Unmending the Veil

by Lisa Heaton

  Standing on the porch, Chris watched her move toward the main house. Finally, he figured it out, what had bothered him before. When she smiled, there was some disconnect, as if it never really reached her eyes. There was something lifeless about them, kind, but somehow indifferent. Shaking his head, still a bit baffled by the awkwardness of their encounter, he grabbed his bags from the porch and headed into the cabin.

  Once inside, he was not at all disappointed. The photos online did not do the place justice. The main living area was quite large with a stone fireplace directly across from the front door. A sofa faced the fireplace, and two oversized armchairs flanked it. To the right was a small kitchen and on both sides of the fireplace was a bedroom, each with its own bathroom. All was in good order, as if recently updated.

  Throwing his bags onto the bed, Chris sat, feeling tired already. It was early still, but he had not slept more than three hours the night before in anticipation of the trip. Even when he did sleep well, tiredness seemed to plague him more and more. The lack of energy he was experiencing was new for him, so it was taking some getting used to. A slower pace was not a lifestyle he knew how to navigate.

  Listening to the sound of utter quietness, a nonexistent luxury in his roadside condo back in Boston, his mind began to jump around from thought to thought. Mostly, he thought of Vanessa. She was supposed to come with him for the first week of the trip, but at the last minute, decided she was not exactly camping material. Though he had been angry about it earlier, if anything, he now felt relieved. Stretching out on the bed, he replayed their last conversation over in his head.

  Hoping to get an early start, Chris arrived at Vanessa’s place before daylight. When he knocked on the door, she answered in her pajamas. “You said you would be dressed.”

  “Chris, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Why are you waiting until now to tell me? You couldn’t have mentioned this yesterday?” Frustrated by her lack of consideration, yet not wanting to say something he would later regret, Chris became silent. It was her idea to tag along, even though he all but said he wanted time alone. Exasperating him even further, had she not insisted, he would have never gotten a two bedroom cabin.

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve wanted to tell you but then I decided I should go and be with you. I realize now, I just can’t. Things are so hectic at work. Maybe I can come out in a few weeks and we can . . .”

  “Just say what you really mean.” For a moment she hesitated, and in that moment, looking into her eyes, he found nothing more than pity there. In his heart he knew she was torn, and watching her struggle with her dilemma, he felt a wave of compassion for her, which more than overrode his frustration with her. His tone softened considerably. “It’s okay. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  At his urging, she broke down. “This is just too much for me. I can’t handle it. Believe me, I know how shallow this will sound, but I am not up for ten days of self-analysis and life introspection.”

  “Where did you come up with that? Life introspection? Is that what you think I am going for? I just want to spend time at the lake, away from the city.” He found himself feeling sorry for her. For quite some time he had known things were not right between them, but it had been easier to stay with her than to get out. Now he realized he was not being fair to her. How could he expect her to stand beside him through what he was facing?

  “I really do care about you, but…” She started to cry again. “I’m just not strong enough to be with you through this.” Kissing him softly on the cheek, she whispered. “I am so sorry.”

  Putting his arms around her, he reassured her, “It really is okay. I understand.” And he did.

  Looking around the small cabin, Chris had a feeling this was exactly where he needed to be. Had she come, he would have spent his time catering to her emotions rather than doing what he felt most led to do, spending the time he had left with God.

  While Robin washed up at the kitchen sink, Emma moved in close behind her. “Did you see him?”

  She knew exactly who Emma was talking about. “See who?”

  “Willow.”

  “His name is Chris Wheeler, and yes, I saw him.”

  “He was too early for check in, but who am I to turn him away?” She whistled and waved her dishtowel. “If I were a few years younger, why, he’d be in trouble.”

  “Oh, right! Listen to you. If he paid you any attention at all, you’d run and jump in the lake.” Robin laughed at the thought of Emma pursuing any man. She rarely dated. With sultry brown eyes and an hourglass figure, every man in the surrounding county had made a play for her at one time or another. The only man she could remember Emma showing any interest in was Stan Cooper, the vet in a nearby town. But even he could never win her heart. Robin had to believe no man ever would.

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to jump in the lake, but you’re right, I’d run.” She popped Robin with her dishtowel. “Breakfast is on the sideboard. Go eat.”

  The buffet was loaded with every breakfast food imaginable. From hearty, Southern cooking to delicate pastries and waffles, each was displayed on extravagant serving dishes and platters. Breakfast was the only meal provided at the inn, and Emma insisted on doing it properly. The guests who stayed in the cabins were invited as well, so on any given morning during the summer months, the dining room was full of chatter and excitement over the day to come.

  Sitting alone at a table near the window, Robin watched as Chris walked toward the inn. Though she had forgotten to mention breakfast to him, obviously Emma had remembered. He disappeared from sight for just a few seconds, before he walked into the dining room. Crossing over to the buffet, he picked up a plate. It was then she noticed he still wore no shoes. He appeared to be a man who drifted with the wind. Robin envied him that.

  As she watched him piling his plate high, she wondered if he had a girlfriend. Surely he did. When he turned to look at her, Robin was embarrassed that he caught her staring at him as he had on the porch before. Smiling slightly, she turned her attention back to her food. Stabbing a piece of sausage with her fork, she twirled it around in her syrup. Just as she poked it into her mouth, and a dribble of syrup ran down her chin, he walked up to her table.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Wiping her face, she scanned the room. There were at least ten empty chairs. What made him decide to sit there? Hesitantly, she said, “No.”

  “May I sit with you?”

  “Sure. I’m just about done, though.”

  He pulled out a chair and sat across from her. Pointing to her plate, he commented, “You’ve barely touched your food.”

  She laughed, admitting, “This is my second plate.” Breakfast was her main meal. Having learned her first summer there, she needed it for the energy she exerted during the workday.

  “Wow, good job. You are a mountain woman.” He noticed how she tended to avoid making eye contact. Skittish was the term that came to mind, like a pup you might get from a shelter.

  Standing, she picked her plate up. “Well, I hope you enjoy your breakfast. I’m going to get at it.” Without waiting for his response and determined to keep as much distance from this man as she could, she moved quickly away from the table.

  He watched her walk away. As she disappeared through the swinging door into the kitchen, Chris wondered what made her so distant. Maybe it was just her personality. Shrugging, he took his first bite.

  Scanning the dining room, he was again reassured of his decision to come. The room was large and ornate, almost overly so. Most impressive was that the entire back wall was made of glass and overlooked the covered porch, which in turn looked out toward the lake. The inn was situated on a narrow point of the lake, so from where he sat, he could see across the water to the other side. It was a magnificent view, and he could hardly wait to paint it.

  After finishing his first plate, and without reservation, he went back to the buffet and piled another high. What did he have to lose? Would it not
be right for any dying man to eat bacon and plenty of it?

  Robin sat her plate in the sink. Hanging her head, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. He was so handsome, and she was so lonely. A man like that frightened her. Never once, in all the years she had worked at the inn, had she been attracted to a guest. Most disturbingly, it was not just a weekend ahead to try to avoid him. It was the entire summer. She would, though.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  Becky had walked up behind her so quietly, it caused her to jump. She laughed. “Nothing.” Pushing thoughts of the teacher out of her mind, Robin asked, “Where have you been? Emma’s looking for you.”

  “I went to the station with Tommy. He wanted to gas up the boat and get some bait to take a group out fishing.”

  “I came up to your room, assuming you were still asleep. But then I guess I forgot how much you like going to get gas and bait,” Robin teased.

  It was no secret why she had gone with Tommy. Becky was looking for Brad Parker. This was her second summer working at the inn. Having met Brad the summer before, she went out with him for several weeks, but then he suddenly began avoiding her. Robin suspected things went further than Becky intended, which would explain her reaction when he dropped her the way he did. The remainder of her summer was spent heartbroken, and this summer could easily shape up to be the same. It was obvious that, even though the guy had really hurt her, she still had some glimmer of hope of running into him again. While it made her sad to see Becky so hopeful, what seemed apparent to her was something the girl would have to learn the hard way. No matter what she said, Becky was determined.

  Noting the change in her appearance, Robin determined if Becky did run into Brad, he would certainly regret letting her go. She had dropped a few pounds over the winter and highlighted her already blond hair. Even before the changes, though, she was beautiful, inside and out. This year, however, there was something a bit more sophisticated about her; she seemed less a girl and more of a woman. Though she was only nineteen, she was very mature, a very bright girl, other than her choice in men.

  “Have you seen the guy from the Willow?” Stepping in from the dining room, Emma’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

  Becky’s face lit up. “No. Who is it?”

  “While you two old hens gossip, I’m going to work. Is Tommy outside?” Robin asked.

  “Yes. He’s out on the dock. And in a mood.”

  After she left, Emma filled Becky in on Chris, and of course Becky had to see for herself. Peeking through the swinging door into the dining room, she turned back to Emma and whispered, “Wow, he’s gorgeous. How old do you think he is?”

  Emma chuckled softly as she peeked in just over Becky’s head. “Too old for you, little girl.”

  “I’m nineteen.”

  “I imagine he’s at least thirty five.” “That’s ancient.” She giggled.

  “Hush. That’s young, very, very young.” Emma walked back to the sink. “You know, he would be perfect for Robin.”

  “Yeah!” Becky snorted sarcastically. Opening the refrigerator, she removed a large bowl of grapes and took them to the work island. “Are these clean?”

  Nodding, Emma continued, “He would.”

  Becky busied herself filling a crystal dish with the grapes. Plucking one from the stem, she popped it into her mouth. “She won’t get close enough to notice how good looking he is.”

  “Oh, she’s noticed. I can tell.”

  Turning solemn, Becky asked, “Did you hear her last night?” Becky’s room was on the other side of Emma’s, away from Robin’s, but still she had heard her screaming. It was bone-chilling screams that made her want to cry. Trapped in her nightmare, Robin pled and begged. Shaking her head, she tried to clear the memory of the horrible noise. It happened only once the year before, and then too, it was just as unnerving.

  “Yes, I heard it.” Emma looked out through the back window. Holding her coffee cup, she watched thoughtfully as Robin moved quickly down the stairway and toward the dock. Her heart ached for her, and she wondered if her sorrow would ever fade. It had been five years since Robin came to live with her, and every moment of it was a joy, but for Robin, the time had been spent emotionally on the run from her past. A life that used to be filled with such happiness turned tragic beyond repair. Grieving for her, Emma hoped that someday healing would come.

  Walking out onto the dock, Robin found Tommy in the boathouse working on an inboard motor. “Is something wrong?” The last thing she needed was for one of the boats to be out of commission.

  He glanced up at her. “No. I’m just replacing the spark plugs. I filled her up this morning and got some bait. Does the old couple still want to go out?”

  “Yes. I told them you would be ready at eight.” Noticing he seemed annoyed, she asked, “Are you okay?”

  Shaking his head, he sighed. “Who is the guy Becky is looking for?”

  Robin hid a grin, suspecting he had a crush on Becky. The way he stammered when she talked to him was almost comical and very sweet too. “Just a guy from last year.” It was not her place to tell any more than that.

  “When she said she wanted to go this morning…” Looking out across the water, Tommy felt foolish. He thought she wanted to be with him, but when she started talking about that guy, pointing out his house, he realized she had no interest in him.

  “If it makes you feel any better, she’s passing up a great thing.” Robin really liked Tommy. He had answered an ad for the job, and though he was only twenty, he had all the necessary experience. His family had owned boats all of his life and he certainly knew much more than she did about them. After meeting him in person, the decision was an easy one. In his junior year at a business school in Boston, he was sharp and very mature for his age. Tall and somewhat lanky, he had a kind, handsome face, and his manner was, though quiet at times, still witty and amusing. She had to guess he would surely make something of himself someday. Impressed by his work ethic, something not always proven when they hired young people, not once had she regretted hiring him.

  As Robin walked back up to the main house, she passed Chris on the way down. The sight of him made her feel peculiar in some way. It was obvious he was trying to be friendly, but she still could not bring herself to talk to him comfortably. He made her nervous or uneasy, she was not exactly sure which, but it was unpleasant.

  “Hey, there.” He smiled at her.

  “Hi.” She had to force herself to stop.

  Pointing to the dock, he asked, “Do those boats belong to the inn?”

  “Two of them. As a matter of fact, Tommy is about to take the larger one out fishing if you are interested in going.”

  “No. I’m not much on fishing. I just wanted to go out and do some painting.”

  “Painting?”

  “Yes. That’s the main reason I’m here.”

  Tilting her head, she asked, “Do you know enough about boats to take one out alone?”

  “My dad was a fisherman. I ought to.”

  “But you don’t like fishing?”

  “No, never did. So, is there another boat I can take?” He liked the way the wind picked up tendrils of her hair and whipped them around her face, and the way she was constantly pulling at them and moving them behind her ears. As if hearing his thoughts, she removed a band from her wrist and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

  “Sure, see Tommy. He should have the keys.”

  “Thanks.” Before she turned to leave, he asked, “You are Robin, right?” He had heard Emma call her by name.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, nice to formally meet you, Robin.”

  “You, too.”

  He observed how she looked over his shoulder as she replied, but not at him. Cheeks flushing, she seemed almost nervous. When she continued on up the stairway, he watched her for a moment. She was intriguing to be sure. Timing was never his strong suit though.

  As Robin reached the porch, she turned and gazed back at the d
ock. The wind was blowing briskly, and she could see it ruffle Chris’ hair. He really did seem like a nice guy, but there was no room for that in her life. Her only goal was to live quietly at the inn. Just as Emma had managed for so many years, her intention was to stay as far away from men as she could.

  2

  Unable to sleep, Chris had made his way out to the water’s edge, and presently, sat on the bank watching as the moonlight reflected off the water. Having been there a week, this was the brightest night he had seen so far. The moon was full, and there were millions of stars twinkling overhead, reminding him of his smallness and the infinitesimal space he took up in the entirety of things. It was a magnificent evening, one much too beautiful to miss. Slowing down and appreciating such moments was his latest preoccupation. How many wonders had he missed due to busyness, or if not busyness, out of a sheer lack of comprehension that he was positioned in a world so extraordinary?

  Occasionally, he would see the slight ripple of a fish popping to the surface, but soon the water would again become still. It reminded him of his dad, the fisherman. As a boy, for hours on end they would sit, staring at the water, just waiting for something to grab on to the line and cause a ripple. Some days, nothing ever bit; some days, they caught more than they meant to. Always though, he hated that silent waiting. If given the opportunity again to sit and fish with his dad, would he not value such a moment even more than the vastness of the stars and the endlessness of things overhead?

  Supposing it was close to midnight, he stood and turned to go, but when he noticed someone running toward the water, he froze and watched as the female figure touched her first foot onto the wooden planks of the dock. Running still, she continued on until she reached the end of the structure and there stopped abruptly. As she was standing directly under the glow of the moonlight, he realized he was watching Robin. Surprised to see her there alone so late at night, he remained silent and observed her as she stood perfectly still, gazing out into the dark water. Standing on the bank just to her left, he could see her as clearly as if it were daylight, but he was certain she was unable see him in the shadows. And though he should have turned to go, he was intrigued by her presence, there under the warm blanket of moonlight.