Page 56 of Van Cort
“It’s safe, though?” I check, not sure if his warning is meant to scare me off.
“Yes. If you stick to the paths. How long will you be?”
“You know the paths better than me. You tell me. An hour?” I smile and leave him to his work and go back upstairs to our room and change into my leggings, sports bra and long-sleeved zip-up top for warmth. Grabbing my running shoes, I trot down the giant staircase to the hallway, grinning at the memory of when we first arrived, and when I’m at the door, I shove my feet inside and lace them up before setting off along the driveway.
Taking a few minutes to warm up my muscles, I look out at the vista in front of me, the lake gleaming in the glassy sunlight. Trees line the driveway we took on the way in, and I mentally plan the start of my run, and hope there’s an obvious and clear path into the treeline, as Everett said.
I’ve been running around Green Lake for as long as I’ve lived there, so I enjoy the change in scenery. The sheer scale and beauty of the place is a little overwhelming, though, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s all Everett’s that’s the overwhelming part.
My legs start to ease into a gentle run along the road, and I settle into a familiar rhythm. It runs up alongside the drive we arrived in on, although I was sidetracked by the mansion at the bottom of the drive to pay much attention.
With every step, I think back over our time here so far. There’s nothing that’s similar to Seattle. My mind is struggling to construct the suited businessman with the vast and rural emptiness of this place. And yet he mentioned this place as a possible future. Would I be okay with living somewhere like this? This remote? I think about my parents and how involved my mother, in particular, likes to get. Would they be okay with me moving here?
Oh my god, stop!I mentally chastise myself for where my head has spun to.
But, isn’t this what Everett brought me here to do? Review our compatibility? To see if there could be a future?
Urghh.
I push my muscles harder and pick up the pace until I see a large, gravelled path leading into the trees. It’s obvious and clear, so I veer off, following it.
As soon as I’m out of the watery sun, the temperature dips and the warmth of my body begins to chill, even with the exertion.
For the next twenty minutes, I keep my pace, my mind free to roam through possibilities, as if unleashed by being in such a vast and open place.
My toe catches on a branch camouflaged by the crunchy carpet of leaf debris built up from the trees shedding their cloaks each year, and I fall to the ground. “Shit.” My hands spring out to catch me, and I skid to a halt on my belly.
I pause, my palms throbbing as I push up, sitting back to my knees, and I brush the dirt and sticks still clinging to them.
Nothing broken. But I reveal a nasty gash on my left palm under the twigs. I’ll live.
I look around in the woods, the tall trunks of the trees sprawling as far as I can see, and realise that the obvious and clear path that was there before isn’t so clear now.
My eyes whip around to the left, then the right, and I stand up, spin and then look forward again.
“Okay. Calm down,” I say to myself. “It was here a minute ago.”
I retreat the way I just came, avoiding the branch I tripped over and follow the skinny path I’d been tracking. At some point, I must have lost the main one and diverted onto this smaller oneby mistake. But after five minutes of walking back on myself, there’s no sign of the main path.
Panic starts to crawl into my veins as I look around the woods, now darker as the light seems to be draining by the second.
A snap of a branch pulls my attention to my left, and I spin and watch, my eyes scanning the area for any movement.
Nothing.
It’s eerily quiet. Still. And the peaceful run that gave me the freedom to think and dream now seems to be closing in around me. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle with anticipation, and I scan around me for anything again.
Still nothing.
But my heartbeat won’t calm down, echoing in my ears, begging me to notice. And dread sinks to the pit of my stomach. I turn the way I was running and commit myself to that course. I wouldn’t have gone off the track – no matter how distracted. There is a path here, just not a well-used one. There’s still a path.
I step forward, trusting my decision, but another snap of a branch has my heart jumping.
Adrenalin courses through my body, and I bolt back along the path I was on, over the branch that sent me to the ground, and I keep running.
And running.
My eyes track the ground and the trees around me. The trees aren’t getting denser, so I can’t be going too far off course.
