Coming Home to the Mountain: Complete Edition

4. Abby

CHAPTER 4

Abby

W hen we drive down the Rough Mountains, back into town, Bartlett reaches over and takes my hand in his. The feeling is electric.

I'm not alone in that.

He looks over at me, his other hand still on the wheel. He groans, “How have I been living my whole life without knowing you?”

There's a drawl to his voice, and he may not live in the country, but he still lives far from any big city. Far from skyscrapers and towering complexes. He is a small-town guy, through and through, with a family who understands the true meaning of family. I don't think he has any idea how lucky he is.

“So, your family is pretty special,” I tell him.

“They didn't scare you away? I know the questions at dinner got a little intense.”

“Nobody asked me anything that I couldn't answer.”

The questions were pretty simple. What do I like to do for fun? Do I have a favorite movie? What's the last book I read? It was like they'd all been prepped on how to ask appropriate questions that didn't press too hard, too fast. I appreciated it. Someone in their family along the way got the memo that religion and politics were off limits. And also, any visitor's history might be a little too much, too soon, because they didn't go into those kinds of details. Didn't ask why I was all alone with my dog Hijinx and a backpack and nothing else to my name. They didn't ask things I wasn't ready to answer.

Maybe Bartlett gave them a heads up that I’d had a hard day. And if so, I'm more smitten with him than ever, but maybe they're simply good people who have decency and respect and boundaries.

Regardless, that dinner was maybe the best dinner of my life. And it had nothing to do with the home-cooked food that Annie made, which was incredible: meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green peas, iced tea, pound cake with homemade whipped cream for dessert. Heavenly. Ten out of ten.

“You were right,” I tell Bartlett. “All eyes were on Fig.” That girl, she was determined to get her way.

“Oh man. She was so mad though. Leaving the dinner table in a puddle of tears is not a happy way to go,” he says.

“Do you think she'll get over it quickly?” I ask, having no idea how families like his resolve conflict. In my family, it was yelling, fighting, and one-word answers. That's why I was kept for so long. I wasn't in a cage like the elephants and the tigers, though I felt like it. I wasn't allowed out.

That's why I ran. I felt like I had no choice.

“Oh, Fig will come around. My mom will promise her fabric for some fancy dress for prom and Fig will be happy as a clam sewing it. Eventually Fig will realize that college will be a better time for her to travel to Europe.”

“It sounds like your parents are pretty supportive of all of you.”

“Yeah. I just think it's a new thing because the rest of us, we never really wanted to go all that far. We really never wanted to leave home. Fig, she's been itching to go since she was little. And I think the reality of that is going to catch up to my mom and my dad pretty quick.”

“Do you have other family around here?” I ask him.

“Oh, for sure. My dad’s parents live in town and then my mom's family, they live in Burly, the Rowdy family. My uncle Angus and his boys.”

“Wow,” I say. “It's pretty much a whole family tree right here in this valley.”

“Does that scare you? The idea of a man like me never wanting to leave?”

I shake my head. “Not at all. I find it very comforting. I’ve spent so much of my life on the road. The idea of being settled somewhere, someone wanting to be settled? I like that about you, Bartlett.”

He laces his fingers through mine tightly as we pull up to the bed and breakfast. “I'll come in with you just to make sure you get checked in, all right?”

“Thanks,” I say. “I really appreciate it.”

Bartlett tells me his sister Lemon lives right next door.

“Really?” I say. “That's a really cute place.”

“Yeah. It was a real fixer-upper, but, well, she had plenty of brothers to help her fix it up.”

We go inside the main office and it's a quaint, charming building in town. I smile as we walk to the front desk.

“Bart, what are you doing in here on a Sunday night? I'd expect your mama wants you home for dinner,” the older woman at the desk scolds.

“We just finished dinner,” he says. “Mary, this is Abby. She's got a room here from the doctor over at Homesick Urgent Care. At least that's what we're hoping.”

“Oh yes, he called over earlier. I'm so sorry, Abby. I heard what happened to you this afternoon. I can't believe that. I was just shocked.”

“I'm okay,” I say, “I'm just glad that there was a room at all.”

Mary's eyes run over me, though. Landing on Hijinx. “Um, is that your dog?” She reaches for a tissue and blows her nose.

“Yeah. This is Hijinx. He comes with me. We're a package deal.”

Mary blows her nose loudly, pointing to a sign. “I'm so sorry, but we have a no pets policy here at the Home Away From Home Bed and Breakfast. I'm really sorry. But I'm very allergic and so is my husband.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn't realize. I'd never want to hurt you or get you sick. Is there another hotel in town?”

Mary looks over at Bart. “In Burly there’s a motel.”

“I can’t have her go there,” Bartlett says.

“Of course not.” Mary shakes her head, sneezing again. I back away with my dog, my stomach dropping, not knowing what I’m going to do.

Bartlett runs a hand over his beard. “We're just going to go outside and talk, Mary.”

“All right. Of course. I'm so sorry. Again. I really am. I didn't know you had a pet with you.” She blows her nose loudly into her tissue.

As we walk outside, tears well up in my eyes. “I can go to the police station,” I tell Bartlett. “And get my wallet now. And I can get a taxi to the motel or you could take me. I just–”

“Hey.” Bartlett runs a hand over my shoulder. “You know, I could keep Hijinx for the night.”

I bite my bottom lip. Hijinx is my constant, and not being with him feels scariest of all. Bartlett must sense this because he wraps me up in a warm hug.

“Hey. Why don't you just stay with me tonight? I mean, not to be presumptuous. And you can say no, if you want. I can take you over to the motel. Of course, it's just, well, it's not the nicest place. And you've already had one hell of a day. I have an extra bedroom at my cabin. It's nothing fancy. It's not like my parents' house, but if you want to stay with me, of course I'd have you and Hijinx. I'm not allergic to him.”

“Really?” I ask. “You wouldn't mind?”

“Don't say another word.” He gives me a smile that melts my weary heart, and then he jogs inside to tell Mary that I'm not going to be staying there at all tonight.

A moment later, we're back in his truck driving up Rough Mountain once again. But this time we turn left towards his place on the edge of Rough River on the left side of town. When we park in front of his cabin, he grabs my backpack and Hijinx. Then he unlocks the door and pushes it open for me.

Before flipping on the lights, he says his cabin is nothing special, but he’s being modest which shouldn't surprise me.

It's a lovely cabin. It's rough and wild, just like him. “I felled all the trees myself for this place,” he says. “I wanted it to feel rustic but still cozy. I know some people like a little bit more of a house house, but I wanted to feel like I was in a cabin in the woods.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Does that sound weird?”

“No, it sounds like you're a real mountain man,” I say with a grin.

“You like that?” he asks me. “Mountain men?”

“I like you,” I say.

He sets Hijinx down and heads to the kitchen to fill up a bowl of water for him. Looking around, I see the floor plan is open. There is a hall down to the left with a few doors, the bathroom and bedrooms, I assume. And then there's a big open living room, dining room, and kitchen. There's a loft above, and looking up, there’s a big light fixture full of antlers.

All the furniture is covered with plaid, red and forest green. I smile, thinking how wonderful this cabin would be at the holidays.

Bartlett comes toward me a moment later, asking if I'm thirsty or hungry.

“No, I don't think I could eat another thing after that meal at your mom's house.”

“Me too,” he says. “Well, then, I can show you the bedrooms. I don't know if you want to shower.”

I swallow, thinking of what I really want. Him, him, him.

I follow Bartlett down the hall, and he pushes open one bedroom door, then another. They're nice. One is set up as an office. And another one is a guest room. The third room is his. It has a big bed and a nice, masculine dresser.

Everything is just so put together and orderly. Nice. Clean. My eyes flit around the surfaces, taking it all in.

“Where are you?” he asks. “I feel like I lost you somewhere from the car to the house.”

“I just am trying to put you together. I’m wondering, how are you single?” I ask. “You seem so perfect.”

He groans. “You know, I’ve heard that my whole life. Bartlett, you know, it's a kind of pear. So people always said, you're gonna find a girl one day and you're going to make the perfect pair. It’s a lot of pressure.”

“Pressure to look for your perfect pair?” I ask him.

“More like pressure to find the perfect girl.”

“That makes sense. I mean, with a family like you have, I can see how there would be pressure to live up to their expectations.”

“Well, it's not just that I want my family to approve. I put high expectations on myself.”

I nod slowly, running my hand over the top of his walnut dresser. “So you're looking for a certain kind of woman, and until you meet her, you'll be alone in this perfect house, this perfect cabin, with the perfect job and nearly the perfect life?”

“When you say it like that, I kind of sound like a dick, don't I?”

“I don't think so. Like I said, you're pretty lucky.”

“What about you, Abby? Why are you single?”

“Me?” I let out a sigh. “I'm single because I could not imagine spending a life with the guy my parents picked for me. He was the kind of man who made you feel small when you just wanted to be yourself. The kind of man who made me feel weak, even when I felt strong. I couldn't be with a man like that. And my parents wouldn't listen to me when I told them. But that is a story for another day.” I shrug. “So, what is your idea of perfection, Bartlett?”

“What is perfect to me? Well, I read a book on the laws of attraction. You know about it?”

“Tell me,” I say.

“Well, one of the laws of attraction is believing that the present is perfect.”

“The present is perfect?” I twist my lips. “That seems like a pretty hard law to practice.”

“What if it wasn't?” he presses. “What if we just chose to believe it all the time? Right now?”

I smile. “Well, this present seems pretty near perfect.”

“It does, doesn't it? This whole day has, actually – minus the knifing.”

I laugh, closing my eyes and shaking my head as Bartlett steps closer to me. “The moment I saw you, I felt like it was perfect. Your smile. Your eyes. The way you looked at me with such anger thinking I had stolen your dog. Like I was a dognapper.” Bartlett grins. “Sure, maybe I wasn’t thinking straight because it was cold as balls outside. That January freeze was setting in. But I don't think it was the frost in the air. I think... I think something else was sweeping through town. I think that was you.”

I shake my head. “Stop it,” I say, pressing my hand to his chest.

But he sets his hands on my waist. “No, I won't stop. I'm thinking maybe you haven’t heard just how good you are. Maybe you spent your life hearing other kinds of things, other stories about yourself, and maybe it's time you heard something new.”

I take in a slow breath. Then I let it out. I listen.

“Because Abby, you make me really happy. Today at my parents' house, I felt really good. And it wasn't because the meatloaf was amazing, which it was. And it wasn't because Plum was cute as hell, which she is. And it wasn’t because I like listening to my siblings argue, which can be entertaining. It was because you were there next to me. There's a groundedness you’ve got that I am drawn to. I can't get enough of it.”

“You mean all that? After one afternoon with me, a girl you just met who came into town on a train?”

“I think you're a girl who reads Jack Kerouac. And I'm a guy who does too. And I think that means we might both be onto something here.”

“The present is perfect,” I tell him.

And then he kisses me and kisses me and kisses me.

My lips part, and God, I hope this man kisses me forever.