Page 4 of Campfires & Canines
"Nice to meet you, Hazel." His voice is husky and warm.
He looks more like a model than a park ranger. If Coffee-Shop Guy is handsome, Slate is otherworldly.
Seriously, what is in the water around here?
His full mouth presses into an uncomfortable smile that somehow looks like a pout. I've been staring. I try to pretend the pine needles under my shoes are far more interesting and hope that he doesn’t notice the blush creeping up my neck.
"I'm going to take Hazel to my cabin. Can you check with the team before dinner?" Heath rattles off instructions. His authoritative tone of voice makes me want to jump into action too.
Grabbing my purse, I pull the lever to pop the trunk. Heath slings my duffle over his shoulder like it’s full of feathers and not the remnants of the last two years of my life. He sets off into the trees and I speed to catch up.
Behind the two office trailers sits a larger building with industrial steel walls and roof. Huge roller doors face some sort of circle of cleared dirt. It’s marked off like a wrestling ring. Weird.
“Almost there,” Heath reassures me.
Ahead, an A-frame cabin materializes through the trees. Its charming blue siding is topped with a black roof. The cool tones are balanced with warm wood trim framing the windows and wrapping around the little porch.
"Hazel, I still have to work while you're here. If you need anything and I'm not available, ask Slate." I nod along.
"Is this where you grew up?" I ask.
“Yup.” He holds the door open for me.
The smell of lemon surrounds me as I step into an adorable kitchen. It’s like a vintage advertisement. Bumblebee yellow cabinets surround a worn oak table with a collection of mismatched chairs. Daisy-printed cafe curtains hug the window over a chipped porcelain sink. It’s the coziest room I have ever seen.
"Your bedroom is right there." He motions to a doorpast the fridge. "Bathroom is through here."
I wander forward into the living space, brushing my fingers over the wood-trimmed archway.
Knotty pine floors are covered by a shag rug and a misshapen sectional couch. The large window is framed by bookshelves connected by a window seat piled with pillows. A black cast-iron wood-burning stove sits on a thick stone slab in the corner.
The door closest to me is open to reveal a tidy bathroom with an ivory countertop and dingy brass faucet.
Uncle Heath's expression shifts between anticipation and concern.
"I love it. Thank you for letting me stay." I'm genuinely grateful. This is better than I could have hoped for.
He takes my duffle into the spare bedroom. "That was your dad's bed. This one was mine. I've changed a lot, but I kept the bed frames. Solid wood and all. And the quilts were made by your great-grandmother."
"They're beautiful." I run my finger across the tufted knots dotting the corners of each stitched square.
Heath pauses for a moment, watching me intently like I might spontaneously meltdown. "Alright, I've got to go wrap a few things up. I'll come grab you for dinner in about an hour," he says.
"Sounds good!" I smile extra wide so he knows I’m not some unstable, weepy teenager. Even though I was behaving like one for most of the last month.
Circling, I tug open the checkered curtains. The hazy window reveals columns of purple lupine flowers in mounds around thethick tree trunks. Between swaying branches, I spot another roof. There’s no telling how many cabins are scattered throughout the area.
With a sigh, I settle down on my dad's bed and kick off my shoes. Flopping back into the pillow, I slowly exhale a cleansing breath.
This is the perfect place to recharge. I was so wrapped up in Jeremy, I forgot about my own life. Not anymore. A week or two reconnecting with my uncle and trying new things – it’s exactly what I need. Things are only getting better from here.
2. Fried Chicken & New Friends
Slate
Imake the rounds, making sure the entire community is ready for Hazel. Heath is determined she have a nice and calm visit without any complications.
I’ll do whatever I can to make that happen. To keep her safe and out of trouble.
