Robyn Carr - Moonlight Road

She never even drove up once to look at the progress. That alone should have told her she was doing this for all the wrong reasons and it wasn’t going to work. But she had told Mr. Haggerty, “I’m a busy attorney with a full schedule until the first of June. Then I’m taking the summer off, my first vacation in over ten years. That’s why it has to be right and on time.”

It had been a crazy idea. Erin couldn’t seem to function without a full schedule and she didn’t know how to take time off. Every time she tried to take a day off, she was twitching by noon.

But she was determined. She was going to learn to unwind, damn it. She was going to learn to embrace solitude and kick this feeling that if she didn’t have far too much to do, she wasn’t worthy.

“Knock, knock,” she heard a small voice say. Erin had the curtains drawn around her bed to block out the hysterectomy patient and her extended family. The curtains parted and her redheaded sister’s smiling face popped in. “Are you decent?”

Erin sat up in the hospital bed. “What are you doing here?”

“The E.R. nurse called me—you named me as your next of kin. Y’know?” Marcie let herself into the tiny space. She bent close and narrowed her eyes at the bandage on Erin’s forehead. “Hmm. Not so bad,” she said. “How do you feel?”

“Ugly,” she said, plucking at the gown. “And I have a headache.”

Marcie laughed at her. “Not such chichi hospital attire, huh? I meant the head wound doesn’t look too bad. Small bandage.”

“Shaved head!”

“Less than a half inch, Erin. Take it easy, it’ll grow right back.” Marcie sat on the end of the bed and ran her little hands over her big, pregnant tummy. “Your doctor said if we spend the night with you tonight, we can check you out and take you home. I thought that was reason enough to drive up. I knew you wouldn’t want to be in the hospital. Have you ever been in a hospital? Like, in your life?”

“There was Bobby,” Erin said, speaking of Marcie’s late husband. “Lots of hospital time there.”

“I meant, as a patient, Erin!”

She rolled her eyes upward, thinking. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so. Good thing, too. It’s very boring and like being an inmate.” She plucked at the gown again. “The nurses don’t like me, I can tell. And can you believe this? They haven’t graduated to anything better than this for patients? For God’s sake!”

Marcie just chuckled.

“Are you feeling all right?” Erin asked her little sister.

“Great. I’m sorry you got hurt, but I can’t wait to see the cabin. I hope it’s not too froufrou. I liked the old place.”

“Guaranteed you’re going to think it’s too froufrou,” Erin said. “It’s completely livable, unlike before. There are lights and everything. Where are my clothes?”

“I’ll find them. Don’t get up.”

“Where’s Ian?”

“He’s at the nurses’ station, getting your release instructions. I think we mainly have to check to be sure you’re still breathing about every seven minutes throughout the night. You’ll be a completely cooperative patient, won’t you?”

“Just get me out of here,” she said. “They were going to have to hit me in the head again just to keep me here another hour.”

“I think Ian was right.” Marcie found Erin’s folded clothes and shoes stuffed in her bedside chest of drawers along with her purse. “We’re not so much rescuing you as the nurses. I bet you’re no fun, as patients go.”

Marcie drove Erin home to the cabin in her big SUV and Ian followed in his truck. He was impressed with the way the cabin looked, amazed by the impossible transformation. Very classy; very Erin. “God above,” he said in a whisper. “When I was thinking of fixing it up, I was thinking in terms of adding a septic tank for a toilet. Look at this place!”

“But do you like it? Do you really like it? The rug is an Aubusson, the leather furniture is Robb & Stucky, there’s a whirlpool tub and what do you think of the fireplace?”

Ian didn’t know from Aubusson or any Robb whomever. He stared out the newly installed French doors in the kitchen. Right outside the west end of the cabin was a deck that stretched the length of the house, taking advantage of the awesome view. “Incredible, Erin. Can we use it sometime?”

She looked shocked. She blinked. They didn’t want to be there the same time as she was? “I thought…we’d all use it, now and then,” she said cautiously. “I mean, I didn’t want to wait to fix it up a little because I was taking vacation this summer, but, Ian, it’s your cabin. I think I have to ask your permission, not the other way around.”

“Okay,” he said, smiling. “When I married Marcie, I married the family, Erin, and what’s ours is yours. You don’t have to ask permission.” He turned full circle, looking around. “I can’t believe you completely remodeled the whole place by e-mail! It’s amazing!”

“I’ll be sure and ask if you’re already using it before I make any plans,” she said.

“He was kidding,” Marcie said. “Ian, you’re such a dork. We’ll all come together. And when Drew visits, he can sleep in the shed.” She grinned.

“But you like it?” Erin asked again.

“I think it’s great,” he said. “You made it beautiful.”

Marcie did a lot of oohing and aahing, and Erin seemed to puff up from that. “I don’t know how I made it without a real kitchen for so long,” Ian said, opening the refrigerator door. When he’d lived here, there was a sink with a pump handle and he’d cooked on a Coleman stove. His mind-set and the emotional landscape of his life back then had been all about deprivation. It hadn’t been so much a form of self-punishment as a paring down of baggage. The less he could make it on, the more competent he felt. It had been like an endurance test. And he had passed with flying colors; he had endured like crazy.

Erin had been here almost a week. In the refrigerator he found yogurt, cottage cheese, egg substitute, skim milk, a loaf of thinly sliced low-cal bread, salad fixings, celery and carrot sticks, apples, cheese singles, tofu and hummus. His stomach growled; he wondered if it made her feel more competent to starve to death.

For the hundredth time he asked himself what was really up with Erin, this isolation on the mountaintop, because this whole “well-deserved vacation” story just didn’t add up. Not with Erin.

“Let me cook tonight, okay?” he said. Both women agreed that would be wonderful. So he continued, “Tonight I’m cooking something Preacher whipped up. I’m going to run into town and grab dinner.”

“Um, I’m watching my calories,” Erin said unnecessarily. “Does he make anything kind of, you know, low cal?”

Preacher was the cook at Jack’s bar, and he made one thing every day. Well, one breakfast item, one lunch item, one dinner item. Preacher did what he pleased, and it was always fantastic but none of it was low cal. “He’s very conscientious that way,” Ian fibbed, and his wife tilted her head toward him, making a face that said shame on you.

Ian was dying for food. Real food, not rabbit food. But then, he could hardly blame Erin; she hadn’t been expecting company.

“You girls enjoy your visit,” he said. “I won’t be gone long.” And he headed for town.

When he walked into the bar, Jack greeted him enthusiastically. “Hey, stranger! Long time. You and Marcie up for a little visit?”

“You could say that,” Ian said. “We weren’t planning to come up so soon after Erin got here, but she had a little accident.”

“You don’t say? What happened?”