A/N: Jay-Kay Ell-oh-Ell. I wouldn't leave you hanging ... for too long. Not today. *wink* Hah. I'll stop. Happy GoT Sunday, tho.
Next chap will be BPOV on what she's been through; but not written yet. I'll try to be quick. Black emoji heart. Go read. ILY for your reviews. Love them all.
Chapter 24 - Lucky Today
His arms and back muscles strain.
The plastic lid from a bin is large enough to scoop the earth. He's used it before. Its creases are bent just right; duct tape keeping the pieces together. The point at the end helps to dig into the ground. He kneels by the lump of dirt. One more scoop, and there it is.
He pulls the duffel bag out, the flashlight next, then the canteen and a tent follow.
It's like a huge weight landed on his chest with the reality. He must go. This is final. The decision has been made.
When was it made?
No. He won't analyze that. He tells himself it's about food. It's about this campsite. There are no resources here for him to continue to live on any longer.
Yes. That's what it is.
The decision was made. He dug things up.
Then night comes, and he lays in bed and stares up at the peak of his bedroom tent.
He's so angry.
This place was his. He remembers getting the tarps and ties from a shed behind a house. The bins he carried for a mile or two just to get them in here. There are things he's kept for years that he tied to trees. He thinks of every item. He thinks of every purpose. He never disposed of anything in case it would be of some use. His stove. His washing rock. His mushroom, the one he's watched grow week to week as it spread and bloomed. His silly little house pet. She sat right by it every day while pretending to read a book in her chair; barely flipping a page. He knew. She watched him. He'll give it all up because of a girl who once was. A woman? She's grown. A mother-to-be.
Then he thinks of her.
He knows the decision was made to leave, but not all because of resources.
Yes. All of the equipment he stares at as he sips his coffee the next morning is mostly because of her.
The mug—coffee still piping in it—goes flying across the campsite. He pulled back an arm and threw it far with the anger, the resentment, the distraught. Nearly ten years in this haven and now he has to give it up.
He lifts his tired limbs from his favorite spot, and walks to get the damned cup. There's no way he's also giving that up.
…
Sam, the local, is a simple man. His daily routine is to wake up, shuffle into the kitchen and turn the stove on where he left the coffee in a pot prepared for the next morning; this morning. His bones are achy. He remembers once when they were so agile. He'd saw lumber and chop down trees with strong swipes of his ax. He'd climb frames of cabins he'd build like a squirrel up a tree.
He takes a deep breath, takes a sip, and looks up at the ceiling he built himself.
He grumbles. He forgets today is exercise day. He must pull on pants and hiking shoes and actually attempt to try and get his heart rate up. "Every other day, Sam. Half hour. It's all you need." The doctor had said.
If that doctor were a tree, he'd have chopped him down long ago. A chair would be nice. He could sit on him, get his lungs constricted like Sam feels when his protest. That would teach him.
Half hour.
Well, he needs to go into town anyway. No car this time, he guesses. He'll get his steps in that way.
The blooming bushes and trees around his property look fuller. He looks them over. Sees the remaining leaves scattered around he has to gather and pick up. He makes a note to get more mulch for this season, tidy up the plot. His Emily would be proud. He did plant and groom the yard to her liking. She'd sit on the porch for hours knitting or braiding baskets as she looked out at the woods.
Those were the days when she was alive, and the kids ran around. Now the kids are married, living in the city, and his Emily in a grave, laid beneath flowers he tends to every year on her birthday.
Sue helps when she's not drowning in work. She's the only daughter who comes around more often. She has the cabin a few miles north. Never been married. Those types of lifestyles he never understands. She's all about her career as a doctor and helps the community preserve the reservation. His little activist.
Not so little anymore. She's a grown woman and just as pushy as his doctor. Eat this. Quit that. And did you take your pills today?
He grumbles.
The trail is familiar. He could walk it with his eyes closed. Today he whistles. He tugs on protruding branches left behind from other hikers who brush past them. The sticks are left bare to scratch on shins and ankles. He tidies up the path any chance he gets. He kicks at dirt toward the edges and swings the found branches into the dense woods to clear the way.
Then he sees him. A young man. A hiker. The baggage attached to his back goes over his head. A flashlight hangs on a rope from his neck. Sam stands in that stop he stood with Charlie and his girl as they hiked this path a few years back. He mentioned a boy living in the woods. Charlie was suspicious. Sam was so tired of him complaining about missing things. It was nothing. Just like now. Just a man passing by.
Sam straightens from picking up another stick and cracks it in his hands as he looks up and sees him. Just a glimpse. Along with his baggage, he dragged a bin. Sam wonders what's in it. It must be the boy who lives in the woods. He knows hikers never carry around bins on their travels.
Sam hopes in his heart, as he watches him disappear, that he's faring well. The path the fellow is on will lead to this spot. Sam doesn't want to startle him. He keeps moving so the stranger won't catch up to him.
Sam cracks the branch in his hands again and tosses it to the side. He's already down the dirt road by the lake. Across the pond he sees movement.
Charlie's cabin. So early?
He whistles louder, content he'll have something to do or someone to visit for a while. He purses his lips, and the shrill of the whistle makes Charlie look up from his porch.
"Son of a bitch," Charlie says with a laugh. He sets his coffee down on the table and walks up to the steps to meet Sam.
It takes a while. The older man is slow.
"Well, I'm a hundred years old," Charlie jokes as he waits.
Sam chuckles and pauses at the steps to take a breath. "Fuck you," he mutters. Charlie laughs like he's been tickled.
"Also, my condolences, son," Sam says. Charlie gives him a sad grin. He climbs down and pats Sam on the shoulder.
"She would've loved seeing you here today."
Sam climbs up the porch with a nod and lands on the chair adjacent to Charlie's. They both sigh once they're settled, looking out at the lake and the fog coming down in places.
"You're here early." Charlie nods as a reply.
"Bella kept insisting. She wanted to settle in early. She wants to have the baby here. I guess this place reminds her of Renee." He slightly shakes his head. "And she's pushy and hormonal, and I'm just a man trying to appease a tired woman."
Sam chuckles.
"So much exaggerating," says a voice from behind the screen door. Sam looks back to see the said tired woman. To him, she looks beautiful, not tired.
He smiles. He remembers his Emily at her age with a bulge like that. He rubbed her belly for hours until Emily would fall asleep.
He watches Bella push through the screen door; a steaming mug in one hand for him. She offers it up with a smile. Her own in her other hand.
She lifts a palm. "Don't worry it's just warm milk," she says to her father. Her annoyance one Sam also remembers.
"A North Pond baby," Sam says in wonder. "When's the day?" he asks.
"Not soon enough," Bella mutters.
Charlie already looks nervous. Sam can tell this new addition was rattling. Renee gone, and a young girl in this predicament so early in her life. Well, Sam remembers Emily being far younger than her and pregnant. He doesn't see the big deal.
"What a blessing," Sam jabs. Charlie gives him a grumpy side look.
Bella tries to contain a smile. Sam watches her sip her warm milk to hide it. He hmphs. Definitely some tension going on around here.
"Well, I'll have my daughter Sue take a trip over. She can check up on you if you like. She's a fine doctor and has delivered hundreds of North Pond babies."
Sam sees Bella's eyes light up. A relief there. She looks at Charlie and says, "I told you it would work out. Help right at our doorstep."
Charlie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.
Just then, a fancy car drives up. Everyone looks. Bella smiles big and places her mug on the porch railing.
"Tell her I'll make her dinner. I'd love to meet her. You come, too." Bella says before she waddles off to meet the newcomer.
Sam nods. He watches as the young woman ascends the porch and hurries down the dirt path toward a young boy. Her arms are up, ready to wrap them around his neck. Young love. He barely remembers the feeling.
"Slowly. Watch your feet, girl," Charlie says, raising his voice. She ignores him. "I swear I'll be joining Renee this year with all the stress," he says to Sam who chuckles low.
"And her not here for all this mess … ," Charlie says idly. He wrings his hands at his lap. "I was … beside myself, as you can imagine. I told her she'll finish college no matter if triplets are growing in that belly of hers."
Sam watches the young couple hug for a stretched moment. The young boy looks familiar. His mother has a cabin at this camp. James? Or Jameson? Something. But his clothes are nice and neat like his pushed back hair. He's looking like money. The two talk, whispering to one another. Bella is animated, like seeing him here is a load off her chest.
"She was silent for weeks," says Charlie. He keeps talking. "Terrified. I saw it in her eyes. She stopped going to classes, and that was that. I could've killed this boy," he says with a thumb over to the lovers on the path. "But even he looked as surprised. Him going to med school and all. No time for babies. God knows how they'll figure this out. I'm sure not going to help. Nope." Charlie shakes his head.
Sam knows he's full of shit. The moment he sees that bundle all soft andwrinkled, welcomed to the world and brand new, he will not be able to stay away. He'll help in every aspect of this couple's life.
Sam laughs. Charlie gets pissed. "This isn't funny," he says.
Oh, but it is.
Sam lets the laughter trail as he leaves Charlie simmering on the porch. He climbs down the steps and goes on his way to town and get his steps in. He hears Charlie grumble where he sits. It makes him laugh harder.
And just when he's sobering up and starts to whistle his hiking tune, he sees that fellow again. Not the striking one in fancy clothes and car. one with the baggage and the bin. This time, he sees him walk from behind some dense trees far enough away. There's no path where he is, but the edges of this camp where it was carved out to make room for civilized life on a campsite.
Sam must be lucky today to get such a glimpse that's so rare. Twice in one day.
He wonders if anyone else was as lucky as him.
He looks back at the couple. The fancy boy's hand is clasped around Bella's elbow as they talk and walk back to the house. They didn't see what he saw.
Sam whistles and thinks; it's a good day, maybe he'll get lunch at the diner today.
….