Page 80 of Van Cort
He ignores my offer, but I know this isn’t a time to press. “The cabin should be up ahead. Assuming it’s still there.”
Sure enough, a way back from the jetty, is an old cabin, worn and ramshackled. The bones of the building are still there, made from solid wood, as if the trees around us are crafted into the building, but time and the elements have claimed much of the cabin’s roof and walls.He doesn’t stop and walks up to what would have been the porch, perhaps, to breach the threshold.
We both step inside.
“Gosh.” I look around at the mess, the roof now camouflaging whatever was left inside from when it was last visited.
“It wasn’t always like this.” He sounds defensive, like this place meant more to him than he’s letting on.
Pulling back a length of timber, he pushes it to clear a space. There’s an old couch and a log burner in the far corner. Leaves and debris form a soft carpet, but despite it all, I can imagine the hideout – the retreat – this would have been for him.
I stare at him as he moves slowly, his face pensive, as if the memories are too painful. “We don’t have to be here, Everett. I appreciate the gesture.”
“It was a long time ago. I barely think of this place now. In fact, I haven’t set foot back on the island since I left.”
“For university?” I check. That was a long time ago.
“Right.”
“Why didn’t you come back?”
“That’s a complicated answer.” He picks over some of the debris, taking his time, as if unearthing memories that were buried in the bones of this wreck. “I guess this place represented something of my past, and I didn’t want to come back to it.”
“Until now?”
“Until now.” He takes a slow, deep breath before leaving the cabin as if he’s already had enough. I let him go, keeping my distance before following after, my arms wrapping around myself to keep away the chill. “It was always his fault.”
I want to ask who, but I already know he’s talking about his father, so I listen, caught between wanting to know what happened and not.
He sits down on the silty shore of the lake edge down from the cabin. The gentle lap of the water is the only noise, and I watch him drift off and linger in memories.
“He was so strict, so set in his ways, there was never any room for challenge. And, well, boys challenge their fathers, right?”
Sitting down next to him, I keep my arms wrapped around me, now chilled from more than just the cool wind.
“I can’t think back to when I was younger without the shadow of him casting everything in pain and agony. It stretched far beyond the physical, maybe he didn’t even know that. Maybe he just wanted an outlet for his own rage, but it didn’t stop there. It poisoned everything good in that house.”
His words leave far too much for me to imagine in my mind, and my breathing grows thready with nerves. “When he went away on business trips, it was easier. A reprieve, but only from the physical hurt he doled out. The island and the music room were the only spheres of happiness here, and still, he took those, too. He controlled and ordered everything so that even those sanctuaries were destroyed.”
“I don’t understand why you’d keep this place if all it is is bad memories and pain. I know what you said the other night, but will you ever be able to see it for anything other than a reminder for all that pain?”
“Another complicated answer.” He turns his head, resting it on his arm as he looks at me, a sad sort of curl to his lips. “Seems everything in my life has a complication.” His green eyes darken as a cloud drifts overhead, chilling the air further.
“I used to love the outdoors. Growing up here, despite everything, was one thing that infected my very bones. I’m glad you like it, too.”
“It’s beautiful here, and I’d say peaceful, but I’m not sure if that’s less for you, given this place still holds demons from your past.”
“Demons.” He uncrosses his arms and digs his hands into the silty sand, spreading his fingers through the mud and grit until he pulls up a handful and rubs it between his fingers. Quietly, he sifts through it, as if gathering his thoughts. I watch, rapt. This is the second time he’s let me in, but this feels more. More personal somehow. Like it’s been hidden away in a fragile state of care.“There were a lot of demons here. Still are.Sometimes, I wonder how it would have felt if I’d fought harder. Fought back, you know?” I don’t answer, because no, I don’t know. And it’s like he’s talking to himself anyway. “Yet the bruises kept coming and I didn’t do a damn thing about them, or deal with the man who kept delivering them. I just let them happen.” He scowls,as if remembering every minute of the pain he must have been in back then, and I desperately want to touch him, hold him, tell him I’m sorry for what he went through. “I was weak then. I should have done more to protect…” His words drift off, and I can’t stop myself from scooting closer to him.
“You were a boy, Everett. How could you have protected yourself from that?” No answer. And the silence lingers in the air for some time. I don’t know what to do about it, or what I’m supposed to say, so I sit quietly with him and look at the same enormous skyline he’s staring at.
Water sloshing brings me back to the moment we’re in, and I watch him brush his fingers and hold out his hand to me. “But there are precious things here. More than just wealth.” A roughened pebble falls into my hand, and as I look closer, a golden sheen glimmers on one edge.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Something precious.” He stands and walks back to the path, heading in the direction of the boat.
CHAPTER TWENTY - SEVEN
