Two Cabins, One Lake: An Alaskan Romance

by Shaye Marlow

  But then something must have caught his eye, because he lifted his head further, turning it to peer out his bedroom window. “It looks like one of your brothers is back,” he said. “The one who likes to fight.”

  “Oh shit.” I sidled out from underneath him, rolled out from under the mosquito net, and scooped up my clothes.

  He lay back on the bed, watching me from behind the netting. “Why are we sneaking around like teenagers?” he asked as I yanked my shirt into place.

  I paused with one leg through my skirt. “I don’t know.” Shaking my head, I pulled my clothes the rest of the way on, and stomped into my shoes. I took two steps toward the door, and then stopped.

  I turned, crossed to the bed, flipped the mosquito net up, and crawled up until I could kiss him. His hands came up to either side of my face, and he kissed me back.

  I didn’t want to leave. It was amazing; he was amazing. I’d only known him a couple weeks, I’d hated him for at least half that time, and yet… I was starting to have trouble imagining my lake without him.

  But my brother was over there, noticing I was gone, probably wondering where I was. Maybe one of them had gotten hurt, or maybe they needed more ammo, or…

  I had to go. But I didn’t want to leave.

  I moaned a protest, and Gary laughed. I couldn’t quite kiss him with his mouth stretched open, so I kissed the dent in his chin instead. Stupid, kissable dent. God, I loved the feel of his stubble.

  “Go,” he said.

  I firmed my resolve, and finally edged back off the bed. Then I ran out of his cabin, along the lake, and up to my place.

  The door swung open as I reached the bottom of my steps. J.D. stopped short, his gaze traveling over me. Loose, totally mussed hair, check. Reddened cheeks, reddened lips, chafe marks on my neck? Check. Skirt, when I never wore skirts? Check. Guilty expression? Oh yeah.

  His gaze flicked from me over to Gary’s cabin. Of all my brothers, J.D. was the least clueless. He’d figured out there was something going on between Gary and I when we’d been practicing holds, and heck, maybe before. He knew exactly what I’d been doing.

  The corner of his mouth kicked up, and he just said, “Having a good morning?”

  “Yeah.” My grin couldn’t be stifled. But I’d noticed he had two dark, crusty streaks on his face that looked suspiciously like war paint. “Tell me that’s not bear blood,” I said.

  “It’s not,” he said obligingly. Liar. “But we need a good knife, a saw, Ziplocs if you have them, and some backpacks or bags.”

  I hurried to get the requested items, changed into some sturdy clothes, and spent the rest of the afternoon dealing with a dead bear. We got it skinned and beheaded—the Board of Fish and Game would want to see those—and the legs detached. We carved the good stuff off of the rest of the carcass, and packed it all into bags for the trip back to my cabin. The bones and intestines, we dumped into the river.

  We got the rest back to my cabin. Over the next couple hours, I carved meat and loaded it into my maimed freezer. Bear meat was gamy and tough, but I wasn’t the pickiest eater.

  We were finally done with the bear fiasco around seven in the evening. My brothers had pulled out the filet mignon pieces and were insisting on barbecued bear steaks for dinner. They wanted a fire, and they wanted to sit around it in camp chairs while they barbecued.

  I sighed, but gracefully gave in. I stank of bear guts and blood, and wanted nothing more than to take a shower.

  But first, I called Suzy and begged her to come. “Please, Suzy. Don’t leave me alone with them,” I said, after explaining the incidents with the bear. My brothers were moving in and out of the cabin, getting things set up, so they could probably hear most of what I said, but I didn’t care.

  “What are you having with these bear steaks?” she asked, wavering. She’d already confirmed she hadn’t eaten, but dinner company included my brothers, whose mischief was the stuff of legend.

  “What do you want?” I was ready to do some heavy-duty negotiating to get her here.

  “Blueberry pie?”

  I groaned as she reminded me that my blueberry patch was currently blackened and dead. But I still had a few quart bags of the good stuff in my freezer. “Deal,” is what I said. “You come and I’ll make you a blueberry pie.”

  “Gimme a few minutes and I’ll be there,” she said.

  I did a fist pump. “I need to take a quick shower, and I’ll come pick you up at the river.” I’d pick her up in a sedan chair if it meant I’d have someone intelligent to talk to.

  We signed off, and I jumped in the shower to scrub the blood off myself. Then I got dressed in fresh clothes—my skirt was still lying discarded across the foot of my bed, and the sight of it made me smile—and hopped on my four-wheeler.

  “Don’t burn anything down while I’m gone,” I instructed. “I’m going to get Suzy.”

  “Your friend, Suzy?” Zack asked.

  “We haven’t seen her in years,” Rory added.

  “I know.” And there was a reason for that. Shaking my head, I went and picked up my friend.

  When we got back, my brothers had a merry fire burning, and flames leapt from the barbecue.

  “I’ve gotta throw in the pie,” I told Suzy. “You can come if you want, or…” I gestured at my brothers, who were standing around the fire talking, their eyes on us. My mind painted in leather loincloths, war paint, and a writhing, wailing woman tied to a pole at the center.

  Yeah, she came with me. We whipped that pie together in record time. It was gonna take an hour to bake, and then at least a few minutes to cool. Heathens that we were, my brothers and I had a habit of eating pies when they were still hot.

  Suzy and I stepped back outside. When we moved to sit, J.D. stepped in front of me. He jerked his chin toward Gary’s place. “Wanna invite the neighbor?” he asked, face inscrutable.

  I hesitated, unsure what to do. Yes, I had great sex with the neighbor. Yes, I’d decided I actually kinda liked him. But two thirds of the brothers still didn’t know, and I wasn’t sure if I could keep from giving myself away.

  What’s more, if Gary came, I might wind up neglecting my friend. I glanced down at Suzy to see what she thought. She’d parked herself in a camp chair and Rory had already handed her a beer. She had a little smile on her face, and she nodded, encouraging me. What a little matchmaker she was turning out to be.

  So I walked my happy ass over to the neighbor’s. I walked slowly, very aware of the noise and conversation behind me, and the silence ahead. I wasn’t real sure what Gary was up to, but this would be a first, me inviting him to something—that didn’t involve getting naked and sweaty.

  I could have just walked around the back and stepped up into his cabin, but I decided to be polite, and I rapped at his door. He answered wearing the same clothes I’d so recently watched him shuck off. Just the sight of him standing in the shadows of his doorway made my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth.

  I glanced back toward the fire, wondering if I could get away with pushing him back into the cabin and kissing the hell out of him. But at least two sets of eyes were on me. Dammit.

  “We’re having a fire and barbecue. Bear steaks and blueberry pie. You’re invited,” I said.

  “You’re inviting me?” he asked.

  I nodded slowly. “I’m inviting you.”

  “Well, isn’t that something.”

  I stepped back. “If you don’t want to come…”

  “No, I do. I’d love to,” he added. And I could see in his eyes he really meant it.

  Shit. Did this count as a date? Had I just invited my sexy-ass neighbor to dinner?

  Feeling flustered, I stumbled sideways down his front steps. “Well…when you’re ready. They’ll be putting the steaks on soon.”

  “I’ll be over in a few,” he said.

  Nodding, I fled back the way I’d come.

  When I got back, the brothers had shifted to the other side of the fire and surrounded Suzy.
Zack was sitting on one side, Rory on the other, and they were talking her ears off. But she was laughing, so I didn’t know whether or not I should save her.

  “She’s fine,” J.D. said, handing me a beer.

  I wondered when he’d gotten so perceptive. Then I sat, and watched my two brothers charm the hell out of my friend. Which was crazy. My friend hated my brothers. But there she sat, seemingly enjoying their company. How could that be? They were rude, stinky idiots. Was it their looks?

  I squinted at Zack and Rory, trying to look at them objectively. They were blonde like me. I guess their features were even enough, and they were in pretty good shape. Tallish… eh, I still didn’t see it.

  “What’s that look for?” Gary asked, dropping into the chair next to me.

  I jumped and glanced over at him with surprise. For such a loud man, he could be remarkably quiet.

  “Them,” I said, gesturing toward my friend and brothers with my beer. “Suzy hates my brothers.”

  “She doesn’t look like she hates them,” Gary offered.

  “No.” I snagged one of the last beers, and handed it to him.

  “Why does she hate them?” he asked.

  “Suzy’s been my friend since the fourth grade,” I said. “And my brothers have always been troublemakers. The last time she saw them—I think she was twelve, maybe—one of them stuck a frog down her shirt.”

  Gary smiled. “Sounds about right.”

  “They have quite a reputation for trouble,” I said. “Especially shooting things and setting them on fire. Did you know they sank my last canoe?”

  He shook his head.

  “It was just last year. They came back from fishing with the bottom of my canoe looking like Swiss cheese, and some crazy story about a bear.”

  “Hey, we almost died that day,” Rory called across the fire.

  “Yeah, I almost killed you,” I agreed.

  “No, I mean for real. And it wasn’t our fault. There was this bear, and…you want me to just tell you the story?” Rory asked. He looked at Gary, and then Suzy.

  “Go ahead,” Gary said.

  Suzy nodded and blushed. Fascinating.

  “So we were up a couple lakes, and we were fishing. And we had our guns, of course—I mean, this is bear country. So we were fishing, and we spotted this big-ass pike, much bigger than yours—”

  I snorted.

  “—and we thought, we didn’t bring a lure big enough for that sucker, but we brought our guns. So Zack pulled his out, and he took aim, and he was about to shoot it, when a bear crashed out of the woods. It startled us, and he’d been standing up. He stumbled and almost tipped the canoe, and he sorta…squeezed one off…toward the bottom of the boat.”

  “Grazed my foot,” Zack muttered.

  Personally, I thought that was something he should never admit to anybody, but what did I know? I felt Gary’s gaze on me, and I glanced over. He was looking at me with flames dancing in his eyes. Listening to the brothers, maybe, but looking at me. I shifted in my seat while I battled the urge to go sit in his lap.

  “And then he fell out,” J.D. said.

  “And then he fell out of the canoe,” Rory continued, “And I’m not real sure how it happened, but he shot the canoe again as he was going in.”

  “I was trying to find something to grab onto,” Zack said.

  “It was the most beautiful swan-dive I’ve ever seen,” J.D. said wistfully.

  “So now we’ve got two holes in the boat, a man overboard, and that bear climbed into the water and is swimming toward us.”

  “And we’re taking on water,” J.D. added.

  “So I yell for Zack to grab the line trailing off the back, and I’m paddling like a mofo, and J.D.’s bailing the boat. We’re skimming along at a pretty good clip, dragging Zack behind us. And he’s hanging on with one arm and shooting at the bear with the other.”

  Mocha materialized out of the shadows and laid down between Gary’s and my camp chairs. Her ears perked like she, too, were listening to the story. Gary reached under the arm of his chair and rubbed her head.

  “But for some reason, he couldn’t seem to hit a thousand pound animal,” J.D. observed.

  “Hey, you try hitting something that’s only sticking a couple inches out of the water, while being chased by a bear, and dragged through the water, and trying not to drown,” Zack groused. He looked a little embarrassed, and—I recognized it from my own experiences with the feeling—sorta like he wanted to punch something.

  J.D. rolled his eyes.

  “Or maybe he just made it mad,” Rory said, ignoring them both. “Because the bear kept coming. He’s still after us, going about the same speed as our canoe, and Zack’s yelling that he’s outta ammo. So J.D. pulls out his gun—”

  “And we hit a bump,” J.D. said.

  “We didn’t hit a bump, you idiot. There are no bumps on the water.”

  “There was a bump just another minute down the line.”

  “Yeah, but we’re not there yet. Anyway, he pulls out his gun, and for no apparent reason—”

  “It was an accident.”

  “—J.D. accidentally shoots another hole in the bottom of the boat. And then he’s standing up, shooting at the bear over my head as I’m paddling. The water in the boat’s like two inches deep now, and rising. And Zack’s freaking out, shrieking like a little girl.”

  “Those were manly shouts of encouragement,” Zack insisted, “because you were paddling like a little girl.”

  Rory took a deep breath. “And that’s when we entered the rapids.”

  “There are rapids up there?” Gary whispered into my ear. The backs of his knuckles grazed mine, making shivers run through me despite the heat of the fire.

  “Yeah, but they’re just class one or two,” I whispered back.

  “We started down the rapids with J.D. standing up facing backward, and I’m yelling at him to sit the hell down—he usually spots for us, makes sure we don’t hit nothin’—and he finally does, yelling about how the bear turned around. But it was too late. He had failed us.”

  “Heeey,” J.D. protested.

  Zack sniggered.

  “We slammed into a big rock, nose-first, and I mean dead-on. And so the whole damn front end is crunched. And we’re still dragging Zack. And we’re sinking.” Rory paused for dramatic effect.

  “Oh, this is the good part,” I said. “So tell them what you did then.”

  “So we made it the rest of the way down the rapids, but by the time we got down, I just figured, you know what, the bear turned around, so we’re no longer in any immediate danger. And we’re sinking. I mean, there’s no helping it now; the canoe was fucked. Zack’s already soaked. And these two jokers got to shoot the canoe. The damage was done, right?” Rory’s eyes were twinkling.

  “You didn’t,” Gary said.

  “I sure as shit did. I emptied my clip into the fucker.”

  I groaned and covered my face with my hand.

  “You could have at least waited until we got back to the bottom lake,” Zack pointed out.

  Rory shrugged. “So we sorta hiked and waded and swam home, but we did help Hel here buy a new canoe.”

  There was a long silence as everyone thought long and hard about the implications of shooting your canoe. In that silence, Zack got up and transferred the filet mignons from a bowl of marinade to the grill. Fat sizzled, and the smell of cooking meat began to fill the air.

  J.D. spoke up next, his eyes glimmering as he looked from me to Gary. “Did you know Helly used to be a real girly girl?”

  Gary’s eyes traveled from my unmade face and carelessly pony-tailed hair, over my plaid shirt, and down my faded jeans to my sturdy pair of hiking boots. He shook his head.

  “Yeah, she played with Barbies, the whole nine yards,” Zack said.

  “Until they burned them,” I muttered, trying to figure out whether I should blush over playing with Barbies, when it was pretty much the accepted thing for girls to do.


  “Until we burnt ‘em,” Zack agreed. “She got even, but she’s had a chip on her shoulder ever since.”

  “How’d you get even?” Gary asked.

  “I burned their fort.”

  Gary laughed. “Of course you did. And you were how old?”

  “Seven.”

  “Actually, that’s pretty much how Helly became the woman she is today. She kept getting back at us for the pranks that we pulled, and the more she got back at us, the less I think she remembered she was a girl. Only a year or two after the Barbie incident, she was running around in the mud and getting into trouble with us.”

  “They still managed to pull pranks on me, though,” I said. “This one time, they ripped off my dress—the last dress that I owned—in front of about thirty people.”

  “Seriously?” Gary asked.

  I nodded, then looked up at Rory. “Why don’t you tell it.”

  Rory grinned. “Well, there’s not much to this one. Zack and J.D. and I had come into possession of this old riding lawnmower. And we also sort of ‘came into possession’ of a V8 engine. It took some fiddling, but we put the two together, and we decided to take our first test run at the yearly family picnic.”

  “She was a beauty,” Zack said. “We’d painted flames down the sides—”

  “Those were flames?” I asked. “I’d always thought they were penises.”

  “Flames down the side,” he repeated with a glare, “and we’d installed these awesome spoilers.”

  “Eye of the beholder, I guess.” I shrugged. I hadn’t gotten a real good look at the thing, but the glimpse I had gotten gave the impression of something that could have auditioned for a horror flick. Or maybe the horror had come from being suddenly near-naked in front of my whole family.

  “So we fired her up,” Rory said, reclaiming control of his story, “and we roared through that picnic. And, I still, to this day, could not tell you how it happened—”

  “It was the spoiler,” I muttered. “The spoiler snagged the skirt.”

  “—but Helly’s dress came with us. She was just standing there wearing a purple dress, and then…she wasn’t. And it wasn’t really a prank. It was an honest-to-God accident.”