Intent(7)

“What’s that?” the man asks.

“Oh, nothing,” I reply. “I was just talking to myself.”

He hands me the keys after opening the back of the Jeep to stow my things. As I slide behind the wheel, I imagine riding through the winding mountain roads with the top down, the wind blowing in my hair, and the sun shining on my face. There are no skyscrapers here, nothing to block the scenic view, and no bright lights to diminish the twinkling of the stars at night.

I’m already feeling more peaceful. This mental-health vacation may be exactly what the psychiatrist ordered to cure my insanity.

“You’re all set.” He smiles and waves.

“Thank you so much.” After passing his tip to him through the open vehicle window, I key the address into the GPS and make my way toward my new home. Knowing Marcia, I’m sure her vacation home is extremely nice. One thing I immediately remember about this area is the scarcity of houses. They’re spaced far enough apart to give some semblance of privacy, but just close enough to be neighborly. I hope that’s the case with where I’m staying. I could use some wide-open space and room to move around.

I make a quick call to the Realtor, Martha, to let her know I’m on my way in. She’s a sweet older lady who assures me she’ll be there waiting for me to show me around and help me get acclimated to the town. The first real smile I’ve had in the last few weeks covers my face after we disconnect. A genuine, small-town, Southern-hospitality welcome gives me hope in mankind again.





Chapter Three





“Hey, Marcia,” I say when she answers her phone. “I made it. I’m on my way to the cabin now.”

“I hope you love it there as much as I do,” she replies. “And I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“So do I, Marcia.” I hope I find myself again. Somewhere along the way, I lost myself in the idea of my relationship with Bobby, in my quest to have a baby, and by extension, to have a family.

Somehow, I lost the confidence that I am enough, exactly as I am.

“It’s kind of hard to get lost in that small town, but let Martha know if you need anything at all. She knows that area like that back of her hand and she’ll be happy to help you.”

“My goal is to be as self-sufficient as possible. If I make mistakes along the way, at least they won’t be from a lack of trying.”

“That sounds more like my girl. Have some fun while you’re being completely independent,” Marcia chuckles.

“I’ll try,” I promise before I hang up.

Within minutes, I turn onto a driveway that winds through the dense woods of pine, oak, and cedar trees before the clearing reveals the two-story log cabin that Marcia calls her vacation home. The large home in this serene setting is even more beautiful that I imagined. Creek rocks accent the thick wood beams on the chimney and around the skirting, completing how perfectly it blends with the surroundings.

Another car is parked in front of one of the garage doors, and a woman steps out of it as I approach. My excitement is barely contained as I put the Jeep into park. As much as I hate to admit this, even to myself, a nervous breakdown was imminent if I didn’t get away from the stress I’ve been under. Exiting the vehicle and inhaling the sweet, clean air, I can feel my foggy brain already beginning to clear.

“Martha?” I ask as I approach her. She’s obviously older than Marcia, probably in her middle sixties. She’s tall, thin, and her gray hair has more of a silver sheen that looks beautiful on her.

“That’s right. You must be Layne.” She smiles and extends her hand. As I take it in mine, I’m suddenly pulled into a full-body hug. Her eyes are bright and full of life as she releases me. “Marcia has told me so much about you, I feel like I’ve known you forever. She loves you, ya know. Come on and let me show you around this place. I just love it here. If you decide to move to our little town at the end of the summer, you just let me know and I’ll find the perfect place for you.”

Apparently, that fog hasn’t completely lifted because I have no idea where we are in the conversation now. In my disoriented nodding and smiling, I may have just agreed to marry her grandson, but I’m not sure. Martha is the picture-perfect grandmotherly type—full of zest, a little bit of mischievous spunk, and a genuine warmth that naturally draws people to her. If I am, in fact, betrothed, I’m not sure I could’ve refused her even if my mind were firing on all cylinders.

“Here’s a card with the security code and my phone number. Keep that in your purse in case you ever need to get in touch with me.” She hands me the card and opens the front door. “I’ve tried to tell Marcia that all these huge windows aren’t a good idea. Anyone can see right in.”

I follow her gaze and hand gesture toward the back of the great room and gasp at the view. The entire back wall is floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the winding creek flowing on the property. Rolling mountains as far as I can see provide the perfect backdrop, and I have a sudden urge to stay on the back deck during my entire stay. My eyes pan across the landscape until another cabin catches my attention.

“Who lives in that cabin over there?” I ask Martha.

“His name is Ace Sharp. He’s lived here all his life, except during the time he was away at school. Nice boy,” she replies.