Shelterwood by Lisa Wingate

Author:Lisa Wingate [Wingate, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2024-06-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Valerie Boren-Odell, 1990

Between every two pine trees there is a door leading to a new way of life.

—John Muir

The sound propels me from my bed like a bomb going off. I hit the floor with both feet, stagger around foggy and disoriented.

Where am I?

A moment ago I was pitching a tent along a flooded backwater in Yosemite. Joel was there, the two of us hiking the way we used to on our days off, young, unencumbered, crazy in love.

All of it was so real.

Suddenly I’m in a cabin, an ancient rotary phone caterwauling nearby. I stumble toward it, grab the receiver, blurt out, “Joel?”

“Huh?”

“Wha…I…”

“This is Curtis. Curtis…uhhh…Enhoe? Sorry, I’m guessing I hit it a little too early?”

The grogginess evaporates. “N-no. It’s fine. I was up.” I grab Charlie’s leftover bedtime water from the counter, take a drink while Curtis chuckles into the phone, somewhere between amused and embarrassed.

“I was trying to catch you before you went on shift,” he adds sheepishly.

I check the woodsy wall clock in panic. The little canoe has its oars pointed straight up and down: 6 a.m.! My heart stutters before my mind catches up, and I say, “Off day.”

Dead silence, and then, “Oh…geez. Sorry about that. The message you left me didn’t say anything about a day off.”

“It’s fine, really. I was up.” I grab another swig of water, swish it around. “I just haven’t make…made coffee yet.” With my free hand, I smack my cheeks. Wake up, already!

“Well, I can relate there. Morning doesn’t start till the coffee’s on.” He laughs again. It’s a nice sound, casual, friendly, unstressed, as if he’s in no rush to move into the day. Each thing in its own time, take it as it comes.

It all works out if you just let it. Joel’s words. For an instant, my sleepy mind weaves them into the gentle laugh on the other end of the phone. Warmth envelops me, languid and familiar. It’s as if I could turn around and Joel would be right here in this kitchen, in his baggy sweats and a T-shirt with the neckband stretched out from hanging sunglasses, ink pens, key rings, and all manner of Joel stuff on it.

I shake my head, drive blood into my brain. Joel vanishes. The sweet warmth gives way to the damp, misty feel of an Oklahoma summer morning.

“So, you got my message, then.”

“Bonnie passed it along when I came home. She’s a pretty fair secretary. This puppy parenting thing cuts into her efficiency, though.”

“So Mama Dog has a name now? Bonnie…I like it. Tell her thanks for me. Sorry to be so cloak-and-dagger with the message.” A blush washes upward from my chest to my cheeks. I feel silly for having deposited a note in the metal kibble storage can next to the dog dishes, but when I stopped by the house, Curtis’s roommate, another tribal police officer, was on his way out the door. I hadn’t realized anyone else lived there. “Your roommate looked like he was in a hurry.

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