Running:
Confession: I cried last night because I'd thought a tinsy bit about some of the things that led up to me not writing for nearly three years. Good Run: at a rest stop in Montana. We were hungry and I was grumpy. We pulled over and my hubby opened a can of Chinese food and a package of minute rice. He fixed dinner at a picnic table on a propane stove while I crawled into the back of our mega-sized van and changed into running clothes. I ran back and forth and ignored the stares of truck drivers for 20 minutes as dinner cooked. After we ate (yes, we survived the meal), I took a fast spit-bath in the van with cold water and dressed. I was so much calmer--even nice and chipper--for the remaining drive home. You know, I skipped my workout yesterday and remembered that even. Lesson learned again: exercise, or expending a lot of energy is mood boosting. It's a fact.
Writing:
I don't know what your dream job is, but mine is to be a technical writer. Even better, I'd be the person who takes a "translated" instruction manual and turns it into real English. Yep, my dream job is translating "put part A into Slot 1." If you want details, please ask for them in the comment section below this post...
A cosmo blooming among the pumpkins...
Secrets at Midnight
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 25
Happiness resembled Sunday afternoons cuddling with Nick,
not sleeping in a cramped bucket seat in Montana, Jenn decided as she tried to
figure out how she and Katie would spend the night. Soon thirst threatened to
kill her if the fragrance from Katie’s overloaded diaper didn’t. She changed
her daughter and washed her hands with wipes. After an hour of sheer agony with
Katie climbing back and forth over everything, Jenn grabbed the toddler and
crept from the Jeep. She found Matt shining a dim flashlight inside the cabin.
He looked up and smiled. “Welcome home.”
“This place was abandoned, and it doesn't take much
imagination to know why,” she muttered. She snatched away the flashlight and
shone it around, hiking Katie higher on her hip. “We’ve seen all there is to
see. Let’s leave.”
He nodded toward the darkness above them. “Check out the
paradise level.”
She headed up thickly carpeted stairs. Puffs of dust rose
with each footstep. “Do you see this?” She stomped for impact.
He nudged her forward.
Above, three beds huddled beneath a steeply slanting
ceiling—all waiting for guests. She scanned each with the yellow beam.
“Repulsive.”
“It’s good enough for tonight. Tomorrow we’ll make this place
habitable enough to live in for a few days.” He reached out to take the light.
Jenn stepped back. “I can’t sleep here. I don't want lice.
Spiders will crawl all over Katie. There’s no toilet, no shower—nothing.”
“Chicken?”
“No, I'm smart, dummy.” She spun around and started down the
stairs.
Trailing behind, Matt said, “I'll find a decent place for
you, just give me a minute.”
“Dallas is decent.”
“It’s not safe.”
Jenn raced to the Jeep, but found it locked. She checked
every door while muttering, “Jerk, jerk, jerk,” under her breath.
“Erk, erk, erk,” Katie repeated.
Leaning against the front bumper she studied her innocent
daughter. “Now I’ve taught you things I swore I never would.”
“Erk, erk, erk!”
Jenn made her way back to the cabin and stood barely inside
the doorway and held out her hand. “Keys?”
Matt looked up from a pile of junk. “Look what I found.” He
held up two buckets.
“Keep them. I only need Jeep keys.”
“There’s a water pump outside. I’ll clean things up. It will
only take me a minute.”
“No, thank you.” She snapped her fingers. “Keys. Now.”
He dug them from his pocket. “This place isn’t as bad as you
think. I'll make you a bed. You’ll be comfortable and….”
“Thank you, but no. And please don’t make me repeat myself.”
He pressed the keys into her palm. “Keep the windows up.
Honk if you see a bear.”
“What else do you want to scare me with—snakes? Just tell me
there’s no bathroom and I’ll scream.”
Pointing to the blackness behind her where pine trees sighed
in the breeze and a night bird called he said, “There it is. Start screaming.”
She shivered. “Please tell me you’re joking. I’m from
Texas—civilization!”
He jerked his head over his shoulder and laughed. “There’s a
bathroom inside. Check for spiders before you sit and put the lid down when
you're done.”
“What was wrong with the Hilton?” she whimpered.
“I’m not sure—just a bad feeling.”
She pushed the Jeep keys into his hand. “Bring me the wipes
from Katie's diaper bag so I can clean the throne.”
Matt raced out the door. While waiting for his return she
wondered how life had cascaded from ordinary to terrible in one night, and
hadn’t risen even an inch since. Before she could sink deeper into self-pity,
Matt appeared. “Anything else you need?”
She took the flashlight and pushed Katie into his arms. “A
few minutes alone, my daughter back when I’m finished, and oh—the best gift of
all—two tickets home.”
Despite Matt’s protests, Jenn settled Katie down to sleep
with her in the Jeep. Cuddled up, she searched for a comfortable position
without seatbelts digging into a shoulder or hip. Beyond the windshield stars
winked so close she worried if they might fall through. Hours later she awoke
with a violent shiver. Katie fidgeted so she pulled her closer to share warmth.
The stars now hid behind steamed glass. She reached up to wipe a spot clear,
fearing she'd face a bear, only to discover tiny ice crystals dusting downward,
flecking her face, increasing shivers.
Slowly blackness softened into charcoal then dove gray.
Unable to endure more kinks in her neck, Jenn sat up and scrapped off a spot of
ice and peeked out. Pines crouched in shadows but the sky was growing lighter.
Birds twittered. With the coast clear of carnivores she bundled up Katie and
dashed for the cabin. She turned the door handle and shoved. It creaked open. “Matt?”
Silence.
Matt was nowhere—at least visibly—but a pile of dingy
blankets lay folded on one sofa. She raced to the bathroom first, then gulped
from a bottle of juice and glanced around. Still no Matt. Tip-toeing, she
started up the stairs, then called, “I'm coming up. If you're not decent, get
that way, pronto!”
No sound.
The loft was empty, beds undisturbed, but the curtain on the
far window hung open. She crossed the room and peered out. Far below lay a
valley nestled in mist. Unlatching the sliding door, she shoved until the rusty
track released. She stepped into the cold and inhaled Christmas-scented air.
Reaching out, she stroked a pine bough and looked down the tree’s length into a
steep ravine littered with boulders and emerald undergrowth. This was unlike
other places she'd seen—an unreal foreign land from lost picture books. If the
crisp air hadn't stung her lungs she might have imagined herself inside a
painting. She whispered, “Katie, if I had a sketchpad and watercolors I’d
duplicate this—sparkling dew drops kissed by sunlight and….”
“You like it?”
Matt spoiled everything.
He cleared his throat. “I primed the pump, flushed for you
and left a couple buckets of water in the bathroom for later. Take a bath if
you want. Refill them as you empty them.”
“Thanks.” She turned and shoved past him, wanting to scrub
off unseen grim the cabin deposited on her.
After an icy bath in half an inch of water in a rust-stained
tub she had cleaned before using, Jenn found Matt at the hearth with a blazing
fire. Eggs sizzled in one pan and bacon in another. “I hope you like
scrambled,” he said.
Jenn sat down and warmed her frozen fingers. “How long
before we leave?”
“Best scenario—five days. We've stocked enough food for ten
or twelve.”
She looked around the cabin, completely visible inside in
daylight—smooth wood walls, wood ceiling and wood floor—nothing a good
scrubbing couldn’t improve, except the carpeted stairs and loft. “We can't
stay. It's unsanitary. Can we please go into town and get a hotel room? I don’t
care if it’s a dump, it can’t be worse than this.”
He shook his head and scooped breakfast. “Sorry there’s no
toast.”
“I’ll pay. I’ll spare no expense.”
“Money isn’t the issue. We’re here because it’s safe.”
“According to who? There’s no TV or internet—nothing. If
you’re relying on ESP, read my thoughts.” She set her fork aside and softly
hummed with eyes closed and fingers on her temples. “Let me interpret: I want
to go home.”
He shook his head and started shoveling down breakfast.
“What am I supposed to do here?”
He chuckled and leaned close. “Do what you do best.”
“Which is? I run a day care center. Keeping one toddler
clean will keep me busy, but I guarantee it won't put me in a good mood.”
“Clean, Jenn. Just don't take the trash out without an
escort.”
“That wasn't funny. I wish I never called you.”
“I would have found out anyway.”
“I keep secrets.”
“I learn them.”
Tears clouded her eyes.
He reached forward and grasped her hand. “We’re in a hole,
Jenn, just like Nick. When the cats quit prowling around we’ll leave. In the
meantime we’ll make the best of it.”
She blinked and yanked her hand away. “I've been
in holes before—locked in a cellar once.” She stood and faced the man who
raised her. “I had a daughter die in a hole. If that happens again, I swear you
won't get off as easily as Gary. I'll make you suffer every day of your life,
and I'll ensure you don't die young.”
End Chapter 25
On second thought, please don't ask me in the comment section about my dream job, or about the poorly translated instruction guide I read that attempted to explain how to change batteries and turn a flashlight on. I've written a few downright terrible things myself...
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