Page 5 of Winter Reckoning
I sat up and rolled my shoulder, working out the stiffness. My boots were still on. My jacket was still buttoned. I'd slept the way I always did on assignments. Ready to move if I needed to.
Charlene padded across the floor, her arms full of garland, barefoot and wearing yesterday's hoodie. She saw me and lifted one hand in a half-wave before resuming her path toward the tree. She hummed something under her breath. Carols. She couldn’t pick a somber tune. No, she shook and shimmied as if it were a hard rock edition. Before coffee, her perkiness was overwhelming.
I stood and stretched, then moved to the window. The view looked out over the clearing behind the cabin. Snow covered everything in unbroken white except for a narrow path that led to a woodshed about twenty yards away. Fresh tracks marked the trail. Boot prints, evenly spaced, heading out and back.
Nick appeared at the edge of the clearing, arms loaded with split logs. He moved without urgency, each step deliberate and unhurried. He had changed from a red flannel to green. I wanted to comment on his consistent style, but if asked, I’d say red worked better. It brought out the warmth in his cheeks.
He reached the cabin and disappeared around the side. Nick moved as if he didn’t have a care in the world. If I were here as a protection detail, we’d need to discuss procedures and protocols. Going outside in the open, where all hell could break loose, broke half a dozen rules. It made about as much sense as everything else around here.
I heard the door open behind me. A gust of cold air swept through the room. Nick stepped inside, snow dusting his shoulders and the top of his head. He brushed it off with one hand and carried the wood to the fireplace. He stacked the logs beside it in a neat row, adjusting them until they lined up perfectly. Another postcard moment.
He didn't look at me. Didn't ask if I'd slept. Just added two logs to the fire before shifting them with a poker. With a deep inhale, his chest and stomach puffed out, and I couldn’t help but admire his girth. He exhaled, and the embers grew brighteruntil the logs caught on fire. Perhaps somewhere along the way I drove through a portal into another dimension where everything resembled one of those holiday calendars? It wouldn’t be the first time.
Charlene reappeared from around the tree, stepping back to admire whatever she'd hung. No matter how much tinsel or ornaments she added, she was determined to add more. She tilted her head, frowned, then adjusted something I couldn't see.
"Better," she said to no one in particular. “Oh, more tinsel.” I had a feeling ‘more tinsel’ would be her answer to most problems. What exactly was she an intern of? I wanted to see her resume.
I stayed at the window. My stomach was empty, and somewhere I could smell sugar. I assumed there were pies cooling in the oven. Redline files were filled with oddities, but none like this. I had a man who had barely spoken two words to me, and a girl who didn’t have a care in the world. Why didtheyneed protecting?
“No questions,” I muttered.
Charlene bent down and opened another box, this one labeled ‘Pinecones’ in neat block letters. She pulled out a handful of small ornaments, each one painted gold and tied with red ribbon. She sorted them by size in a large wooden bowl on the table, humming as she worked.
Nick wiped his hands on his pants and moved into the kitchen. At least with an open floor plan, I could monitor them, as long as he didn’t go rogue again. Nick picked up the kettle and poured water into a mug. Tea bag, no sugar. He didn't make a second cup. It was hard not to take offense at this point.
I watched him take the first sip. His expression didn't change. Calm. Present. Unbothered. That’d be it for most people. I noted the way he rested his hand on the counter,leaning against it as his eyes dropped. Sorrow. Anguish. Pain. When he looked up, he caught me staring. I didn’t look away.
He didn’t look like a man needing protection. The slow movements and weathered lines on his face looked like exhaustion. This didn’t come from hauling firewood or swinging an axe. Something had eaten away at him little by little and all that remained was the husk of a man he once was.
Charlene held up one of the pinecones. “Nick.” She shouted as if he were her grandfather who had forgotten his hearing aid. “Do you remember where this one came from?”
He glanced over. Nodded once.
"Vermont?"
"New Hampshire."
"Right." She set it aside. "The year with the ice storm."
At least his reserved demeanor hadn’t been meant just for me. This dynamic duo was the most unlikely of pairs. She held up another pinecone from the box. Narrowing her eyes, I could hear her mutter, “Definitely Maine.”
He took another sip of tea and didn't respond.
She turned toward me and then spun her chair toward Nick. Charlene let out an exasperated sigh as if she had been mildly inconvenienced. “You two are gonna kill me with this energy.”
I said nothing. Nick returned his attention to his mug.
Charlene sighed. “I see your point, Charlene. You’re so wise.” She slid the box aside and moved onto the one marked ‘Snow Globes.’ Tearing it open, she eyed me again. “Are you going to be a statue the whole time?”
“Yup.”
“Oh, he talked! I thought you two were playing the Quiet Game. Careful now, next thing you know, we’ll be having a conversation.”
I shifted my weight, ignoring Charlene’s rambling. I turned my attention back to the room. Everything in the cabin hada place. Labels on every box. Shelves organized by category. Holiday materials sorted by size and color. The cabin could have been an advertisement for label makers. It was too perfect. That’s what unnerved me.
The cabin suggested Nick was a man of ritual. A specific spot for the firewood. A specific mug for tea. Even his book rested on the end table as if it were being staged for potential buyers. At first, I thought this might be a well-guarded safe house. The familiarity said otherwise. This had been Nick’s home for quite some time.
Nick set his mug on the counter and disappeared down the hall without a word. His footsteps were soft against the floor. A door opened and closed somewhere deeper in the cabin. Then silence.
