“It still smells like raccoon, though.” Eric surveyed all the worn-out furniture, the dust-covered antlers, faded paintings that had been hanging on the walls since his childhood. Staying in his father’s cabin only dredged up bad memories. “You and I can stay in town, if you want.” Eric hugged Jessica from behind and kissed her neck. “We’d have a lot more privacy.”
“This will be fine. The cabin’s growing on me.” She was still in her shorts and that sexy bikini top that covered her small breasts. Her exposed skin glistened with sweat, and Eric felt himself getting aroused.
“Whew, I’m ready for a shower,” she said, wiping her forehead.
Eric pulled her against him. “How about I join you?”
“No, I feel gross. How about opening a beer for me? We can sit out on the porch and have a cold one when I get out.” She kissed his cheek and then went into the bathroom.
Frustrated, Eric went to the fridge and opened a can of Moosehead. Chugging it, he walked into the back study where his brother was sitting behind Elkheart’s desk.
Kyle opened a box of cigars. “Hey remember when Dad used to smoke these?”
Eric picked up one of the Cubans and smelled it, flashing back to a time when all his father did was smoke cigars and get drunk. Eric hated cigars for that reason. He looked around their father’s office. It was much neater than expected. On the wall hung a few framed diplomas from the University of Vancouver and plaques of Dr. Jon Elkheart’s scientific achievements. Another wall had photos of him working around the globe on expeditions—standing on a pyramid, posing with children from an African tribe and with a group of elderly Mayan women at a village. Their father had aged quite a bit, his black hair now partly silver. Wearing wire-framed glasses, he looked more scholarly than Eric remembered. He perused a bookshelf full of science books and noticed one titled Mysteries of the Sumerian People with his father’s name on the spine.
“Elkheart’s a published author?” He showed Kyle the book. “You never told me that.”
“Actually, I did. You just tune me out whenever I talk about Dad. He’s written half a dozen books.”
Eric flipped through the pages, observing photos of his father on a dig in Iraq. “I always thought he was just a drifter.”
“That’s what Mom and Blake want you to think. But Dad has traveled the world as an archaeologist. That’s how he collected most of this stuff.” Kyle pointed to two shelves full of statues, pottery and tribal masks.
“So why did he settle back here?”
“To retire, I had hoped. Grandfather’s too old to manage the reservation by himself, so Dad returned to take over. He was supposed to live here and write fulltime.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think he’s capable of staying in one place too long.” Eric thumbed along the spines of a row of books that ranged from archaeology and quantum physics to the occult. Several were authored by their father.
Kyle said, “Most of his books died a quick death and ended up buried in libraries. He never got a lot of respect for his theories.”
“What kind of theories?” Eric opened a book called Spiritual Vortexes and Other Sacred Places.
“He’s got a lot of wild ideas about the evolution of civilization. He believes the Aztecs, Mayans and Pharaohs built pyramids with sacred geometry and somehow they were all linked by ancient races. That kind of stuff. Dad puts a lot of faith in the mystical.” Kyle closed the drawer of the filing cabinet and sighed. “There’s nothing in his files but old articles and unpaid credit card bills. I can already hear him calling, asking for more money.”
“How come Elkheart always calls you, but never me or Shawna?” Eric asked.
“Because I call him. My coming out here brought us closer together.”
“You were always his favorite.”
“I made an effort, that’s all.”
“If Elkheart had ever invited me, I might’ve come.”
“Listen, Eric, I discovered with Dad you have to take the initiative.”
“Fuck that. A father should want to be with his kids. We just got a raw deal.” Eric opened a gun cabinet that was full of rifles and shotguns. He pulled out a Remington 30.06. He loved the power he felt when holding a rifle. “Remember when Grandfather and Elkheart used to take us deer hunting?”
“Yeah, those were some good times.”
Eric peered through the scope. “There was nothing more kick ass than bringing down a buck.” He sighed. “Wish it were deer season.”
Kyle stepped up beside him. “Maybe this winter we can come back and go hunting with Ray and Dad. Start a new family tradition.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Eric put the rifle back.
Kyle peered into the cabinet. “This is strange. One of Dad’s rifles is missing.”
Eric saw two rifles and two shotguns lined in a row and one dust-covered slot that was empty. “Is this supposed to mean something, Sherlock?”
“Yes, Watson. If Dad took his rifle with him, then it kills your theory that he and his assistant ran off to Cozumel together.”
“I was just tossing out ideas. Hell, for all we know he and Amy could be camping somewhere on the reservation, roasting hotdogs and drinking vodka tonics.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Kyle’s eyes lit up. “Dad’s been known to go off camping without telling anyone.”
“Seems like that’s all he did when we were kids—disappear for days at a time.” Eric had always resented Elkheart for abandoning their mother, leaving her with two young boys and a screaming baby. He remembered staying up nights with his mother, holding her hand while she cried and got shitfaced on vodka. She cursed Elkheart’s name, calling him a useless husband. One day she got fed up and took a trip to her sister’s in Seattle. While there, his mother found Jesus and met Blake Nelson, a successful man, the exact opposite of their father.
Kyle placed a hand on Eric’s shoulder, snapping him back to the present. “I say tomorrow we go looking for Dad and his crew.”
“I was just kidding. They’re probably long gone.”
“If there’s even the slightest chance that Dad’s here somewhere, then we should search for him.” Kyle grinned. “How cool would it be to have us all reunited again?”
Eric hated it when his brother got his heart set on a mission. “Exactly how big is our land, anyway?”
“Five thousand acres. But I know all the places Dad likes to camp.”
Eric looked out the window. A full moon had risen over the pines and outlined the nocturnal world with silvery light. He concentrated on the dark trees, trying to imagine where his father might be. Do I even want to find him?
When Eric had accepted Ray’s offer to visit their reservation for old time’s sake, he never imagined he might reunite with his father. If they did find Elkheart out there on the land, would he even be happy to see his kids? Eric remembered the belligerent drunk screaming at their mother as she and Blake and some child protection officers took Kyle, Eric and Shawna away from the tribe.
Twenty years was a long time, and the only evidence that Eric even had a father was a stack of postcards he kept in a shoebox. Now, if he came face-to-face with Elkheart, Eric didn’t know if he’d hug his father or punch the bastard in the face.
Chapter Five
That evening Kyle cooked dinner while the others gathered in the den around a fire burning in a fireplace. Everyone was in good cheer tonight, drinking beers and listening to music. Zack beat his bongo drum while Shawna played guitar and sang some of her new songs. Even Grandfather Two Hawks was tapping his knee to the rhythm. The soulful way Shawna sang reminded Kyle of Sheryl Crow.
In the kitchen, he sliced a knife through an onion and chopped it up. Eyes watering, he put diced onions and bell peppers into a large pot. Chicken broth boiled as he added sliced potatoes, garlic and sausage.
“Something smells marvelous.” Jessica peeked under the lid. “Is it some kind of stew?”
Kyle grinned. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be in here until d
inner’s ready.”
She folded her arms and leaned against the counter. “Well, if you won’t let me help, at least let me watch. I may pick up a few tips.”
“Suit yourself.” Kyle felt nervous in Jessica’s presence. He knocked over a roll of paper towels. She smiled and righted it. What was it about this girl’s presence that made his heart beat faster? He returned his attention to the stove, adding a pat of butter to the boiling rice. The kitchen suddenly felt hotter. “I’m going to crack the window,” he said. “This old stove really heats up the kitchen.” When she didn’t answer, he ventured a look her way. And there it was again—the connection that ran between them was so strong he thought it should be visible. Does she feel the same? The question was wrong and he knew it. Man, ease up. She’s Eric’s.
“So what’s your secret?” Jessica asked.
For a moment Kyle feared his feelings had been exposed, but then she tipped her head toward the pot. “Secret recipe, I mean.”
I’m dangerously attracted to you, that’s my secret. “It’s chicken and sausage gumbo with rice. I tossed in some of the local freshwater mussels.”
“Sounds delicious. How’d you come up with the recipe?”
Kyle stirred the pot, adding some paprika and cayenne pepper. “It’s an old family recipe on my mother’s side. They’re full-blood Cajun.”
“So you’re half Cree and half Cajun?” she asked. “Sounds like a spicy combination.”
“I guess,” Kyle chuckled. Is she flirting with me? He set the timer on the stove and leaned against the sink.
As they chatted about cooking, he admired the delicate features of her face, her crystal-blue eyes. She had the cutest dimples when she smiled.
Their conversation was effortless. It roamed from cooking to her attending med school at Washington State, volunteering for Doctor’s Without Borders for the upcoming fall semester, and her ambitions after she graduated. Once she became a pediatrician, Jessica planned to open her own health center for children. Aside from interning, she was working to finish a double major in alternative medicine and business. Her ambition and deep passion for helping children only drew him in more. What is she doing with Eric? The answer was none of his business.
He noticed Eric watching them from the den, the veins tightening around his temples. Jessica hadn’t noticed. In fact she hadn’t once looked into the den. Instead, her attention remained fixed on Kyle as she turned the subject back on to him. “So, if I may ask, what happened to your wife?”
The question took him by surprise. “My wife?”
“Oh, uh, I saw the wedding band and just assumed…”
“I’d rather not talk about it.” Turning away, he lowered the chopping block into the sink and let the faucet water run over it. But the question had already worked its black magic. Thoughts of Stephanie blotted out everything light and warm in the moment and left him leaning against the kitchen sink, trying to loosen the tightness in his chest. For a second, he thought he saw his wife’s angry visage in the dark window over the sink, but then she was gone.
Why did Jessica bring up Stephanie? Had Eric mentioned something?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry…” she said. “I mean, it’s none of my business—”
Eric entered the kitchen. “Jess, I thought you just came in here to get another beer.”
“You’re speaking to me again?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Eric opened the fridge and pulled out a can of the local brew.
Jessica folded her arms across her chest. “I thought you were mad at me.”
“Nah.” Eric put his arm around her shoulder. “Come back in here, babe. You’ve got to come hear this story Shawna’s telling. It’s damned hilarious.” As Eric pulled his girlfriend into the den, he looked back over his shoulder, shooting Kyle a look that was unmistakable. She’s mine, it said.
* * *
After dinner, Jessica cleared the table while Eric washed dishes. Kyle tried to help, but Eric shooed him out, insisting that the chef was done with his kitchen duties. Kyle smirked at the sight of his brother in an apron and rubber dish gloves.
“What?” Eric said.
“Nothing.” Normally Kyle would have ribbed his brother for going overboard to impress a woman, but since Jessica was in earshot, he let it slide. He went into the den where Shawna was on the couch, softly strumming her guitar.
Kyle took a seat on the hearth. The logs in the fireplace had burned down to warm cinders. He allowed himself to relax for the first time today. He admired the melody Shawna was playing. It was softer than her usual anger jams. This piece sounded like the beginning of a soul-searching ballad. “Is that new?”
“Nah, I’ve been working on this song off and on since high school.”
“What’s the name of it?” Kyle asked.
Shawna shook her head. “You’ll make fun.”
“No I won’t. Come on.”
“It’s called ‘My Heart Burns for You’. I know, totally cheesy.”
“I like it. You should put that on your new album.”
“That’s what I keep telling her,” Zack said from the dining room.
“I don’t know.” Shawna shrugged. “The band might think it’s too mushy.”
Kyle said, “Hey, every great rock band has released at least one love song.”
“You really like it? You’re not just pulling my chain?”
Kyle held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. It’s the best music I’ve ever heard you play.”
Shawna shrugged but Kyle noticed a hint of a smile.
The wind shook the windowpanes. A cold draft swept through the cabin. Kyle rubbed his arms. “Is there any more firewood around here?”
“There’s more stacked out back near the trail,” Eric said from the kitchen. Pulling off his dish gloves, he started toward the back door.
“No, finish the dishes. I’ll get it,” Kyle said, standing.
Eric barked, “Zack, make yourself useful and go with him.”
“All right, I need a smoke anyway.” He unrolled a pack of Camels out of his sleeve.
Eric said, “Don’t throw any butts on the ground. I found one earlier.”
“That was mine,” Shawna said, defending her boyfriend.
Eric gave them both a hard look. “Well, it’d only take a spark to start a grass fire out there, so respect our tribe’s land.”
Zack nodded and followed Kyle onto the covered back porch.
Looking hurt, Zack lit a cigarette. “Why is your brother always riding my ass?”
“Eric does that to all of Shawna’s boyfriends. He’s testing you to see if you’ll bail.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Shawna stuck by me when my father died. I know she’s your sister and all, but I’m in love with her.”
Kyle looked at the guy. Beyond the angry tattoos, rebel haircut and Goth costume was a sensitive kid who had feelings like anybody else. Kyle put a firm hand on his shoulder. “I tell you little a secret, Zack. If you want our approval, then all you have to do is love our sister and treat her with respect.”
“I will. I want nothing but the best for her.”
“If you ever lay a hand on her, you’re dead.”
“I won’t hurt her, sir. Promise.” Zack held eye contact long enough to show he meant it.
Kyle nodded. “Good. Then we’re on the same page. Now, let’s find that firewood before we freeze our asses off.” Stepping off the porch, he felt the cold breath of the boreal wind on his face. The dark complexion of the moon dimly lit the sky as bloated clouds drifted across it, dropping shadowed veils upon the forest. A congregation of timbers huddled around the cabin. A couple hours had passed since Kyle had thought about the surrounding woods. He tried to pinpoint the moment when the trees stopped bothering him and decided it was when he started talking with Jessica in the kitchen. Kyle had been too entranced by her beauty to be worried about the woods.
What was it about her that made him forget his fears?
He studied the pines, which were now cloaked in darkness. With no walls to protect him, with only the scattered moonbeams to reveal their mysteries, he sensed watchful eyes. Tiny spiders of fear scurried up his back. His throat tightened. Then a sound echoed off in the distance. “Do you hear that?”
“What?” Zack asked.
“Sounds like something’s moving out there.”
“All I hear is the wind, my friend.” Zack stamped the cigarette against his boot and stuffed the butt into his pocket. “You coming?”
The Devil's Woods Page 10