Page 4 of Moved
“There it is,” he said, pointing to a little dot on the GPS. The close proximity of our destination was the only reason he hadn’t pulled over again to try to do something more about the window that wouldn’t roll back up.
According to the little display, a few hundred feet and we would be there.
I caught a glint of light through the dark trees. Squinting, I tried to make out more but that was it. The rest of the place blended with its surroundings, black and wet. My stomach sank. He’d actually found a cabin in the woods. I couldn’t look away. Dread filled me, and I struggled to keep my face neutral. Well, as neutral as I could while my teeth chattered and my wet bangs poked into my eyes.
As we drove nearer, I saw it wasn’t a cabin but a small, two-story house. Even close up it remained shadowed because of the heavy rain that dimmed the yard light.
The tires crunched to a stop on the gravel. Dad and I looked at each other for a moment then bailed from the cab to rush for the door. It wasn’t any drier standing under the eaves.
Dad’s sturdy knuckles thumped the door twice before it swung open. A man stood in the dim light. He wore dark jeans, a dark zipped hoodie, and a knit cap. He represented my mother’s family? I’d expected more...well, just more.
His face was shadowed because of the hood he had pulled up over his cap, but I couldn’t miss his eyes as his gaze drifted between Dad and me. Gorgeous eyes. Bold centers accentuated by the dark blue rings surrounding them. Mesmerized, I stared just a little too long before noting the annoyance that flicked in their depths.
“Tony and Gillian.” His clipped words conveyed little welcome. He stepped aside to let us in, not waiting for confirmation. “It’s up those stairs.” He zipped his hoodie and nodded to the stairs to the right.
Dad placed a hand on my back to nudge me forward. I reluctantly stepped in first. Behind the man, a door stood partially open. Heat drifted into the entry. As soon as Dad stepped in behind me, he closed the outer door, keeping the heat in while I eyed the man’s clothes. Too warm for the heat pouring through his partially opened door. Had he just come in from outside? I clenched my teeth in an effort to stop the chattering while Dad extended a hand.
“Racer, we appreciate you offering your place. I’m glad Larry mentioned you,” Dad said as they shook hands.
“No problem.”
It didn’t look like he meant it, though. He turned away from Dad and eyed me warily. With me dripping in his small entry, I didn’t blame him. At least there was a mat under my feet.
“Take your shoes off here and head up.”
He reached behind him, pulled his apartment door shut, cutting off all light, then opened the outer door and disappeared into the wet yard. I quickly stepped behind Dad to avoid the blast of wind. Dad laughed and pulled the door closed.
My neighbor didn’t seem too friendly. Great start. Since this place sat in the middle of nowhere, I’d kinda hoped there would be someone I could spend time with. To be fair, we were arriving late. Maybe he’d be different tomorrow.
Dad seemed completely unaffected by my neighbor’s abruptness. “Come on. Let’s go up and see what we’ve got before we untarp your things. Maybe the rain will let up by then. It’ll give me time to text Larry and tell him what a piece of crap that truck is.”
He’d hesitated before saying crap, and I knew he’d wanted a stronger word. Every time he almost swore made me smile. In his mind, I was still eight not eighteen.
I clumsily kicked off my shoes and fumbled for the railing I’d noticed before Racer shut his door. Light suddenly flooded the entry. Dad grinned at me and pointed to the switch. I managed a weak grin, eyed the carpeted stairs, then decided to peel off my wet socks and carry them up.
The door at the top of the steps opened soundlessly. Light from the hall spilled into a kitchenette. I reached around the corner of the door, found the switch, and moved into the apartment. Small and cozy, it only needed some furniture and a good cleaning to remove the layer of dust that coated everything.
In the living room right off the kitchen, I turned up the thermostat while Dad went to look at the bathroom.
“Needs toilet paper,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
I laughed. With the exception of stopping on the side of the road to try to fix the window, we’d driven through for the last two hours. No doubt he was regretting the cup of coffee from the previous stop. I checked out the bathroom and inspected the bedrooms. Dad had insisted on a two bedroom apartment. Both rooms were very small, but I didn’t mind. He planned to stay two nights, having taken vacation on Monday. My mind put air-quotes around the word “vacation” when I thought it. He told his men he’d be out of town. That was it.
The apartment wasn’t what I’d imagined. Neither was the location. Hopefully, there was a town nearby with a library, café, laundromat or some other place where I’d find social interaction.
Hearing Dad’s footsteps on the stairs, I moved to the kitchen. He had two boxes stacked in his arms, which he set on the kitchen floor.
“Racer’s carrying stuff into the entry. I’ll carry them up the steps. You can put them where you need them.” He turned and clomped back down the steps. “Find some dry clothes for us.” His words echoed up the stairs as I heard the outside door open.
The first box I opened had dishes and kitchen supplies. I shoved that box near the stove. The next box had bath towels and toiletries, including toilet paper. I set that one in the bathroom, put the paper on the dispenser, and heard feet on the steps again. I closed the bathroom door and peeled off my wet sweatshirt. Shivers had my arms and chin trembling. Using a towel from the box, I dried off my face and hair.
I hustled back to the kitchen, hoping for dry clothes. Four boxes sat on the floor, all clothes. I carried them to the larger of the two bedrooms, pulled out a full change of clothes, and looked around. Both of the windows were without curtains. I’d be using the bathroom to change until there were window coverings.
While in the bathroom, I heard some serious thumping in the kitchen. Trying to hurry, I struggled to peel off my wet jeans. My bare feet ached on the cold tile. After I pulled on flannel pajama bottoms, a sweatshirt, and socks, I tossed my wet things in the dusty tub. By the time I opened the door, I could hear Dad talking.
“Thanks for the help.”
“No problem.” Racer’s voice.
