Deep Woods

“How did you learn all this stuff?” she asked. “Hunting. Crops. Building a cabin.”

I shrugged. “It was just normal, for me. That’s the way my folks raised me. I could handle a rifle by the time I was ten.”

She stared at that. I guess city folk aren’t used to guns.

“Our place was a lot like this,” I told her. “But bigger, big enough for my folks and me. We had a little land and we scratched a living farming. And we weren’t as far into the woods as we are here, just a mile or so outside a town. The sweet spot, my dad used to call it, close enough to have friends and neighbors, far enough out to be left alone.”

“My dad was a former Marine. Struck matches on his stubble, didn’t allow any cursing in his house and if I left the chicken coop open or forgot to put the milk pail away, he’d dress me down like a drill sergeant. But he was fair. Taught me how to shoot, how to hunt and skin, how to fell trees and build a house.”

“My mom homeschooled me. She’d coach me on science and math and French verbs till my brain hurt, but she made these cookies with cherries and white chocolate that…” I shook my head, my mouth watering. “God, I can taste them now. She came from a family of farmers and she taught me about crops and soil and what to plant when. She was as tough as my dad: she wasn’t afraid to get up on the roof to fix a leak, or pick up a gun to see off a cougar.” I looked at the floor. “She died when I was twelve. Problem with her heart, no one saw it coming. After that, it was just my dad and me.” I stopped for a second, thinking. “We weren’t rich...I guess we were poor. But I never felt like I wanted for anything.”

She nodded and looked thoughtful. I wondered how different it was to her own childhood. Very, I was guessing. “Sounds nice,” she said at last.

The sincerity in her voice made something break free inside me and rise to the surface. Because she was right: it had been nice. A good childhood. A happy family. A gift I should have been able to pass on, one day. A family, maybe with someone like Bethany.

But then, in one night, everything changed. My life was put on a different path.

I turned away, pretending to check the food, as the memories broke free. The alley walls, so cold under my palms. His grunt of pain. The stink of blood.

I stared at the bubbling pot, knuckles going white on the spoon as I stirred. I tried to take a slow breath, but the pain made it ragged. I could hear Bethany’s silence, behind me. She knew something was up and I was worried she was going to ask, but she didn’t. That was one of the things I liked about her: she was sensitive, good with people in a way I could never be.

I stirred and stirred and finally managed to force the memories back down. Only when I had myself under control did I turn down the heat and go to help her with the clothes.

The plaid shirt was more like a coat on her and the t-shirt hung halfway to her knees, but with some rolling up of sleeves and tucking in, they worked.

The jeans were harder. We had to roll the cuffs up and use some cord to make a belt to keep them on her hips. I knelt in front of her, threading it through the loops and tying it off, and trying to forget about the fact that I knew she wasn’t wearing any panties under the loose denim. They were still a little damp from the river, so she’d hung them near the stove to dry...along with the bra. Every time she moved, her breasts would bob and swing under the t-shirt and I lost the thread of what I was saying.

The boots were the hardest to make work. She had dainty little feet and even with three pairs of thick socks, they were nowhere close to as big as mine. But I had some newspaper I kept for kindling and by scrunching that into the toes, we managed to get something that would stay on her feet. She tried a few experimental steps, the huge things clumping around like clown shoes and she looked—

I swallowed. She looked adorable.

I was kneeling in front of her and for once it was me looking up at her, at those big brown eyes, so liquid and soft. She gave me one of those shy little lopsided grins.

Suddenly, I couldn’t stop looking at her lips. The world seemed to stop.