When We Let Go, Delancey Stewart [early reader books .txt] 📗

I drove home slowly from town, admiring the village I’d come to think of as my own, a growing sense of isolation building in my gut as the few people I passed narrowed their gazes at my car or pretended not to see me at all. I went the long way, purposely avoiding the Terry cabin.

These last few months I’d gotten it into my head that I should be more involved in my adopted community, try to make some gesture of good will. Life had been difficult since I’d moved to this place, and now that my own personal traumas seemed to be at an end—there was no one left in my life to lose, really—I wanted to connect.

That had been a mistake.

I pulled into my driveway, exiting beneath the sweeping second-story deck that hung prominently from the front of the house, and went inside, trying not to think about Amanda Terry.

It had started simply enough—I’d contacted the high school, letting them know I’d be open to conducting a writing seminar, visiting to talk about fiction, or tutoring students in writing, whatever made sense. And then Amanda had contacted me to discuss my field, to learn, she’d said. And that’s how it had started out. But the way things had changed and escalated … well, it wasn’t something I’d anticipated at all. And now I felt nothing but regret and a faint disgust when I thought about how naive I’d been in reaching out at all.

My role as the reclusive writer should be enough. I didn’t need people. I had scores of people living in my head, after all. I just had to imagine them. Real people were overrated and unpredictable, and had proven time and again to be less true and genuine than I wanted them to be. Maybe I’d never learn.

Now, despite my resolve to be a recluse and never leave the house again, I couldn’t help being pulled outside eventually by the steady stream of late-afternoon sunshine flooding the treetops and the call of distant birds. There was something so infinitely quiet here that even when it was interrupted by a distant motor or the laughter of the village kids, my soul still felt that steady calm. This was the only place I’d ever known that feeling, and now I was drawn out by it, coaxed to put on my hiking boots and climb the ridge behind my house and head into the wilderness surrounding Kings Grove.

I considered bringing the bag. It lay by the door where I’d left it and I knew eventually I’d have to finish that job. But I couldn’t face it now. Another day I would, I promised myself. Another day, I’d finally finish the task that would close another chapter of my life. But for today, I just wanted to hike, to roam, to explore.

The sun slid down the western face of the mountains as I climbed the trails that wound through the national park, and by the time I was descending back toward the village, dusk had fallen in shades of gray. I came out of the woods a different way than I’d gone in, and maybe it had been instinct or something more intentional that had led me to exit the woods right on the edge of the property with the half-built house. Maddie’s property.

I’d had no intention to bother her, but just as I stepped into the cleared area next to the house, she came out of the trailer, her hair down and wild around her shoulders, silhouetted by light from the trailer window. She held something in her hands, but in the half-darkness I couldn’t see exactly what it was. I stood still as she moved to put something on the table outside, a wine bottle maybe? And then she lifted something else to her face. A camera. She swung her view around, her hands shifting on the camera as she turned, and then as she aimed the lens at where I stood, she froze.

She’d seen me, and I searched for something to say, something that would make it perfectly natural for me to be standing on her property in the darkness, watching her. Something that wouldn’t be creepy or add to whatever she’d probably already heard about me. Before I could find anything useful to say, she spoke, and her voice was loud and overconfident.

“I never leave the house without a gun.” She took two steps backward toward her door as she said it.

Shit, I’d scared her.

I couldn’t help being a tiny bit amused by her bravado. I stayed where I was, just in case she was serious. “Probably a good idea. But you can’t shoot anything up here. National Park.” I didn’t move. “They’d throw you in jail for killing a bear.”

“You’re not a bear,” she said, taking a few more slow steps toward safety.

I didn’t want her to be scared, didn’t want to be responsible for that. “That’s a good point. I’m pretty sure it’s also illegal to shoot people though.”

“Not if they’re trespassing.” She sounded calmer—had she figured out who I was? Should I tell her?

I laughed. “Wouldn’t count on that. This is California.”

“You’d be wise to get off my property.” She delivered this last bit as she reached her door, and I found myself willing to risk being shot if it would keep her talking to me.

I raised my hands and moved a bit nearer through the darkness. “Don’t shoot me. I’ll go.”

Maddie went inside, closed her screen door and peered through it, then flicked on the trailer’s outside light, illuminating me in its yellow circle.

“Sorry if I scared you.” I shrugged. “It’s just me.” I hadn’t handled that well, and didn’t have much of an excuse.

She stood inside the screen, peering out through the flimsy material. “I’m still considering shooting you.”

I smiled at that. Her fiery spirit pulled me nearer, even though I knew I should probably go. “I hoped you might reconsider selling the property instead.”

“I don’t think I’m interested.” She stayed where she was, behind her screen.

“Well, maybe you will be interested,” I said, smiling and stepping forward. I wanted to keep her talking to me, keep her attention on me. When she looked at me, I felt seen in a way I hadn’t in a long time, and I wanted to figure out what it was that made me feel that way. “Maybe I can convince you somehow.”

“I doubt it,” she said. “Anyway, I’d rather talk about it in the daylight.”

I looked around then, realizing it was now full dark. I’d wandered onto Maddie’s property in the dark and now was essentially refusing to leave. No wonder everyone thought I was some kind of psychopath.