Love Rebuilt

by Delancey Stewart

  “That’s the only blond waitress?” The female officer asked Adele.

  Miranda and I exchanged glances.

  “If you mean blond by looks, yeah,” Adele confirmed.

  The officers looked at each other for a second before glancing at me.

  “The other one didn’t work here when Mr. Charles brought his dates in.” Adele sounded sarcastic when she said ‘dates.’

  “Okay, thanks.” The officers left and I watched them enter the library across the street.

  I turned to Miranda. “So I guess Amanda is pressing charges?”

  “I guess so,” she said.

  I thought about the way Connor kept appearing around me in the last few days. Could I buy the stalking accusation? Maybe it wasn’t that far fetched, but had he really been stalking Amanda Terry, too? I let the idea churn in my mind, but I was having a hard time making the man who smelled like Cinnabon into a bad guy in my head.

  Miranda lowered her voice and breathed into my ear. “Did you know Connor isn’t even his real name? That’s creepy enough right there.”

  “Creepy enough for what, Miranda? It’s a pen name.”

  She shrugged and bounced over to make coffee.

  I followed her.

  “I don’t know,” she said, her voice light. Her hands stopped moving and she turned quickly to face me. “Oh my gosh, I forgot to tell you! He came in here this morning and bought two coffees and two muffins. I swear he’s keeping that woman prisoner up at his house.”

  “It’s kind of him to run out to get her breakfast then, I guess.”

  “Who else would he be buying coffee for, though? I’ve never seen him with anyone.”

  I wasn’t volunteering anything. “Maybe it’s not our business,” I pointed out.

  “Maybe not,” she conceded. “But the fact that he doesn’t come around makes him creepy. Everyone else around here comes around and says hello.”

  “Maybe he’s shy.” I tried to fit that idea to the broad-shouldered man who’d stood on my property this morning, the sun glinting coppery in his hair. I doubted he was shy. He was camera-shy, that much was certain. “Maybe he’s just tired of the way everyone jumps to conclusions and spreads nasty rumors about him.”

  “Well, he’s in trouble, that’s for sure.”

  And so was I. The memory of my conversation with Jack was fresh, and I had no idea how I was going to handle payments on the Jag. If I lost the car, I’d be really and truly stranded. And I’d have to walk three miles to and from work each day. Fine in the summer, not as fine once it got cold. And the diner ran on reduced hours from November to March anyway, so my income was already going to take a hit. I had no idea what to do, but I’d have to figure it out fast.

  I could do as Jack suggested. I could sell a photo of Connor. I actually already had one, the one I’d taken without his permission. Guilt flooded me as I considered it. I doubted that I’d be able to stomach saving myself by doing something that might further damage Connor’s reputation, even if it was an obscene amount of money. I wondered how much money it really would be. What would be a worthy price for the last vestige of self-respect I possessed? I wished Jack had never planted the idea in my head.

  *

  My phone rang as I walked into the trailer. I put my stuff down and dug it out of my purse.

  “Hey Maddie.”

  “Jess, hi!”

  Jess was my brother’s wife. I’d never met her in person, and I wasn’t sure if Cam even knew that we spoke regularly. But I’d gotten a phone call a year ago, just after I’d moved up here full time and had begun to see my marriage fraying around the edges. An unfamiliar cheerful voice had told me that her name was Jessica Turner, and that she was my brother’s new wife.

  He’d refused to call me himself, so she had done it. When I’d asked her if he knew we were speaking, she said she’d informed him, but that she didn’t ask his permission. She was not, she told him, going to do anything to perpetuate silence between family members—especially when we’d once been close. He might be done knowing his sister, she’d said, but she’d only just begun and she’d form her own opinions about me. And I guess they weren’t all bad, since she still called. I’d decided that day that I liked Jess. A lot.

  “How are you?” I asked, sitting down on the low couch that faced the kitchen and crowded against the end of the double bed.

  “Things are okay,” she said. Her voice was thin, and not quite convincing. “How’s the woman of the woods?”

  I laughed, and the sound was lonely, bouncing around the walls of the cabin. “I’m okay too,” I said. “Same stuff. Fighting with Jack, working at a diner, and trying to figure out how the hell I got here.”

  “Jack’s still hanging around?”

  “He likes to torment me.”

  “I just figured he’d be eager to make a clean break. He was the one who ended everything, found a newer model and everything, right?”

  Her words found a sensitive spot somewhere in my chest and I cringed. “Right,” I managed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was too frank. It’s too recent, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe.” I wanted to seem strong, but Jess had hit my weak spot. I’d been abandoned for a newer, prettier woman. And that stung.

  “Well, you’re better off without him anyway. You’ll figure it out,” she said. I could hear the false positivity piping through the phone line.

  “How’s Cam?” I asked, knowing that I could. When we’d first talked, I wasn’t sure what was acceptable conversation between two sisters-in-law who had never met. Cam wasn’t speaking to me, so I didn’t know if I was allowed to ask about him. But Jess answered questions freely and even volunteered enough to make me feel like I was keeping up on my brother’s life. She was our bridge.

  “He’s doing well,” she said. “He’s been really busy on this last production, but things are wrapping up. We’re talking about taking a trip or something, I think.”

  “That sounds good.” There was a silence for a moment or two. “Are you looking for another job, or still enjoying the time off?”

  “No,” she said softly. “Gonna just take some time, I think.” Jess had been an emergency nurse until recently. She’d left a really stressful job to give herself a chance to “breathe” for a while.

  “Well I hope you enjoy it. Make sure my brother treats you well.”

  “I will. And he does, Maddie.” I could hear a smile in her voice.

  “Thanks for checking on me.”

  “You got it.”

  “Bye, Jess.”

  “Bye sis.”

  I hung up feeling like a friend had just walked out the door. The walls of the trailer felt constrictive and tight, like they were contracting with her absence. I sighed, pushing down the rising sense of hopelessness that came over me sometimes in the evenings. I would survive this. I just wished Jack’s voice would leave me alone and stop rolling terrible ideas around in the dark corners of my mind. Jack had made me into a person I didn’t recognize, and one I didn’t like much. Coming up here with his evil suggestions for ways in which I could rescue myself was not helping me to put his influence behind me.

  *

  That night I came up with a vague plan, all parts of it equally horrid, though it did not involve me having to sell photos of someone with enough problems of his own, so that was a bonus. I would trade in the Jag. As much as I loved that ridiculous car, there was no reason I should be sitting on a car that cost more than the trailer I lived in. I could get something reliable, something that would handle snow well. Something that would probably be about half as much fun to drive, but would get me out from under the car payment with cash to spare.

  The second part of the plan was much worse, but it was quickly becoming the only viable way to get out of most of the problems hanging over my head.

  I poured myself a healthy glass of wine to accompany the burger I’d brought home from the diner and tried to enjoy a quiet evening at the picnic tab
le outside. I might not have been excited to be stuck up here in a trailer, but I did love the mountains. And I would miss them. Almost as much as I would miss the idea that one day my brother might speak to me again. And if I went through with the second part of my plan, he certainly wouldn’t, and Jess might give up, too.

  “Hey Maddie!” a young voice startled me and I spilled wine down my chin. Lovely. I turned to see three kids standing just over my shoulder. They’d obviously come up from the back of my lot.

  “Hi guys,” I said. An easy smile came to me as I took them in. The tallest of the three was a scraggly girl, definitely a tomboy. Ella Peters. I knew her parents from the diner, but not too well. They were locals, not summer visitors. Her companions were her little brother Austin and another boy I didn’t recognize. “What’ve you been doing down there?” I nodded toward the back of my lot.

  “Just wading in the creek,” Ella said. She was clearly the spokesperson for the group.

  “Not much water down there now, I bet,” I said. I hated to think of them down there when it was rushing, but it hadn’t been full of water in years.

  They stood in the dust, tracing patterns with their toes and shifting their weight. I sensed that I was part of some plan they’d hatched. I had an inkling what it might be, since they usually came around for the same reason. “You guys hungry?” I asked.

  Ella grinned and exchanged glances with the little boys. “Maybe a little,” she said.

  I guessed she and her brother might be more than a little hungry. Her folks seemed like good enough people, but I thought they might struggle a bit to keep things together. I’d watched the four of them share two burgers between them at the diner, a milkshake getting passed between the kids as they ate. They had told me that they came out for dinner as a special treat when they could manage it. I’d tried to give them an extra milkshake once, but they wouldn’t accept it. There was a fierce pride in her father’s eyes as he thanked me and waved the offer away.

  “I think I’ve got something in here you might like,” I said, rising to go inside. I bought snacks and treats for the kids every time I went to the store, knowing it was only a matter of time before they came around again. I pulled a bag out of the cabinet in the trailer and opened the refrigerator door, pulling out three juice boxes. “Here you go, guys,” I said, returning to the table. “Have a seat.”

  The kids greedily divided the crackers and applesauce pouches that were in my bag. I wasn’t their mother, but I still tried to make sure I wasn’t feeding them anything completely lacking in nutritional value. From the looks of Ella and Austin, though, any calories were probably good calories.

  Having them sitting with me scarfing down snacks lightened my mood just a bit. Mountain kids reminded me of myself. Of my brother. They were wild and free, roaming the hills and unworried about property lines, building permits, or property taxes. They didn’t have to think about alimony or car payments. I envied them.

  Darkness whispered around us, and as they finished up their snacks I realized that it might be pretty late. “You guys probably better get home,” I said. “Do you need a ride?”

  Three little heads shook in unison. The Peters place wasn’t far away, and Ella certainly knew the way. “Is this guy staying at your place?” I asked, smiling at the quiet little boy I’d never met.

  “This is our cousin, Adam.” Ella nodded.

  “Nice to meet you, Adam,” I said. “Okay guys, get going then, before it’s too dark and your parents get worried.”

  “Thanks, Maddie,” Ella was always polite. She gathered up the wrappers and held them forward to me.

  “Thanks, Ella. Have a good night, guys!” I watched them hurry away, and then returned to my lonely table, the air feeling even emptier around me as their voices retreated down the hill.

  Chapter 7

  I arrived home from work the next day ready to put my plan in motion. I couldn’t live in a trailer at the edge of a half-erect disaster forever, and Jack’s news meant that it was time to face facts. I’d go see if Connor still wanted to buy the property, and if he wasn’t interested, I’d need to find someone who was.

  Finding Connor’s cabin was not easy. He didn’t post signs with friendly arrows and his name like most folks did up here, and he didn’t seem to have many friends around the village. But since gossip is the lifeblood of any small town, pretending to be out for a lazy walk and making innocuous small talk with the people around the small residential area got me headed in the right direction.

  “Connor Charles?” the first woman I asked said. She was the sturdy mountain type, her hair pulled away from her face with a tight headband and a brisk spring in her walk. I’d seen her lots of times in town and around the meadow, but I didn’t know her name. “You’re Madeline Turner, aren’t you? Can I ask why you’d want to go up there?” She frowned, making the wrinkles around her mouth stand out.

  “I am. Maddie,” I said, sticking out a hand.

  “Carol Skelling. I knew your mom a long time ago. Knew your parents for a bit.”

  I wasn’t surprised. Everyone knew everyone up here—if they wanted to.

  “That guy, Connor. I’m not sure you want to go up there on your own. He’s a bit of an odd duck.”

  “So I hear,” I said. “I’ve actually met him a few times. I think most of the talk is just…talk.”

  “Well, the police seem to think something different,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Right. So. Do you know how to find his place?” I didn’t want to spread more gossip, and I didn’t want to explain to Carol that I desperately needed Connor Charles to buy my house, stalker or not.

  “Well, you follow the meadow loop around and turn right up the hill. Another right up the gravel road toward the base of the mountain there, and he’s in there.” Her words dripped with disapproval. “I can’t say I’m comfortable sending you there.”

  “I understand. I won’t hold you responsible if anything happens,” I told her.

  She looked stricken, standing up straighter and worry making her eyes wide.

  “I’m kidding,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, if you ever need anything, Maddie…”

  “Thanks, Carol. Nice meeting you.” I walked away in the direction she’d indicated.

  The village was set back two miles from the main highway, and from the main part of town where I worked. It was here, centered around a little meadow, that most cabins were clustered. There were plenty of winding roads meandering in various directions and other loops off the meadow’s central hub, but this was where the village lived. People would walk dogs and children around the lush greenery and rampant wildflowers at all times of the day, but especially in the mornings and the evenings. There were always folks wandering with coffee or wine glasses in hand, looking to say hello to those they passed.

  I hiked up the little gravel road, my messenger bag on my hip with my camera inside. I had no plans to take photos of Connor, as Jack had suggested, but I’d decided to take the camera with me whenever I left the trailer. I needed to resurrect my photography skills if I wanted a chance at a job that paid more than diner tips. And you didn’t get good at taking pictures by leaving your camera behind. So this bag was my new constant companion. Jack had written off my photography as a silly hobby and I’d listened to him for far too long.

  I was glad I hadn’t driven the Jag. It might be able to handle the deep rutted dirt of Connor’s driveway, but the loose rocks and grit would do a number on the paint. Not that it would matter to me much longer, but I figured I should still try to get a good price for the trade-in.

  Connor’s place sat around several bends and behind a copse of trees that grew in such a straight line they must have been planted that way. Most folks didn’t bother with gardening up here, letting Mother Nature dictate what went where. But the evergreens I passed appeared to have been positioned to deliver privacy, for beyond them sat the “cabin.”

  It was created from huge beams
and logs, and set upon a rock on one side in a way that made it look like it was sprouting from the granite naturally.

  “Holy Frank Lloyd Wright,” I breathed. I’d never seen this place; it was so well hidden up here. There were many things about the early years I’d spent camping with my parents that I didn’t remember, but this would have certainly stood out in my mind. It might not have been a Frank Lloyd Wright house, but the architect who designed it was certainly a fan of his and had taken several tricks from his book. I wondered what Craig Pritchard, the anti-development devotee at the post office, thought of this place.

  I stood gaping for a few minutes, long enough that Connor must have seen me there, staring up at his house. He appeared on a deck twenty feet over my head. As he stepped toward the redwood railing that came to a corner above me, his red hair caught the last rays of the setting sun and seemed to glow. He looked like some kind of ethereal and angry god in that moment, and I hesitated, reconsidering my plan.

  “I could ask you to get off my property. You’re trespassing, you know. Maybe I should threaten to shoot you. Isn’t that what folks do up here?”

  I nodded. “Sorry. Yeah.” I looked around. There was no clear entrance to the house, and I wasn’t sure I really wanted to go in anyway. But I couldn’t just stand here in the dust, staring up at him. “Um, I hoped maybe you might give me a second to talk?”

  He shrugged, and his face remained neutral. “We can try. I’m not very good at that. You’ve already figured that out, I guess. But there are plenty of folks tipsy around the meadow at this hour.” He pointed back down the driveway. His mood seemed far less laid back than it had been the past few times I’d met him. Maybe coming up here had been a mistake. Maybe he was a bit unbalanced after all.

  I looked down, mostly because staring up at him was starting to hurt my neck. But also because I hadn’t really planned out what to say, and realized that I didn’t know this man at all. I’d sure heard a lot about him, though. Maybe coming to find him meant I had a death wish. Or some kind of morbid curiosity that was better left unfulfilled. I scuffed my feet against the loose rocks and contemplated how to turn around and run without looking like a complete idiot.