We met Lester and Ximena in the garage, packed our bags in the back of a SUV, and in forty-five minutes, Lester was dropping us in front of the airport in Philadelphia. We checked our bags and spent thirty grueling minutes in the TSA passenger screening line. I knew thirty minutes wasn't an unreasonable amount of time to spend in the line, but it drove me absolutely crazy.
We finally got to our gate and settled into chairs. I was excited to see a Cinnabon nearby, and our flight wasn't scheduled to board for another twenty minutes.
"I need carbs," I said, standing. "Want anything at Cinnabon?"
Ranger raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but Ximena seemed receptive.
"I'll go with you," she said, grabbing her tan and brown Louis Vuitton purse.
I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder, and away we went to Cinnabon. We waited in line behind an older couple.
"What are you going to order?" I asked Ximena curiously.
"BonBites and a coffee," she said. "My usual."
"There are too many good things to choose from," I said, studying the menu. "And it smells heavenly!"
"I'm glad that Zofran is working," Ximena said. "I heard you laid waste to a casserole dish of macaroni and cheese once the pill took effect today. You're brave to put a cinnamon roll on top of all that food."
I rolled my eyes.
"I'm glad Ranger paints such a flattering portrait of me," I said, rolling my eyes.
The older couple left with their purchases, and Ximena and I stepped to the counter. A middle-aged man was behind the counter wearing a teal blue logo polo and tan ballcap. His nametag read 'Phil."
"Hi, welcome to Cinnabon. May I take your order?"
"I'll take your BonBites with a small coffee, black," Ximena said.
"I'd like one of your cinnamon pecan rolls and a medium Coke," I said.
"Have you thought about reducing your sugar and caffeine consumption during your pregnancy?" Ximena asked, giving me a knowing glare.
"Your total is $12.47," said Cinnabon Phil.
I handed him my credit card and looked at Ximena, hands on hips.
"Are you on this trip to judge my food choices?" I asked.
"No, I'm here to detox your heroin-addicted baby in addition to your heroin-addicted ass," she said, her tone frustrated. "So quit acting ungrateful and spoiled, and think about somebody other than yourself for a change."
Cinnabon Phil could sense the tension, and he awkwardly handed me back my card looking apologetic.
"I'll get your drinks," he said, stepping away from the register.
I swallowed hard at Ximena's words. Had I been acting ungrateful and spoiled? Sure, I'd been in denial mode, but spoiled? I was immensely grateful to have been rescued. I was grateful to have received such excellent medical care. I was grateful to have Ranger in my life, and I knew I was, in fact, spoiled by him. But I didn't ask for the attention or to be hovered-over. I certainly didn't ask to be pregnant. Sure, we hadn't been as careful as we should have been, but…
Phil set our drinks and baked items on the counter.
"Thanks for visiting Cinnabon. I hope you'll come back soon. Enjoy your rolls and have a safe flight," he said, then turned his attention to the next customer.
We walked back to the gate in silence. The tension between us was palpable, and Ranger picked up on it. He gave me a raised eyebrow, but I said nothing. I had a lot to think about.
I picked at my roll and sipped at my Coke, but after the conversation with Ximena, the junk food had lost its appeal. I hadn't really thought much about being responsible for another human life. I guess she was right—my choices did affect the baby. Problem was, I really wasn't sure I wanted the baby.
A woman's voice came over the intercom.
"United Flight 5510 to Bangor will begin boarding in five minutes. I'd like to invite passengers who require assistance boarding and families with small children to approach the gate now. Thank you for choosing United Airlines."
I stared at Ranger.
"Bangor?" I asked hesitantly.
He nodded.
"As in Bangor, Maine?"
He nodded again, a smile hinting at the corner of his mouth.
"What is there to do in Bangor?" I asked.
He shrugged.
"We're flying into Bangor and picking up a rental car. We're not staying there," he replied.
I did some mental knuckle-cracking and picked the pecans off my roll, chewing them thoughtfully. This wasn't at all what I'd expected. I knew Ranger had made a joke in the past about a safe-house in Maine, but what does one do on vacation in Maine? My idea of vacation included beaches, swimsuits, shopping, and mixed drinks with tiny umbrellas. Tiny umbrellas were happy, and given the current state of things, I could use a giant dose of happy.
I extracted my phone from my pocket and set a few texts, notifying Connie, Lula, my mom, grandma, and Joe that I'd be out of town with Ranger for a few days. I told them we'd be in Maine, but I'd be back sometime next week and I'd have my phone. Then I powered it down for the flight.
When our boarding group was called, we scooped up our carry-on luggage, pitched the remnants of our food, got our tickets scanned, and boarded the plane. It was a small plane, and quite a few seats remained empty. Ranger and I were seated several rows behind Ximena. She had her Apple Air Pods in her ears, and she was ready to fly. I buckled in and snuggled into Ranger's side, and he stared out the window as we prepared for takeoff, my hand in his.
"I hope you don't hate this trip," he admitted.
"Why Maine?" I asked curiously.
"I have a place there," he said. "I like it. It's quiet, beautiful, relaxing. I can go there to get away from everything."
"How long have you had a place in Maine?" I asked.
He thought about it.
"More than ten years," he said. "I bought it after a few years in the military. I wanted a place to call my own, and the money I'd earned was burning a hole in my pocket. It was an impulse buy, but I haven't regretted it yet."
We took off and, in true Stephanie fashion, I promptly fell asleep. I didn't wake until the pilots asked us to stow our carry-on items under our seats and buckle for landing.
I leaned across Ranger and took in the landscape below us as we descended. Small bodies of water and evergreen trees dotted the landscape, and the grass was bright green with the first new growth of spring. The sun was beginning to drop in the west, and wispy white clouds were everywhere around us, reflecting the sun's golden hues.
"Wow," I breathed.
Ranger smirked, stroking his fingers down my arm.
"That was how I felt about it, too," he admitted. "I hope this is something we can enjoy together for years to come."
We landed and disembarked from the plane, taking our carry-on luggage with us. We picked up our checked bags, then Ranger stopped by the car rental office, picking up the keys to a vehicle. Ximena and I waited in the small airport lobby while Ranger collected the car. I was surprised when he drove up in a blue Subaru Ascent.
Ranger helped us load our luggage, and I climbed in the front seat, Ximena taking the second row.
"What? They didn't have anything in black? Or a Porsche?" I joked.
Ranger smiled.
"Everyone drives a Subaru up here," he said. "This is what they had available. When in Rome."
"Where are we headed?" I asked.
"Milbridge. It's about an hour from here," Ranger said, pulling onto the highway.
Ximena stared out the window listening to music while Ranger drove. I watched as we passed small colonial homes, old barns, and a variety of tourist-focused businesses selling everything from pottery to kayaks to fresh seafood, caught that morning.
"I didn't realize Maine was so tourism-focused," I said.
"This area is a tourist-trap," Ranger said, changing lanes. "Lots of people traveling to and from Bar Harbor pass through here. There is less tourism to the north, where we are headed. It's blueberry country."
We drove into a town named Ellsworth and began passing some recognizable businesses—a Hampton Inn, a Walgreen Pharmacy, a market. I was surprised when Ranger turned into the WalMart parking lot.
"What's up?" I asked.
"I'm picking up an online order," he said, pulling into a parking spot. "Do you need anything while we're here? Only tiny towns from here on."
"I don't need anything, but I'll come along with you," I said. "You coming, Ximena?"
She nodded but didn't take out her headphones, following us into the store. She wandered off on her own, and Ranger followed me as I selected a paperback mystery novel and a People magazine from the book section. A book caught my eye, and I glanced over to see what it was. The cover read, "What to Expect When You're Expecting." I swallowed hard and gave it a second look.
Ranger followed my line of vision and saw what had caught my attention. He said nothing, but began rubbing small, comforting circles on my back. I spent a few minutes staring at the book, trying to decide if I wanted to buy it or if I'd rather burn it. I finally picked it up and held it away from my body as if it were a venomous snake.
"Babe," Ranger said, laughing quietly.
He took the book from me and tucked it under his arm.
"Do you want any specific foods? Snacks? Drinks? I have some in the online order, but nothing fancy. And probably not much to your liking. There is a local market in Milbridge, but nothing like a big-box store."
"I'll be okay," I said.
We headed to the register, and I picked up a box of frosted sugar cookies off an endcap just in case before checking out. We went to customer service to pick up Ranger's online order next, and the Wal-Mart employee brought out a heaping cart full of items. I was surprised at the amount of stuff he'd purchased. Most of the items were packed in bags, but a few items were visible—gallons of water, a six pack of local IPA, a bag of charcoal.
We walked through the automatic doors and into the cool evening air. Ximena was perched on a bench outside, and she joined us as we walked to the car.
"We're not camping, right?" I asked Ranger, eyeing the charcoal.
"No, babe," he said, giving me a smirk.
We loaded up and hit the road again, the tourist-trap businesses and big box stores disappearing with Ellworth. I noticed the further we got from Ellsworth, the more Ranger seemed to relax. His posture eased in the driver's seat of the Subaru, and the air that surrounded him seemed more carefree.
It occurred to me that this was a Ranger I hadn't seen a lot before. A little in Hawaii when we were together there and a little with his family, but even then, he was frequently the man of mystery. He had cast aside his usual black, wearing the blue jeans and white t-shirt from earlier but adding leather flip flops and a brown sweatshirt. His hand gently rested on the stick shift that lay between us, and I placed my hand over his. We passed through several small towns and lots of countryside with small, weather-worn colonial homes with lobster traps and small boats in front yards. Traffic had grown light, and the sun was setting in the west.
We finally reached Milbridge, and to my surprise, we kept driving.
"I thought we were staying here," I said, staring through the rear window with confusion as the last homes of the town faded in the distance.
"The address is Milbridge, but it's about four miles from here," he explained. "We'll be there in just a minute."
The road narrowed, and the trees grew closer and closer to the blacktop as we approached our destination. Bodies of water seemed to be everywhere, and modest cottages were scattered along the waterfront. Ranger turned off the blacktop onto a gravel road.
"Welcome to Wallace Cove," he said, nearly beaming with joy.
He passed a small teal blue cottage before parking in front of a cottage with gray-stained cedar shake siding and green shutters. The cottage was small, with six-over-six windows and a small front stoop. The cottage seemed feminine and small in comparison to Ranger, which I found surprising. Several flowers had been planted in front of the cottage, and huge evergreen trees loomed over the small home.
"This is yours?" I asked, disbelieving.
"Home sweet home," he said, shutting off the engine.
"Did you plant the flowers?" I asked.
"No," he said with a grin. "Rachel does that. Rachel and her husband George maintain my property, in addition to others on Wallace Cove. They are local."
We climbed out of the SUV, and Ranger dug a keyring out of his carry-on luggage. He went to the front door and unlocked it.
"Welcome to my home," he said with a small smile.
I crossed the threshold and was struck speechless. I was standing in a small living room with worn wicker chairs and a small blue loveseat, a cream-colored afghan draped on the back. The floors and ceiling were stained wood, and a huge bay window overlooked the water. The walls were white bead board and covered in a handful of framed family photos of Maine landscapes. A short bookshelf sat beneath the bay window. It contained inexpensive photo books, several paperback novels, and a few photo boxes. Framed photos dotted the top of the bookshelf, and I recognized some of the individuals pictured—Ranger's mom and dad, his siblings, younger versions of Tank & Ranger in army fatigues, and, to my surprise, a photo of us together. I wasn't sure when or where it had been taken.
"Wow," I said. "This is not what I expected at all. Is that a lake?"
Ranger laughed.
"That's the Atlantic Ocean," he said, smiling. "It's beautiful when the tide is high."
I studied the gray water and gray sky, knowing their beauty would soon disappear with the last hints of daylight.
Ranger turned on the lights inside the house and on the porch, then began carrying in supplies. I continued exploring the home, walking next into the kitchen. The walls were white and the countertops were green. A small range sat on one wall and small refrigerator sat on the other. Several cupboards and cabinets had been installed, but by modern kitchen standards, there was barely enough room to store a set of plates, a set of mixing bowls, and a few skillets. Beyond the kitchen lay a small dining area with a worn wooden table and a door to the waterfront. Two doors opened off the dining room. The first was a room with a set of twin-sized bunk beds and a small dresser. No closet, no additional furniture. The second room had a queen-sized bed, a closet, and a small dresser. The bed was so large in the tiny room that there was barely room to walk around it.
I walked back outside and began helping Ranger carry in bags.
"Where did Ximena go?" I asked.
Ranger pointed to the teal cabin we had passed driving in.
"I know the people who own that cottage, and when my parents comes here, they let us rent it. I offered Ximena the bunk beds, but she said she preferred the privacy next door."
I carried my suitcase in the house and set it in the bedroom. I repeated the process with Ranger's smaller bag. After several trips in and out of the house, I was growing concerned.
"There isn't an outhouse here, is there?" I asked Ranger.
"Do you want there to be?" he asked, winking. "I can make that happen."
I rolled my eyes. "Where is the bathroom?
He led me to a small door that was discretely hidden behind the front door when the door was open. He opened the door, and a small plastic shower stall, tiny sink, and ancient toilet came into view.
"As long as there is a bathroom, I'm good," I said. "I'm not big on becoming one with nature."
"Well, you should know that the water here isn't potable. It's from the spring up the road. Any water you drink or cook with needs to come from the jugs we bought today. And I know how much you love the shower in our apartment… You should know that the water pressure here leaves something to be desired. Go easy on the shampoo if you ever want it to rinse out."
I raised an eyebrow at him and stepped into the small bathroom, turning on the water in the sink. Some water dribbled out, and eventually turned into an easy trickle.
"That's it?" I asked.
He nodded.
I did some mental knuckle-cracking. I would have invested in some dry shampoo at Wal-Mart if I'd known this was going to be my reality.
"Where can I buy dry shampoo in Milbridge?" I asked.
Ranger laughed.
"Family Dollar. We can run by there tomorrow if you'd like."
We busied ourselves loading groceries into the refrigerator.
"I have to apologize in advance. I'm not much of a cook," he said hesitantly, setting aside a shrink-wrapped package of burger patties. "Can we grill burgers tonight?"
"Burgers sounds great," I said, opening a jar of olives. "We both know I'm not a cook. I'm the last person to judge."
Ranger went out the door to the waterfront carrying the bag of charcoal and a lighter, then returned several minutes later.
"Success?" I asked, eating an olive.
Ranger opened a bottle of beer.
"Yes, it lit right up. Can I get you anything to drink?" he asked.
"A beer would be great," I said, placing slices of cheese in the refrigerator.
When I turned, Ranger was looking at me like I'd lost my mind. He cocked his head and squinted at me.
"What?" I asked, not sure why I was receiving such a bizarre look.
"Babe," he said on a sigh. "You can't drink when you're pregnant."
I let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed my hands over my face.
"Ugh! I knew that," I said, embarrassed. "Water would be great."
Ranger poured me a glass of water from a plastic jug on the counter, then he busied himself seasoning the burgers with spices in the cabinet above the stove.
I stood behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist.
"You're so domestic," I purred. "Who knew?"
He laughed.
"Hardly, Babe. Ella is the only thing standing between my current lifestyle and becoming a caveman."
I had to laugh at that thought. Thank god for Ella.
"Would you be willing to put together a salad?" Ranger asked. "There's a variety of salad stuff in the vegetable drawer."
"I can try, but no promises it will be edible," I threatened, moseying to the fridge.
I opened the vegetable drawer and poked around to study its contents. I removed a bag of pre-washed, pre-chopped romaine. That seemed easy enough. I also selected a green pepper, baby carrots, and a bag of radishes from the drawer. I took my finds to the sink, washed them, and began to carefully cut them into small pieces. I placed romaine into a bowl I found in the cupboard, then topped it with the cut vegetables as Ranger took the burgers to the grill.
"Passable?" I asked Ranger hesitantly when he entered the house.
"It looks good. Would you mind calling Ximena to tell her dinner is about ready?"
Ranger selected plates and silverware from the cupboards and set the table while I dialed Ximena.
"Yo," she answered on the second ring.
"Hey. Dinner is just about ready if you'd like to join us," I said. "Ranger made burgers."
"I'm not hungry, so I'm going to pass. I'll be over around nine to bring your meds," she said, then disconnected.
"She's not coming," I announced.
Ranger's brow furrowed, but he said nothing. He put away a place setting, then went back outside to manage the grill. I set a bottle of salad dressing on the table from the day's grocery haul, then added ketchup, mustard, buns, and cheese slices. Ranger returned with the cooked burgers, and we assembled burgers on our plates.
The burgers weren't fancy, but they were cooked to medium-well and seasoned appropriately. Plus, I was a glutton for burgers.
"These are great," I told Ranger. "I didn't know you knew how to grill."
He shrugged. "I don't know how to grill much, but I like to try. My dad is the grill master of the family. We can try something more creative on the grill tomorrow when we've got more sunlight. Dinner was pretty late tonight."
"What are we doing tomorrow?" I asked.
"It's up to you. It's too cold for swimming this time of year, but we can take out the kayaks when the tide is high if you'd like to explore the cove. The water will be frigid, but the air temperature should be decent. We can go for a bike ride around the point, or we can take a walk. We can explore Machias if you're in to Revolutionary War history. I know a great seafood place there. Or we can hang out here and read."
I wasn't sure how to respond to any of that. I'd never done vacation like this before. It was all so—outdoorsy.
"I'll let you take the lead," I said hesitantly. "You know more about this area. I'll just tag along."
Ranger seemed satisfied with that answer, and he began eating his salad.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked.
"I feel pretty good," I said. "I am tired, though."
"I'm game to go to bed early," Ranger admitted.
We finished our dinner, then I washed the dishes while Ranger dried them and stacked them in cupboards. I wiped off the table while Ranger climbed up a ladder, digging around in the small storage space above the bathroom. I hadn't noticed the space before, but as I watched him, I realized it was stacked with coolers, lawn chairs, oars, an ice cream freezer, and other various items. Bikes hung from racks on the ceiling.
Ranger descended the ladder with two metal sticks in hand.
"What are those?" I asked curiously.
"We can use them to roast marshmallows over the grill," he said. "The charcoal should still be hot enough."
He collected a chocolate bar, a bag of marshmallows, and a sleeve of graham crackers from our grocery purchases, and he shuffled me out the door near the waterfront.
The air had cooled as the sun had set, and the breeze off the ocean sent a chill through my sweatshirt. I shivered as we settled onto a glider with green plaid cushions. It was dark, with the only light coming from the moon and the light glowing through the windows of the house. Ranger busied himself putting marshmallows on poles as I studied the black water before us. The moon reflected off the water, revealing ripples of small waves rolling into the cove. The night was totally silent except the rustle of wind in the leaves and the splash of the water against the rocks.
"It's beautiful here," I said. "I get why you like it."
Ranger handed me a stick, and I extended the marshmallow over the small camp-size grill before us. He extended his own stick over the grill and wrapped his free arm around my shoulders.
"I'm glad I finally get to share it with you."
"So is this the Batcave?" I asked playfully.
"As close as it gets to one, I'm afraid," he said, the moon reflecting off his brilliant white teeth. "You'll have to poke around and see what fun things you can find in the house."
"I liked the pictures," I admitted, recalling the photos in the living room. "I guess this is where all your family mementoes live. The apartment on Haywood lacks that stuff."
He nodded.
"I've tried to keep my personal and professional lives separate. The apartment has been a matter of convenience since some weeks I work eighty or ninety hours at Rangeman. I haven't had much reason to make a home in Trenton up to this point."
"And now?" I asked.
"Now my home is with you," he said, stroking my hair. "It's currently in the Rangeman building, but I could be convinced to move elsewhere. Whatever makes you happy. Besides, we'll be a bedroom short in seven or eight months if we stay the course."
Our eyes connected and held, unspoken things sitting between us. Ranger leaned in to me, and our lips connected in a soft kiss. The kiss grew more passionate, and electricity shot through my body. Ranger broke from the kiss and trailed a line of kisses down my jawline and neck. My head fell back, and I released a contented sigh. He paused, then broke into laughter.
"Babe," he said, grinning.
"What?" I said, my eyes still closed.
"Your marshmallows are on fire."