AU, Brittana. Suffering from writer's block, novelist Brittany S. Pierce retreats to her family's waterside cottage, living in seclusion, searching for a muse. Upon meeting her temporary neighbors, she gets that and so much more.
I do not own any rights to Glee.
"You sure you're going to be fine here?" her father asked for what had to be the hundredth time. Brittany sighed.
"Yes. I have Lord T to keep me company if I get too lonely."
The cat in question was already inside the cabin, with the rest of her two large bags, a bucket, and meager amounts of groceries that would last her for at least a few days until she could get settled.
"You're positive?"
With a roll of her eyes, Brittany couldn't contain her grin.
"I'll be fine dad," she waved the satellite phone. The cabin was secluded, she was surprised it even got electricity. Thankfully it was located at the narrower spot of the rather smooth flowing river, so the power line had been run across from the opposite, more populated side, by a pole at either shore. In case of an outage, there was a generator, which could hold enough fuel to last for most of two nights, and an extra canister of fuel for it. There was no cable or internet - the satellite phone would be her only connection to the outside world if she didn't go into town.
"Okay honey. Remember, your grandparents are just a half hour away if you need anything."
"I know dad. I promise I'll be fine," the blonde insisted, ushering her father into the car.
"The caretaker will be by to check in once a month," he reminded her yet again, as he allowed her to push him to the 4x4 that he had followed her in.
"I know dad. Drive safe!"
She shut the door on him before he could reply. The car started when he rolled down the window.
"The emergency numbers are posted on the fridge. Mr Billings said there's more wood under the house, but there's enough inside and on the porch to last you for a few weeks. Altogether he said there's enough to last you all winter if you're still around for it."
"Okay dad. I got it."
"And be sure to call regularly. You mother is expecting to hear from you at least once a week."
"Okay."
"And if you nee-"
"DAD! I'm okay. I got everything. I remember. We're good. You're good. I'm good. Go home. You have a long drive."
The blonde man leaned out the window, placing a kiss onto her forehead.
"Take care of yourself sweetie."
"I will dad. I promise."
Finally, she thought, as he rolled up the window, and put the car into reverse. He cut the wheel as he backed up - most of the yard was dirt anyways, so it was fair game for driving on. Once angled properly, he put it into drive, waving once more at his youngest daughter before driving back down the single lane road that wove through the woods and away from the house. After about a mile of following it, it would cross the river on a narrow bridge that would fit two cars without much space left over. He would then be out of the insanely long 'driveway' and onto the main road. The bridge only lead to one place - straight to the cabin in which she was now residing. Brittany took in a deep breath of forest air, tilting her head back to look at the early afternoon sky.
There was hardly a cloud in sight, as the sun beat warmly down into her clearing. She spun in a slow circle, taking in the long forgotten image of her childhood.
There was a short dock that lead out into the river, about thirty feet from the left side of the cabin. The cabin was two and three-quarter levels tall, the bottom being strictly a storage unit. She walked to the right side of the cabin, to where a heavy, sliding wood door was secured by a hatch. Unlatching it, she put her weight into the push, slowly moving the door along it's frame. A string dangled from the loan ceiling strip light. The entry way was wide enough to fit the small, single cab pickup truck through, though it could house two cars comfortably. The truck was on loan from her grandfather, who had insisted that she would find more use for it out in the woods than he would at his lakefront house in town. In return, she had left her small sedan behind for him and her grandmother to use.
There was a kayak perched on two wooden stilts, as well as safety gear for it, and a metal cabinet that was undoubtedly filled with yard stuff. The back wall, furthest from the door, was stacked with several rows of wood, from ground to top. Another locked area held the generator and the hot water heater, electric of course. The water was drawn, filtered, from a well.
With a sigh, Brittany got into the truck, starting it before backing it under the house. Done she unloaded the five gallon gas canister from the back, as well as the couple of yard chairs and a cover that she had left in the bed. Putting the gas canister on the floor, she gathered the cover and proceeded to go out and toss the canvas, secured with bungee cords, over her newly road-adapted dirt bike, what would be her primary use of transportation for the rest of the nice months. She unpacked her riding gear into the cabinet before sliding the door shut, securing it once again.
From this vantage point of the house, she was facing a large tree that she remembered climbing with her sister when she was younger. A hammock hung from the lower most branches, a couple feet away from a fire pit, which had a metal grate over it that they had always used for barbequing. A picnic table sat at the side, and the blonde didn't have to look to see all of the drawings that Kelly and herself had carved into the wood as children. There was a small pile of wood, covered by a brown tarp, under the protection of the tree, designated specifically for the fire pit.
She briefly entertained the idea of relaxing for a bit before shaking her head.
Still had to unpack.
With that in mind, she made her way to the wide staircase, which brought her up to the screened in porch of the first level. True to her dad's word, to the left side of the porch was several more rows of cut and split wood, with a laundry string zigzagging above it. On the right a rocking chair and a small side table. A radio, which got all of three stations, sat on the table. She let herself into the porch, latching the door before letting herself into the cabin.
It was smaller than she remembered, though considering she hadn't been here in a few years that didn't really surprise her. To the left was a kitchen area - a vintage refrigerator that was just shorter than her. It had two shelves and a section for the freezer inside the actual fridge. Next to it was a space of counter top, three cabinets underneath and three on top. A toaster oven was the only thing that sat there. Beside the counter was a deep, basin like sink, with a window above it, looking out over the fire pit and tree. Next to the sink, in the corner, was the bathroom - with simply a toilet and a stand up, corner shower. The accordion door didn't offer too much privacy, but seeing as it was only her here, she didn't particularly care.
Next to the bathroom, on the wall opposite of the door, was a small wood stove, that was both the cabin's heater and the actual oven/stove top. It was big enough for two burners - on one of which was a silver kettle. A couple feet from the wood stove was a futon - she recalled the summers and vacations that her and her sister would spend sharing the bed. Lord Tubbington had already made himself comfortable there. Along the left wall ran a chest of linens and blankets, as well as what she was sure to be at least one emergency kit, though fresh candles were strategically placed around the one large room tastefully.
Though without cable, there was a flat screened television, on top a small entertainment system, that had a DVD player and an old Nintendo that she had to wonder if it still worked. She remembered crying when she was little because her sister would use the gun to kill the ducks on screen. With a shake of her head at the memory, she was glad she had remembered her CD case, already foreseeing the endless hours that would be wasted as she watched box-sets and movies that she had already seen hundreds of times before.
Behind the TV, opening facing her, was a spiral staircase. She managed to lug her bags up together, a feat given their sizes. The loft bedroom was small, big enough for a low-set queen sized bed, and an equally low, six-drawer dresser that ran the rest of the length of the half wall. An alarm clock and lamp were at the end next to the bed, and there was enough space on top to put her personal manuscripts of her already published books, her personal journal, as well as a binder of paper, notes, ideas, anything that could help break her cursed writers block. Next to it all she laid out her laptop, iPod, docking station, and chargers, prepared to be whisked away to the first level of the cabin.
The roof started to slant at either the front and back of the house at about four feet from the loft's floor, coming to a peak at the halfway mark. Opposite of the dresser was a large window that gave her the perfect view of her dock, the dock on the opposite side of the river, and the large stone cottage beyond. The curtain that she pulled to cover the window was burgundy colored - sheer enough to let in a comforting amount of light, but opaque enough to keep out the glare as well as intruding eyes. Not that she was concerned, once again. She set about unpacking her clothes, filling the six drawers neatly, before stashing her newly flattened bags under the bed, heading down to the bathroom with her toiletries. She put her soaps in the shower, hanging a towel on part of the fold door that jutted out, and her toothbrush, and toothpaste on the window ledge behind the sink. Beneath the sink she put the few cleaning supplies she had brought, to include laundry soap and a scrub brush.
She mentally sighed at the thought of having to do laundry by hand. On the upside it meant she wouldn't have to worry about breaking another washer or dryer, which she was all too prone to. She unpacked the few groceries, sorting out the handful of dishes and utensils that were already present, before returning to the loft, to make up her bed.
By the time she was done, the sun was a little lower in the sky, and she briefly stepped out onto the porch, to once again breathe in the natural air. In the middle of the front yard, just beyond the stair case, was a large flood light, when the switch was on, it was motion activated. It was bright enough, when lit, to illuminate the waterfront, the front yard, as well as the area near the fire pit. With a sigh she returned to the house, closing the heavy door behind her before crossing the room, sinking onto the futon, ignoring the irritating flick of Lord Tubbington's tail.
"Well Tubbs, this is our home for the next few months," she informed her companion, who accepted her unspoken apology with a purr.