The Long Way Home
Sunlight streamed in through the car’s window, warming the side of Gillian’s neck and shoulder. Flipping the shade over to that side didn’t do much to block it out of her eyes, so she reached into the console next to her and grabbed her favorite pair of sunglasses, slipping them on and relaxing into the drive.
It was going to be a long drive.
Tuning the radio, she caught an easy-listening rock station, good enough for background noise, but not too irritating.
And then, just as she was taking her hand off the buttons, that song came on. The one she always avoided at all costs. Because it was theirs.
It had been Sam’s choice, really. All summer long, she’d hear him either humming that tune, or whistling it. Even singing it to her once. Not well, but, heartfelt, anyway.
“Voice like cracked glass”, he’d always say to her, after attempting to sing. And she’d laugh, and pat his arm and tell him “No, not at all, I love your voice.”
Matter of fact, the first time she met him he was singing that song.
Coming off her first big job, that summer had been a promise she’d made to herself. To get away, truly away from everything. To get lost in the woods, and not see civilization all summer. She’d rented a cabin at the lake, as far from the city as she could get, and was unpacking her car, when she heard someone singing out behind her cabin. Singing, badly.
“Sunshine, on my shoulders…. makes me happ-eeeee…”
Ugh, she thought to herself. John Denver? REALLY?
Slamming the lid of her trunk in disgust, she stalked around the side of the building, and was confronted by the backside of a mountain – of logs. Detouring around them, she noticed also the “whack-whack” of an axe, and upon seeing the head of the axe lift high into the air, finally reached the other side and saw the hands attached – and the rest of the guy along with them.
“Hey! Just who the hell do you think you are, and what are you doing at my cabin?” Gillian folded her arms over her chest and fumed.
“Well, since I own the cabin, I’m guessing it’s my right to be here, and if you are who I think you are, then I’m your landlord, and I’m chopping wood for your fireplace. Mind backing up a tich, so I can finish without hitting you with this axe by accident?”
Crap. So much for getting off on the right foot.
- That Golden Light (breaaire.wordpress.com)
- FFT – Gillian’s Rest (breaaire.wordpress.com)
- FFT-Time Was (breaaire.wordpress.com)
- FFT-The Call (breaaire.wordpress.com)
- FFT-The Return Flight (breaaire.wordpress.com)