She thought of her email to Karen and imagined her reading it. She would be upset that she had no way to reach her. Abby was probably one of the last people in the country not to have a cellphone, unheard of in her business. But she had never felt the need to be constantly connected to the world, and less so now.
Karen had no idea that just seeing her and Pete together made her feel resentful. Seeing them with their boys brought bitterness that shamed her because she loved Karen with all her heart. And Pete was the best. She loved her nephews who were replicas of their dad, right down to the red hair and freckles. No, Karen would have no idea. She would be devastated if she knew.
‘You have to move on,’ her sister had pleaded with her. ‘You have to carve out a different life now. Start a new novel, Abby.’
She would give it a try. Abby had packed a stack of school scribblers in her suitcase. Just in case. Maybe she would get an idea. Since the cabin had no electricity, having no TV to watch or internet to surf (not that she’d done much surfing lately) she might be inspired enough to come up with something. Her other option would still be there, in her purse.
The rain had let up and she turned off the wipers.
There it was. Relief washed through her. The sign was weather beaten, fading, but still legible. Loon Lake. 1.4 km. “It’s our secret hideout,” Corey had said, wrapping his arms around her, and giving her that sexy sweet smile of his. “We won’t tell anyone where it is.”
And they didn’t. Something she would come to regret in the days ahead.
Soon, she caught a glimmer of green water through the trees, and a short distance further on she saw her road, which was not much more than a path really, with the arrow pointing left up toward the cabin.
And then she was there. Her heart was beating hard as if it too was grasping for some — some kind of — possibility. Putting the car in park, she turned off the ignition and sat listening to the ticking of the motor cooling as she stared at the cabin.
It was just as she remembered. A cedar log cabin, darkened with the years, the wrap-around porch. Steps leading up to the front door.
Last summer had been such a magical time. Ellie caught her first fish, a speckled trout. Abby could still hear her squeals of delight. And then Ellie had felt bad for the fish and made her dad throw it back in the water. So like her.
Abby Miller had known who she was then. Beloved wife, mother, successful author. Life was good. The log cabin had been part of that good life.
The wood Corey had chopped was still stacked beside the left wall of the cabin. She knew there would be wood inside too, piled beside the fireplace, if no one else had taken it for themselves.
Water came from the old pump situated a few yards to the right of the cabin. Ellie had thought the pump was neat until she’d exhausted herself priming it, getting those spurts and trickles before the water began to flow freely. The outhouse was out back. They had intended to put in plumbing at some point, but Corey died before they got around to it. Inside, were two antique kerosene lamps they’d picked up at a garage sale, and candles.
Getting out of the car, she made her way up to the cabin, skirting puddles as she went. Her Nikes were silent on the wooden steps.
Two wicker chairs sat on the porch where she’d left them, the small table between. She’d taken the cushions inside. After Ellie was asleep they would sit out here with their glasses of wine and talk, or just sit companionably and listen to the crickets’ song, and beyond, the water lapping against the shore. Later, they would make quiet love in their room.
She fished the key from her pocket and was about to let herself into the cabin when she heard something snap behind her.
It had sounded like someone stepping on a dry twig or branch hidden beneath wet leaves. She peered through the pines and alders and birches where the path led down to the lake, but saw no one. Probably a deer, or some other poor sodden creature foraging for food. This had once been a hunting camp before they bought it.
The rain was gathering new strength, drumming on the porch roof and gushing from the downspout like a river, into the rain barrel. She stood a few seconds longer on the porch, then unlocked the door and went inside.
Chapter 3
Abby wasn’t wrong about Karen being upset by her brief, unsatisfactory email, which said only that she had an idea for a novel and was going away for a little while to work on it. Karen didn’t buy it for a minute, considering how depressed Abby was when she dropped in on her just two days ago. She didn’t mention any novel, which she would have if it were true. When Abby was stoked to begin a new novel, she would be excited. She would be both anxious that she couldn’t pull it off, (which she always did) and pumped with the ideas that flooded her mind. No, she wasn’t writing any novel. No way in hell was she writing a novel. So what was going on? Where was she? Her email didn’t offer any clue. And what did a little while mean?
“Hey girl, ready for coffee?” Pete Rawling said cheerfully, entering the dining room, carrying two steaming mugs, the rich aroma permeating the air. He slid his wife’s coffee mug, with its Queen of Karaoke painted on it, under a coaster. She’d won it at the club for her rendition of At Last. She was no Etta James, but she was still damn good, in his opinion. She was as creative as Abby, in her own way. As it was, she earned decent money as a hair stylist out of her own parlour in the basement, which was part of the reason they’d bought this place. She kept the business relatively small and exclusive, hiring only one girl to help out. Pete did okay so she didn’t have to kill herself.
“Hey, smells great,” she said, turning to give him a thin smile.
“What’s up, honey?” he asked, peering over her shoulder at the open laptop. “You look worried.” He planted a light kiss on the nape of her neck, just above the collar of her blue plaid robe. She absently fussed with a strand of her honey blond hair as she read Abby’s email to him.
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Means she’s moving forward, getting on with her life.”
She looked at him over her shoulder. “No Pete, that’s not what it means at all. That’s what she wants me to think it means. But I know better. I know my sister. She’s been a walking zombie for months now. A big part of her died when Corey and Ellie did. You’re right; I am worried about her.”
“You’re thinking she might do something — to harm herself?”
“I don’t know.”
He drew up a chair beside her, the legs whispering over the tweed carpeting. “She wouldn’t, Karen. Abby’s stronger than that.”
She didn’t answer. Could only swallow back her fear.
“Honey, it’s only been six months. It’ll take time, you know that. Not that she’ll ever get over it. Who could? She probably needed a change of scene.” Not so surprising, he thought. “Maybe she needed to get away from all the well-meaning advice, the pitying looks. She’ll — be okay.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I do. She didn’t say where she was going?”
“No. She has to be staying at a hotel though. We don’t have any relatives living out of town. Even if we did, Abby isn’t the sort to visit her problems on anyone else. You know what she’s like, Pete. So damned independent.”
“What about that cabin they bought a couple of years back. Would she go there?”
“I don’t even know where it is,” she said with a note of bitterness. “But no. I can’t imagine. Not by herself. Abby’s a city girl. Corey was the one who was the outdoors type. Damn! I can’t even call her on her cell phone because she doesn’t have one. She’s always resisted having a cell phone, which I think is so ridiculous in this day and age.” She sipped her coffee. “It’s good, Pete. Thanks.”
She reread the last part of Abby’s email aloud. “I don’t have my laptop with me. I sent this before I left. So I won’t get your reply till I get home. Love you. Abby. xxoo.”
Pete knew he was treading in dangerous waters here, but he ventured anyway. “I’m sorry, honey. I know how mu
ch you care about Abby. But she’s a big girl. She’s got a right to go off by herself if she wants to. She’ll call you soon, or email you again when she gets somewhere where there’s a computer. Give her a little time.”
In Pete’s private opinion, it was Abby’s choice to be unconnected if she wanted to be. “I wish I could stay and talk some more about this, but I’ve got to get to work.” He gave her a quick kiss and was out the door.
Pete was a computer technician with an Electronics firm downtown. He knew he was no Brad Pitt but he had a round, pleasant face, red hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks which he’d passed on to his sons. He liked to think he was a decent guy, definitely a born peacemaker who adored his wife and really did wish he could stay and talk, sort of. But the truth was, he couldn’t even offer any good suggestions on the matter. Abby was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. It wasn’t like she’d gone missing. As far as Pete could see, her going off for a while wasn’t anything to panic about. As he’d told Karen, needing a change of scenery was not so hard to understand. And maybe she really was working on a new novel and just didn’t feel like sharing its fragile beginnings with anyone. Even Karen.
He knew better than to argue about it, though. When Karen was in this frame of mind, there was no getting through. She wouldn’t be reassured, and he could end up sleeping on the sofa. Though Abby was five years older than Karen, you’d have thought Karen was the older sister, she was so protective. And maybe just a little opinionated. Karen always knew best. Abby didn’t seem to mind; it sort of rolled off her, and she’d just smile. And Pete, unlike a lot of men, kind of liked his wife’s take-charge attitude. Most of the time, anyway.
It was drizzling, promising more rain later on. Pete slid into the driver’s seat of his van and checked his rear view mirror. Seeing no traffic, he switched on the wipers and backed out onto the road.
Abby was a different kettle of fish, he thought. Both were lookers, brunettes (although Karen had been blonde for years now) but bore only a slight resemblance to one another. Karen complained that she needed to lose ten pounds, but she looked just fine to Pete. Better than fine. Abby was taller, thinner-lipped, higher cheekbones, and she must have dropped twenty pounds since the accident. The dark circles under her eyes didn’t help. Their personalities were different too. Abby lived inside her head, not that she couldn’t be fun to be around, at least before the accident, but no matter how attentive she might be, you always had a sense that her mind was elsewhere. Maybe it was just that way with writers.
He thought about the cabin. When he asked Corey where it was, his brother-in-law had told him it was his and Abby’s secret hideaway and gave him a mysterious smile. Pete remembered feeling a little ticked off at the time and told him he wasn’t asking so that he and Karen could use it — although admittedly the thought had crossed his mind — he was just curious. “I know that, Pete,” Corey had assured him, patting his shoulder. But he still didn’t tell him where it was. Just that it was a fairy tale cabin in the woods, beside a lake.
If I were a writer like Abby, he thought, it might be the very place I would go. Pete braked as the light turned red and a blind man with exaggerated straight posture crossed in front of him, tapping along the pavement with his white cane. The light turned green and he drove on, the theme continuing in his head. But then he wouldn’t be a writer, he concluded, because they spent too much time on their own for his liking. He supposed you had to not mind being alone, especially if you wanted to write books. Personally, Pete liked being around people. He liked noise and music and stuff going on. He liked coaching little league, and karaoke night at Rooney’s pub. In fact, there was a neighborhood party tomorrow night he was looking forward to. It would do Karen good too, take her mind off Abby.
Yeah, be probably wouldn’t fare too well in a cabin in the woods. And neither would his wife. A few days, fine, but that would be it. He thought Karen might be projecting her own tastes onto Abby. But he understood her concern. Since the accident that took her husband and daughter, Abby truly was like someone wandering among the ruins of a bomb blast. He could only imagine what she was going through. If anything happened to Karen or the boys, he didn’t know what he would do. He felt sick just thinking about it.
Waiting at the red light, Pete didn’t notice the Wanted flyer fluttering wetly on the utility pole in front of Lau’s Chinese restaurant.
Chapter 4
The cabin smelled of damp cedar and stale air. It was chilly and unwelcoming. Leaving her coat on, Abby swept away cobwebs and dried husks of insects that had accumulated in corners and on windowsills, over many months. To be expected, she supposed. She ran out to the car and retrieved the two bags of groceries she’d bought with her and set them down on the counter, dropped the car keys beside them. Shaking the rain from her raincoat, she draped it over a chair. It was really coming down out there. She needed a coffee first and then she’d wash up. She felt grubby.
She set about making a fire in the fireplace to chase away the dampness. Crumbling up some newspapers, she placed them strategically on the hearth, then laid on a few sticks of kindling. As she was about to strike a match, lightning flashed in the window, spotlighting Corey’s old red plaid jacket hanging by the door. At the sight of it, her hand shook and the flame went out. She lit another and touched it to the newspaper. Soon, the fire crackled and snapped, the flames leaping to life. She placed a good-sized chunk of wood on top and watched as the fire blazed and began to devour it.
Satisfied the fire wouldn’t go out, she put her raincoat back on and drew up the hood. You can’t have coffee without water. She stood at the door for a moment, the jacket calling to her. Almost unaware that she’d moved, she buried her face in the soft flannel. Corey’s scent lingered faintly in the fabric, and she closed her eyes and pretended it was him. That he’d come back to her. And for a moment was comforted. A familiar ritual. Sometimes Corey came to her in dreams. She would reach out for him in the night only to feel the empty space where he had lain, and wake with her pillow damp with tears. She could almost smell him, feel the warm contours of his body under her hands.
A hard rap on the door shattered the moment. She hung the jacket back on the nail, as she stared at the door. Who could it be? Had Karen somehow tracked her down? But that was ridiculous. She had no idea where this place was. Then, if not Karen, who? Who else would be out there in the middle of a downpour?
Only one way to find out. She opened the door, more annoyed at the intrusion than afraid. Only mildly curious.
The man standing in her doorway was tall and rain-soaked, wet black hair dripping down his face, shirt plastered to his body. He looked apologetic, his manner almost boyish. “Sorry, ma’am. My car broke down a ways back. The smoke from your chimney brought me to your door. I wondered if you wouldn’t mind calling me a tow-truck.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have a phone.”
“Oh. Well, my bad luck. Seems to be my day for it. I’m sorry to have bothered you, ma’am.” He started to turn away and she was about to close the door, then had a change of heart. “Come inside until the rain stops,” she said resignedly. “You can dry out by the fire.”
“Oh, no, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to put you out. I’ll just...”
“You’ll catch your death,” she said, sounding like granny Mina. “It’s okay. You can be on your way as soon as the rain lets up, like I said.” Abby could see a patch of blue along the horizon. “It should ease off soon. And right now you’re letting the rain inside.”
“Oh, sorry. Well, all right, then if you’re sure you don’t mind.” He stepped across the threshold into the room. “Thank you. You were just going to get water when I intruded, weren’t you. I saw the pump outside. Please, let me.” He extended his hand toward the kettle which she’d almost forgotten she was holding.
“No, there’s no need. I can...”
“Please. I’m already wet through, can’t get much wetter.” He gave a soft chuck
le. “It’s the least I can do.” He relieved her of the heavy, cast-iron kettle. “I’ll just be a minute,” he said.
She nodded but said nothing. When the door closed behind him, she shrugged out of her coat and stoked the fire, added more wood.
The cabin, consisting of a kitchen, living room and two smaller rooms for sleeping, was already warming up, banishing the dampness, the musty smell giving way to the welcoming scent and sounds of a wood fire.
The man returned shortly with the filled kettle and hung it on the bar, which he then swung over the fire. He was not a stranger to camp-style living. He looked like he’d been in swimming. She felt herself softening a little toward him and gave him a towel to dry off on.
“Thanks.” He stood by the fire blotting his hair and face. When he finished, he handed her back the towel which she spread over the rack beside the fireplace. She saw him glance at Corey’s jacket hanging on the wall. “Hubby be back soon?”
She hesitated. Felt a cool niggling of something unpleasant just under her breastbone. “Yes. He went out to get groceries. He’ll be back any time now.” She immediately envisioned the bags of groceries sitting on the counter, the car keys beside them.
“Didn’t take the car, eh?”
“He has his truck.”
“Well, I hope it’s more reliable than my old Ford half-ton. Of course it’s ten years old.” He smiled. And for an instant the boyish shyness in the smile was gone.
She picked up the two mugs of coffee from the counter and handed him one. “This will warm you. I hope black is okay. I haven’t had time to unpack...”
“...the groceries,” he finished. “Right. This is great. Fine. Thank you.”
She looked toward the window. The rain, which a moment before had beat steadily against the window had subsided to a gentle, intermittent tapping. “Seems to have stopped pretty much,” she said. “You can drink your coffee and be on your way. I’m sorry I don’t have a phone you could use.” Karen was forever at her to get a cellphone. Maybe she should have listened. Corey always had his cellphone with him, had it when they were last here, so she hadn’t had to think about it then.
The Deepest Dark Page 2