Page 51 of Ember Meadow
The cabin looks much better in the photograph than it did when I got here, but it still isn’t what it had to have been when it was new. Seeing it like this, with the Autry’s standing outside, sets a dagger into my heart.
I feel a twinge of sadness for Miles. Until I saw this, I didn’t really understand why he’d be so upset about MacPherson purchasing the cabin and land. Of course he’s upset. He grew up here.
He has good memories at this place. Probably lots of memories with his dad.
It was just another business deal to me. Another vacation rental to fix up for tourists to enjoy. But for him, it’s a piece of his home. I can’t blame him for being angry.
I don’t know what it’s like to have a family like his. Close. Loving. But if I did, I’m sure I’d be the same way if we lost something important to a corporation. Even if they did decide to sell of their own free will, obviously Walter and Isabella didn’t tell Miles about it.
If his dad is as sick as it seems from talking to Miles, it may feel like things are being torn away from him one piece at a time.
I remember when my entire life was torn away from me in an instant, dropping me in Juniper Ridge where I didn’t know anyone. I couldn’t pack all of my things, had no way to stay in contact with any of my old friends. Not even my parents visited me for a good long while. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.
Standing up, I brush my jeans off and take another look at the photograph. Now that I think about it, Walter and Isabella look a lot like the couple I saw by the fireplace. Take off a few years of age from this family photo and…
Holy shit. That was them.
That was Walter and Isabella before they were married, in this exact cabin.
I look around for the glowing ember that flew around the room, but it’s nowhere to be found. The fireplace is cold and perfectly clean, no evidence of a fire being lit in the hearth.
What is going on in this place? First the postcard, now this photo. It can’t be a coincidence.
I take the photo over to my folio and tuck it in next to the postcard I found before. I’ll take these over to Walter when I go up to the house next. And, maybe I’ll ask him about the photograph I saw before this one.
Chapter 18
Inside of an Oven
By the time Fridayafternoon rolls around I’m ready to be done for the week. It’s been a busy week without the crew here to absorb some of the work, and I’m desperate to stay on the timeline.
I shut my laptop so hard it makes Miles jump from where he’s sitting on the floor in the kitchen. We’ve spent the entire week working in the same room and not one of us has died yet. In fact, we’ve become sort of… friends.
A true miracle.
In fact, it’s been kind of nice. I’m a pretty social person, so I wasn’t exactly loving working all by myself in the cabin while the crew is gone. And even though he’s a man of few words, Miles has listened to my chatter and stories without complaining. He’s even talked back. I’ve found myself leaning back in my folding chair laughing more than once.
I’m pretty sure he could recite my high school experience in Juniper Ridge from memory, and rattle off all of the names of Hazel’s horses. He told me a bit about the ranch, too.
For instance, his dad snuck him on a horse years before his mom said it was okay for him to be riding. When she finally let him ‘try it out,’ he was so comfortable in the saddle she immediately knew he’d been riding a while already.
Then, there was the time he and Parker snuck a couple of girls over to the cabin in their early twenties and the biggest raccoon to ever exist scared them so badly, he didn’t come back to the cabin for over a year. The girls never agreed to go out with them again either.
Everytime Miles talks about his childhood on the ranch, I feel a little pang of sadness in my chest. It must have been so nice to grow up here with such caring parents. I can really tell he loves them by the way he talks about them. There’s no loneliness in his memories, no question if he was loved by them.
He doesn’t talk about after high school, and the years up until I met him. But I can only imagine it’s more of the same joy he had before then. If I could pick anywhere to grow up, it’d be this magical little mountain ranch in Wyoming, with its acres of glowing fields at sunset and warm, close-knit people.
“I’m headed out for the day,” I call out to Miles, slinging my bag onto my shoulder. Miles stands up from where he’s been working.
I look up at him once I’ve collected all of my things, and for a split second, his shoulders drop. My instincts tell me to drop everything and stay here to talk to him longer.
I’ve been spending way too much time not hating Miles Autry.
“Okay. I’m probably going to be gone soon here too. See you next week.”
Miles turns his attention back to the floor, prying up another dusty floorboard. His forearms flex as he pushes on the prybar, sending a spark through me. A memory clouds my vision. Miles’s strong arms pulling me through the door of my hotel room, both of us already breathless.
I’ve got to get out of here.
