Page 12 of One Hundred Merry Memories

As night descended, the cabin grew chillier. The thermostat for the baseboard heaters was in the hallway and she crossed her fingers that they worked. Within ten minutes, the walls groaned as the timbers soaked up the heat and expanded.

She fed Catsby and found a permanent place for his litter box—the smallest room that would become her office. Tired and sore from sleeping in her car, she dreamed of a bath and walked into a bathroom with the sweetest clawfoot tub. Out of the ceiling came a showerhead she’d use tomorrow, but for now, bubbles and hot water were calling.

When she turned on the spigot, the pipes spit and sputtered before a rush of orange came out. But as quickly as it appeared, it left, and the remaining water was clear.

After thirty minutes soaking, she was pruned and ready for bed. Having almost no sleep the previous night, she was virtually snoring by the time her head hit the pillow.

In the stillness of the night, she found herself startled awake. A sudden rustling sound punctuated the eerie silence of her new cabin, reminiscent of leaves being disturbed or paper being crumpled. She froze, her heart pounding, as her mind immediately jumped to the most logical conclusion—the raccoon was back.

“Mister Raccoon, this is not a hotel,” she muttered into the darkness, her voice shaky but filled with feigned bravado. It was silly talking to a raccoon as if it would understand and politely desist. However, the humor of the situation was not lost on her.

Sitting up, she strained her ears, trying to discern if the rustling was getting louder or if her imagination was playing tricks on her. The only response was the howl of a wolf somewhere in the distance.

Unable to fall back asleep, Amanda swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded across the cold wooden floor. Catsby stretched and gave her a look like she’d interrupted a dream about fish and rodents. “Don’t look at me like that,” she told him, “I’m making sure we don’t have an uninvited guest.”

Pulling her robe tighter around her, she ventured into the living room, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. Her gaze fell upon a dusty old photo album tucked into the corner of a bookshelf. Curiosity piqued, she picked it up, the old leather cover cool and worn beneath her fingers.

Sitting in the old plaid chair by the fireplace, she flicked on the table lamp and opened the album, revealing pages filled with black and white photographs. They were snapshots of Aspen Cove from decades ago, showcasing its history and charm. There were images of old town gatherings, children playing in the snow, the main street decorated for the holidays, and what were likely familiar landmarks in their early years.

As she flipped through, she could almost hear the laughter, feel the chill of the winter air, and taste the homemade cookies she imagined were a staple at the town’s holiday celebrations. These photos, moments frozen in time, told stories of a place that thrived on love, friendship, and the simple joys of life.

Looking at them, she had a sense of belonging. She may have been a stranger here, but in her mind, she was a friend no one had met. A soft purr drew her attention, and she found Catsby rubbing against her leg. Smiling, she reached down to scratch behind his ears. “What do you think of our new home?” He crawled into her lap and fell back to sleep.

As the night wore on, the town's atmosphere grew warmer, enfolding her in its timeless embrace.

Gradually, she transitioned from a mere observer to a living chapter in its history, as if the town itself acknowledged her presence. She imagined a distant future, a century from now, where another soul would leaf through the album she diligently curated, discovering the added photos and the stories they held.

She climbed back into bed confident the critter was still outside. The rustling and hooting no longer were strange but like a lullaby lulling her into a peaceful slumber.

A knock echoed through the stillness. Amanda stirred, her mind still foggy with dreams. A glance at the small clock on the bedside table had her groaning. “Six-thirty,” she muttered to herself. “Who on earth could be visiting at this ungodly hour?”

She shuffled to the door, her hair tousled and her eyes heavy. Catsby followed closely behind, his curious eyes wide. Opening the door, she was greeted by the sight of Jackson, already wide awake, dressed in work clothes, and radiating early morning energy.

“Hello, Amanda. Hope I didn’t wake you,” he said far too cheerfully for this time of day. “Thought we could get started on the repairs.”

Amanda blinked at him, taken aback by his drive. “It’s ... it’s six-thirty, Jackson,” she said, emphasizing each word as if it might help convey the absurdity of the hour.

His laughter echoed through the room, causing Amanda to smile despite herself. “Well, when you said I could move in, you didn’t specify working hours,” he responded, grinning. “Besides, morning is the best time to get things done. Fresh air, a clear mind, chirping birds…”

He trailed off, throwing his arms out wide to indicate the dawn chorus beginning to stir. Amanda stood in her doorway, sleep-ruffled and bemused, watching him. Jackson was a picture of vitality in the soft light, his enthusiasm infectious.

He held up two Styrofoam boxes in one hand and two cups in the other. “I brought coffee and breakfast.”

She moved aside to let him in. “You’re forgiven for the ungodly hour, but only because I’m starving and need caffeine.”

He looked down at the dog. “Can Gunner come inside?”

She smiled. “He might as well. It’s going to be his home too.”

As soon as Gunner entered, Catsby hissed and ran into the bedroom. She was sure he would have slammed the door behind him if he could.

“Do you think he’ll get used to us?”

“He’ll have to or spend much more time in our room.”

Jackson brought the food to the small table in the kitchen. “I got bacon and eggs.” He stopped for a second, and a frown creased his forehead. “You aren’t a vegan or vegetarian, are you? If so, I can give you my hashbrowns and toast.”

She shook her head. “Total carnivore here. Yesterday was hell because I only had chips, candy, and rice crispy treats. I considered stealing one of Catsby’s cans of paté.” She laughed. “You know you’re hungry when salmon paté looks gourmet.”

---