The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (52 page)

Chapter 10

The directions on the sheet instructed renters to go to the general store to pick up the keys from a woman named Sheena. Once I got into town, it didn’t take me long to find the store. The road led straight into Rainbow Valley, passing only a handful of old houses, most with large vegetable gardens, laundry on the line, and the occasional goat or chicken running around the yards. Besides a gas station, a small café, and an antiques shop, the only other building on Main Street was the general store. There wasn’t much to it, but I liked what I saw. The same sense of peace that filled me while driving settled around me.

By the time I parked my car and stepped out, the sun was low in the sky. The scent of pine and fresh earth filled my senses and any tension I had left in my neck had vanished.
 

The storefront was neatly kept, with a large veranda stretching out on either side of the door. A log bench sat beneath the window and the rails were draped in what looked like tied-dyed cloths in every possible shade of the rainbow. An array of wind chimes hung from the eaves, creating what should have been an overwhelming mixture of noise. Instead the sounds complemented each other with their differences, creating a beautiful melody. Another set of bells tinkled when I opened the door and I was in for another surprise.
 

What looked like a small, unassuming store from the outside was anything but. I couldn’t help but stare in amazement at the sheer amount of stuff crammed inside the space. There was a grocery section to the left, with a variety of cans, boxes, and bags all pushed together on the shelves in no particular order. A large deep-freezer with the words MEAT-FISH-BIRDS scrawled on the front in black marker sat against the far wall. A fridge with the word FRESH was next to it. The other side of the store resembled a flea market, with items like hammers and nails shoved up against bird baths and baskets of yarn. Hanging from the open rafters were tennis rackets, fishing nets, hammocks, kites, and every possible size of wicker baskets.
 

“Jason?” A voice called from somewhere behind a curtain. “Jason, is that you?”

I picked my way towards the back of the store, and the voice.
 

“It’s about time. Would you get back here and help me out? For the love of all things holy—” The woman’s voice was swallowed by a loud crash.
 

I froze next to a barrel of dried flowers. “Hello?” I called out. “Are you okay?”

“Good lovin’, you’re not Jason.” The woman’s head peeked out from behind a beaded curtain. At first glance I thought she might be in her thirties or early forties, but as she emerged from the back room and into view, I could see that the green scarf tied around her thick black hair didn’t quite cover all of the silver streaks. A crystal jewel sparkled from her nose, catching the light and detracting from the deep lines etched in her tanned skin. It was hard to tell, but she was probably in her sixties.
 

“Hello,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors today.” The skin around her eyes crinkled when she smiled, which only accented the cool depth of some of the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. I tried not to stare, but there was something about her face that drew me in. I felt like I should know her. “Sorry to startle you,” she said. “I thought you might be Jason. He was supposed to be here helping me with this load of boxes, but wouldn’t you know it, he’s late again.” The woman wiped her palms on her peasant skirt and extended her hand. “I’m Sheena.”

“Oh, you’re Sheena?” I took her hand and she squeezed.
 

She didn’t let go of me the way I thought she might. Instead she wrapped both her hands around mine and looked into my eyes.
 

“Have we met before, Sunshine?” she asked.
 

I shook my head.
 

She laughed, straight from her belly, a hearty sound that broke me from whatever trance I’d found myself in.

“Sorry,” I said. “No, we haven’t met before.”

She released me but didn’t move away. “Well, we might have. In another life. Spirits are funny things, drawing together past connections into the present.”
 

I took a step back, putting space between us. Before I could ask her what she meant, she asked, “So, why is your spirit seeking mine today?”

“My spirit is,” I started. “I mean, I’m looking for you because, well it’s kind of strange, but I came up to stay at a house and I think you might have the keys?”
 

“There’s nothing strange about that at all,” Sheena said. She moved back around the counter, leaving a waft of patchouli in her wake. “What house are you staying at?”

“There’s more than one?”

“I look after a handful of rental cabins. You didn’t think this was all there was, did you?” Sheena waved her arm, encompassing the contents of the store.
 

“Well, no. I mean, it’s…”
 

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing, Sunshine. I’ll help you figure it out. Who sent you? Whose place is it?”

“Well, no one sent me really. But it’s Rick Saunders’ place.”

Sheena’s face flickered and the sparkle in her eyes dimmed. But it might have been my imagination, because after a split second her smile was back and she said, “I know just the place you’re talking about. I have the keys right here.” Sheena crouched down and disappeared under the counter; when she emerged a few seconds later, she held a single key attached to a stained glass rainbow keychain.
 

“I didn’t think the Saunders’ cabin was rented right now.”
 

“It’s not,” I said. “I mean, well, I don’t know if it is. I didn’t check.”

“Are you a new renter then?”

“Well, I guess I am,” I said. “Rick Saunders is my father. So I guess I’m just borrowing the place for a little bit.”
 

“Holy Mother of Earth.” Sheena’s face stripped of color; she dropped the key where it clattered on the counter and her hand flew to her mouth.
 

“Are you okay?”

She grabbed a cord that was around her neck and tugged a little pouch out from beneath her blouse. I watched, mesmerized while she kissed it and muttered something to herself that I couldn’t quite make out. “Is everything okay?” I asked again.
 

Sheena gave her head a shake and tucked the pouch away. “Yes.” Her voice faltered and cracked. “Everything’s fine,” she said, stronger this time. “I know your…well, knew your father. But it was a long time ago.”

“Really?” I had a strong urge to grab the key and run out of the shop. I didn’t want to have an awkward discussion about Dad and how he was. Besides, I couldn’t imagine my straight-laced father ever being friends with such a strange woman. I glanced around, looking for someone, anyone to interrupt the conversation, but the store was still empty.

“And your mother?” Sheena asked. “How is…” She trailed off and stared just past me. I turned to see what she was looking at and half expected to see a ghost, or something equally bizarre, standing behind me.

“She’s dead,” I said. “Well, my mother is. My step-mom, Connie, she’s fine. Did you know her as well?”
 

“Yes.” Sheena’s eyes snapped back to focus on me. “Your mother, I mean. I knew her very well. I was devastated to hear of her early calling back to the Mother Earth. She was a gifted artist.”
 

“An artist? I didn’t know her. She died when I was very young. Connie’s my mother.” The last part came out much harder than I’d intended, but Sheena didn’t seem to notice; she was staring at me intently.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier.”

“See what?”

Sheena didn’t answer. Instead she stepped around the counter and wrapped me in a tight embrace.
 

“You look just like Rick,” she muttered into my hair.

“Pardon?” I managed to squeak despite the crushing grip around my chest.

“And your brother?”

“Dylan? He’s fine.”

She released me and I sucked in a breath. For such a small woman, her strength was shocking. I watched as she again pulled out the sack from the cord around her neck and brought it to her lips before looking to the ceiling. She tucked it away but didn’t say anything. Sheena stared at me again, her face an unreadable expression.

It was awkward. I felt like I should say something but I’ve never been good at filling silences, especially with strange women who knew uncomfortable details about my family.
 

“So,” I started and took a step towards the counter and the key. “Is there anything I need to know?”

She blinked hard and then shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Sunshine. I don’t know what came over me.” With a swish of her skirts, she moved and handed me the key. “I assume you have the directions to get there? It’s a few minutes out of town.” I patted my purse and forced a smile. “And I should tell you,” she continued, “there isn’t a phone up there and the cell coverage can be spotty at best. I suppose it depends on how the stars are aligned.”

“That's okay. I don't really want to talk to anybody, anyway.” I took the key and squeezed it in my palm.

“Just like your mother.” She spoke so softly I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly, but I didn’t have the energy to ask her to repeat herself.

“Thanks.” I turned and started across the floor, eager for the sanctuary of my car.
 

“Sunshine?”
 

“My name is Becca.” It came out harsher than I’d intended it. I turned around and added, “It’s short for Rebecca.”

“Of course it is.”

“My father named me.”
 

Sheena nodded, a small smile playing at her lips.

“My middle name is Meadow,” I blurted out. I don’t know why I said it. I didn’t like anyone to know my hippie middle name.
 

Sheena smiled and said, “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
 

I didn’t know what to say in response so I looked at my feet and kicked at a dust ball on the floor. “Okay, well, I should go.” It was strange, but the desire to leave and find the cabin was suddenly just as strong as the pull to stay in the cluttered shop.
 

“Go with blessings and sunbeams,” Sheena said. She closed her eyes and tipped her head as if to pray. That was my cue; so, clutching the key, I crossed the floor and let the screen door clatter behind me as I took a desperate breath of fresh air.

***

I followed the hand-drawn map that was part of the file. The rough pavement gave way to gravel and it wasn’t long before the trees crowded in on both sides. The mass of green was mesmerizing and I almost missed the plank bridge that spanned the river. At the last moment, I jammed on the brakes and assessed the flimsy looking bridge. It seemed solid enough, and the water wasn't raging. It was probably safe. Besides, there didn’t seem to be another way across. I put the car in gear again and edged my way onto the wood and over the river.
 

Safely on the other side, I laughed aloud at my worry. Jordan would have called me a chicken, especially if she’d seen me holding my breath. I tried my best to close my mind to thoughts of the girls.
 

The road wound upwards on a one lane path that was well-worn and easier to navigate than I would have thought. Occasionally, a side road, marked with a name or number, jutted from the main trail, leading to properties hiding in the trees.
 

After five minutes of bumping over the gravel, I noticed a small wooden sign marking another side road. Although it was faded with age, I could still make out the colors of a rainbow, similar to the one I’d seen on the highway. According to the directions, it was my turn.
 

The aspens and pines thinned a little on both sides of the lane, enough to allow streams of the late afternoon sunlight through, showcasing a smattering of wildflowers in a variety of brilliant colors. I took my time edging the car down the road. It wasn’t too late to turn around. I could still go back. But even as the thoughts popped into my head, I knew I wouldn’t. And when I rounded a corner in the road and the trees abruptly gave way to an open field, carpeted in flowers, my decision was made.
 

Wildflowers in every shade of the rainbow blanketed the meadow, shocking me with the intensity of pure color. The driveway circled around to a little wooden house. It was so plain in comparison to the field, it almost blended into the trees behind it.
 

I left the car parked at the side of the house and stepped onto the porch. It was huge, probably almost the same size of the house itself. Most of the deck was covered by a wooden roof, as if whoever had built it simply forgot to put the walls up. I took my time crossing to the front door, passing by two large wooden chairs sitting in the middle of the space, with a small wrought iron table between them. It was the rocking chair, worn with age and exposure to the elements, that drew me. It was positioned close to the edge, so the occupant could sit and stare into the field of flowers. I ran my hand along the smooth, weathered wood, gave it a slight push, and letting it rock gently, turned toward the cabin.
 

Although old, it was easy to see the house had been well cared for. The boards had received a fresh layer of stain recently, and the front door gleamed with bright yellow paint. To the right of the door, a wooden rainbow hung from a nail. I was starting to sense a theme. I ran my fingers over the sign and smiled.

Like a child on Christmas morning, I was entranced by the wrapping, but I still needed to know what was inside. I fit the key Sheena gave me into the lock and stepped inside. I don’t know what I expected, but given that my father owned it, I guess I thought it might have at least a little bit of his influence.
 

What I saw was the exact opposite of anything my father would have chosen. My childhood home was always tidy, and well-planned, with everything in its place. Dad insisted on an ordered environment, and Connie obliged him by choosing matching throw cushions and tables and lamps that mirrored one another on either side of the couch. It was nothing like the hippie-influenced living room I saw. A low couch that looked as if the legs had been cut off was pushed up against one wall. It was impossible to tell what color the upholstery was because it’d been draped in layers of large cloths. They were the size of bed sheets, but each one was dyed in a different vibrant color, some with patches sewn on.