Page 5 of Christmas at Black Cherry Retreat
Chapter Three
Fee finished writing her journal entry and closed the book before hiding it away in the dresser drawer. Initially it’d been part of her therapy but now she found she missed it if she got too busy to write. She ought to eat lunch but instead Fee slipped on her shoes and grabbed a small red apple from the dish before stepping out onto the front porch. Maybe latershe’d sit in one of the rocking chairs on her tiny front porch and start one of the books she’d brought with her.
Until you get antsy. This relaxed mode of life was so alien. Surely a Martian would experience the same misgivings if dropped on planet earth and told to fit in. Without the camera she’d been ordered not to bring with her, and which she hadn’t been without in over twenty years,Fee felt she was learning to live without one of her limbs.
It’s time to face life with no lens in the way.
The doctors didn’t understand. Few people did. Apart from her free-spirited mother she didn’t have much in the way of family, and friends tended to drop off the radar because she was rarely around. Relationships with men were hopeless because no one wanted a woman who wouldcancel a date and disappear for four months on an assignment without bothering to send an apologetic email.
Fee dragged herself down the couple of steps, determined to take one of the walks she’d been assured would do her good and headed for the two-mile trail around Black Cherry Lake. For a woman who’d trekked for days on end in harsh terrain this should be nothing more than a gentlestroll but with her low-energy light on full blast she wasn’t sure she’d make it all the way.
Small steps, Fee. Small steps.
Turning her face into the mild autumn sun she set off slowly at first and gradually increased the length of her strides as the blood pumped through her body. Fee ignored the twinge in her knee and hoped it’d work itself out if she didn’t push too hard. Shepassed the other cabins quickly in the hope she wouldn’t be spotted and forced into conversation by any of the other guests.
After a few minutes she relaxed and began to enjoy herself. A family of ducks swam close to the shoreline making her wish she had something to feed them. Fee shaded her eyes from the sun and followed the progress of a large bird flying low across the lake until itdisappeared into the shade of the trees. She wondered if it was some sort of eagle but couldn’t be sure. Tom probably knew every inch of his land and what lived on and around it. He’d happily tell her if she asked which she wouldn’t. Fee’s senses sharpened, honed by years of developing an acute awareness of her surroundings for her own safety. She glanced over her shoulder to see a small, brownand white spotted deer watching her from a few metres away. The urge to take its picture and capture the intriguing mix of vulnerability and composure swept through Fee and she cursed her doctor. How would he care to have his medical license snatched away? Hardly daring to breathe she held the deer’s wide-eyed gaze until it blinked and leapt back into the shelter of the trees.
Shovingher hands in her pockets she walked on again and found herself back where she’d started sooner than expected. Fee studied the cabins, spaced a decent distance apart when they were built so the owners would have had neighbours for protection but not close enough to lose their privacy. People’s longings for a home and community were the same all over around the world and in a small way she always hopedher pictures would increase that understanding. She was smart enough to get the irony of a photographer with no settled home celebrating such things. Whenever her therapist probed too deeply into her background she avoided his questions, but he would bide his time and come back to the subject when she least expected.
Fee strode in front of Tom’s cabin and stopped dead at the sound of childishlaughter ringing out from his front porch. Tom rocked in one of the chairs with a tiny red-headed girl perched on his knee.
‘Faster, horsey, faster.’ The child giggled and shouted, banging on his legs. Fee couldn’t drag her eyes away as Tom whinnied and made loud horse noises. Why had she been so sure he was a loner like herself? Usually she did a good job of recognising fellow outcastsbut her radar must have failed her this time. The afternoon sun picked up burnished highlights in Tom’s hair she hadn’t noticed earlier making it obvious where the girl’s bright curls came from.
‘MissWinter, are you enjoying the lovely day?’
She started and met his knowing smile, aware she’d been caught staring. ‘Yes, I’ve walked all around the lake. It’s very beautiful.’
The girl tugged at Tom’s arm. ‘Hurry up we’ve got to win the race.’
‘This horsey’s tired, sweetheart. He sure could do with some ice cream.’
‘Ice cream. Ice cream.’ She bounced harder and Tom eased the child off and stood up, his movements graceful and economic for such a big man. ‘Lulu, this is MissWinter. Say good afternoon, ma’am.’
The girl parroted him and Feeblinked back tears. Children weren’t her thing so why did this particular scrap of a girl get to her? She tried to rationalise it by telling herself it’d happened before in other times and places. It was part of being human, nothing more.
‘Doesshelike ice cream?’
Tom’s eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘I don’t know. You wanna ask her, pumpkin?’
Lulu raced down the steps.‘Do you want to eat ice cream with us? We’ve got three kinds.’
Fee caught a hint of challenge in Tom’s expression. He thought she’d find an excuse and run off but the man didn’t know her at all. She’d never backed down from anything even if it was life-threatening. Ice cream was something she could do.
‘Do you have any strawberry?’ she asked and Lulu glanced back up at Tom.
‘Yeah,’ he declared, ‘plus vanilla for unadventurous people or to put on pie, and of course chocolate marshmallow—’
‘For big boys who never grew up?’ Fee teased.
‘I’ve been known to share if I’m asked nicely,’ he protested, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and staring her down.
‘No problem. I’m a strawberry girl myself.’ One of her few good childhood memories wasof eating strawberry ice cream with her mother every time they were in Cornwall. They’d go there sometimes to stay with Will Sawyer, the most consistent of her mother’s numerous boyfriends. He was the only one to show her any kindness instead of merely tolerating her presence and his rambling old house, only a stone’s throw from the sea, became the closest thing she ever knew to a settled home.
‘Thought so. Come and sit here with us. I’ll go fix the ice cream.’
Tom hurried indoors letting the screen door close behind him and stood still for a moment to gather his senses. He couldn’t rationalise why Fee Winter rattled him. She was no raving beauty and the imaginary barbed wire fence circling her should be enough to warn him off, so why did she still intrigue him?
You gotta let go of Gina one day, bro. He’d fought with his oldest brother last Thanksgiving until his father dragged him off. They’d both had a few too many beers when Sandy told him what he thought of Tom’s self-imposed punishment. He didn’t understand a lifetime would never be long enough to assuage the guilt that gnawed at him day and night. The fact that Gina died because of him was brutalenough but almost worse was the painful knowledge that their marriage had been pulling apart at the seams with no apparent hope of repair. His biggest regret came from not having been the husband Gina needed and deserved.
