Don't Cry for Me. Шарон Сала
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were passing. Some were bunched together in twos and threes, and others were set so far back off the road all she saw was the driveway and the roof. A lot of them were in varying stages of disrepair. She knew what it meant to choose food over shelter.
Most of the vehicles she saw were up on blocks or were being stripped for parts. Children playing in their yards paused and waved as they drove past. A couple even gave chase until called back by a family member keeping watch from a nearby porch. It was obvious that the job market around here was weak.
Quinn caught the changing expressions on her face as they drove and couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.
“I’m guessing this lifestyle is pretty foreign to you,” he said.
Mariah frowned. “The rural part, yes, but the obvious poverty, not so much. Some of my foster homes weren’t much better, and after I aged out of the system I was homeless. I would have gladly chosen any of these houses rather than sleeping in an abandoned building or a sewer pipe with a half dozen others just like me. In fact, these people are all better off than me. If not for you, I would be homeless again.”
“You never said anything about being homeless before,” he said.
She shrugged. “Why would I? We were too busy trying to stay alive to dwell on what I’d left behind me. I never thought I’d come back all messed up, or that I’d be right back where I started before I signed up. No, that’s not the truth. I have a ways to go to get back where I started.”
“And you have all the time you need to do it,” Quinn said.
She frowned then shook her head. “I can’t stay with you forever.”
“You’re not looking at this from the right angle. All you need to do is take one day at a time, honey. One day at a time.”
She leaned back and then sighed. “You’re right. As usual, I want everything put back together yesterday so I can get on with tomorrow.”
Quinn frowned. “If you think like that, then you forget to live for today.”
She’d never thought of life that way before. It was something to consider.
A short while later he began pointing out places of interest, and her focus shifted.
“My brother James and his wife live down that road,” he said. “They have two of the cutest kids.”
“Beth told me she’s an illustrator and Ryal makes furniture. What does James do?” Mariah asked.
“He farms a little tobacco, but his main job is with the postal service. He’s the mail carrier for all of Rebel Ridge and parts south.”
“I don’t mean this to sound prejudiced, but how come your family seems to have a higher standard of living than a lot of your neighbors?”
“I don’t know. There are plenty of others like us. We find ways to support ourselves knowing we won’t ever be rich, but we know how to be happy with what we have. The people on Rebel Ridge aren’t any different from people down in the city. Some are willing to settle for less, some aren’t. It’s just a fact of life.”
“Do you have a job you go to every day?”
He nodded. “I work for the Daniel Boone National Forest Service as a backcountry ranger. I’m not in constant contact with the public like some rangers, which suits me.”
“Then what do you do?”
He shrugged. “It varies. Just before I went to get you we had two hikers go missing.”
“Did you find them?” Mariah asked, and then knew from the set of his jaw that something had gone wrong. “I know that look,” she said. “What happened? Couldn’t you find them?”
“No, I found them, but one was dead and the other severely injured.”
“Oh, no. What happened?”
“They were attacked by a rogue bear, but that was on the other side of the mountain. He killed one. The other managed to get away. He was in bad shape when I found him.”
She shuddered, her eyes widening as she peered into the trees lining the road. “Did you kill the bear?”
“Last I heard they were still tracking him. But don’t worry, they’ll find him and do what they have to.”
She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her waist. “What else is up here that I need to be concerned about?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say that would be me. I snore. I have some serious flashbacks that turn into living nightmares, and I’ve been known to shout in my sleep.”
She rolled her eyes. “At least now I know I won’t have to worry about making a fool of myself in front of you.”
“There are no fools where I live, girl—only members of the same survivors’ club. Now stop worrying. It’s all good. You’ll see. I only have one bedroom, but my sofa makes into a bed, and we’ve got it all fixed up for you. I would have let you have the bedroom and taken the sofa myself, but the bedroom is up in the loft and the stairs are steep.”
“Loft?”
“Yes, my place is an A-frame. Two stories, with one bedroom and bathroom upstairs, and one big open room downstairs, with a kitchen at one end and the living area at the other. There’s another bathroom downstairs, next to the utility room. It makes more sense for you to be on the main floor. And there’s a wraparound deck that will be great for you to get your exercise without having to walk on uneven ground. It’s not luxurious, but it’s pretty new, and I’m not a slob.”
Mariah was silent, picturing the home and him in it, when he added, “We’ll be okay. No pressure to do anything but relax and get well. Understand?”
Relieved that he’d finally brought up the issue of nothing personal expected between them, she could finally relax. Whatever happened, she was grateful to be with someone she trusted.
* * *
Up in the high country on the other side of Rebel Ridge, Jake Doolen, his sons and their bloodhounds were still trying to pick up the bear’s tracks, desperate to find it before it attacked and killed someone else, but the signs were scarce to nonexistent. It was as if the bear had just vanished.
As far from the hunters as it could get, the bear was carrying an arrow in its rump, and the wound was infected, making it impossible for it to hunt as it once had. It was sick and in pain—two issues that drastically increased the danger quotient. Within hours of first sensing the dogs and the hunters it had made an about-face and begun moving in the opposite direction. If the Doolens didn’t find it in time, it would emerge from the reserve and right into populated territory.
Four
The sun was already sliding toward the western tip of the mountaintop by the time Quinn and Mariah reached the cabin. Her first glimpse of the site he’d chosen for the simple A-frame made her think Quinn was still in soldier mode. He’d set the cabin in the middle of an open meadow that was surrounded on all four sides by trees, with only one road in and out.
In fact, the original homestead had been built in this same place nearly a hundred years before for essentially the same reason: distrust of the federal government in general. The first Walkers to live here had believed that if you couldn’t be found, you couldn’t be counted, and if you couldn’t be counted, then you were off their radar. That mind-set still lingered in some of the more remote areas of Rebel Ridge and the rest of the South.
“Home sweet home,” Quinn said, as he pulled up to the cabin and parked.
Mariah couldn’t quit staring. All it needed was some gingerbread on the eaves and snow on the roof, and it could pass for a fairy-tale cottage from a picture book. The deck was deep and wrapped around the cabin on three sides. The railings were strong and sturdy, built for sitting or leaning. And just like that, all the