“What exactly were you thinking when you came up here all alone in a place like this?” I asked.
“Sorry?”
“This place isn’t for someone like you,” I said.
“Someone like me?” she asked. “What does that mean?”
“No offense, but you don’t strike me as the mountain gal type.”
“I’ll have you know I grew up in this home,” she said.
That piqued my interest.
Pushing me away, she got up onto her leg before she yelped. I jumped up and caught her before she hit the floor, cursing her as she went down. She was a stubborn woman, and I had no time for any drama. Hell, I hardly had time for myself.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked.
“Getting to my purse,” she said.
“What’s in your purse?” I asked, grunting. “A pair of crutches?”
“The papers from my grandmother’s attorney stating that this cabin is rightfully mine.”
Steadying her on her feet, I helped her over to the bag on the floor. She bent down as blood dripped down her leg. She needed to be cleaned up before some sort of infection set in, but as she rummaged around in her purse, I relented.
If she wanted to look for some paperwork instead of getting to a doctor, fine by me.
“Here,” she said as she unfolded the papers. “Take a look.”
“I don’t care about the papers,” I said. “I was only wondering what the hell a girl like you was doing alone in a place like this.”
I took the papers from her anyway and scanned them.
There were pictures of the house, and I could see why this woman was so shocked. The pictures did this house way too much justice. Whoever took these damn photos got the lighting just right and probably showcased the only two rooms in the house that had any decent structure to them. This woman had been gifted a cabin that wasn’t fit for animals to live in, much less a human being.
But as she looked around the cabin, I could see the memories it held for her.
I wondered if she was haunted by her memories like I was haunted by mine.
Strike two. Now, this woman had me feeling sorry for her.
“Your leg needs to be patched,” I said as I handed her the papers back.
“Thanks for the advice,” she said.
“I have a first aid kit at my place.”
“Are you a doctor?” she asked.
“Nope. But you don’t need stitches, and I have everything I need to clean you up.”
“No, thanks. My mother taught me all about stranger danger.”
“I teach my niece that, too,” I said.
She turned her eyes to look at me, and I was struck by their beauty again.
“Your niece?” she asked.