Chapter 53
Kid
When I wake up this morning, it takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. The momentary confusion ain't a novelty. I haven't stayed in a single place for long in years, and many mornings I've opened my eyes to a brand new day, briefly wondering where on earth I was. Today when my senses gradually warm up, I realize I'm in Rachel's guest room and a spontaneous smile comes to my lips. That should count as a good sign, shouldn't it?
Later when I make my way downstairs, my stomach grumbles as soon as the aroma of eggs, bacon and coffee greets my nostrils. This really smells like home, and maybe Buck was right about the magic effects of Rachel's cooking in my desires and moods.
"Good morning," I exclaim as I step into the kitchen.
"Morning, Kid," Rachel smiles, standing by the range where she's surrounded by smoking pans and pots. I notice a man sitting at the table, and when Rachel realizes where my eyes are, she adds, "Ben came back this morning, just in time for breakfast. Simply typical!"
"How could I keep away from my two girls and your cooking, woman?"
I know Ben's her husband, and I right away shake hands with him. "It's a real pleasure to finally meet you."
"Same here. I've heard so much about you," Ben replies with a wide smile. He ain't much older than Rachel, quite tall and slender, and something in his smiling expression lets me know that he's the honest, good fella Rachel has been raving on in her very long letters. "And please take a seat and join us."
"Thanks," I reply gratefully. Their two-year-old is in her father's lap and toying with a piece of bread which she's tearing into very tiny crumbs. "And good morning to you too, sweet Amy," I say, ruffling the girl's mop of hair, as blond as both her parents'.
The child doesn't pay any attention to me and continues mesmerized by the chunk of bread she's quartering. "Amy, remember, honey? We don't play with food," Rachel lightly admonishes her daughter from the stove, and when the girl ignores her, she addresses her husband, "Ben, please, take that bread from her."
"Why? What's the big deal?"
"Can't you see the mess she's making?" Rachel retorts to her husband's words. "There are crumbs all over the floor."
"So what? It keeps her entertained, and for once I can enjoy a meal without having to run after her."
"But you won't be the one to clean the kitchen afterwards," Rachel protests again.
Ben sighs and rolls his eyes. "If it bothers you so much, I'll sweep the floor for you later."
"Yeah, sure," Rachel lets out sarcastically as for some reason she doesn't seem to believe her husband's words.
Ben casts a coy look in my direction and grins. "Let me give you a piece of advice, Kid. Never get married. Ever."
"Ben!" Rachel exclaims, spinning around and armed with a skimmer which for a moment I fear she's ready to throw at her husband. "That's not a nice thing to say."
"Honey, you know I love you to bits, and I've never been happier. It was just a joke," Ben rectifies his previous comment, putting on all his charm and smiling enticingly. Yet, once Rachel turns to her cooking again, he winks again and whispers, "Just heed me. Don't get married, my friend."
Naturally Rachel has heard him, and I can see she's trying to hide her amused smile. I guess this is normal bickering between husband and wife. It's refreshing to see them, but at the same time, I feel quite sad and bitter all of a sudden. "Don't worry, Ben. I have no plans for marriage any time in the future," I mutter, but refrain from adding 'unfortunately'. Rachel's eyes instantly turn to mine as she realizes what kind of memories her husband's remark has aroused in me. I look away, unable to hold her gaze, and lower my eyes to the cup of coffee before me.
Thankfully, Ben is a chatterbox, who alternates from teasing and chatting with his wife, dropping a few comments to his daughter, and asking me dozens of questions. At least, I don't have to make an effort to keep the conversation going. I've never been much of a conversationalist, and I think that my past experiences in life and during the war have turned me into a more taciturn man. So I'm glad Ben is such a great talker. Naturally, I imagine he couldn't be any other way, considering the job he has. I wouldn't go as far as compare him to a charlatan, but it's true that salesmen are expected to charm their way into people's minds and pockets, ain't they?
After breakfast, I venture outside and decide to explore. My feet lead me to the stables where I know will find a reason to lift my spirits, and once inside, I walk straight to the stall I used to spend many hours years ago. Lo and behold; there she is. My loyal mare. Katy.
"Hey, girl, do you remember me?" I say, stopping before the stall. Katy pokes her head out, and as I stroke her face, she shakes her head and her muzzle sniffs my hand as if looking for the treat I used to bring her every day, which causes my lips to smile. "Of course you remember me, but I'm afraid I don't have anything for you today, my girl." Katy snorts as if she were replying to my words with a clear protest. "I think we could go for a short ride for old times' sake, uh?"
My words are followed by a loud thump coming from the adjacent stall, and a familiar head pops out of it. "Look who's here, Katy! It's Lightning!" I move and reach out to stroke the mare's black, soft coat. "How have you been, girl? Missing Lou, huh?" My smile vanishes as I mutter, "Of course you miss her… almost as much as I do, don't you?" And I know I don't need an answer to my question.
The air fills my lungs and a sensation of total freedom involves me as I ride across the roads, paths, and scenery that I used to know like the back of my hand years ago. It's comforting to feel the familiarity of the surroundings, and the soothing warmth emanating from Lightning brings about a real sensation of peace I haven't experienced in a long time.
When I was in the stables and saw Lou's mare, I had a sudden revelation. However much I wanted to ride Katy, I couldn't shed the urge within me to take Lou's mare instead. Being close to the horse Lou loved so much is a bit like being closer to her and her memory. I wonder, though, if this is really such a good idea. Should I encourage myself to pursue this path? After all these years, anybody could tell me it makes no sense to linger on memories that I know hurt me, but how… how can I forget and bury her forever? Since the moment I arrived in Rock Creek, her presence in my thoughts has been constant. Everywhere I look reminds me of her, and to be honest, I don't want to drown those memories. I know she'll always live within me, and I like it that way.
I hadn't planned where to head on my ride, but soon I'm guiding Lightning in the only direction that I long to go. The horse has no problem negotiating the rocky terrain and keeps a steady pace along, the difficult, narrow paths we ride along. Soon we stand in the middle of the yard where I last saw Lou. That wasn't the last time I found myself in the place. During the long months of searching for her, I came here almost every day, hoping and praying that even if she didn't return, I could find something that could lead me to her whereabouts, but it's obvious that didn't happen.
I study the place as I sit on top of Lightning. The cabin has evidently suffered the effects of the merciless passing time. A few shingles of the roof are gone, and the verandah on the porch has also lost some posts. The yard is covered in an overgrowth of bushes and wild plants, and I can't even make out the fields Lou once told me she and her father used to work for their sustenance. Apparently, nobody has been here in years. However, my heart feels a very strong force as if the place weren't as empty as I know it is.
I ease down the mare and march towards the cabin. A detritus of rotten leaves and loose branches that I have to wade through blocks the door, and when I try to open it, I realize it's stuck, and however much I push and turn the knob, it won't move. Naturally, now that I'm here, nothing will put me off. So I charge against the door with all my strength several times until it finally cracks open. The sight I'm welcomed by when I step inside also shows very evident signs of decay and years of neglect. The shingles that I noticed were missing have let the rain in without restraint, and there's a layer of thick mud all over the floor, and the wind has also made its contribution by dragging leaves and shrubbery in, and I can even spot small rocks which I ain't sure how they have made their way inside.
I remember how aghast Lou had been the fateful day we decided to check the cabin and found that the rain which had caused floods in the city had managed to sneak inside her home. If she could see the state of the cabin now, she would be appalled. Lou still felt very strongly for these four walls despite having moved out many months before. If only we hadn't come here that day! Lou might be with me now. I've thought about that possibility many times over the years, and I've always reached the same conclusion. Considering what-ifs doesn't help but just leaves me with a real bitter taste, so it makes no sense to paint scenarios in my imagination that won't change the reality at all.
A sudden noise snaps me out of my thoughts, and my heart skips a beat. Illogically, my mind jumps to an impossible conclusion. Without stopping to think, I rush in the direction the noise came from. "Lou! Lou!" I call aloud, and in my eagerness I stumble and fall twice in the impossible terrain the floor has become. I keep calling her name, and when I reach the corridor, I stop in disappointment as I see a cat scurrying away. Of course it's a cat. What did I expect?
As I retrace my steps, my eyes fall on the shut door to Lou's bedroom. Without the slightest hesitation, I turn the knob and push the door open. I take a few wary steps inside, feeling as if I were trespassing into a revering place. Unlike the living room, the weather and time seem to have respected her personal dominion. A shudder shakes my body when I see the bed on which we slept together that last, fateful night. It is exactly in the same condition I left it when I woke to the shouts of Lou and her father. The bedding is crumpled and in a jumble, and the formerly white sheets have turned into a yellowish hue, reminding me it wasn't yesterday I slept between them.
With a sigh I sink on the bed, and my hand moves all over the mattress, caressing its crinkles, hoping against hope to capture some forgotten trace of her warmth, her smell, or any part of her. Yet, it's so cold as if she had never been here. But we were! We were! I want to shout and claim to heaven. We almost made love that night. Sometimes I wish we hadn't stopped, and I'd now have another memory, and not just any memory, but the feel of her soul permeating into the deepest part of my being, and wherever she is, she could have a part of me with her as well. Other times, though, I think that wouldn't have changed anything, and I'd feel as wretched, if not more.
I shift my eyes from the bed as I hear the creak of the door moving. This house is a draughty hole now, and the air sneaks through every discreet and indiscreet crack. As the door closes, my heart starts beating at top speed when I catch sight of something unexpected. There hanging from a peg on the back of the door, there's a jacket. Lou's jacket. How on earth did I miss it in all the times I came here after she went missing?
I jump to my feet and grab the jacket almost in despair. I bury my face in the material, once again hoping I can feel her essence, but there's nothing left, only a whiff of dampness. Time has erased her, except from my mind, and yes, my heart. I check the pockets, and when I only find a few nickels and a yellowish, creased piece of paper on which in fading ink there is a shopping list in Rachel's hand, my face falls in disappointment. What the hell did I expect to find? A forgotten love letter, or a map instructing me where to find her? How stupid I am! Neither she nor I ever suspected her father would kidnap her, or we wouldn't have come here in the first place. What clues should she have left me then?
Finding this, though, gives me some hope and encouragement. After Lou disappeared, I searched every inch of this cabin, but it's obvious I didn't do as good a job as I thought. Maybe I missed something else other than her jacket, something important. Back then I tried to find a clue that could point me to the right road to follow, maybe the mention of a city or town, or even an area where her father might have wanted to escape to. Yet, I didn't find anything of importance apart from some letters mentioning the town where he married his wife and Lou was born, but that unique clue led us to a dry well. Now I want to believe I missed something. I was too distraught back then to think straight. Now here's my chance again, and I swear I won't miss anything now. Not this time.
