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When he rolled into the clearing and cut the engine, the two of them sat for a while, their silence more like a companion as they gazed up at the large rustic cabin in the woods. The sun was setting just behind it, the last rays of orange and gold slowly disappearing as dusk fell. In the distance, several more cabins dotted the shoreline, each with their own dock, though they were smaller.
“This place looks the same,” she murmured, reaching for her seat belt.
“Yeah.”
She turned to him and his chest tightened. He was hot and cold, and his heart beat so damn fast, it hurt. Him. Hudson Blackwell. He was scared. She shook her head, a catch in her voice. “I forgot about this place.” Her gaze wandered back to the cabin before claiming him again. “Or maybe I just wanted to forget.”
Hudson waited a beat and then reached for the door handle.
“I didn’t.”
He opened the door and got out, and as he followed Rebecca up the steps to the veranda that ran the length of the cabin, he hoped like hell he knew what he was doing. He knew they’d reached the end of whatever it was they’d had in Crystal Lake. He’d seen that in her eyes the weekend before.
This right here was new territory for him and Rebecca. He couldn’t screw it up.
Chapter 28
The door was unlocked, and with one last glance at Hudson, Rebecca turned the handle and pushed it open. It was like walking back in time. She stood at the threshold for several moments as a wash of memories hit her.
Hudson carrying her over his shoulder to the rug in front of the fireplace.
Hudson smiling down at her as she told a funny story.
Her hands on his strong, young body.
His mouth on hers.
Rebecca exhaled and took a step inside. She breathed in the past and turned in a full circle. The large cabin was part of an old resort that at one time had been popular in the area with city folk looking to experience the wilds of Michigan. Fishing. Camping. Canoeing. Hiking. Sledding in the winter. The smaller cabins were always full. But when the car industry collapsed and folks didn’t have as much money to spend, this place had died a slow death.
It became the go-to for local teens to hang out and party. And do other things.
“Do the Edwards still own this?” she asked.
“They do.”
“It looks clean,” Rebecca said as she walked farther into the great room. The fresh scent of pine was in the air. Heck, even the windows looked crystal clear, as if they’d just been washed.
“I got the key off Jake a few days ago and came up to make sure there were no critters running around. I was surprised to find everything in working order. The fireplace has been checked out, the bedrooms are made up. Even the kitchen is up to snuff.”
“Are they planning on reopening?”
Hudson shrugged and dropped their bags. “He didn’t say, but obviously they’ve pumped some money into the place over the last while.”
He walked past her, and Rebecca watched as he got busy with the fire. The fireplace was the focal point of this great room and was built into stone and granite. Above it hung the requisite stuffed head. In this instance, a large moose. The furniture was still the same. Massive pieces, leather and suede, with a few dark rust-colored chairs as accent. They were more than a little threadbare, but considering the age, they were in good condition. She noticed a large bag beside the sofa, one full of pillows and blankets.
Seemed as if looking for critters wasn’t the only thing on Hudson’s mind.
She wandered over to what had at one time been the reception desk and spied several framed photos on the wall. Her father, Ben, had never brought his children out here, but Hudson’s family had spent time at the lodge.
Her heart took a tumble, and she walked around the desk, eyes on the last frame to her right. She stood staring at it for so long, her neck ached. And then on tiptoes, she reached up, but her fingers couldn’t quite grasp the edge of the frame.
“Here.” Warm breath touched the back of her neck. “Let me.”
She froze as Hudson’s hands reached overtop and grabbed the photo from the wall. He held it in front of Rebecca so both of them could see it. It was black and white. The im
age simple. Powerful.
A woman sat at the edge of the water surrounded by three young boys. Her laughter was frozen in time as she gazed up at the photographer. Long hair hung in wet ropes down her chest, and the oldest child leaned against her, his head on her shoulder, his arms tucked into hers. The look on her face was one of pure, unrestrained joy. She was happy. Her boys were happy. She was loved.
