CHAPTER THIRTY
REN
* * * * * *
2018
WE STAYED IN the forest until the second snowfall reminded us that as much as we’d adopted the wilderness as our home, we had yet to find ways to grow fur coats and hibernate in warm burrows.
The cold ruined everything, making bones ache and lungs burn and bodies bow to nasty viruses.
The sooner we were warm and out of the elements, the better.
We had cash for a rental, but without furniture and other belongings to furnish it, we didn’t bother putting ourselves through the stress of real estate agents and reference checks.
Not to mention, we didn’t want to lock ourselves into a long lease when we had no intention of staying past the last frost.
I suggested finding another government owned hut on a tramping trail, or searching for an uninhabited building like we did with Polcart Farm, but Della took my ideas and one-upped them, suggesting we could have a toasty, furnished place away from main cities and only pay for the months we wanted.
I didn’t believe her, but the day we headed to yet another tiny town to buy thicker jackets, she topped up her phone credit, and showed me an online site that rented holiday homes that usually fetched a premium in summer but were offered at great rates during winter.
Together, we sat in a cosy coffee shop beside a gas fire and ate delicious apple and cinnamon muffins while scrolling through housing options.
We were there for hours, searching, discounting, debating pros and cons of each. Some were too close to the city, others were semi-detached or had the owner living on site. Most were totally impractical for loners like us, but finally, after a second muffin, we narrowed it down to three.
One was a few miles from a local town and decorated in country chic with yellow everything; two was a rambling big place with weathered furniture and bare wooden floors; three was a two-bedroom cottage with whitewashed floors, handmade daisy curtains, and the comfiest looking couches with a fireplace.
For four months’ hire, it would take a big chunk of our cash, but if the two-bedroom cottage lived up to the pictures, it was totally worth it.
Della—ever the resourceful and happier to deal with strangers—called the number and arranged to view the property the next day. We spent the rest of the afternoon heading back into the forest, packing up our belongings, and having a final dinner of fish and rabbit.
The next morning, we left the trees and met with the agent.
The moment we stepped inside, we knew.
This was our winter nest, and we paid cash upfront in lieu of not having credit cards. The round, blue-rinsed hair woman asked for a bigger bond seeing as we didn’t have the necessary paperwork, but after chatting to us and showing us around the quaint, cosy cottage, she handed over the keys and happily gave us instructions on how to work the oven and washing machine.
That night, Della and I made love for the very first time in a bed.
The foreignness of clean cotton and soft springiness of a mattress added a sensual element to our otherwise rough encounters. Our thoughts were on the same wavelength once again, and our touches were softer, our kissers longer, and when I slipped inside her, our connection was deeper than it had ever been.
I adored her to the point of stupidity.
I’d wake in the night with horrors of losing her. I’d stare, completely bewitched at odd times during the day, even if she was doing something as mundane as washing the dishes.
I had no power over myself anymore—she had it all.
And I was glad.
I was glad whenever the fake blue gemstone gleamed on her finger. I was glad whenever the diamante letters on the leather bracelet she gave me caught my eye.
I was glad for all of it.
I was grateful for everything.
I was so damn lucky.
Normally, I despised winter.
But that one…I didn’t mind it so much.
Not with warm beds, roaring fireplaces, and Della.
In fact, I didn’t mind it at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
REN
* * * * * *
2019
SPRING ARRIVED WITH a vengeance, thawing the frosts and banishing the snow as quickly as they’d arrived. The weather reports said it would be one of the hottest summers on record, and both Della and I couldn’t wait until the last day of our agreed cottage rental where we could leave for the forests we loved so much.
Living in the cottage had been an experience I wouldn’t forget, and we’d become a little too used to having a comfy house with a pantry full of food and a freezer crammed with everything we could ever need.
The first week after moving in, we’d spent a few days setting up with supplies, so when the snow fell, we wouldn’t have to leave unless we wanted to.