It had been a week since I'd woken up alone in Gideon's bed, the front of my shirt still damp with his tears. When I’d gone in search of him, I’d found him in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes we'd left after our impromptu food fight. As soon as I'd greeted him, I'd known that things had once again shifted between us. I’d understood the embarrassment he’d probably been feeling, but I'd hoped that it was something we could work past.
We hadn't.
What we had managed was to go back to the relationship we’d had when I’d first arrived. One where he was the caretaker and I was the tenant.
After taking me home that evening, he'd made sure I was safe inside the cabin before he’d left. He’d returned the next day but only to restock the woodpile. It had been the same each day after that. The only conversation we’d had was when he'd asked me if I needed anything else. The formality had stung like a son of a bitch, but I’d understood it.
I'd spent my time in the cabin working on finding my way around. I'd started including the upstairs in my routine and after a week of learning all the various counts, I could now easily find my way from one room to another. The temptation to call my brothers had been strong, but I knew I wasn't ready. Surprisingly, it was now more about the vulnerability I felt about Gideon rather than the loss of my sight that kept me from reaching out to King or any of my other brothers. I'd vowed to myself that I wouldn't develop feelings for Gideon, but apparently my heart wasn't big on vows at the moment.
I'd sent Gideon a few texts here and there, but after the first few days, I hadn't even bothered to turn my phone back on to check them because I'd known he wouldn't respond.
I wasn't completely alone, though. Brewer had a habit of coming by every day in the afternoon. Gideon would inevitably come to pick him up, but he merely called the dog from the driveway and when I opened the door, the animal would take off for what I assumed was Gideon's waiting truck. I wasn't sure what I’d done to earn the dog’s affection, but I most certainly wished that some of it would rub off on his scarred owner.
The weather, while still cold, had been a little more consistent in the past week. There hadn't been any new snow, so I'd started taking walks around the cabin just to stretch my legs. I'd spent hours each day just figuring out the immediate perimeter around me so I wouldn't inadvertently get myself lost.
The cabin sat in a small clearing with trees on three sides. I’d started off by identifying how many windows or doors were on each side of the cabin. Once I’d established that, I'd walk straight out, counting the number of steps until I’d reached the tree line. Then it was just a matter of turning around and walking straight back. I’d probably looked like a fool doing it, but it had given me both exercise and confidence.
My next goal had been to try and tackle the driveway so I could walk up and down it each day and not risk getting turned around in the woods somewhere. I’d used Gideon's consistent plowing to my advantage. Whenever I’d felt snow above my ankles, I’d known I was straying off the driveway and I'd made a correction. I never went too far, and I always kept my phone on me, but so far, I hadn't needed to use it.
Today, I was once again reliant on someone else for assistance. Namely Andre, my driver, to take me into town so I could pick up some groceries. I'd wanted to ask Gideon to do it, but I'd suspected he would have only agreed out of obligation. His silence had made it clear that he didn't want to see me and while I tried not to take it personally, it still felt like a rejection. I missed his touch and his gruff voice. Sometimes I wished I could go back and play that afternoon over and not push him to deal with whatever had happened in his past. God knew I had plenty of things in my own past that I'd never really dealt with. My insistence on pushing Gideon to confront his pain meant I'd now become a reminder of his past rather than someone who could help him work through it.
As I sat on the porch waiting for Andre to arrive, I focused on the sounds of the birds in the trees as they welcomed spring. It was late May and relatively mild for the area. I thought about LA and how warm it would be there by now, but surprisingly, I didn't have any particular longing to return home. I was scheduled to stay in Birch Cabin for a couple more weeks, but I was already thinking about reaching out to Harvey Parnell to see if the place was available for longer.
The sound of tires coming down the driveway got my attention. I stood up and went to where the stairs were but stopped when I realized something was off. The sound of the engine was too loud and rumbly to be the expensive sedan Andre drove. I knew exactly who that noisy engine belonged to.
When the vehicle turned off, I stayed where I was, trying not to give in to the need to run down the steps and greet my visitor. Butterflies danced in my belly as I waited for the distinctive sound of the vehicle’s door opening and closing.
I didn't need to wait long for confirmation that I'd been right about who it was that had come up the driveway because Brewer practically slammed into my legs when he jumped up onto the porch. I tried not to get too excited about Gideon being just a handful of feet away from me, because he was likely here just to check on the wood pile or do some other task related to the maintenance of the cabin. I heard footsteps approaching but they stopped before climbing the porch steps.
"Her name was Beth," Gideon said. His voice sounded grated and harsh, like he hadn't been using it enough recently. I suspected that was probably exactly the case. The fact that he was even talking to me should've had me over the moon, but the way he’d opened the conversation meant what I was about to hear wasn’t going to be easy and I’d be watching—or hearing, rather—Gideon suffer even more.
"But we called her Bethie."
Gideon didn't say anything for a long moment, and I didn't press him. I also didn't move from where I was. I could barely make out his shape because the sun was too bright.
"She was five. Serena and I hadn’t been planning on having more kids, so she was a surprise." Gideon paused before adding, "The best kind of surprise."
"Our first daughter, Emma, was a surprise too. I'd always wanted to be a father, but we’d had Emma when we were really young and neither of us was completely ready. But we made it work. Emma’s fifteen now."
It was a relief to know that he still had one daughter, but the fact that he'd never mentioned her before today wasn't a good sign.
"What happened to Bethie?" I asked. I took a gamble and moved down a step so I could be a little closer to him. "Was it related to her diabetes?"
"No," Gideon said. "We killed her. Serena and I."
They were the last words I’d expected to hear. I opened my mouth to tell him I didn't believe him, but then snapped it shut again. He'd come here to tell me a story and I needed to listen to it.
"By the time Bethie was born, Serena and I were done, at least as far as I was concerned. I'd asked her repeatedly for a divorce, but then she got pregnant."
"So you stayed," I suggested.
"I'd always hated growing up with divorced parents. They'd use me to play games with each other and whenever I was with one, all they’d do was complain about the other. It was like they wanted me to pick sides or something. What kid wants to pick which parent they want to be with more?" Gideon paused before saying, "I couldn't do that to my kids. I wouldn't."