I trail my fingertips along the smooth surface of the cedar paneling, marveling at the craftsmanship that has gone into its creation. My eyes immediately seek my husband, but he’s back outside, probably checking on the kids. I take in the quaint furnishings and simple yet homey decor.
Anger erupts inside me.
“We’ll make this work,” Clint says as he steps up behind me.
“Whose cabin is this, really?” I whirl around and shove my hand at his chest, eager to feel the beat of his heart as he answers me.
To his credit, he doesn’t lose eye contact, and his heart stays steady. “Rob knows a guy. His late father built it. It needed a lot of work.”
“And who owns it?” I flail my aching arms around, taking in the gleaming rough-sawn mantel and concrete waterfall island.
“Rob is the only one on the deed.” Clint swallows. “But he’s preparing papers to give me half ownership.” His words tumble over each other. “Rob bought it for next to nothing. After selling, the old guy just wanted a place he could still come and fish a couple times a year. There’s a great pond out back. He hasn’t made it up yet, but I can’t imagine him taking too many weekends.”
“I’m not worried about the vacation schedule, Clint.” My words shoot out from between my clenched teeth. “Why is Rob putting you on the deed?”
“We’ve both made significant investments of labor and materials.”
“When?” I ask, with my breath leaking out of me.
“You work a lot, Mer.”
Reid runs up and hugs his dad around his waist. “The baby raccoons are gone. Erika said they’re on their own now. But can we try and feed them tonight?”
“Hey, Reid. Why don’t we go check out that hidey-hole in the bedroom where we put those old games?” Erika tugs at his arm.
Reid crushes his face against his father’s side, looks up at him with devotion, and then allows Erika to drag him away.
I quickly mouth thanks to our daughter and then glare back at my husband.
“You lied to me,” I whisper.
“Huh, ditto, babe.” Clint’s sheepish look is changing into brazenness. “I think we stopped telling each other about our lives many months ago, if not years.” He’s in for it, if I want to go there.
Righteous anger burns inside me, tempting me to give it oxygenand fall into the pattern of a failing marriage. The urge potent and the words juicy across my tongue.
Except he is right. I fully realize how righteous my anger is not. We have patently stopped confiding in each other. Not only the stuff that would set each other off, but we’ve hidden our dreams.
Clint has wanted a cabin in the woods for longer than I’ve known him. We’ve taken trips back to Maine exploring seashores, lakesides, and remote forests. We’ve vacationed in Vermont, New Hampshire, and even up into Canada. Our imagination spooling out between us. Before Clint, I figured vacations were just warmer or less congested versions of real life.
Clint introduced adventure.
The cabin is beautiful.
“I knew as soon as I saw the cedar shiplap.” My voice is still low.
“You remembered?”
“I’d almost let myself forget.” Tears dampen my lashes, but my heart beats steady. “Show me.”
“Do we need to—”
“Show me quick?” A little laugh bubbles out of me. Underneath what I now know is hurt is tremendous pride in all that my husband can do.
“Rob and I basically rebuilt the interior this summer. If you can believe it, it was in far worse shape than the roof and siding.” Clint’s eyes widen. “There’s a small solar array on the back side of the roof, which we reshingled, and another one in a little clearing just behind us. We also have a generator if needed. We can come up in the winter, but we’ll see how much of that we actually do.”
“When did he buy it?”
“April.”
