“How do you know she didn’t bring all this stuff over here herself, and I just let her?”
“I know how particular and controlling you are over your environment. You don’t like anyone touching your belongings or moving them around. She didn’t do this.” Askuwheteau vigorously shook his head. “You did this. These are the things we men do to try and attract our prey, when we’re on the hunt and finally see something that attracts us and keeps our attention. Something we’d turn the world upside down to have. We lure the prey… make it inviting for them. We put forth effort. You’re thinking about marrying that woman, Jack. You may not even realize it, but now, just in case, I’ve brought it to your attention.”
“I’m fairly aware of what I want and don’t want. I’ll admit to you that I’ve… I’ve imagined her here with me. Living with me.”
“And what do you plan to do about that?”
Jack was quiet for a long while, staring down into his coffee cup. His reflection looked rather strange on the surface of the brew.
“I am going to make sure that she and I are what I believe and hope she and I are… and then, I’m going to ask Kim to marry me. To move into this cabin so we can start a life together.”
“That was hard for you to admit, wasn’t it?”
“No, but it was hard for me to not be concerned that if I admit it to you, or anyone for that matter, if I said it out loud, something bad would happen.” He ran his hand along his coffee mug and fought his burgeoning emotions. “Something that’ll ruin it. I feel things for Kim that I haven’t felt in years for a woman…I feel things for her, that… that I’ve never felt for anyone at all, ever.”
“That’s where trust comes in, Jack. You are believing in something you cannot see. Something mysterious. Something that eludes logic. You are banking on what is invisible, but you feel it deeply. I think you know what that is called.”
“Love. It’s called love.”
Askuwheteau nodded, reached for the basket, and grabbed another roll. With a smile on his face, he chewed on a big, buttery bite…
Chapter Seventeen
The sun had set, and the sky was a rich lapis blue. Kim sat in her car a few doors down, glancing at the white house across the street with the pretty wraparound porch, and warm yellow lights that glowed from windows dressed with burgundy curtains which allowed a partial view inside the dwelling. She saw no one walking about inside, but she did catch shadows and broken light reflections.
Outside the house, two matching stone planters sat on either side of the red painted front door.
I’m here. I can’t believe I’m here.
She’d contacted the private investigator and let him know she needed another day or two. There was no need to delay the inevitable, but first, she had to cross this last bridge before Mommy Dearest rang her phone. Things had developed faster than she’d imagined.
A Google search of Angelique’s ex-husband proved not only fruitful, but he was oddly receptive.
She’d just gotten home after teaching a large class of students a dance routine she’d poured her blood, sweat, and tears into. The interest in participation had been so good, she had to add an additional class to the schedule. After the session, she showered and got into her pajamas, excited to tell Jack about all that had happened, but then, she received an email from a Mr. Walt Cottage—Mom’s first husband. She reached out to him, letting him know she was Angelique’s daughter, and she wished to speak to him if he had a few minutes to spare. The man replied later that day and provided his address, asking her to stop over the following evening, as he had plans to be out of town for several weeks after that.
Jack encouraged her to write him back ASAP and go to the meeting. By train, the trip would take approximately twelve hours, but by car, she could knock it down to seven or eight, depending on traffic. ‘Take George Parks Highway Interstate 3. It’s a straightforward trip, and the mountain views are tremendous.’ She wasn’t opposed to long drives, and after living in New York City for all of her life and dealing with the traffic there, this would be a walk in the park.
So she called off work, packed a small bag, and went on her way as the sun rose high in the sky. Though spring had sprung, snow still dotted the grass, and a pronounced nip lingered in the air.
And now, here she was, thirty-seven minutes early. Stalking Walt Cottage. A man who knew her mother, perhaps before she’d become malevolent and fraudulent.
Her heart punched and slapped her ribs.