Lark Lake Lodge

Chapter Seven

Clarity by Firelight

Much to my chagrin, after my squabble with Harlan, I had to make an awkward and dodgy walk back to his driveway to retrieve my truck so that I could move it in front of the lodge and spend the rest of the day sulking in it.

Now that I was alone, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Like a bored child, I played solitaire on my phone until the battery died, and then pulled out my tablet. I tried to read a book, but couldn’t open it. Tapping on one icon after another, I kept forgetting that without any internet access, the damn thing was useless. Stowing the device, I snuggled under a blanket and took a nap.

When I woke up, Tyler was approaching my driver’s side window. I turned the key and rolled it down.

“Don’t you look cozy? You sure you’re warm enough? You know, body heat is much more effective than those blankets,” he said with a wily grin.

“Cut the crap, Tyler.” I was cranky, having just woken up. He took it in stride and laughed .

“We got a lot done today. Gonna come back tomorrow and get the rest. I ordered the custom windows for the front. Those won’t come in for three or four weeks. I had the guys put plastic over the frames until we can get ’em replaced.”

“Sounds good. Thank you,” I said, snuggling back down and pulling the covers over myself.

“You sure you’re okay out here?” he asked, dropping all of his come-ons and sounding legitimately concerned. The sky was darkening and everyone was headed out.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“All right, suit yourself.”

Once Tyler and his crew were gone, everything was too quiet. I rolled up the window and tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t. Staying under the blanket, I kept my eyes closed for a long time, thinking through my next steps with the lodge. I wondered what my family was up to, said my usual prayer for karma to kick Rob in the balls, and then I thought about Harlan.

Though I’d tried to keep him out of my head, he climbed back in and stayed there. How could he be so kind and so goddamn attractive, yet at the same time so infuriating? My thoughts swung back and forth between grumbling about his high-handed nature to fantasizing about his lips and his strong hands.

A twig snapped. I didn’t think that was really a thing. It happened in movies, but I never imagined someone stepping on a dry twig actually sounded like that. My eyes popped open. Harlan was standing at the fire pit. Ralph sat at his feet while Roger trotted around, sniffing everything. Harlan arranged the logs, preparing to build a fire. Like everything he did for me, it was both touching and annoying. He cared enough to come over and build my fire for me, but also, that was my job. The one thing I’d proudly done for myself, he had commandeered.

Instead of blowing up again, I took a centering breath. Climbing out of the truck, I brought one of the blankets with me and stood watching as he lit the kindling. Roger padded up to me and leaned against my leg. Bending down, I rubbed his head and silky ears.

Harlan turned to me. “I would have asked if you wanted a fire, but you were asleep. I hope this is okay.”

The guy really had a knack for saying the right thing. I wrapped the blanket around myself and sat on the stump next to the one where he sat, poking at the fire with a big stick. “It’s great. Thank you.”

We sat in silence watching the flames crackle and grow bolder, wrapping around the logs and eventually catching. Once the fire began to emanate soothing warmth, I had my head together well enough to start the conversation we both knew we had to have.

“I’m sorry I got so riled. I know you were just trying to help.” There I went, as always, leading with an apology.

Weak start, Carver.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’ve been thinking about it and I realized…I’ve been pushy, like you said. I just, I know this place so well and I want to see it the way it used to be—better, even. You know, for Randy. I wanted to help, but it’s not my place to make decisions on what needs doing. I’ll do better.”

The breath whooshed out of my lungs and I froze. It was a hundred eighty degrees from what I’d expected him to say. But I’d been in a relationship with Rob for the better part of a decade. Contrition and compromise were completely foreign to me.

“Thank you,” I said through an achy throat.

There was nothing else to say. He’d assessed the situation, realized why he set me off, and perfectly addressed it. I sat staring into the fire and letting its heat and the relief of our easy truce wash over me. I was new to enjoying comfortable silence, but Harlan certainly wasn’t. He poked at the fire and seemed completely at ease not saying anything.

Roger finished sniffing the perimeter around the fire pit and plopped down at my feet. He looked up at me with sweet, droopy eyes, begging for affection. He didn’t have to wait long. I was quickly falling in love with the goofy little guy and could refuse him nothing. I rubbed his chest between his meaty front paws. He loved that.

Once again, I mistakenly let my brain go where it shouldn’t. I imagined that if Harlan and I were a couple, Ralph would be his dog and Roger would be mine. While snuggling my tri-color bestie, my brain screened a movie montage of my made-up couplehood with Harlan and our dogs. Though my eyes were fixed on the fire, my mind was alive with images of us hiking around the lake hand in hand, sledding in the winter, and banishing the crying dogs outside the bedroom door so we could have alone time.

Just as my rogue thoughts started to go down the dangerous rabbit hole of what exactly alone time consisted of, Harlan spoke and jarred me back to reality. Even though I knew he had no idea of the steamy direction of my thoughts about him, I’m sure I blushed.

“I hope Tyler behaved himself.”

“Oh, he’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle,” I said. “I think you’re more put off by his clumsy come-ons than I am.”

A muscle in his cheek flexed. “It just makes me so…you deserve better and he should know that. His 1950s, ass-slappy, wink-wink bullshit is so objectifying and archaic. If he weren’t my friend, I would have decked him already.”

I stared at him Harlan-style for a moment. “You’re awfully civilized for a dude from the sticks.”

He laughed. It was a sexy, low rumble in his chest, accompanied by a smirk that made me lightheaded.

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself a feminist, but I’m definitely an ally.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Oh really? And where did you develop such modern ideals, out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“You seem to forget. I’m extremely well read. ”

Oh wow.

How could a simple, non-sex-related sentence be so incredibly hot? His swagger about his love of books was like Spanish fly.

“Yeah, well, those spy novels I’ve seen you reading aren’t likely to bolster your allyship.”

“That’s just what I’m into right now. I go through phases. I had a really long Women’s Lit phase last year. I read it all. Started with The Feminine Mystique ,“ he said.

“You read The Feminine Mystique ? I haven’t even read that.”

“I also read The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir, and The Bell Jar. I even read The Vagina Monologues .”

An astonished chuckle escaped me. I thought he just read for enjoyment and to kill the time when normal people would be watching TV. I didn’t realize the breadth of knowledge he’d tapped into. He wasn’t making it any easier to not be completely fascinated with him.

“I stand corrected. I apologize. Clearly, you’ve done your homework.”

We smiled at one another and our eyes lingered just long enough that I felt a teeny, tiny spark from him. It was obvious how much he made me melt, but he’d never given me any sign of real interest until that lingering smile. He finally broke eye contact and rubbed Ralph’s saggy neck. The pup closed his eyes and leaned in. My heart swelled to see the affection between them.

“How did you get into dog breeding?”

“My mom. She was from a long line of breeders.”

“Interesting. What did your dad do?”

“Possum.”

Oh shit.

Everything had been chill. And I was from such a normal, parents-still-married-with-no-major-drama family; it hadn’t occurred to me I’d be going into possum territory. My stomach squeezed with regret.

He reached beside his thigh and picked up his thermos, pulling off the cup and unscrewing the top. Even though hot coffee always sounded good, I would have preferred the flask. He poured a steaming cup and handed it to me.

“Spiked cider,” he said.

Nice.

I smiled and sipped the cup, feeling as though I’d put my head in a cloud made of warm, calming clove and cinnamon. Blessed heat spread throughout my body.

“Thanks. Hey, I’m sorry I pried.”

“It’s fine. It’s just…” he trailed off, pouring himself some hot cider and sipping it. “You know what? Screw it. I can tell you.”

“It’s cool. You don’t have to.”

“No, I want to.”

And just like that, he opened up to me. While his trust set off a joyful pang in my chest, it also unfortunately fed my ill-advised, massive crush on him.

“My father had a gambling problem,” he began. “He chipped away at my parents’ savings for the first couple of years of their marriage with friendly poker games and occasional bets on sporting events. As his addiction ramped up, he started organizing trips with his buddies to Atlantic City every few months. This was in the early 80s, way before any casinos were built in Michigan. He eventually took a trip to Vegas, where he lost everything. My mom reached the end of her rope. She kicked him out and filed for divorce. At the time, she was six months pregnant with me.”

The weight of what his mother had gone through hit me like a ton of bricks. She must have been some woman to be able to raise such a good guy, after finding herself pregnant, broke, and suddenly single .

“Mom decided to start up the dog breeding business in order to provide for us. My grandpa and uncle came down from just outside of Traverse City to help her get set up. He lent her some startup money that she paid back over the next two years as the business started to take off. She was an industrious and clever woman. And she’s the one who fostered my love of reading. Whenever I think of her, I see her feeding a puppy with a bottle in one hand and a holding a book in the other,” he said.

“Did she pass away?” I asked. It was potential possum territory, but I was following the thread of his story.

“Yeah. Nine years ago. Ovarian cancer.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.”

He refilled our cups and we sipped in silence a moment. “What about your dad?” I was sure he’d shut it down at this point. But he surprised me by answering right away.

“He fell apart after my mom kicked him out. Lived in Douglas for a bit. A year after their divorce, he got loaded and wrapped his car around a telephone pole. I was a baby at the time, so I never knew him.”

“Oh, Harlan.”

“Don’t feel bad for me. He wasn’t award-winning father material. I’m probably better for not having known him,” he said. “Besides, if he hadn’t left, I’d never have learned my trade, and I love working with dogs.” We both smiled and doubled down on the affection we gave our respective Bassets. “I forgot to tell you. Delia is about to go into labor. Her temperature’s dropped and she’s not eating much. Ralph’s puppies will be born in the next day or so.”

“Way to go, Ralph!” I cheered and held up my cider cup in salute. And then a wonderful word echoed in my slightly fuzzy brain. Puppies . “You have to tell me the moment they’re born. I want to snuggle the hell out of them. Oh my God. I can’t wait! ”

Harlan laughed and sipped his cider. “You’ll have to give them a little time. They need to bond with their mother.”

Suddenly my excitement over the puppies turned to ash. I tumbled down a dark hole full of all my shortcomings. For all my hopes and prayers, I’d never experienced what Delia was about to enjoy. Holding my newborn baby against my chest; waves of love flowing between us. Once again, I’d be watching the miracle of motherhood from the outside.

Being far too observant, Harlan noticed my abrupt mood swing.

“You all right?”

“Yeah, fine. I think the cider’s making me a little melancholy.”

He stared. “It’s about babies, isn’t it?”

The breath was stolen from my lungs. “What?”

“Randy told me you couldn’t—“

“ Possum ! Great big, dirty, coarse-haired, rattail, hissing possum ! A pack of possums playing possum !”

“Okay. Okay. I get it,” he said, holding his hands up, defensively. “I’m sorry.”

I felt badly for blowing up. But he shocked me with his bluntness. “I know it’s shitty that you opened up and I shut down,” I said. “But I really can’t go there. Not yet, anyway.”

“I get it. Again, I’m sorry.”

He stood up and my heart fell. I hated to end our visit this way. “Oh, no. Please don’t. You don’t have to go,” I said.

“I do, actually. I’ve got to check on Delia.”

He chucked the splash of cider left in his cup into the damp grass behind him. I drained mine and handed him the cup. He reassembled his thermos and gave the dogs a whistle. Roger and Ralph perked up and trotted to his side.

Harlan stared at me for a moment, as usual. He rubbed the back of his neck in that adorably shy way of his.

“It’s been nice to have someone to talk to,” he said.

This. Guy .

If his goal was to make me fall head over heels for him, he was well on his way to achieving it. I felt honored that he was comfortable enough to get deep with me. And I felt thankful that I got to stare at his gorgeous face while he did it. I tried to keep my cool as sappy feelings ricocheted around inside my chest.

“Same here,” I said.

He took a couple of steps toward the path to his house and then stopped. “Oh, I called my buddy Pete. He’s a roofer. He’s coming by tomorrow. I know I said I’d back off, but you really do need a roof.”

Every time he made me swoon-y and hot for him, he ruined it by pulling some high-handed shit. I watched him disappear down the path and rolled my eyes.