Page 38 of Haunted By the Mountain Man
"Completely normal," Raven assured him and placed the flowers on his night table.
We spent an hour with him, listening as he told rambling stories that mixed decades and people into impossible narratives. He talked about working somewhere cold—"Big building, lots of people"—but couldn't name it. He mentioned a woman named Rebecca who was "sweet, like you" but couldn't place how he knew her. Jimmy was "that kid who was always fixing things" but Walt couldn't remember where or when.
The memories were there, but disconnected, floating without context. The doctors said it was typical for his level of dementia combined with stroke damage. He might never recover those specific memories, and honestly, I hoped he wouldn't.
"Time for lunch," the nurse announced, and Walt perked up.
"They have pudding on Thursdays," he told us conspiratorially. "I always get extra."
As we prepared to leave, Walt grabbed my hand with his good one—the right side was still weak from the stroke.
"You're a good boy," he said, eyes serious. "Don't know why exactly, but I know you saved me from something. Can't remember what, but... thank you."
"I just took care of you when you needed it," I said, throat tight.
"Well, you keep taking care of this pretty girl." He winked at Raven. "She's special."
We left him contentedly eating pudding and flirting with Shirley, the ghost of the lodge finally exorcised from his fractured mind.
In the truck, Raven was quiet. "It's strange," she finally said. "He's happy. Really happy. Happier than he was at the lodge."
"The memories that tortured him are gone. Rebecca, Jimmy, the fire—it's all been erased. He's just Walt now, not the keeper of guilty secrets."
"Do you think they know?" she asked. "Rebecca and Jimmy? That their story was finally told, even if Walt doesn't remember anymore?"
"I don't believe in ghosts."
"After what happened in the lodge? The cold spots, the voices, my camera dying?"
"Old buildings make weird noises. Temperature fluctuates. Batteries fail."
She gave me a look that said she knew I was full of shit, but didn't push it.
"I have something to show you," I said, turning onto the access road to the lodge.
"Shane?"
"Trust me."
When we crested the final rise, she gasped. Three excavators were positioned around the lodge, along with two dump trucks and a full demolition crew. My brothers' trucks were all parked to the side—they'd come to watch.
"You're actually doing it," she breathed.
"Razing it to the ground, just like you told your subscribers. Can't have you be a liar." I pulled her against me. "Plus, it needs to happen. That place is a death trap and it’s only a matter of time before someone gets ants in his pants to see if it’s really gone. Time to end it."
The demolition foreman approached. "Ready when you are. Want to do the honors?" He held out the remote for the initial charges.
"You bet.” But first, I had something else to do.
I dropped to one knee right there in front of the condemned lodge, pulling out the ring I'd been carrying for a week. My brothers immediately started recording.
"You trespassed on my property," I began. "Disrupted my entire life. Refused to leave even when I tried to scare you off."
"Shane—"
"You saved Walt. You saved me. You chose us over seven figures, over fame, over the life you'd built." I opened the ring box—a black diamond surrounded by smaller white ones, as unique and dark and beautiful as she was. "I'm not good with pretty words. But I'm good at keeping what's mine safe. Protected. Loved. Be mine, officially. Marry me."
"Yes. Obviously yes."
