Page 60 of Craving Chaos
SHAE
We walk for close to two hours along the creek until we see a cabin on a hill. It has solar panels on the roof and lights shining through the windows. It looks more like a home and is at least twice the size of our cabin, though that’s not saying much.
Our cabin.
The yawning crevasse in my chest creaks open another degree.
It was never our cabin. There is no our. No us.
It boggles my mind that Renzo knew this was here and kept it from me. I can’t imagine keeping such an enormous secret, especially from someone I care about. That’s what he claims—that he was so desperate to be near me he couldn’t bear to leave. I thought about everything he’d said while we walked in silence—whether his motivations changed anything. Motives are undoubtedly important. I can’t deny that. But he kept me here for two whole weeks after learning about a way home.
Not a day.
Not three days.
Two weeks.
I don’t know how to look past that. It’s egregiously selfish behavior that could have gotten one or both of us killed. And we weren’t the only two impacted by his actions. The first week of our fiasco couldn’t be helped, but he added two extra weeks of worry and fear that our families endured for nothing.
No. I can’t overlook such willful disregard for others. He made a conscientious choice, and I have to hold him accountable.
“I take it you haven’t made it to town yet?” A slender man with a thick gray beard greets Renzo with a smile and a handshake when we knock on the cabin door. His French accent catches me by surprise, though it shouldn’t since we suspected we were in Quebec.
“We ran into a few more issues. Henri, this is my wife, Shae. Shae, Henri Bouchard.”
Henri reaches out to shake my hand. It takes me a second to catch on because my brain is still skipping like a record over the word wife. “It’s good to meet you,” I finally say in a daze.
“If your troubles mean I get to see a lovely lady up here in the hills, then I can’t say I’m disappointed. Please, come in and tell me what I can do to help.” He seems pleasant enough, though his drooping eyelids cover keenly observant eyes that have picked us apart from the second he opened the door. This man is suspicious of people. He’s chosen a solitary life for a reason.
The cabin consists of a main room combining kitchen, dining, and living. Two open doors lead to a bedroom and a bathroom, with a third door closed, though I suspect it’s a closet. The faucet over the kitchen sink and the toilet in the bathroom indicate he has indoor plumbing. Never in a million years did I think I’d be so damn excited to see indoor plumbing.
Henri takes a seat in a well-worn leather recliner while Renzo and I claim the two dining chairs. He has a small sofa, but we’re entirely too filthy for that.
“We appreciate your hospitality,” Renzo tells him. “What we’d really love, though, is a lift into town.”
“Weren’t able to get the ATV going?”
ATV? Wife? What exactly did Renzo tell this guy?
“No, I’m not sure what’s wrong with it.”
Henri nods slowly. Sagely. “Should we swing by and get your gear on the way? We can even tow the ATV with us. I suspect you are ready to get home.”
“That’s kind of you, but we’ve had another encounter with our furry friend.” Renzo nods at me, an indication to show Henri my hip. “I’d like to get her to the hospital to prevent infection.”
I stand and display the bloodstained rip in my jeans.
“Mon dieu! You two have been very lucky to have survived not one but two encounters with a bear. I will have to mention the activity to the rangers. Something may be wrong with the animal for him to be out so early in the season.”
“I don’t know what to tell you about that part, but yes, we’ve been very fortunate.” His eyes cut to me.
I’m ashamed to admit how much I want to know what he’s thinking behind his now guarded gaze. One thing I can tell is that he’s being sincere when he says we’ve been lucky. I can still hear him in my head when I think back to that first day when we crash-landed here—the day he accused me of being pure chaos. He didn’t think we were so lucky back then.
What shifted his perspective? Surely, he doesn’t count himself lucky based purely on my presence. That’s absurd … isn’t it? We’ve faced so many adversities. Spending time with me couldn’t possibly outweigh such a harrowing series of events.
“We should get going, then. It will take a couple of hours to get to town, and most of that on a snow-covered dirt road.”
“It’ll be getting dark by that time,” I point out. “Will it be dangerous for you to drive back then?”