Page 10 of The Caretaker
Now
KEEPING WITH THEaesthetic of Haley Cove, I expected Solace to live in a small cottage emitting smoke through a stone chimney because burning wood would be the only way to keep the old-fashioned home warm. What I got was a dilapidated farm on the outskirts of town with a modernized barn house at its center. I assumed the rest of the property was a work in progress.
After easing to a stop at the end of the post-and-rail fenced driveway, I snapped a succession of photos, capturing the grandeur of the house and the snow-covered evergreens surrounding it.
I lowered the camera, letting it rest against my chest, the strap pulling taut at my nape. Aside from Stacey, my camera was the one thing I could hold on to, and it rarely left my side—or neck.
Solace stepped outside, tugging the lapels of his oversized cardigan across his chest to fight off the winter chill. The wind tossed his loose hair around, and he squinted through the thick strands to see me through the windshield I sat behind.
Not wanting him to get sick or freeze to death, I cut the truck’s engine, intending to get out. Suddenly self-conscious about my unkempt hair, I paused to glance in the mirror. I’d shaved the beard off after deciding to take Solace up on his offerto show me around, but there was little I could do about my hair. It didn’t behave itself the way Solace’s hair did. It curled in some spots and hung limp in others. I’d tied it back as best I could before leaving the bed and breakfast that afternoon. Finding a barber made it onto my priority list for the first time in months. Nine months, to be exact.
“You didn’t tell me you had your own country out here,” I said, meeting up with him at the door. I’d called him after spending the whole night replaying our conversation from the tavern yesterday afternoon. He didn’t hesitate to invite me over, saying we could get started on seeing the town today, if I liked. I liked that idea very much; too much, if I were being honest.
“This is your phone number?”he’d asked after answering my call with a delayed and distrusting hello.
“Yeah, why?”I’d asked in return.
“Nothing. I just…didn’t recognize it.”
My phone hadn’t survived the accident. Months later, when Leland threatened to show up at my door unannounced every day if I didn’t replace it, I’d made sure to get a new number. I didn’t want any work-related calls, any well-wisher calls, or any calls from people who were unknown to me. So I understood the hesitancy in answering a number you didn’t recognize.
“Save it,”I’d told him. Doing so felt like taking a big leap. I never wanted anyone to call me, but suddenly I looked forward to the idea.
“Saved,”he’d said, the word little more than a wisp of air.
I found Solace refreshing. He didn’t know the old me and had no expectations of me ever being that person again. I needed that. And it didn’t hurt that he was a great listener and also kind.
“It belonged to my grandfather.” He stepped aside and gestured for me to enter ahead of him. He took my coat, hanging it in the closet as I kicked off my wet boots.
“This is incredible,” I breathed, descending into the sunken living room, the obvious centerpiece of the home. He had a fire going in the massive hearth, and the sun shone through the wall of windows that ran adjacent to it. “I didn’t see any animals.”
“It hasn’t been a working farm for some time,” he said from behind me. “At one point I considered adding stables to the property. Get a few horses. Now, I’m not so sure.”
The interior had been decorated with warmth in mind, from the mink-colored sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace, to the matching armchairs perched across from the couch. Grays, browns, and several variations of beige mixed throughout, making the place feel inviting. It felt likehome.
“What changed your mind?” I asked, dragging a hand along the back of the couch, drawn to it. All of a sudden, I wanted to stretch out on it and sleep for days. How long had it been since I’d slept for more than a few hours at a time?
“Mostly a loss of passion,” Solace answered. “Also seemed like a lot for one person.”
“No family?” I headed toward the two photos on the mantel.
“None close by,” he said, coming up next to me.
“Who’s this?” I picked up the first frame.
“That’s my brother, Gavin. I call him Gav. He’s in the military. Special Ops. Doesn’t come home often. He’s an adrenaline junkie and would rather be in the field.”
I set the photo down and moved on to the next one. “And this little guy?” The boy in the photo had curly, auburn hair. He gripped a vinyl record to his chest, Christmas wrapping paper littered around him.
Solace sighed, taking the picture frame from me. He held it like it was his most prized possession. “That’s my son, also named Gavin. He died a couple years ago. He was six.” He set the frame back exactly as it was, making minor adjustments until it was right.
“I’m sorry,” I said. The firelight did wonders for the thin, watery shimmer that seemed to never recede from his eyes. It was just enough to illuminate the bold coloring of his irises, to add a shine to them. To hypnotize an onlooker. But not so much as to make him appear needlessly weepy.
“Why?” he asked. “It wasn’t your fault. It was mine.” He strode off before I could formulate another apology, changing the topic before my heart had adjusted to the painful news he’d delivered. “Make yourself comfortable.” He ascended from the living room. “I was about to make us tea before you showed up.”
“Do you have chamomile?”
He glanced over his shoulder, wearing a look I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “Sure do,” he said before rounding a corner and disappearing out of view.
