Mom makes it sound so easy. She doesn’t understand why I can’t put the past in the past and live in the future. She doesn’t truly understand, though. I’ve said it before, but she doesn’t know me. If she did, she’d probably hate me as much as I hate myself.
I push those thoughts out of my head. I’m not strong enough to even remember them. Then, I concentrate on finding this place Mom has us searching for. The quicker I find it, the quicker I can get Mom home and go and find Bryant. I can’t agree to two weeks with him. I’m too weak. I love him, and it’d be so easy to fall into his arms and let him hold me. It’d be way too easy to lean on him as I get through this health crisis.
Easy but not fair.
Bryant deserves better than me. He always did.
15
Bryant
I barely get out of the shower and dress in time. I’ve just sat down to take a minute to actually breathe. I feel better, though, and I’m ready to face a very mad ex-wife.
At least I hope I am.
I hiked over four miles to the cabin, parking my truck on a gravel road that dead ended. I hope my poor truck survives without anyone finding it and destroying it, but if not, it is what it is. You can drive to the cabin, sure, but I didn’t want my truck here. If Maggie saw my truck, she would demand I take her home.
If I’m going to make this work, I need Maggie completely surprised.
When I looked online for a rental, I had two requirements. First, it had to be off the beaten path and private. Secondly, I wanted to make sure it was primitive. That meant no electricity except for generators or solar power, no internet and nothing to link me to the outside world. For my two weeks with Maggie, I wanted to be totally off the grid.
I didn’t realize that Maggie’s cousin, Faith, and her husband had just exactly what I was looking for. Ida Sue came through by letting me know that. It’s perfect. Their place fits everything I just described and so much more. There are no neighbors for miles and miles. There’s a small pond and the cabin is rustic but comfortable. It has a backup generator, but it runs completely on solar power. I’m sure Titan put a mint in the place—rustic or not. There’s also a king-sized bed that screams luxury—right down to the satin sheets. Titan hates roughing it, but he loves Faith and it’s what she wanted. So he compromised. He bought this place so they could both be happy, and he’d have some place he could be with Faith alone without anyone around to hear when he had his wife. Apparently, Faith is a screamer. That’s a piece of information I didn’t need to know, but I somehow got it anyway. I didn’t share personal details back. I mean, I could have. Maggie’s not a screamer, but the noises she makes are erotic and haunt me all the time, but that’s not something I ever want to share. Maggie’s noises belong to me and me alone.
I shift on the bed as I look out the window and see Maggie’s vehicle pull up. I’m really nervous. Christ. I hope she accepts this easily…
I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I have the front door cracked because I know my Maggie. When she gets here and there’s no one around, but the door is somewhat opened, she will look inside. There’s one bedroom, a combined kitchen and living area and one large bath with a washer and dryer in it. That’s basically it.
Except for the cat.
She just showed up. I couldn’t say where she came from, but she seems to like me. She’s a fluffy, gray, long-haired cat, with blue eyes. She’s also currently lying beside me on the bed, her little kitten head perched on my hip.
At least she’s purring a lot and I’m taking that as an indication.
“You’re going to need a name,” I murmur, scratching her behind the ears because she seems to like that.
When Maggie shuts off the car, I carefully get up from the bed. The cat doesn’t seem amused. I carefully and stealthily—well as stealthily as you can when a fluffy cat with a huge tail tries to wrap itself around your ankles—make my way to the bathroom. The problem comes at the door when FiFi McFluffy wants to come inside. She’ll meow and have Maggie coming into the bathroom before Ida Sue can do her part. I can’t have that happening.
When I finally get the bathroom door closed, the cat screeches loudly, and I can hear scratching against the door. I ignore that and finally, I hear the most mournful sound I’ve ever heard in my life. The damn cat sounds like it had a litter of kittens and they’ve all been killed in front of her. I don’t know what to do with that, so I do nothing.
I figure the bright side is that if Maggie hears the horrible noises coming from Fifi—because apparently that’s what I’ve named her—then, she’ll come and investigate and play right into my plans.
With that thought in mind, I stand close to the door, hoping to listen for the perfect time to make my entrance. While I’m at it, I hope that when I do show Maggie I’m here, she’s calm and doesn’t try to kill me.
I figure my odds are a toss-up as to which way it will go.
16
Maggie
“Mom, this place looks deserted,” I murmur as I pull up and shut off my car. “Are you sure you told them you were coming?”
“I might be getting some mileage on me, but my mind still functions just fine, Magnolia. Of course, I’m sure. What kind of fool question is that?”
“The kind you get asked when you beg your daughter to take you off the main road into the middle of nowhere to an old cabin that appears completely empty.”
“It’s not empty. Don’t you hear that caterwauling out there?”
I frown as she opens the door, and the sound assaults my ears. It sounds like a demon from hell. I hurry around the front of the vehicle, trying to get to Mom before she does something stupid like call out to the murderers inside. I latch onto her arm and pull her back with not a minute to spare.
“Don’t go in there! It sounds like someone is getting murderized in there!” I hiss.
“Murderized? Is that the kind of words they teach kids at your school, Magnolia?”
“It’s like pulverized, only along with the beatdown, there’s torture and murder weapons involved so that in the end, you aren’t breathing,” I mutter. “We need to get out of here. I saw a documentary the other night where places like this are where drug cartels drag their mules and then cut the drugs and diamonds out of their bodies—while they’re still alive!” I’m talking in a bare whisper so quickly that I can’t catch my breath, but when something inside the cabin lets out a huge screech, I let out a squeal. “Okay we’re leaving.”
“I don’t want to leave. I want to look at that cabinet. It’s perfect, and I need it in my kitchen,” she insists stubbornly.
“Mom,” I breathe out, wondering if I could manage to pick her up and carry her to the car—quickly deciding there’s no way. “Didn’t you hear that last squeal? That was probably Dirk the Assassin taking a knife to Joe the Snitch’s knee. We have to get out of here. They don’t leave witnesses at this kind of thing.”
“Good God, Magnolia. That sound was clearly an animal and it’s either in heat or mourning. Dear, your imagination is running away with you. Clearly, you need to find more constructive use of your time than watching those true crime documentaries.”