by Cara Dee
"Aye, aye, Captain." He stood up, his fingers already flying across the little screen, and walked up the hill toward the cabin.
Maybe I could drag some honesty out of Will now.
He rubbed his forehead. "You didn’t have to chase away your son, you know."
"How else am I gonna express my worry?" I asked. "God forbid our kids know how close we used to be." I smirked so he wouldn’t take me too seriously, and he rolled his eyes.
"There's no need to worry." He pulled up his knees to rest his arms on them and looked out over the water. "I may have even made some progress."
"Oh?"
He nodded, and I could tell he was hesitating to tell me. He cleared his throat and shifted, then released a breath and flicked me a quick glance.
Tell me.
"I told Lissa I need some time on my own," he admitted. "Having people take care of me will get me nowhere."
I'd actually thought about that, but it was a surprise to learn he was gonna take a break to be alone. "What does time alone entail?"
"Finding a place to rent—temporarily. There're plenty of vacation homes in Westslope, so it shouldn’t be difficult." He picked at some grass that grew between two rocks. "Maybe fending for myself will make me feel like a person again."
I pinched my lips together, having planned on asking him for help. Feeling productive and accomplishing things had helped me when I was down in the dumps. It was difficult, though. What I wanted and what I knew was best weren't always the same. In this case, it'd be easy—too fucking easy—to try to do everything for him.
Maybe that was what his wife did, for which I couldn’t blame her.
"You know how Jameson and Alex built their cabin?" I mentioned.
"Yes?"
"Would that work for you?" A new—similar—plan formed in my head. Previously, I'd thought of asking him to pitch in on the island. "I found a cabin in my price range last week. The paperwork isn't processed yet, but I have the keys."
Will frowned. "I'm not sure I follow."
"It needs work," I explained. "Nothing too bad—it's livable. But the exterior has seen better days." Jameson and Alex hinted at the reason they'd bought a piece of land together. Failed relationships had put them through minor hell, and building their new home had been like therapy. "You can stay there if you want. I'll only be around a weekend here and there until the summer's over."
That would give him several weeks.
"It'd just be you and the forest." I clapped him on his back. "Besides, I'd rather pay you for painting than—"
"Don't be ridiculous." He threw me a quick scowl. "Letting me stay there would be a big favor. Don't add money to the mix when we both know you would have restored the cabin on your own otherwise."
Fair enough.
"Is it in Westslope?" he asked.
I nodded. Nestled in the mountain range, ironically to the east of us, was sleepy little Westslope. You stepped back in time when you got there. It was all forest, rivers, lakes, mountains, a run-down strip mall, a church, and an ancient diner or two. There was also a small school I was enrolling Matt in.
"What do you say? It would give you something to do after work."
Will processed my words, nodding slowly while picking at the grass. "If…if you're sure it's not a problem." He offered a weary smile. "I'm desperate at this point, so I don't have the decency to pretend I'm not all for it."
"Fuck decency." I smirked. "Tomorrow's gonna be shit weather, so I'll probably have time to show you around the place. I'll give you the keys, and we can pick up some supplies I've ordered."
He nodded with a quick jerk. "I'll say yes before I can talk myself out of it. Thank you, Kelly." He scrubbed at his face, visibly antsy. "Tomorrow's good. The sooner, the better."
*
The following day, I could count the words I dragged out of Will on one hand before we got to Westslope. We'd met up at the lumberyard, where he didn’t say anything other than hello, and then we'd continued to pick up paint, tools, groceries, and some other shit.
We crossed the river in separate cars and drove deeper into the woods, up a mountain pass, and reached an old mailbox that would be mine within days.
The cabin sat in the center of a small clearing, a cliffside shooting up in the background. There was a stream running through the middle of the property, narrow enough to jump across. The lawn was overgrown, and the to-do list was miles long.
"You might want a little overpass here or something."
I turned back to Will and nodded firmly. An ATV bridge was on the list. Aside from the low price, I liked the place because the foundation for a second cabin was already here. The previous owner must've abandoned a plan or two.
I could build my workshop there.
There was a toolshed behind the cabin, and we stowed away everything there before I dug out the keys and unlocked the front door.
A film of dust and leaves blanketed the interior. The entryway opened up to the front room, from which we could see all there was to see. The kitchen ahead to the right, the bedroom to the left, the bathroom in between, and the loft above.
Will eyed the garbage left behind, an old couch, a TV stand, a few plastic bags… He lifted his gaze, staring past the front room to the kitchen, and his forehead creased. Some of the cupboard doors were off their hinges, a plastic bucket rested on top of the stove, and there was a gap where the fridge and freezer were supposed to be.
"You said it was livable," he muttered.
I laughed, having expected him to mention the ladder that led to the loft first. It wouldn’t hold Matt's weight, much less mine. It was also on the list.
"This is nothing." In my absence, I'd actually gotten the most important shit fixed already. Such as electricity and running water. He wouldn’t have to take his morning dump outdoors. That was something, right? "A new bed will be delivered tomorrow, so you'll only have to suffer on the couch for one night."
I dropped some cleaning supplies on the floor and put my hands in my pockets.
"Now I understand why you told me to bring a sleeping bag." He offered a chagrined smile and shook his head. "Do I sound like a diva?"
Nah. "You've worked a bit harder than me to have a higher standard of living." I shrugged. "I like shit simple."
He looked down and frowned, not answering.
"Come on, there's an old chest freezer in the shed," I said. "We can leave the groceries there."
*
A while later, we were back in the cabin, and Will was trying to make his little corner by the couch homier. He dusted off the couch, rolled out his sleeping bag, and unpacked a stack of books to put on the floor. There was also a gigantic bag of candy.
I stood in the kitchen and watched as he plugged in the charger to his tablet.
"You brought a lot of candy," I noted, amused.
Fuck me, he never lost his blush. He averted his gaze and set a toiletry bag next to the books. "I, yeah, I was in the mood, I suppose."
I wanted to hug him half to death and never let go. He knew how to tug at the heartstrings. It was the vulnerability—or a general sense of uncertainty—he exuded.
He'd really fucking changed. He used to know. Know his path, his feelings. Now he'd lost his direction.
"You know there's no pressure, right?" I felt the need to make sure. "I don’t know your schedule, so don't worry about getting much done—"
"I'm not working at the moment." He cut me off, his voice quiet. "I can guarantee there will be days I don’t even leave the bed, but I'm here to make myself useful so I can get better." At last, he faced me. "I never feel pressure, Kelly. Maybe that's what's wrong. I don’t want to be coddled."
I was silent for a beat, and then I dipped my chin in acknowledgment. That’s fair. For the second time, though, I sympathized with Will's wife. I could relate to anyone who wanted to protect him and take care of things for him.
"Okay." I got back on track, knowing he was right. "I talked to Adam last night, and
he's hooking me up with a fridge and freezer." It helped to have a friend in the restaurant business. Someone was always getting rid of shit; this time, a buddy of his. "I'll call you when we can get that up here."
"No rush." He rose from the couch and smoothed down his sweater. "I don't think I have any OCD problems, but I might spend the next day or two cleaning. The cabin looks like a war zone."
I grinned. "You don't remember being a neat freak?"
His brow furrowed. "Really? No… I can't say I do."
Perhaps it was only in comparison to the rest of us.
I threw my bag onto the top bunk and started running outside again. Will staying behind stopped me in my tracks, and I slapped the doorframe.
"Come on, Will! Jack and Adam are going fishing."
He looked up from where he was kneeling on the floor next to his bag. "I'll catch up. I'm just going to unpack."
I shook the memory, smiling. I'd waited for what felt like forever while he'd made his bed, unpacked and refolded his clothes, and slipped his journal and a pre-packed stack of postcards under his pillow.
*
Wanting to make sure Will ate something before I left, I cooked up some beans in tomato sauce, bacon, and biscuits as rain poured outside.
To keep up a conversation while we ate, I told him about my plans for the property. Matt would get the loft, my business would get its own shop, and we'd see if we could grow our own food, though I hadn't checked if the soil here was good for that yet.
Will pretended to be interested. It was easy to tell he'd run out of energy. He kept staring off at nothing and forced himself to swallow each bite of food.
The rain wasn’t coming down as hard when I said it was time for me to head back to Little, so I chucked my plate in the sink and then made my way outside.
Will followed, taking in the surroundings some more.
"It's bigger than I thought it would be," he mentioned.
"Yeah, I get that a lot." I kept a straight face until the joke dawned on him and he snorted and shook his head at me. "Oh, come on, that was funny."
"Hilarious," he drawled. "Now, get off my porch."
"Love you too, Calvert." I flipped him off and began heading back to my truck. I crossed the stream, and the rain decided to pick up again. "Goddammit!" I heard Will's tired chuckle right before I threw myself into the truck.
Chapter 9
William Calvert
I wept like a baby for days after Kelly took off, and whenever I fought to shake it off, something new triggered the next breakdown. A lifetime of lies had officially caught up with me, and I didn’t know what to do.
Wiping at my cheeks, I tossed my phone on the new bed that was delivered the other day. Aurora was wondering why I wasn’t home. She'd called the house to talk to her parents, like kids did here and there, and Lissa had to tell her to reach me on my cell.
Lissa herself was wondering how I was doing, and I lied.
Brady was undoubtedly next.
Everything was spinning out of control, and there was no solution for it as long as I remained a spineless coward.
In the afternoon, I drove over to Ponderosa and saw my therapist. I lied to her, too. I wanted—with all my damn heart—for my lies to be true. I ached for things to look up and get better. The more I spoke, the more I willed myself for it to be real.
It'd been good in theory: get away and pick myself up off the ground. Force myself to function. Except, I fucking couldn’t.
"You're sure it's working for you, William?" my therapist asked, tilting her head.
I nodded slowly, drumming my fingers along the armrest. "I think it will in the long run." Peering out the window, I saw the school where I worked. Right across the street, children were running around with teachers and assistants. Summer school was often all they had, parents working as usual. There was no summer break for adults.
"How long do you see yourself staying at the cabin?" she asked. "We've spoken before about taking it easy with making permanent plans."
I watched a little boy, Andy, kick a basketball out of his way. One of my coworkers demonstrated how he could throw it instead.
"Kelly moves in at the end of August," I answered absently.
"I thought you'd rented it?"
Screeching halt.
I was forgetting what I told to whom. I'd told Lissa a half-truth, that I was reconnecting with an old friend who'd moved back to Camassia. It was part of my baby-step process of coming clean. Tidbit by tidbit.
It wasn’t working.
I rubbed my forehead, another headache settling in. "I'm renting it from him—an old friend."
She flipped through her notepad. "You haven't mentioned a Kelly before." She traced a pen down a page, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she was going through the list of people in my life. "Will you tell me about him?"
Please, no.
"We went to school together." My gaze slid back to her, and I hiked up a foot to rest it on my knee. I wanted to get away. I saw this woman often enough when we worked together. She knew things. "He recently moved back." I lifted a shoulder in a shrug.
She studied me. "Were you close?"
"Fairly." I forced another casual gesture. "You know how it goes, people drift apart with distance. We went separate ways for college."
She nodded at that. "Understandable."
There was a long pause, and I eyed the clock. Another ten minutes. It was time to wrap this up so I could get back to Westslope. It was Friday, meaning Kelly would be at the cabin tomorrow for his weekend off, and I hadn't lifted a goddamn finger.
I'd spent my days bawling, feeling sorry for myself, sleeping, and watching movies on my tablet.
"What triggered this change for you, William?"
"What do you mean?"
She paused and put away her notepad. "You've told me of Alex and his brothers when we discussed your struggles with guilt. They've tried to help you, remember? In turn, you feel bad because you don’t have the strength to be helped."
I nodded hesitantly.
She went on. "From our last session two weeks ago, a lot has changed. There's a new friend in your life, from whom you're renting a cabin. You say you were 'fairly' close, yes? But he seems to have made a bigger impact on you than, say, Alex and Jack Grady." There was something she held back, I could feel it. She decided to drop the bomb. "I happen to know your son's full name, so I admit I'm curious about this Kelly."
I swallowed, wondering if this was how it felt when your world came crashing down like a house of cards.
I'd lied myself into a corner.
"Most of the time, you're very reluctant to speak of your childhood," she noted, concerned. "Unfortunately, much of this will be wasted if you're unwilling to open up about the root cause of your depression, William."
My fingers drummed faster, and I tensed my jaw, staring unseeingly at her. I knew she suspected there was something from my youth I didn’t want to bring up, though she'd been a good sport of helping me with the material I gave her.
She looked through her notes. "It's been about five weeks since you took a leave of absence. Have you noticed any difference at all, or should we try to increase your medication?"
I shrugged, then shook my head.
I couldn’t get out of this anymore. My family deserved to know, and there was the constant pressure of knowing Brady and Matthew were becoming friends. Sooner rather than later, my son was going to have questions. At this point, it wasn’t a matter of if they learned the truth. It was when, and it was up to me to decide how Lissa was going to find out.
"I have to speak to my wife." I cleared my throat as it closed up, and I blinked back the burn.
I felt like the biggest fool. How the hell did I let something so small and insignificant grow to become catastrophic?
"I'd say that’s a very good idea," she agreed. "You know you can call me day or night, but I fear there is little I can do until you tell me what's wrong. The true cause." She pursed her lips, a
n ounce of mirth easing the tension. "This might be one of those 'The truth shall set you free' moments."
I was too anxious to muster a wry grin, though I had energy for a quip. "I'm afraid my memory's rusty where the Book of John is concerned."
"Ah, but you know that one." She smiled and checked the time. "I hope I'll see you next week?"
I nodded and stood up, terrified. "I promised Lissa I'd go every week."
I also promised her the day we married to be true to her.
*
Three hours later, I threw four rags out onto the porch of the cabin. The fabric used to be white. After dusting and wiping off every surface, the rags were a mix of brown and black. Two garbage bags with trash followed, and I took them out back before ducking inside again.
I'd contemplated taking a Valium or Xanax after my session, though then I knew I wouldn’t get much done. Luckily—if one could call it that—my anxiety and internal fretting prevented me from crying and falling apart. I kept thinking about how I would soon put my family's future in jeopardy. I cleaned on autopilot, then moved on to fix the cupboards in the kitchen.
A migraine slammed me back into the present, making me realize I was straining my eyes to see what I was doing. The sun was setting behind the mountains, so I switched on a lamp and took a painkiller.
The floor was next, and I tackled it with a lousy old vacuum.
What would hurt my wife the most? The fact that I'd taken something insignificant and hidden it until it threatened our marriage, or that I'd buried a part of who I was? What would our children say? I pictured Brady being angry. Aurora would be sad.
I was pretty much finished with the downstairs when the vacuum cleaner stopped working because the dust bag was full. I threw it out and got down on my knees to cover the last bit of the entryway by hand.
Sweat beaded around my face and hairline, which I didn’t notice until a drop stung my eye. I wiped my forehead with my arm, sitting back on my heels to survey the cabin.
It was spotless. I'd accomplished something today, and I was proud for about five minutes. I was smiling to myself, despite my life being in shambles. I did this. Most of the interior needed either a good polish or a paint job, but it was clean. I did this.