Silent Light by John Naa - HTML preview

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CHAPTER TWO

 

She packed her books into two plastic crates and hefted them into the trunk of the rental car. Boot it was called back at home, the boot of the car. On the other side of the world. But she couldn’t go running home. She had to finish out the year here.

 

Graduate. She stared at the books in the trunk. Slammed it closed and went back inside. Fetched her laptop computer and sports bag full of clothes and went back to the car.

 

It was fall break. Another difference, she thought. Not autumn here. Fall. Fall, falling, fallen. She had fallen. Right on her ass this time. What an idiot. Her fingers were white where they gripped the steering wheel.

It was late in the afternoon when she reached the town before turning off to the cabin. The air was crisp and she pulled her jacket closer as she got out of the car. She had to buy food, she remembered. Her stomach clenched. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before. She stood beside the car and closed her eyes. Not hungry, she decided. Can’t eat.

But she walked across the road into the general store anyway. The town wasn’t more than a couple of buildings from a Stephen King novel. A bell tinkled as she pushed open the door. A young woman stood at the checkout, snapping gum in a sugar-pink mouth. She didn’t look up as Michaela picked up a basket and walked up and down the aisles. It was warm in the shop and Michaela wiped a slick of perspiration from her forehead. She picked up bread and milk, added cheese, bacon, eggs, coffee, some fruit and called it job done. The girl at the counter served her without any attempt at conversation, returning to her gum and magazine before Michaela even let the door fall closed behind her.

She found the turnoff with difficulty. On the map, it followed the curve of the lake for two miles, but there were no enticing glimpses of calm lake water. Only trees. She pulled up in front of the cabin and got out. Thrusting her hands in her pockets she stared at the cabin. It was picturesque. A quaint log cabin amid a clearing, edged by trees making offerings of red and gold leaves to the breeze.

Michaela looked up at the porch, gazing at the reflections in the French doors. She imagined for a moment Allison behind them, coming forward to open them for her, smiling, reaching to grasp her hands. She stood still, waiting.

Letting out a puff of held breath she turned and reached back into the car for her bag and the key. She could hear her boots on the steps as she climbed up to open the door. Overhead a bird shrieked and she looked up, startled. She pushed the key into the lock.

 

 She wished she hadn’t come. It was a stupid thing to do.

The main room was large and warmly furnished. Rugs on the floor and Native American hangings on the wall, colorful throws draped over the couch. Pine shelves along one wall held neat rows of books along with a stereo and large selection of CDs. Everywhere was warmth and comfort. Vivid paintings on the wall and small, dainty carvings on the surfaces.

Michaela shuddered. She was a fool. This was why Allison had left her. She looked around the room again. All this was why. No competition. Outside the damn bird shrieked again.

She went back and sat in the car. Looked through the front windscreen at the cabin. Twilight was falling and shadows were gathering comfortably around the building. She shivered. There was a chill in the air. She hunched round in the seat to look behind her. A slight mist was rising between the trees. Somewhere down there was the lake.

She got out and walked down the track to the lake, footsteps muffled by pine needles. There was a small jetty pushing out above the lake while a stony beach edged its way around the water. The lake was a deep bowl of water, rimmed with trees and brooding inwardly. She shivered at the uncanny mist rising from the lake’s surface and stepped out onto the jetty. A small rowboat tugged gently at its mooring. Michaela walked to the edge of the wooden boards and peered down into the water. It lapped against the pilings with slight, animal-like sounds. She looked around. It was a beautiful spot. She breathed in the piney, briny scent. It would be a magical place in the Summer.

She walked back to the cabin. Newspaper and pine cones were in a basket beside a large stone hearth. She laid a fire and looked around for something to light it with. Matches were on a nearby shelf. She took one and struck it, staring at it a moment before setting it to the dry paper. The flame caught and spread. She leaned back on her haunches and watched. She fed the fire from a pile of logs and warmed her hands.

There was enough wood for the night. Tomorrow she would have to find more. There was probably a stack of it somewhere. She walked across the room and tried switching a lamp on. Nothing happened. She tried it again, flicking the switch on and off and on. Nothing. She tried to think of all the books she had read about cabins in the wilderness of America. A generator? A glance at the window told her the sun had set while she’d been busy. She shivered, despite the fire. She went through to the kitchen and looked around. She picked up a torch (flashlight). It worked. She shrugged back into her jacket.

Listening to the sound of the night she walked around behind the cabin. The bird from earlier was no longer calling but somewhere there was a softer, haunting sound, an owl hooting perhaps? She pulled open the door to a small lean-to and swung the light around. It was stacked with firewood and had that sweet pine smell again. There was no generator. Must be a mains board somewhere.

‘I should have known,’ Michaela said out loud. Allison would never go without the creature comforts. She picked up an armful of wood and went back inside to look.

The lights were on and Michaela stood in the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry but fixed a sandwich anyway and wandered back through to the couch to eat it. She sat down and chewed slowly. She wondered what Allison was doing. An image of the two of them on the couch here came to mind. Soft hair and soft skin. Whispers and laughter. Leaning back she stared up at the ceiling. Allison was flying out to Paris tomorrow. With her husband. Michaela closed her eyes.