The Light Through the Leaves(21)

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to my place?” he said. “There’s heat there. And electricity. And comfy furniture, flushing toilets—”

“French cognac?”

“I think I’m all out.”

“Did you ever drink French cognac in the snowy woods at night?”

“Let me think . . .”

“I haven’t either. Let’s go.”

“You follow me,” he said. “I know the best campsite there.”

She was glad she didn’t have to bother with navigation. She followed him along snowy roads, her windshield wipers swatting at the falling snow. At the entrance to the campground, Keith got out of his car and paid for a campsite. He drove down a winding road and stopped at a wooded campsite that might have a view of the lake, but she couldn’t see past the trees through the snow.

She started setting up her camp on autopilot. She lit two battery lanterns, found the tent pad despite the cover of snow, and laid out her insulated undercover. She emptied the tent from its bag on top. Keith tried to help, but Ellis could do it faster without explaining. She got the tent up fast and quickly outfitted it with blankets, pillows, sleeping bag, and other necessities.

She took two cups out of her cooking supply box and found the cognac buried in a box of food supplies. She’d been saving the expensive French cognac for a special occasion. She’d found Jonah’s hidden stash of liqueurs when she was packing the few items she’d wanted from his house. He’d hidden it from her in their bedroom closet, and she’d felt no compunction about taking a few bottles.

She turned off one lantern and set the other inside the tent to dim its brightness. She gave Keith his cup of cognac. “What should we toast this time?” she asked.

“Gorgeous witches who lure men into the snowy woods at night?”

She held up her cup. “To gorgeous witches and their equally gorgeous prey.”

He tapped his metal cup to hers.

In that setting, the strong, cold brandy tasted like a witch’s brew, a magical mix of black-molasses night, falling-sugar snow, and a spice of stars hidden behind the storm.

“Good?” she asked.

“Very.” He kissed her, and she tasted the sweetness again on his mouth.

They drank and kissed and drank and kissed until they’d emptied their cups.

“More?” she asked.

“I’d better not. The driving will be hazardous as is.”

“You’re leaving?”

Rather than answer, he smoothed her hair. It had turned to wet coils in the snow. “I love your hair. It’s as wild as you are.”

“I’m growing it.”

“That will be beautiful. You’re soaked. Aren’t you cold?”

“Not yet. Are you?”

“No.”

“Keith . . . ?”

“Yes?”

“You have to know—if we go in the tent, I’m still leaving tomorrow.”

“I supposed that was the deal,” he said with an air of wistfulness.

The snow, its muting of the woods, felt like words neither of them could say.

“Are you leaving?” she asked.

“I probably should.”

“I understand.”

He took her in his arms and held her against his chest. “How did you get like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like here but not here. Like this snow I can’t touch without it melting in my hand.”

“You become quite the poet when you drink, don’t you?”

He held her out and looked into her eyes. “What happened to make you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Go off alone into forests in the middle of winter.”

“Why do you think something had to have happened?”

“I saw it first thing this morning. You’re sad. Deep down.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

The snow fell between them.

She kissed his cheek, cold, wet skin prickled with new beard. “I loved being with you tonight. It was more for me than you understand.”

“I’m glad you called me.”

She kissed him again, briefly, on the lips. “I’m going in the tent. I’m getting cold.”

She walked away from him.

“Goodbye, Ellis.”

When she unzipped the tent and slipped off her boots, she saw him vanishing into the snowy darkness. She sealed the door before he’d fully disappeared. She took off her clothes and put on thermal underwear, sweatpants, a fleece pullover, and wool socks. She would let her hair dry a little before she put on a hat. She slid into her insulated sleeping bag and turned off the lamp.

She wanted to sleep. Immediately. She didn’t want to lie there wanting Keith, or thinking about the River Oaks Apartments, or seeing her phone with pictures of the kids in the river.

But that wasn’t how it went for her anymore. Usually she had to take something to get to sleep. She felt around in the darkness for the pill bottle and water.

“Ellis?”

He was standing near the tent. Same as when he’d first called to her that morning.

“I don’t care if I’ll never see you again,” he said. “I want to be with you. If that’s what you want, too.”