January Whitehall
Five weeks inthe cabin pass like the blink of an eye. When I woke up in Adriano’s room the first morning, I was sure we’d have everything cleared up that day. That Mr. Bianchi would call to apologize about the shooting and he and Eli would make plans to work everything out in that big scary conference room where we first signed the contract.
Not so much.
Instead, the boys have long circular conversations about who we can trust and the risk we’d take in contacting them. The general agreement is that Mr. Parker has decided to torch everything, and end Velvet House and that Mr. Bianchi might have approved the wedding poisoning, if not the shooting.
That seems insane to me, but I’m hardly an expert and there’s no denying that whoever shot Bobby was trying to kill him and until we know we’re not going to be murdered, we should stay in the safe house.
I know where we are now. In the outer forests of Vermont, miles away from the police, the public, and even the park rangers that patrol the area. We’re completely alone, but it doesn’t feel that way. The five of us are always together and even though I’d never say it, there are times when it almost feels like a winter vacation. We play cards, drink wine by the huge fireplace, and eat whatever I can throw together.
The boys don’t like going into town for food in case we draw attention to ourselves so mostly we eat deer, wild turkey, brook trout, and grouse—whatever Adriano can hunt—along with bitter salads that I sweeten with balsamic vinaigrette and olive oil.
Cooking has become my obsession. I’ve always enjoyed it, but some part of me is convinced I can make everything better if I figure out how to make tasty, interesting meals out of venison and frozen peas. I use the dried and canned supplies in the pantry to bake honey cakes and flatbread and brew fresh coffee every morning.
“You’re going to make me as soft as your dough,” Eli complains, but I know he’s only joking. The four of them are doing so much hunting and hiking to monitor the area, they’ve all lost weight, their bodies taking on the leanness that only Doc had before. They’re changing in other ways too. Growing wilder, I think. Doc, Eli, and Bobby all have short beards now and Adriano’s hair is almost to his shoulders. Sometimes he lets me brush it in front of the fire. Unless I’m busy doing something else. Because that’s the other thing about the cabin—if I’m not roasting nuts for trail mix or stirring tallow into gravy, I’m getting laid.
Like, all the time.
It started the second night we were here. Everyone was wandering around the safe house looking shell-shocked, fidgeting with things that didn’t need to be moved, picking up books and maps and putting them down again until finally Doc went to the huge liquor cabinet on one side of the living room and threw the door open.
“Drink,” he bellowed to the rest of the house.
“I don’t know if I should—” Bobby began.
“Get over here and drink or I’ll shoot you for real.”
“Doc,” I warned. “Inappropriate!”
“I’ll get in-a-your-appropriate,” he said with the same manic grin I remember all too well from when he kidnapped me. He poured out five glasses of whiskey and handed them to each of us.
“We’re stuck here,” he said. “It’s shit. We almost died, and we still might die but if we stand around thinking about that, we’ll go fucking crazy. I’ll be damned if I’m putting any of you down like Ol’ Yeller. So, we’re having a little lock-in party. Blowing off some steam.”
“But my shoulder—” Bobby started.
“Your shoulder’s gonna be fine. Take a shot or get shot.”
We all looked at each other, waiting for someone—Eli—to reject the idea, but he looked as cautiously amused as everyone else. So, we obediently tapped glasses and drank our liquor. It burned like honey fire and the boys immediately held out their glasses for refills.
“Good men,” Doc said in a soothing faux-doctor voice. “What doesn’t kill you, isn’t Parker.”
For some silly reason, probably the whiskey, I burst out laughing. The sensation was so lovely that I laughed even harder and as Bobby joined me, I realized that only Doc could do this. Make us laugh even when everything is objectively terrible. The thought sent warmth flooding through me; a hundred times more comforting than a glass of whiskey. I went behind Doc and hugged him, pressing my face into his back.
“What’s up, Tits?” Doc said, sounding surprised. “You lit already?”
“No. I just love you.”
He didn’t say anything, but I felt his muscles tremble and I can tell you, it’s really something, making a man like Domenico Valente speechless.
The men took another shot and then another and then Eli put on music and Adriano started loading logs into the fireplace and Bobby pulled me into his arms and kissed me lightly on the lips. “Have I ever told you you’re the most beautiful woman in the world?”
“Maybe…” I tease, careful not to hurt his shoulder.
“Then I’m saying it again, you’re the most—
“More shots,” Doc interrupted.
“We don’t have an infinite supply of liquor,” Eli warned.
