Page 47 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas
But that only occupied my mind for a moment before everything else shoved it out of the way. Because when I thought of campgrounds and cabins, I imagined something akin to summer camps I’d seen in movies throughout my life: shells of barely passable buildings and cobwebs in every corner with all sorts of creepy crawlies and an outhouse over a simple hole in the ground.
Boy, was Iwrong.
First of all, there was what I assumed was the main cabin that Remy had mentioned. It was about a two-minute walk away with multiple paths leading to it, and it was a giantmansionmade out of wood.
“Whoa…” Max said from the back. He was in his booster seat between Eva and Addy.
I couldn’t agree more. Because there wasn’t just the main cabin, which was impressive enough on its own and looked like it could comfortably house around forty people in their own rooms. Through the trees on either side, I could pick out a couple of dozen cabins of various sizes arranged like spacious little neighborhoods. The ones to the right were pale wood, and the ones to the left looked to have been built out of cedar.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Remy asked as he got out of the car. “Our ancestors built the main house nearly two hundred years ago, and added to it every year for decades before spreading out to the other cabins. Now it’s a tradition for any handy folks who want a project, to roll up and build something.”
I nodded as I gaped at the place. There was so much tosee.I didn’t know how such a well-developed, clean area could also still look like the wilderness with plenty of trees everywhere, snow, and cobblestoned paths, but it pulled it off. It felt like a real escape from the city without being any sort of hovel.
“Your family built this?”
“Uh-huh,” Remy said as he opened the door for the girls and Max to pour out, which they most certainly did. Thankfully, Max was feeling much better than he had during the tour, although I’d packed both his walker and his wheelchair just in case. “I mean, I haven’t, but I helped with the landscaping for the new play area toward the back cabins.”
“Back cabins?” I repeated. “You mean there aremore?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, like it was the most normal thing on the planet. “You’ve got the back cabins, then there are random what we call outlier cabins that are for people who want a bit more space, then we have the older cabins that were built ages ago. They aren’t in convenient areas, and we’ll eventually demo them or renovate, we just haven’t got to it yet.”
“That sounds like a lot of land and houses,” I murmured, an uncomfortable feeling beginning to bubble up from my middle. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why, though.
“Eh, it’s enough for what we need. No one really lives here full-time other than a couple elders, but a lot of us like to vacation here. Some during the winter to get away from the grind, some during the summer to swim and boat on the lake. It’s enough that the space doesn’t really go to waste, ya know?”
“Oh, so it’s not like a compound where a bunch of people live here every day?”
And suddenly I got why I was starting to feel nervous. It reminded me of the kind of place I promised myself I’d never return to again.
“Compound? No, hardly. The only rules we have are trash in, trash out, and be respectful of the wildlife. And while there’s no limit on how long we can visit, I think it’s a bit rude to stay more than a month without explicit permission from the elders who live in the main house.”
“Like Uncle Carlo after his divorce,” Addy piped up helpfully. At least, I was sure she thought she was being helpful.
“Yes, like that, sweetie.”
Just as quickly as I realized it was happening, the discomfort eased off, soothed by the fact that I wasn’t walking into a situation that hit a little too close to home. I probably should have known better, because Remy didn’t seem like the type to trick someone into something like that, but you could never really tell, could you? It was always best to be aware of the warning signs of toxic communities.
“So, do you guys want to see your cabin?” he asked, all smiles. His curly hair was pushed back with a winter headband that covered his ears, and somehow, it made his already stunning bone structure that much more striking.
“Yeah!” Max said, both of his arms in the air. Of course, he didn’t have any reservations. I shielded him from the life I’d lived when I was younger, so he knew nothing of compounds and the dangers that came with those kinds of social structures. “I wanna see! I wanna see!”
“Let me grab your bags, and we’ll get going.”
“I’ll get his walker and wheelchair,” I said.
I wanted to ask so many questions, but they all died on my tongue before they could ever leave my mouth—probably because I was still a bit gobsmacked by just how amazing the grounds looked. It was a real case of expectation versus reality, except this time the reality was about a million times better. Not a phenomenon I was exactly used to in my life.
“Thank you, again,” I said for perhaps the fiftieth time that day, but I couldn’t help it. Stuff like this didn’t happen to me.
“It’s no problem, really. It’s a relief for me to have you here, and the elders are looking forward to meeting you.”
“They are?” I asked, alarm flashing through me. The word “elders” gave me the heebie-jeebies, even though I recognized that it was a term of respect and not some sort of weird honorific for a cult leader. “Why would they care about me? A stranger?”
“Well, firstly, apparently I don’t ask for much, and they’re happy that I wanted to bring someone, and secondly, they sort of fell in love with Max’s story.” He paused his unloading to look me in the eye, which I appreciated. “Don’t worry, I only told them he’d had cancer and was better now, and that you guys have put in quite the fight and deserve a little rest and relaxation—not to mention a whole lot of good food.” He flashed me that crooked grin that made my knees weak. “I hope the two of you are prepared to stuff yourself silly, because the amount of fare we gon’ have here is outright preposterous.”
“Preposterous like the amount of bags you’re carrying right now?” I asked. He had my backpack, the girl’s backpacks, andMax’s messenger bag all slung over his shoulder with a rolling suitcase handle in each hand.
“Eh, I’ve got that blue-collar sleeper build,” he said with a shrug, like he wasn’t carrying multiple items of luggage. “It’s no problem, really. Besides, I’ll have to make another trip to get the rest.”
