Thanks to everyone who helps make this happen!
The cabin, my new home, is located only five miles from the nearest neighborhood and center of town. Though not far in distance, I feel light years away from the rest of civilization.
And I love it.
Even though I spent the last several years isolated from family and friends, this is a different type of solitude, and I welcome it with open arms. Being here is a literal breath of fresh air, and I make sure I take in plenty of it.
It's my second day here in Forks, Washington. After arriving yesterday, I had unloaded the duffel Rose had given me before I had left. Because I had run off with virtually nothing, it took me less than ten minutes to unpack everything. As much as I didn't want to leave just yet, still cautious of the life I left behind, I was in desperate need of the basics.
I'm smart with the cash Rose has given me and reluctant to spend it. Most of it has gone to the gas guzzler that remains lifeless in the gravel driveway, and I plan on buying only what I absolutely need.
He may find me here one day, and I'll need that money to escape before he casts his revenge.
A chill runs down my spine at the reminder, and as much as I hate that it controls my life, I'm grateful for it. It reminds me never to let my guard down. It reminds me why I'm here in the first place.
And besides a single neighbor at the other end of this dead-end street, there's only one person who is here to remind me of that.
Me.
Patting the keys in my back pocket, I step out onto the front porch; the musty air of damp water and rich soil assaults my senses once again. I wonder when I'll get used to all of this.
It's warm here still for mid-September, so I take my jean jacket off my shoulders and toss it in the passenger seat once I'm settled into this red monstrosity of a vehicle. If I had planned on being inconspicuous in my new town, this truck sure is the exact opposite of that. It roars to life at the turn of the ignition, apparently still angry at me for waking it up after such a long journey over the last week.
I should have gone on my way into town yesterday, but the temptation of getting away from behind the wheel won over being practical. It's okay, though; I can browse the aisles of Newton's department store downtown and get what I need with a clear head.
Reversing out of the driveway with a mental checklist of what I'll need at the store, I go to disappear down the quiet street as discreetly as I can, considering the engine is so loud in this tank I'm driving a person could hear it a mile away.
It's what catches the attention of my only neighbor as I come to a stop at the end of the street, right in front of his house. There's a stop sign just past the edge of his lawn, and even though no cars are coming my way, I stop anyway, and in pure embarrassment, listen to my car backfire as I destroy the majestic peace this hidden mountainside village of cabins has to offer.
I watch as my neighbor winces at the obtrusive sound, his shoulder reflexes causing his head to duck in a natural protective stance before he tries to find the source of the intrusion.
He finds the sound, and when he does, he finds me.
And suddenly, it becomes the day I find myself again, as well.
See you tomorrow, Neighbor!