Margot
I wish I could cuddle with Amelia right now.
Whenever I’ve had a long day, or been through a lot of stress, she’s my rock. I hold her tightly in my arms, and we sit on the sofa watching her favorite television shows or her favorite Disney movies. The sound of her laugh calms me down. Eventually, we fall asleep together, and it’s the most peaceful sleep I could ever get.
But she’s busy.
I watch her as she plays with Crockett. I had always just assumed that racoons were little feral creatures, rummaging around in the trash and eating whatever they could find. But Crockett seems to act just like a little dog, or a puppy.
Amelia’s always loved animals, and clearly, he adores her as much as she loves him already. Part of me is glad that Boone isn’t completely alone out here.
A cabin this far from the city, or even the town, is a beautiful place for a retreat. But to live out here—in the middle of nowhere—permanently, sounds very isolating.
I can’t tell if Boone is happy for our company or resents our intrusion into his loneliness.
Now that I’m sure Amelia is safe and taken care of, I go to the bathroom to freshen up. After that, I’ll go look for Boone—he went back outside, probably to prepare the fish that he’d caught and offered to serve to us for lunch.
He might not be happy for the company, but I’m drawn to him.
I can feel every nerve in my body longing to be closer, my muscles all want to reach out and narrow the distance between us. I’m not totally certain how much longer I can resist my primal instincts.
I can still remember the last time Boone and I were together.
The raw emotion, desire, romance…
Now he’s standing right in front of me again, and who could blame me for wanting all that again?
My father, probably. Boone’s father—definitely.
But even though I want it, Boone might not. Or even more likely, it wouldn’t be the best thing for Amelia. Her life has been uncomplicated so far—I haven’t been with another man since Boone, so she’s never had to adjust to having strange men come and go from our house. To spring that on her now and to reveal that this man is her father…
No four year old should have to understand something that huge.
I turn the corner to find Boone in the kitchen with his back to me.
He stands over the counter, descaling the fish he’d caught earlier. His camouflage shirt hangs over the back of a chair, drying in the sunlight after standing in the river earlier. Boone’s skin still glistens slightly as the last drops of river water cling determinedly to the hairs on his arms and over his shoulders.
The muscles of his back shift and move each time he rakes the shimmering steel fillet knife across the body of the fish. I cast one last glance back to Amelia and Crockett—who are as thick as thieves, clearly—before I walk into his field of vision.
Boone looks up at me. His dark eyes pierce mine, but he says nothing. I feel the lingering gaze as it draws over my body. Every time he looks at me like that, I feel as though I’m standing in front of him naked and totally exposed.
It’s an exhilarating, and yet terrifying prospect.
I used to be able to trust Boone with everything. Seeing him again reminds me of how much I’ve missed having that connection with another person. But I hurt him all those years ago, and things are different now.
I wonder if he’ll ever give me that second chance.
“Thank you so much, for taking care of Amelia, Boone.” I say finally. “Where’d you learn to do a splint like that?”
Boone nods slightly and is quiet for a moment. He always liked to think before he spoke—and he only ever spoke when he had to.
“It’s just a skill I picked up,” he mumbles eventually. “Looks like you’ve finally gotten into photography.”
Of course, Boone places the focus of the conversation back to me, asking me questions that will make me open up. He’s always been the kind of man who cared about others over himself. But I know that he’ll open up in time, if we stay here long enough.
With the rock slide still blocking the road, it’s likely that we would be.
“Yeah, I had heard rumors that there was some stunning natural beauty to be found out here, and I wanted to see for myself,” I explain.
Boone nods again—of course he knows that there’s beauty out here.
He gets to live here all year round.
“How long have you been making art?”
It’s not an unusual question, but it takes me by surprise. I’ve been pursuing photography since college. But I can’t mention college without having to explain everything. If I do that, I run the risk of breaking Boone’s heart all over again.
“I dropped out of college to pursue it. Not long after I transferred,” I say gently, moving around him.
Boone seems unshaken by the mention of our college years.
“It was hard at first, but I’ve got a little gallery in the city. Even if I didn’t make any money, I’d still be happy with it.”
He continues preparing the fish—delicately taking the time to debone the fillets. I’m amazed that such large, strong hands can do such precise work without tearing up the fillet. But you can see that Boone really cares about what he is doing, and that he puts a lot of effort into his food.
“It would be difficult to support a daughter with no money,” Boone says quietly, and I feel my heart leap.
Every time he mentions Amelia, I’m set back on edge.
“Can you pass me lemons from the fridge?”
I do as he asks. He pulls out a cast iron pan from the cupboards and picks some fresh rosemary from the herb garden on the windowsill. I hand Boone the lemons, and, as our fingers brush, I smell the fresh scent of the herb on my skin.
“What about you? How was Wall Street?”
Boone grunts. I never expected him to enjoy working in an office, wearing a three-piece suit and tie every day (though it did suit him.) Out here in the woods, that’s where I would have pictured him being most comfortable, but, back in college, he still wanted to impress his dad.
“Did you continue volunteering with the fire department?”
Boone pauses for a moment, before grunting in affirmation and nodding his head. I’m relieved—I know how much the brotherhood of the fire department meant to him, and so the fact that he kept that after college is reassuring.
I wonder for a moment, however, what’s changed now. There seems to be no need for a fire department in the wilderness. I know Boone would never have given up being a firefighter and saving people’s lives, unless he felt like he had no other choice but to go.
I want to ask him about it, but then he speaks.
“Does Amelia have allergies?” he asks, turning on the stove and silently cooking.
If I had been honest from the start, and Boone had been there from her birth, he would know that she didn’t. But I can sense what he’s doing—he’s trying to get to know her, like a real father would.
“No, she’ll eat anything you put in front of her.”
“A bit like her mother.” Boone smirks, and cuts into the lemon. The burst of citrus fills the air, and the kitchen begins to smell divine.
“A bit.”
There’s a moment of silence, and tension builds.
I want to say something and break it, but Boone beats me to it.
“How old is she?”
“She’s four,” I say with as much confidence as I can manage.
I watch as Boone continues to pause—he’s mentally doing the math.
Finally, he takes a deep breath, and nods his head.
He knows.
“She looks a lot like you,” he says, throwing butter and the fish into the pan.
I want to tell him that I think she reminds me more of him—her eyes, her unwavering spirit, her love for all creatures, and her joy in helping others.
But I can’t.
So I stay silent for a moment, turning my gaze and watching Crockett and Amelia play. You’d never have known she’d broken her leg until you saw the splint.
“I really mean it, Boone. Thanks for everything.”
He grunts, shrugging off my gratitude to try and show me that he doesn’t do it to be thanked.
“But Amelia and I should probably get going after lunch. We should head to the ER and have her checked over by a doctor.”
Boone turns to look at me again, as he takes the slices of lemon in his hands and then layers them over the fish.
“I don’t think that’ll happen, Margot,” he says calmly.
If anyone else had said that to me, I’d suspect them of foul play, but Boone seems genuinely regretful that we won’t be able to leave.
“The rockslide blocked the main road. It’s the weekend, and there’s not many people about…You’ll both be stuck here until Monday.” He pauses to think. “At the earliest.”
My jaw hits the floor, and I look back at my daughter.
If I have to spend a whole weekend around Boone, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself. The love I had for him five years ago never really went away, and I can feel it slowly bubbling back up in my heart and filling my chest.
If I stay, I’m scared that I’ll get hurt.
I can’t stay. I need to convince him that I can’t stay, even if I have to fight him.