning stove that also heats the cabin but serves mainly for cooking. The floor beneath it and where the two walls behind it form a corner is also constructed of stone. The kitchen area is separated from the rest of the cabin by a large wood-slab island, serving both as a counter and table, and is surrounded by four handmade wooden stools. Hanging above all of it is an assortment of pots, pans, baskets of produce, and bunches of dried herbs.
Clara disappears into the passageway off the kitchen and returns with two wooden bowls and spoons, half a loaf of bread, and a couple of cloth napkins. She fills two mason jars from the pump and sets the table. Clara isn’t sure why, but immediately she feels a connection with Sadie, sensing her like a long-lost family member. She’s grateful for the company and for having someone to share a meal with and eagerly looks forward to some conversation.
Gesturing towards the sink, Clara speaks, “Please, feel free to wash up…then, let’s eat. I’m hungry.”
Sadie washes her hands and rinses her face before sitting down across from Clara, who ladles out two large portions of stew and then pauses briefly to give thanks. The food smells incredible and tastes even better. There are chunks of meat and plenty of fresh vegetables.
Clara watches Sadie enjoying the food, “It’s the last of my venison. I got a dear last season. I smoked most of the meat and made jerky, but it rehydrates nicely in stews.”
Sadie swallows a mouthful. “It’s really good. Thank you for sharing.”
“My pleasure,” the old woman responds, before eating another spoonful.
For the rest of the meal, the two ladies eat in near silence. Both women observe each other without being intrusive, knowing soon they’ll talk. As Sadie enjoys the comforts of the hot food, she tries to determine Clara’s age. The woman’s wrinkled and gray, her hands show a lifetime of hard work, but Clara sits with perfect posture and moves with ease and comfort. The wrinkles around her eyes deepen with every smile and her eyes twinkle with an ageless softness. Clara breaks off a piece of bread and hands the loaf to Sadie.
“It’s a day old, but still pretty good. Tomorrow, I’m thinking of baking more…it’s so good straight out of the oven, and…it makes the house smell so nice and inviting.”
“It already feels that way,” Sadie says, smiling while wiping the excess stew from her bowl with a chunk of bread.
Clara’s smile widens as she watches her guest. “You can rest here tonight and…tomorrow, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
Sadie accepts the generous invitation. Clara washes the dishes and then swings a hanging teakettle over the hot coals of the fireplace. When the water boils, she disappears into the pantry.
“Mint or chamomile?” the old woman asks, returning with a cup in each hand.
“Chamomile, please.”
They settle into rocking chairs near the fireplace, each with their hands wrapped around a steaming mug.
“Who’s first?” Clara asks, looking into Sadie’s eyes.
The smile on Sadie’s face turns into a light chuckle and Clara’s does the same. Since her host asked, Sadie answers.
“It’s your home, so…the honor’s all yours.”
“Yes, but you’re my guest.” The old woman slides a small stool under her feet, leans back into her rocker, and sips her tea. Looking content, she finds joy in an evening of sharing tales with the woman across from her. Clara tries to remember the last time she enjoyed another’s company, and really, she isn’t quite sure how long it’s been. In that moment, she realizes she’s been alone for a really, really, long time.
Sadie, too, leans back in her rocker, contemplating where to begin. She wants to know and ask so much.
“Well, then…I guess,” Sadie starts, “I’d like to know everything…everything ’bout you, this beautiful cabin, your canyon, what you grow…and make, how long you’ve been here, and…if there are…any others here, or…in the area.”
SIXTEEN
The firelight twinkles in Clara’s eyes while she shares her life story with Sadie. She’s unusually comfortable sharing the details of her personal life with a total stranger and it amuses her to be this relaxed and at ease. Sadie enjoys watching the old woman and asks only a brief question here or there, seeking a clearer picture of what Clara describes. The old woman explains how she, and her husband, found the canyon, and were fortunate enough to make it their home. Their plan was to live off-grid, be self-sufficient, and then raise a family. Clara gets up and goes to the fireplace.
“We were blessed in every way…except with children. I guess…it wasn’t meant for us.” Clara refills their teas and sits back down. “As the years passed, we put our energies into the property, creating a beautiful existence for ourselves. We learned to produce everything we needed…and with each passing year, we left the canyon less and less. Eventually, we got to the point where we didn’t leave at all. We were so happy…” Clara trails off growing quiet.
Sadie senses deep emotions lingering with Clara as they watch the flames flicker and engulf the burning wood.
After a while Clara continues, “One morning, my husband woke up with what we thought was a cold…he just couldn’t shake it. After three weeks, we talked about leaving to see a doctor, but…we decided to wait. He was out in the garden…tryin’ to help, but struggling. I came over to his side and he gave me the sweetest, most tender kiss, and told me he loved me.” Clara takes a sip, then continues, “He said he was going to lie down for a while. When I came in later…to check…on…him,” her voice catches, “he looked so peaceful napping in our bed. I made soup and bread…the smell of baking bread always called to him.”
Clara leans back, closing her eyes while rocking her chair. “I should’ve known something was wrong when he didn’t stir as the aroma filled the house. Normally, he couldn’t keep his hands off it…half of it’d be gone by the time we’d sit down to eat.” She chuckles with the memory.
“When everything was ready, I brought it to him in bed but…he…didn’t…wake. Even though I knew he was gone…I still put my head on his chest to listen. I crawled in next to him and wrapped my arms around him for the last time.” A tear escapes from the corner of Clara’s eye and glistens slowly down her wrinkly check.
Sadie’s heart ache
s. She knows how it feels to lose a husband. This time, Sadie gets up to pour more tea. When she hands Clara her cup, their eyes meet and in that brief moment, they share more than words ever can. Sadie sits back down and Clara picks up where she left off.
“The next morning, I dressed him in his best clothes and said my goodbyes. I buried him near our favorite redwood grove. After that…I…struggled.”
Sadie understands all too well. When Markus died, she was a mess and came close to death herself. It took a long time to recover, and still, there are difficult times.
“How long has your husband been gone?” Sadie asks.
“Well, over the years we sorta lost track of time. We never kept the hour of the day, or the days of the week, but…we tracked seasons. The arrival of spring was our measure…that’s when we moved out here…it’s our favorite…everything looks so fresh and vibrant, new fronds uncurling on the ferns, the moss thickens, and the native flowers, oh…they’re so lovely…especially the Queen’s Cup and Trillium. Everywhere you look, things are brilliant and alive. This upcoming spring will be…” she pauses, attempting to calculate the math, “twenty-seven…twenty-seven springs without him.”
“You’ve been here for twenty-seven years? Alone?” Sadie asks, shocked.
Clara’s a little surprised, too. It’s been a long time, but it went so quickly, the elder really hadn’t thought much about it. A rush of thoughts, insights, and concerns hit Sadie all at once. It’s like sitting across from an older version of herself—it could’ve been her future. She’s been living alone for years—not quite as long as Clara, but still, for a substantial length of time. How long would she have continued living that way? Going day-in and day-out without sharing any thoughts or words with another soul. Sadie could easily have survived for decades just like Clara—that is—if Caleb hadn’t appeared and changed everything.
The thought of Caleb reminds her about the Splitters and she wonders whether Clara knows anything about them. Her isolation could mean she’s unaware they’ve returned and even worse, Clara might not know about them at all and what they’re capable of doing. More than likely, Clara also doesn’t know their home’s an island or what’s happened to the rest of world. Sadie’s thoughts continue to avalanche and she realizes that, as much as Caleb disrupted her world, it was nowhere near how much Sadie could ravish Clara’s.
If this kind old woman is unaware of the world’s ugliness, Sadie can either let her continue living without that knowledge or be the one to share the grisly truth. Clara seems at peace in her home and what Sadie has to share could change it. She’s at a loss and doesn’t want to be responsible for bringing fear into Clara’s life or somehow diminishing her happiness. Sadie, realizing she’s getting ahead of herself, knows there’s a possibility the old woman already knows and simply chooses to live carefree and unafraid.
“Twenty-seven years. Alone? That’s…a long time. Do you have any family or friends that visit?” Sadie asks gingerly.
“Honey…I haven’t got another person in the world. It’s been me and the trees for just about as long as I can remember.”
Sadie finds humor in the old woman’s response and body language. Clara’s a strong, proud, and resourceful lady who obviously doesn’t shy away from hard work. Sadie thinks for a moment and decides on taking a different approach.
“I lost my husband too…and…been alone for years. You and I are…neighbors. I live several ridgelines over…and spend most of my days hiking around my property…but…this time I decided to explore a little further. It’s the sanctuary of the forest…and wandering among the giant redwoods, that I love so much.” Sadie sips her tea thinking carefully about her next words. “It was the smell of smoke that drew my attention and brought me here. I didn’t know anyone lived around here and was surprised to find your cabin.”
Clara knew from the start that her and Sadie were brought together and connected in some way. She feels strongly about it now, and not only understands Sadie’s love of the woods, but also cherishes finding another woman who appreciates its splendor.
The old one shares more. “Lately, I haven’t hiked much. I used to climb all over these slopes. My husband and I enjoyed findin’ places with views of our canyon, but…after he died…it wasn’t the same…and then…well…it’s sure easier moving around down here. And there’s always something to do…this place takes a lot of work.”
Sadie doesn’t doubt Clara’s abilities for a second. The elder sitting across from her, looks more than capable of hiking everywhere and anywhere she pleases, and Sadie believes her intimate knowledge of the landscape and its features is still sharp.
“I hiked most of this area the last two days,” Sadie starts. “There are lots of steep slopes and a few really treacherous spots. I came in from the southeast corner…headed west…wrapped around until I saw your place, and then…came down near the garden.”
“Child…” Clara grins slightly, shaking her head from side-to-side, “you took the hardest possible route. You should have continued north from that corner. The slope becomes gentler and nearly levels before turning west and coming here. You went around the backside. The best way in and out of here is towards the northeast corner. That’s how we used to bring in our supplies…back in the early days. The road was barely passable then…now…who knows?”
“No one uses the road?” Sadie asks, continuing her inquires.
Clara nods no. “We were the only ones. No one else lives anywhere close enough. But…I haven’t been that way since the earthquakes. Too many trees fell. It’s a disaster...needs a whole crew to clear it out. It took me years to clean up around here. I still feel like I’m recovering from that awful day. Besides…I’m not going anywhere and I don’t expect any visitors.”
“That…awful…day,” the words echo across Sadie’s mind. The mention of earthquakes ignites her subconscious and the image of Markus’s twitching leg flashes, but she forces it to pass.
“Sadie,” Clara begins, sensing her guest’s hardships, “there’s much the two of us…will…share, but it’s late and I’m tired. Let’s continue tomorrow, when it’s my turn to hear your story and ask questions.” She gets up, sets their cups in the sink, and adds more wood to the fire. She pulls out extra blankets and starts making a bed on the only couch. “Please, make yourself at home. What’s mine is yours. We’ll chat again over breakfast.”
Sadie gets up to help. “Thank you, Clara…for everything. I left some belongings on one of the ridges, so it was easier to hike. I’m planning on gettin’ up early to retrieve them, but then I’ll return. Is it okay to postpone our chat until later?”
Clara pauses in front of Sadie, looking her straight in the eyes. “Do whatever you need dear…but please, come back. I have a feelin’ we have much to discuss.” She leans over Sadie, who’s climbing under the covers and kisses her lightly on the forehead. “Goodnight child.”
Sadie can’t believe how comfortable and natural it is having Clara tuck her in and she wishes her host the same. Clara leaves the main living space and walks into her bedroom. She kneels at the edge of her bed and silently prays for the young woman in the next room. Crawling into bed, she feels blessed for the companionship and offers another heartfelt round of gratitude. This time, she gives thanks, believing a daughter, after all this time, has finally arrived.
SEVENTEEN
Sadie wakes to a stoked fire and a steaming cup of tea within reach. Clara’s already up and bustling around the cabin. Sadie can’t believe she didn’t wake sooner, since it’s rare for her to stay asleep whenever there’s movement around. She sips the cup and watches the old woman.
Clara smiles, noticing Sadie. “Good mornin’, child.”
“Good mornin’. Thanks for the tea.” Sadie takes another sip.
“I thought it’d be nice to have something hot before your hike. I’ve got fresh melon, a little bit of toast, and some honey. You hungry?”
“Sounds perfect,” Sadie says, folding the blankets.
It’s still early and Sadie’s amazed that Clara’s so full of energy, and asks if this is her normal routine.
The old woman responds through a giant grin, “Every day, my husband and I got up to watch the sunrise before startin’ the day’s chores. Sometimes…after…we’d go back to bed, calling it our mornin’ nap. Now, it just depends. I sleep in more, but…today seems like a good day to be up before dawn.”
They eat breakfast together and Sadie washes the few dishes they used. She inspects the sink’s design as Clara comes to her side.
“My husband was genius. He hated how society wasted resources…he wanted to build a place to prove how simple living could be. Nothing here is ever wasted. Even our dirty water is collected, recycled, and re-used,” Clara beams with pride.
“I can’t wait to see everything,” Sadie says, curious about the rest.
Clara’s smile widens, “And I can’t wait to show you.”
Sadie grabs her daypack and picks up her crossbow. “I should be quick. I’ll bring back some lunch,” she says, lightly patting her weapon.
Clara, looking proudly at Sadie, responds, “I’m sure you will. Just be careful, dear.”
With Clara’s words, Sadie walks out the door with plans to hunt first and then retrieve her things. Slowly creeping through the forest and carefully listening to the surroundings, she hopes for quail, but knows they won’t be on the wooded slopes. There’s likely to be plenty of animals coming into the canyon, especially with the lure of such a delicious garden, and Sadie wonders where Clara found that deer.
As Sadie nears a dry creek bed, she stops, straining to detect a faint noise. Crouching behind a boulder, Sadie watches as a raccoon slowly walks down a fallen tree, jumps off, and starts digging in the dirt. It uncovers a couple of tubers and sits on its hind legs, eating. Sadie sites her target and shoots. The raccoon looks up then drops to the ground.