Page 23 of Staying for You

He couldn’t know how true that statement is.

I take a deep breath, thinking over how many times my author friends and others have told me to let the bad reviews roll off my back and focus on my writing. To get back to my roots and remind myself why I fell in love with the process in the first place.

But that love was lost about eight books ago. When I forgot that I simply wanted to touch readers’ hearts and tell stories that weren’t being told. When I realized that I didn’t know the first thing about love because my own husband didn’t love me. And then I realized I didn’t love him either.

I was a sham.

I was pretending and not doing it well.

And my writing suffered for it.

Because I got into my own head.

I nod. “True.” I decide on saying because it is. “So you’re from Michigan. How’d you end up here?”

“I came up here for a week during the summer after I graduated from college.” He stops in his tracks and extends his arm out, points at a cabin that we just walked past. “Stayed in that cabin with a couple buds. Fell in love with everything about it. One night I was up at the lodge to grab some ice or minnows or something — I don’t remember. But I ended up talking to the owner who was old as the hills but had all these stories. Stayed up there for hours just listening to these stories about fishing and the people he’d meet who came here to stay. When it was time to leave, I wasn’t ready. Luckily, we’d driven separately so I wasn’t dependent on anyone else for a ride so I decided to stay for another week just to spend time with him and listen to what he had to say.”

He motions behind him and spins around. We’ve been walking for about five minutes which isn’t long, but with the cold temperatures it’s long enough for the kids. We start back up the hill, away from the shoreline at the end of The Escape property but still walking along the lakeside. “He didn’t have any family who wanted to take over so he was going to sell it eventually. It bugged me, you know? I couldn’t imagine some corporation buying it from him and turning it into anything other than what it was. I loved the way this place kept things simple. I went back to Michigan, ready to start working at the job I’d had lined up in a marketing firm and feeling really uninspired about it. Before I came here, I couldn’t wait. Thought it was what I wanted. But the second I was back home, something felt wrong. Then, Harry, the previous owner, got sick.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah.”

“How did you find out? I mean, if he was just the owner…”

“His son called me. As much as he left a mark with me, I did the same for him. He was in the hospital and wanted me to come so I hopped on a plane and flew up here. He’d gotten an infection from a cut that he ignored. It spread through his body.”

He’s quiet for a bit and he looks at the cabin he pointed out earlier as we pass back by it on our way up the hill. The exertion of walking in the extra clothes and cold air passing through my lungs has me breathing a little heavier than normal and he slows down. Embarrassed by how out of shape I am, I duck my head. “Is he okay now?”

“He um,” he clears his throat, “didn’t make it. Infection was stronger than he was. While we were at the hospital, he made me an offer on this place.”

“How did his family react?”

“They were grateful. The Escape was important to Harry but his kids didn’t want to be resort owners. I don’t blame them some days. It’s not as if I have much of a life outside of this place but most of the time I just feel lucky that this is my life,” he says, holding his arms out around him. “I mean, look at what I get to wake up to every day.”

I do as he says, looking around. “I agree. You’re lucky.”

Issy whimpers and I’m glad we’re back to my cabin so we can get inside and warm up. “Come on in? We can have a cup of coffee.”

“You sure? We kind of interrupted your day.”

I give him an ‘are you kidding me?’ look. “You do realize that this is my plan for my time here, right? Coffee and doing whatever I feel like doing every day?”

He grins. “I like that. That’s exactly what I hope for out of my guests, actually.”

We remove our boots and begin the awkward process of wrangling Issy out of the sling and Brody out of the backpack. I’m up on my tiptoes trying to pull Brody, who’s surprisingly heavy especially in his snowsuit and boots which keep getting caught on the straps, out of the backpack. Owen is bending low on his knees to help. “Thighs burning yet from having to stay in the squat?” I tease.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

I finally get Brody out and almost fall down. Brody’s going back and forth between whimpering and giggling, not having a clue what is happening and why we’re struggling so badly.

“How the heck did you get them in here by yourself?”

“It was a challenge. And I’m sure if someone was recording it, I could have made some good money on America’s Funniest Videos.”

By the time we’re finished getting Issy out of the sling, we’re both rolling with laughter and the kids are just happy it’s over.

He tosses his coat over the back of one of the kitchen chairs and I do the same with mine when he collapses on the couch, Issy on the floor by his feet. He’s wearing a dark green Henley shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. It’s exactly what I would expect him to be wearing.

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